#drawing lines between us to say no matter our differences there are shards of sameness glittering

[wordsnwhiskey]

Is It Living If You've Left Your Life Behind?

Pairing: Dave York & GN!Reader

Summary: Thanks to you, Dave escaped the showdown with McCall. You planned to take him to a safehouse on the other side of the country where he could recover and get started on living a new life. In order to do that though, he has to leave his wife, his daughters and his life behind. He can't help but wonder, is it really living if he has to leave his life behind?

Rating: T for Language I guess

A/N: This is my late submission for @autumnleaves1991-blog 's Writer Wednesday. I got into my feels tonight and Dave was calling to me. It's my first time writing for him and this is a different take on Dave than I'd normally go for. A softer/angstier Dave but honestly, given this situation where he survives? I don't see classic Dave shining through, at least not until something kicks his ass into gear. The man is injured and more than a little lost. Also, I'll probably edit this later, it's 03:30 and apparently I have a knack for posting things when I should be asleep.

Masterlist | AO3

There was nothing but the open road ahead of him as he sat in the passenger seat, a permanent grimace affixed to his face. His pain ebbed and flowed but at least that meant he was alive. Alive with nothing but the open road ahead of him and his entire life behind him.

Dave really only had you to thank for that. A life debt for a life debt even if it meant he no longer had his life, not really at least. His girls were well over a thousand miles behind him, everything he’d known and loved, he’d likely never see again. You were the only thing Mac hadn’t counted on and even though Dave had lost religion a long time ago, he thanked whatever god or higher power out there that you had kept your head about you during the showdown.

He had been furious at first that you hadn’t tried to kill McCall, only stalled long enough to get him and yourself out of there under the cover of the storm. His anger had quickly dissipated though, you had made the right call, of course. He still had trouble seeing out of his eye, a concussion from being blown off of his feet and plenty of bruises complemented the odd cut or two Mac had managed to land. Things would have been a lot worse had you not intervened.

You glanced over at Dave, hunched over, curling himself into the passenger window. Dave fucking York. He had really gotten himself in it this time but you couldn’t find it in yourself to blame him. In this industry, shit decisions had to be made all the time and Lady Luck was rarely ever kind. People died, that was the business. What else was the married father of two supposed to do when he was cut loose? Assimilate? That kind of thing wasn’t for people like you or Dave York, not really. McCall was too high up on his high horse to get enough oxygen to his brain and too blinded by his own grief to see it.

Then again, you were definitely biased.

“How’s your pain level?”

You asked, and were met with a withering glare, his newly-crooked, hawkish nose only served to further accentuate the harshness in his eyes.

He hadn’t talked much during the already several day trip. Not that you needed the conversation, but you understood better than anyone he knew who was still alive aside from the man you were fleeing from, what this felt like. You hated how people romanticized it, leaving everything behind and starting over. It never worked that way. Your family and friends lived and died and you couldn’t be part of any of it. And now Dave, Dave had two daughters and a wife but they might as well be poison now. Poison to his mind, torture to think about. Poison to the touch if he ever went to see them again, because surely McCall would be watching them from afar, waiting.

The same thoughts seemed to be on his mind, from the corner of your eye you could see him slump further into the window, clutching a small photograph he had pulled from his wallet. For all that he was, former agent, mercenary, murderer, assassin, he was still a family man, a soft man at heart and going into hiding away from this family had just as much likelihood of killing him as McCall did.

“I’m not going to see them again am I?” Dave murmured as he stared down at the photo, thumb grazing over his daughters’ faces.

You opened your mouth then closed it again, contemplating giving him platitudes or the truth. He chuckled at your reaction, a hollow sound devoid of any humor.

“Spare me the bullshit.”

Your grip on the steering wheel tightened and you let out a sigh.

“I don’t know Dave. If McCall winds up dead then yeah, that’s an option. I haven’t been back to see my family but I don’t have the same… things anchoring me somewhere or drawing me back.”

Silently, he turned to resume watching the passing orange and brown landscape fly by.

It had been about another two hours since he last spoke and he had been so still and quiet, you thought he might have fallen asleep.

“Why’d you do it? Why are you doing this?”

His voice is gruffer, made thicker from the knot of emotion in his throat. It startles you out of your own reverie.

“Do what?”

“Why did you bother saving me? You could have made it out of there and been in another country by now. Fuck, you could have dumped me at a hospital anywhere along this godforsaken road and still be in another country by now.”

You frowned, somehow you had hoped his relative silence meant you would be able to get through this journey without delving into any sort of feelings.

“It crossed my mind, on both counts.”

He raised an eyebrow, not so much in surprise that you had thought about it, more so that you hadn’t gone through with it.

“I didn’t have any part in Susan’s death so McCall would have stopped hunting me eventually.”

You spared him a glance, he was staring at you intently, analyzing.

“Is this the part where you tell me you love me?”

You scoffed and looked at him incredulously then shook your head.

“No, it’s even more pathetic than that, Dave. You’re probably the closest thing to a friend I have and we’ve tried to kill each other before.”

That got a small laugh out of him, because really, what was more ridiculous in their line of work than friends?

Probably having a family. Dave grimaced as the thought echoed in his mind.

“We were the best at what we did.”

He said, with an air of nostalgia and you nodded in agreement.

“And the worst, somehow even with us each taking on contracts for the other, here we are, still living.”

The small smile faded from your lips at his silence and lack of a response. Your gaze fell on him again as he shrugged his mouth and sighed.

“Are we? Is it living if I’m leaving my life behind?”

This was not the Dave York you knew. Occasionally, you had seen the wry humor, and suave exterior give way to the side of him that accepted “New Hamster” as an answer instead of “New Hampshire” but not even that remained. The Dave next to you had all of those layers peeled back. He was raw and unsure.

You didn’t answer him for a few minutes, honestly there wasn’t much of anything you could say that wasn’t a load of shit. You were both too practical for pep talks. Moreover, it wasn’t a question you had even stopped to ask yourself. The answer and the journey to that answer was a dangerous one.

“I- …. It’s the best option you’ve got right now, Dave. It’s a pretty fucked situation, my advice? Take it one hour a time and if you can manage that, take it one day at a time.”

“An hour?” Dave shook his head and rubbed his stubbled chin with his hand. “All I’ve seen for hours is dirt and sand. While Mac is probably watching Carol and the girls like a fucking hawk.”

You pursed your lips, and eyed the upcoming sign detailing the available lodging and food at the upcoming exit.

“Well you’ll have the inside of our next motel room to stare at in another hour.”

Dave slipped back into silence and you simultaneously welcomed and detested it. Things were simpler without him getting all philosophical on you and contemplating what made living actually living. It hardly mattered though because he had already gone and planted that damned seed inside your brain.

You pulled up to a not entirely shitty motel and paid for the night before going back for Dave who was waiting in the car. The room wasn’t terrible and after a thorough check, you could at least confirm there weren’t any critters who would be keeping you company. At least there were two beds.

After a dinner of pizza from the diner down the road you had taken Dave on a detour to the gas station to get a burner phone. In your haste to put as much distance as possible between you and McCall, you hadn’t bothered to get him one earlier. Once that was finished you both headed back to your room to unwind.

Dave sat in one of the rickety chairs at the small table that seemed to be actively trying to shed it’s veneer layer. With a sigh, he went to work stripping and reassembling his pistol. It was calming, relaxing for him. All of the pieces had a purpose, an order, to be pulled apart then reassembled, very much unlike his life right now. Nothing had purpose or order and everything had been pulled apart, leaving him broken shards to piece back together.

Hours passed and by the look of him, you figured Dave’s fingers might have gone numb from the repetitive movements and his eyes were drooping, well his good eye was drooping more than normal since the one McCall had nearly managed to gouge was still a little worse for wear.

“Dave, get some sleep. You’re no good to me or yourself if you’re half asleep.”

You know he’s been fighting sleep for a while now, he does every night just like he fights the pain you’re sure he’s feeling but refuses to take anything for. For the first time since you two set off, you’re not annoyed by it. He’ll sleep soundly at least once he let’s exhaustion take him. All the better for what you have planned.

It wasn’t until 01:00 that Dave was finally asleep soundly enough that you felt you could get up without waking him. Quietly, you made for the table, using the flimsy pad of paper and pen there to write a note before you walked out the door and shut it behind you. Thankfully, the city you had stopped in was populated enough that rideshare services were available and in less time than you had figured, you were on your way to the airport.

Dave woke up and immediately knew something was off. It was too quiet and there was too much sun trying to peek through the curtains for it to be the usual time you both headed out for the day. He sat up quickly and grabbed his pistol, then looked around the room for any signs of danger until his eyes fell upon the pad of paper on the table. A sharp pain arched through his skull when he stood up, a remnant of his concussion. He took the note in hand and began to read:

Dave,

I figure, if I’m lucky, I’ve got 4 hours on you. If I’m really lucky, I’ve got 6. Anything more than that and I’m disappointed in you, Dave.

He looked up from the note at the digital clock on the nightstand, it read 07:30. A wry grin threatens to take shape on his lips. You’d be disappointed.

I’m not going to make this some sort of sappy letter. I don’t have time for that shit. You were right. It isn’t really living if you’ve left your life behind. Out of the two of us, you’re the only one who really has one to miss. The only way you get to go back to Carol, Molly and Alice is if McCall is out of the picture, so I’m going to give it a shot. I left you enough cash to pay the room through the week and then some. If you don’t hear from me after a week, call the number at the bottom of this note and tell him you’re cashing in a favor for me. He’ll help you out. Might even know someone else who can help with your family. I left you the car, keys are on my bed.

Good Luck.

Dave’s throat went dry and then he saw at least four shades of red before he finally calmed down to assess the situation. Then all at once, it was like ice had been poured in his veins and things began to shift into focus.

What the fuck was he doing?

This entire time he had been wallowing, perhaps well earned, but he should have been planning. He had let his grief for the loss of Susan, the storm of emotions he felt seeing Mac still alive and a simple job that had spun drastically out of control, completely cloud his judgement. He was just as well trained as Mac, but he had let his anger and emotions get the best of him on that watchtower, he couldn’t let that happen again.

Dave moved quickly and methodically as he collected everything he needed from the room and headed out to the car. He really shouldn’t drive with his eye being what it was but he only needed to get to the airport and he could make it that far at least.

He couldn’t let Mac kill you, like Ari, Reznik, and Kovac. Family.

Like hell if he was going to let the closest person he had to a friend get killed.

If anyone was going to kill you, it’d be him, just for you trying to pull off something as stupid as this.

He knew this was the best move though, Mac wouldn't be expecting an attack this soon this time, the attack wouldn't be in the middle of gale force winds on Mac's home turf. You... and he would have the upper hand this time.

Dave got through the airport with relative ease thanks to him having TSA pre-check, no one bothered to ask him about his eye which he did his best to hide with a baseball cap.

He sat down and waited for his flight to be called. Mentally, he began going through the disassembly and reassembly of the rifle he had with him at the watchtower to help focus himself and pass the time.

The PA system broke his concentration and alerted him that it was time to board. Dave was tense when he finally got to his seat and sat down. His jaw was set in concentration as he started to come up with a new battleplan and weighing his options. Yes, he was injured but he'd been through worse on missions and come out on top.

At least one person was going to die by the end of the week and he'd be damned if you and him weren't the last ones standing.

Thanks for reading, tagging a few people interested/who might be interested:

@wheresarizona @pascalsimp @beesting77 @boxdyeblonde @lackofhonor @kaybrownies @agentwhiskeypussyindulgence @elegantduckturtle @janebby @faithkeeper-81 @doin-stuff @danniburgh @pascalslittlebrat @mothandpidgeon @mouthymandalorianalso @phoenixhalliwell @kesskirata @starlightmornings @wyn-dixie

[kyberphilosopher]

Chapter Fourteen

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

His hair is a deep chestnut shade of brown. It looks fluffy, soft. His light skin looks smooth, even from my distance. His jaw is sharp, his cheeks strong. A playful smile lies on his pink lips. Everything about his features- no, about him- is soft. That’s the best word I can think of to describe him.

But I can feel the strength falling off of him. It peels off of his robes. They’re like a normal Jedi’s, but tighter at the sleeves, covered by a poncho, and darker in color. He feels different from all the Jedi I previously killed. He’s strong. Soft, but strong.

Tiredly, I shift my feet to show where my attention lies, eyes narrowing to begin my assessment of this visitor. Male, stocky build. Taller than me by a lot, but average for a man. My age. Slightly older? Slightly relaxed form. He watches me just as closely as I watch him. So he’s observant.

His eyes scan over the lightsabers at my sides, eyes lingering longer on the one with the red blade.

“Nowhere,” I say, almost hoarsely. My right hand is starting to go numb again, and I can feel a big, thick drop of blood fall from my half a finger. “Don’t worry, I won’t go too far,” I tell the stranger, even though I’m really not in the mood for a sarcasm contest right now.

“Oh, that’s good,” the stranger bends his knees and angles his violet light defensively. “I would so hate it if you missed this dance.”

Oh, man. He’s kind of quip-y. Killing him won’t be as satisfying as it would’ve been if he was all serious. “We can be honest with each other, right?” He shrugs. “Can we please reschedule this for tomorrow?”

  He smiles. It makes his eyes squint and twinkle. It looks nice on him. “Tired from killing the other two, are we?”

Has someone been watching me? Following me, even? No, I would’ve known. I would’ve sensed it. Perhaps he witnessed the fight between Aegus and Yutaro- it was possible I didn’t notice because my focus was elsewhere. Who is this guy?

“What would your mother say?”

I don’t know what it was about his statement that set me off. I just know that it did.  

I throw my hand out, letting my hate and exhaustion fuel the lightning that falls out. It wipes the smile right off his face as it cages him, throwing him backwards and out of my vision for an instant.

Then, I remove the red saber off my belt. I twist it between my palm to get a feel of it again, and run forward. It’s not as fast as it could be, but I am tired. My finger needs medical attention.  

I thrust the red lightsaber into the boy’s shoulder. It nicks him, but he offers little more than a wince in response. He blocks my next strike. I put more pressure on it, forcing our lightsabers closer to his face. He doesn’t back down, however. He is determined to show me that my rageful exhaustion is no match for his physical strength. We’ll see about that.

Right as I’m about to kill him, something grabs my attention to the left. Not the sun-but a light! No, two of them! Two bright, beautiful balls of crystal clear light.

A shot blows me back. My lightsaber comes to a close as I tumble in the dirt for about the third time today. The cold mud and twigs make the cuts on my hands and temple sting even more- not a good sign. My right ear hears a long, drawn out scratching noise like a saw. Then it fades off like a hum and is replaced with a high-pitched ringing, followed by complete silence. My left ear continues to throb lowly with the beat of my heart, which changes between too fast and too slow. When my body finally stops rolling and stills itself, I can feel a droplet of either sweat or blood run down the right side of my neck. My eyes burn from the dirt that’s undoubtedly in them.

I lie still for a moment, wiped out and exhausted. I’m not dying, the galaxy would never be so kind. What happens next is just like falling asleep. Slowly becoming darker and darker, my vision goes black, and I feel warm.

When I was thirteen, I made an attempt to draw my father from memory. I had only drawn a few times prior to this, mostly out of sheer boredom. I want to say that they came out well, but I don’t have anything to compare my works to. Being on the run your whole life doesn’t lend much time for art museums.

I had no memories of my father whatsoever. I looked into a glass shard from a mirror and attempted to make my own features look more masculine. I don’t know how long it took me to sketch him, but finally I was finished.

In my version of my father, he has dark hair. He looks young, with eyes slanted upwards. I imagine they have hazel flecks, lined with gold and just the slightest hint of deep green. His eyes are framed by thick, dark eyebrows- straight and clean. Under his orbs are dark circles like smudged makeup, similar to my own. His nose is narrower than mine, but splashed with tope freckles all the same. We have the same olive skin and similar chins. His jaw is sharper than mine. His lips are chapped, but curled up at the ends like a smirk. Still, he frowns. I can not make him smile.

My father was very handsome. His name is Kaito Vagor, which in another galaxy translates to “the flight over the sea” and “I wander”, which I think is beautiful. In my mind, he is quiet. He thinks things through, just like me. He knows how to take initiative, believes in facts over feelings but never ignores his gut. Although I’d never met him, I loved the picture of my father, which ended up being completely accurate. I loved him so much, I begged him to be dead. I begged him to be dead so I’d feel like there was a reason I’d grown up without him. But cruelly, no matter how much I prayed and wished, Kaito was alive. I wouldn’t know it in my lifetime, but he was alive.

I couldn’t bring myself to draw my mother. I was too busy trying not to wail at the loss of my father, who I loved dearly despite the rage I’d obtained over the years. After that day, I had no idea where the drawing went. I might’ve destroyed it in my sleep, or lost it on purpose without even realizing.

Now, as I sleep, I think of the image of my father again. I think of nothing else. I see him smiling down at me calmly- on birthdays, cooking me meals in a small hut, training me how to better use a spear. In that life, I am happy. I am content with just Kaito, and I know how to trust people. There is no Clone with the yellow stripe. No Haxion Brood. No Imperial Inquisitors. And, most importantly, there are ten fingers.

I bolt upright at this realization.

I’m alive. My breathing feels thin, but not impossible. My chest is not nearly as sore as I expected, so I decide to count it as a good thing. Still, it rises and falls rapidly as I struggle not to cough on my own breath. My head thrums will a slow, dull pain that makes me wish I had just stayed still. Once I regain my sense of thought, I look around, eyes wide as my heart hammers.  

The floor below me is the same stark white color, matching the bed and the walls. It looks like the inside of a ship, I think. I don’t sense danger, but I wouldn’t be surprised if my entire sense of survival were thrown off. I’m atop a cushioned bench, with a firm, small pillow where my head was. The only pop of color in the room is a slim bunch of yellow flowers, sitting in a pale gray vase.

Breathe, Keres. Softly.

My boots are missing from my feet. Instead, light colored gauze wraps around my ankles and stops before it reaches my toes. I wiggle them playfully, watching each duck and weave up and down on my command. It makes me feel childish, but secure that I at least have one part of my body still working for me. Unlike my fingers, there are ten of them. My hands and forearms are wrapped in a matching gauze, contrasting the normal gray gauze that works as my undergarments for my dark, sleek, armor. Replacing said armor is a beige kind of altered Jedi’s robes like the one with the purple lightsaber wore. The normal weight from a lightsaber doesn’t hang on my hips, and when I move my hand to the area I find nothing but air. I’m too tired and groggy to feel frustrated about it.

Brushing hair out of my face, I notice my hair is still in it’s braid, however messy it may be. The palm of my hands are flecked with pink scars, and a few bright red cuts from all my forest fumbles. Some are better healed than others, but none of them sting like they did. My right hand is just as I’d left it, confirming my worst fear. The fear that it was all real.

My right ring finger is gone. There is nothing from my knuckle up, and instead it is only a stump with more gauze wrapped tight around it. I stare at it. My eyes water quickly. I bite my lip to keep it from trembling, but this it to no avail.

I deserved it. I deserved to lose my finger.

I push myself off the bed angrily. My feet feel cold on the floor, but I don’t register it. When I stand up completely, something in my rib pops. This makes me stop for a second before carrying on in haste.

Clothes. I need my clothes. Where the kriff are my clothes?

Somewhere to the right of me, the familiar hiss of a door opening rings out. I snap my head up.  

 A Togruta with wet looking red skin appears in front of me. White diamonds surround her eyes, and smaller diamond markings appears across her cheekbones. Her lips are full but not too full, and her pale green eyes are framed by long, soft eyelashes. Her horns aren’t stubby, but neither tall nor sky high. It gives away her age- teens, possibly nearing twenties. She is dressed in a loose brown tunic, covered by a white, stained medical smock. Everything about her appearance is regal, elegant, and objectively beautiful.

“Oh!” she squeaks, one hand covering her chest as she gathers her breath. “You’re up!”

I remain quiet as I meet her eyes. The Togruta shifts a clipboard in her arms and puts it on a shelf behind her. “I’ll be right back with some medicine. Stay right here!” She hurries off and out the door again.

I immediately disobey what she’s asked of me. Fuck her. I take a single step forward and stumble for a moment. My feet adjust to the freezing floor after a second, and in short, quick steps I make my way out of the room. The next area I stumble into is circular, and bustling with at least ten people- I can’t count them all. My eyes squint to adjust to the new light, but my right ear remains unadapting and silent. A few feet ahead of me, I can see the back of what I believe to be the Jedi.

He overlooks a round holo-table displaying a blue hologram I can’t completely make out. Two other people in helmets observe the table with him, nodding and occasionally opening their mouths. After a simultaneous nod from them, they head off to their right, down a hallway. The Jedi meets my eyes from across the way. Then he stands still.  

I hate him. This is his fault. It’s always the Jedi’s fault.

A few people in the room pause to glance at me, creating a look of disgust on my face I don’t even try to hide. I am angry at them. I want them to know how angry I am. No one dares to  chuckle before conversations start again. The Jedi crosses his arms and looks at me as if he’s bested me at something, or proved himself. Jokes on him though, because he’s vastly overestimated how much I care or am willing to care. 

“Oh, you’re… up again!” The Togruta appears with her arms full of cloth. Is that my boot? On top of them are several small bottles and a single syringe. “I just went to bring you your clothes and some medicine. I didn’t think you would be ready to walk so soon.”

I eye the scene suspiciously. I’m definitely on a ship of some sort, most likely no longer on Endor. There are a lot of people on this ship, but for what purpose? And why is a Jedi involved? Don’t speak, Keres. The way he’s looking at me, he’ll just pull a ‘Keres’ and ironically evade whatever you ask him.

I hold out my hands for my clothes, to which the Togruta pours them into my arms while trying to maintain a polite smile.  

There is silence between the two of us as I pretend to be very interested in my black and gray outfit and boots. “So,” the Togruta sighs with another smile. “What should we call you?”

I quickly bend over slightly to slip one of my boots on. These people don’t get to know my name.

  “I’m Aheka. Aheka Shyn. And you’ve already met Adamus…”

I crane my head up to look at the Jedi. His hair is just as brown and soft looking as before, though his jaw is flexing and tightening as he peers at me from across the room. I can feel eyes continue to watch me as I stuff my other foot into the other shoe. He sure knows how to spark my annoyance, I’ll give him that. He’s sparked it so much, I can feel myself tensing up in a new and intense way.  

“He’s not so bad,” Aheka continues. “I know you guys didn’t really get off on the right foot, but-”

“Adamus is responsible for the kriffing ringing in my ear then,” I snap. “So he is that bad.”

Aheka swallows, eyes widening. “I-I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to offend…”

“Aheka. That’s enough,” another voice commands. I drop my gaze back to my boots, chewing on my bottom lip as I hear footsteps come closer. “I’ll take care of this,” the male voice says.

I watch Aheka’s shoes step away briskly and disappear behind another door and hallway. The ship must be awfully large to have so many of them. The only thing I have to think about then is which of those hallways will take me to escape pods. 

“A bit rude, wouldn’t you say?” he starts. “Exploding over such a valid question?”

I dare not speak for fear the poison that comes from it will make a hole in the floor.

“Did you hear what she asked?”

“I heard it,” I hiss, attempting to keep my cool. “I just choose not to answer it.”

Adamus looks me up and down. Not in a flirtatious way, but a way that gives him a good observation. Is he analyzing me? He must be, somewhat. I don’t like it. He might find some flaw in my stance or my balance. I stand up straight, forcing myself to meet his eyes in a way that signifies a challenge.

“So, why Endor?”

Well, that’s a funny story. See, you know the Haxion Brood criminal syndicate? Oh, you don’t? Don’t worry- they’re just some of the most hardened and cutthroat criminals in the galaxy! Well, they captured me outside of Kijime. After straight up murdering people of your kind, they were so frightened of me they just chose a distant planet to drop me off at! Funny story, right?      

“The will of the Force,” I quip. A satisfying snap runs through my stomach as I watch his left eye twitch. It’s perfect. I want to shatter his expression like that again.

I watch a yellow Twi’lek shake hands with one of the soldiers in a helmet. I’m reminded of Talik for a moment, and I miss her- but I push her from my mind. Mur, Kip, Talik- they’re a part of my past now. Talik can’t chase me anymore.

“Somewhere you need to go?” Adamus continues.  

“Nowhere you can take me,” I promise him quickly.

Adamus curls his pink lips into a sly smile. His eyes twinkle immediately with a spark of charisma. “Listen, no offense, but you don’t look like someone who has somewhere they need to be.”

“Makes sense to me, because you don’t seem like the type of person who would know what that looks like.”

Adamus narrows his pale eyes. I wait for his smile to twitch again, but it doesn’t happen. He almost looks like he wants to laugh. Like I’ve just told him something clever. Instead, he crosses his arms over his chest and begins sauntering backwards. “It was nice talking to you, stranger.”

I take that as him dismissing me. “Fuck you,” I whisper at him as I watch him turn around. The I start back to the room I was unconscious in. With minimal pain on my part, I begin to swap out my clothes with my dark colored outfit that highlights my agility. A small mirror on one of the walls allows me to look at my face.

My eyes are a little red, and there’s a scarlet gash on my forehead, above my right eyebrow. I still look like myself, at least. Same hazel-green eyes, same chapped lips, same brown hair. I’m me. Just roughed up, I guess.

I see and hear Aheka wisp around being me, on the left side. I don’t turn to see her, but I can imagine her pretty face, clear as day. There’s a certain layer of guilt that sweeps around the pit of my stomach. I shouldn’t have been so rude to her earlier. She hasn’t do anything to me. In fact, she’s probably the one who healed me up best she could. She saved my worthless life.

“Hey, Aheka,” I mumble so quietly I expect her not to hear.

“Hm?” She hums sweetly in response.

My mouth suddenly feels dry. I can’t bring myself to turn around and look at her as I say the words, and I realize I’m just as big of a coward as Aegus. “Thank you,” I whisper hoarsely.

It’s quiet for a few seconds, and I start to wonder if she even heard me. “I said-”

“I heard you,” Aheka replies. I can hear her soft smile through her tone. “I’m just doing my job.”

“Are you the medic?”

“It’s just me and another so far. We’re trying to train more, but it’s difficult with our numbers.”

I swallow. “Did you patch me up?”

“Yes.” Aheka says bashfully, as if embarrassed by her work.

“I’m not going to kill you,” I tell her as I turn around to finally face her. I had meant to put her at ease, but I only feel her tense up further at my phrasing. “Can you tell me about my injuries?”

The beautiful Togruta walks to the other side of the room to grab the clipboard she placed there earlier. “A broken rib on your left side, two on your right. Several cuts on your back, calves, and hands. A single cut to your forehead. Your right ankle was dislocated. The right finger on your right hand was already like that when we found you. I’m sorry, but we couldn’t find it.”

“What about my ear?”

“Your ear?” she sets down the clipboard again and begins to walk over to me with a concerned expression. “Is something the matter with it?”

“Yes, my right one.” Her red hand reaches out to touch me, and I flinch away before stilling myself enough for her to hold my jaw gently. “I can’t hear anything out of it.”

“Since when?”

“Since back on Endor. A ship- this one, I think- fired at me and Adamus.”

"They fired at you?!” Aheka furrows her eyebrows in anger. “So that’s why Adamus looked so peeved at Circe. I’m sorry they did that. We’re not usually like that, I promise.”

The tips of her fingers are cold, then warm as they edge closer to my ear. “I knew I noticed you bleeding when I took you in. I should’ve examined you more closely.” Then she snuffs out some hot air. “Perhaps you should start hurting yourself on your left side too, to balance yourself out.”

A weak attempt at humor. I have heard better. Still, I try not to look like I’m so uncomfortable and grimacing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

I clear my throat. “So, who exactly is ‘we’?”

“Oh… Adamus didn’t tell you?” I shake my head no. “I’d tell you we’re nobodies, but that’s not really true,” she whispers, as if we were speaking in a forbidden language. “We’re part of the Rebellion. New, and not really valid, but we’re a part of it. Too small to be the whole thing but well… all rebellions have to start somewhere.”

Oh man. The Rebellion? This is exactly the type of thing I was trying to stay away from. I might’ve well have just ended up in the hands of some Sith activist group. I don’t want to be allied with anyone’s side but my own. I don’t want the Light path or the Dark path- I want my own path.

“And what’s the deal with Adamus?” I venture to ask.

Aheka removes her fingers from my skin gently. She crosses to the other side of the room, and pulls out a long, thick stick with a little puff at the end. “That’s a story I would just butcher telling you. Here, tilt your head this way…”

I tilt my head to the side as she places the stick in my ear. With minimal discomfort, she pulls it out after a moment. The puffy side is stained red and slightly gold. She lifts her hand to my ear and snaps, but I hear nothing. “You didn’t hear that? I see…Well, the good news is I know what to do. I don’t have the materials for it right now, but I’m sure I can find something somewhere.” Aheka gives me a soft smile. “But until then, maybe you should get some rest. I-I know you’ve had nothing but that for the past day and a half, but…”

Is she… looking out for me? No, nobody is that good. She’s being nice for a reason. She wants something from me. I watch her for a minute before walking past her silently. “Wait- ah, where are you going?”

I don’t answer her. It’s not like telling her would make a difference anyway. I pass the room with the holo-table, not seeing my target anywhere. Adamus.

I let my instincts lead the way. I walk through one of the hallways on the right side, then take a left. A few soldiers walking past give me weird looks, but I pay no mind. They’re lucky I didn’t just kill them right then and there.

The Force leads me to another door. Yes- this is where I’ll find him. I can practically smell Adamus’s disgusting stench from here. It opens without me pressing a button.

“Our first assault should’ve been on Endor. We could’ve taken it if it weren’t for Oden’s ridiculous vote.”

“No, don’t be foolish! We should focus on a defense more than anything. We…”

Adamus notices me and turns to face me. His arms unfold themselves as he starts over to me silently, careful not to disturb the others with the movement of his stocky body. The other men in the room, all sharing a similar uniform, continue discussing what I assume to be their rebellious little plans that I intend to be no part of. Adamus reaches out to hold my left arm as if I were a child that needed to be held still.

“Lovely to see you,” he begins. I see that he has to crane his neck to meet my eyeline, and I imagine punching him square in the jaw. “What can I do for you?”

He’s closer than he’s been before. He doesn’t smell as bad as I previously said, actually. It’s not nearly as… stench-y. It reminds me of something I can’t really place. Some type of wood, maybe? I can see a scar across his lips that pauses before his jaw, then resumes on his neck and under his robes. There’s another one right under his right eye. His eyelashes look so soft and dark brown. Something in my stomach pulls me to look in his eyes. 

“Am I interrupting your sausage party?” I say, watching his lips twitch in annoyance for the third time today.

“That’s disgusting,” he counters calmly, struggling to keep his cool.

“But… accurate.”

Adamus squints his eyes in a brief wave of annoyance. “What did you come here for?”

My eyes flicker around the room with paranoia, making sure no one is watching our conversation. Luckily, all the men in uniform seem be clenching their fists as one of them makes some big, dramatic speech while waving his arms around. “Where can you take me?”

Adamus stiffens his body, and I watch the charismatic twinkle return to his irises as my stomach drops. “Ilum, perhaps?”

Ilum would be perfect. It would be… it would be home. “Why would I want to go there?”

“You were talking about it in your sleep.”

Fuck. Adamus.

His grip on my arm intensifies slightly. “I can take you there if you tell me your name.”

I stare up into his piercing orbs. A small shrug graces my shoulders. “Why am I so important to you?” I hiss. “First you stalk me, then you shoot at me, and now you’re demanding my identity. How do I know you’re no better than the Empire?”

Adamus narrows his pale eyes at me. “We’re the rebellion,” he says as if it were obvious.

“What does that have to do with anything?” I counter sharply. “Because you’re not part of the oppressive government, you can’t be oppressive yourselves? Fuck off.”

I hold his stare then. I am not one to back down from challenging authority, or messing with anyone who thinks they’re in control of something. That always tends to include men.

Adamus keeps squaring his jaw in frustration, much to my delight. Then he returns to the table, and a hush falls over the uniformed men. “I have a proposal,” he speaks.

“Does it include her?” One of the men with gray hair and frown stapled to his lips jabs a finger at me.

“It does,” Adamus replies. “I propose we set a course to Ilum. The planet is sacred to the Jedi and could prove useful to me and the uh… new associate here.”

“Didn’t she attack you on sight?” one of the men counters- a Chiss with blue skin and deep red eyes.

“She had every reason to attack. But now she’s going to help us. Right, my new associate?”

Oh no. No, Adamus! Please don’t put the spotlight on me. Before I can respond, Adamus answers for me, probably sensing my discomfort. “Right. Everyone in favor of heading to Ilum, raise your hands.”

Adamus raises both his hands as if surrendering. Nervously, five men follow suit. Adamus turns to me, eyebrows raised. Immediately, I throw up my left hand as a vote.

“Oh, yay! A unanimous vote. That sure makes things easy. Well, off to Ilum then!”

“Ah- General Adamus!”

“Can’t hear you Rass I’m already out the door!” He grabs my arm again as he leaves the room and shuts the door behind us. Separating me from the pit of political vipers he calls his council.

[psychosistr]

FOWL Facets- Chapter 6

Summary: The F.O.W.L. team arrives at their destination and prepare to go rescue their missing member, but a foreboding prediction from Gandra leaves one of them with more worries than when they arrived..

Notes: A short but not-so-sweet chapter to mark the calm before the storm.

-First Chapter-

Domino and Loony enter the ship’s cockpit, taking a look through the windshield. With a single glance it’s easy to tell exactly what their prisoner meant when he said they would “know when they were in the right place”.

They were still out in the middle of the ocean, stopped above an island just big enough for them to land the ship on. Directly next to the island was an enormous and elaborate palace with multiple spires and a huge set of doors facing the island- the entire building made completely out of SEAWATER.

“Talk about flexing..” Gandra mutters under her breath before turning the black captain’s chair to look at Domino. “So, what’s the plan?”

Domino takes a moment to assess the situation, looking down at the small island and the palace. “We’re at a disadvantage if we fight him directly with that much water at his disposal.” He looks down at the bubbled gem in his hand then back up to the liquid palace in front of them. “We’ll have to play along for now. Loony and I will go down for the hostage exchange and look for a chance to grab Steelbeak as soon as we can.” He looks back down to Gandra. “I’ll keep the comm. lines open- if things take a turn for the worse, open fire on the entire building with the destabilization canons and come collect our gems afterwards.”

“Alright, I’ll-” Gandra stops mid-sentence, her eyes turning completely white.

“Oooh, she’s doing the future-thingy!” Loony grins excitedly, leaning and stretching around Domino so she can see Gandra’s face properly.

After a minute, the star-sapphire blinks a few times, her eyes returning to normal as she rubs her head with one hand. “…Sorry.”

“What did you see?” Domino knows that Gandra’s visions can be sporadic, but usually come at the perfect time to be useful in their missions.

“……” Gandra hesitates before turning the captain’s chair around so she’s facing the rest of the room properly. “I’ll show you..but it doesn’t look good.” She extends her hands out in front of herself, the star-mark on her gem glowing white as a pair of black and white headphones appear on her head and a white disk appears below her fingers.

The moment she touches the disk, white lines begin branching out and crisscrossing to form a grid-pattern along the walls, floor, and ceiling. Once the grid has finished forming, Gandra moves her fingers slowly around the disk, making white holograms appear in the middle of the room that begin to enact scenes that skip around- like watching a corrupted video recording that’s missing parts.

The first scene shows Domino and Loony sitting at a table. Loony is looking at something behind Domino with a surprised expression while Domino himself glares at the same spot before turning that same glare to someone on the other side of the table just outside the view of the hologram. Domino’s hands are also notably empty- no longer holding the bubbled melanite like he is currently.

The second scene shows them standing near the same table. This time, however, Steelbeak is with them, but he’s on his knees on the floor with one hand clutched over his gemstone and Loony is crouched down beside him with a worried expression while Domino stares at his partner with a look caught somewhere between shocked and concerned. Domino’s shock quickly turns to anger and he draws both of his guns, pointing them across the table at someone.

The third scene shows Domino seated at the table again, looking at something out of view of the holograms with wide eyes of disbelief as a tear slowly slides down his cheek. Loony is standing beside him, looking at the same thing with a confused frown on her face while Steelbeak, seated on Domino’s other side, looks at both of them with concern clear in his eyes.

The final scene shows Domino and Steelbeak, with Steelbeak sitting in a chair different from the ones at the table before and Domino standing directly in front of him. Domino is clutching something close to his chest with his right hand while his left hand holds one of his pistols- the gun pointed right at Steelbeak. From the angle they’re watching, Steelbeak’s back is to them, but they can all see the look of fury on Domino’s face clear as day. He shouts something they can’t hear at Steelbeak and his gun goes off- the bullet apparently piercing Steelbeak’s gem as in the next second his body disappears and his broken stone falls to the ground. It ends right as Domino sees the shattered gem hit the ground and a look of horror comes over his face, his pistol falling to join the broken shards on the floor.

Gandra stops turning the disk with her fingers. “That’s all I’ve got- the visions stop there.”

Loony frowns while looking at the holograms before turning her head to Gandra. “I don’t like that future- pick a new one!”

Gandra sighs and shakes her head. “We’ve been over this, Loony: I don’t control the future, I just see the most likely outcome.”

Loony folds her arms over her chest and stomps her foot on the floor. “Well, the future you saw is wrong! Dommy would never, ever, EVER shoot Steely!”

“Look, I don’t like it either, but that’s what I saw.” Gandra looks at the holograms. “I don’t know why, but that’s the future we have a 99.9998% chance of arriving at.”

“……” Domino, who’s been looking at the hologram version of himself this whole time, finally speaks up. “Rewind.” Gandra nods and complies with the command, turning the disk backwards with her fingers to make the scene play in reverse right back to the beginning. “Stop.” He tells her when she reaches the point he’s looking for.

The recording stops just a second after the scene’s start and Domino walks around the hologram versions of himself and Steelbeak to get a better view. He can’t see what’s clutched in his hand, no matter what angle he looks from, but he at least gets a better look at Steelbeak’s face when he gets behind himself.

The sight brings a small frown to the loon’s beak: Steelbeak doesn’t look scared over having a gun pointed at him. He doesn’t look anywhere near as angry as Domino himself does in the scene. He just looks..SAD…sad and more than a little sympathetic. An usual combination for the rooster, but one that Domino’s been allowed to see a few times over the years.

Domino raises his hand and does a slow circle with his fingers, signaling Gandra to play it again. She does as she’s asked, moving her fingers slowly over the disk so that the recording plays at a slower speed.

As Domino watches the recording again, this time seeing practically the same thing as his hologram self, he’s able to watch Steelbeak’s face. Reading the other bird’s beak, he makes out the words “Domino, I didn’t know” and, right after he’s shot, he gets out the beginning of Domino’s name just before his body vanishes.

The frown on his face doesn’t lessen at all after re-watching the recording, it only makes his brow furrow in confusion as a stream of unanswerable questions swarm his mind:

Why was he so angry? True, he wasn’t exactly a paragon of self-restraint and had been known to lose his temper from time to time (hence Steelbeak’s appropriate nickname of “short fuse”), but it usually took something big to set him off like that. He hadn’t known that level of blind fury in quite some time.

Why had he drawn his gun on Steelbeak? Sure, they still fought and argued now and then, but he hadn’t pointed his gun at the other gem since their first meeting- and even that had just been as a threat (it wasn’t an empty one, mind you, but he hadn’t fully intended to go through with it at the time). He honestly couldn’t imagine anything that would make him threaten Steelbeak in such an extreme way- especially when the other man was unarmed.

Why did Steelbeak look so sad? Sympathy wasn’t something that came easily to the melanite- he’d been part of F.O.W.L. practically since he’d formed and they taught him early on that things like sympathy and empathy were weaknesses. Over their millennia as partners, Domino had seen Steelbeak’s walls come down significantly as he learned to open himself up more to those he trusted, but one thing remained true: He only bothered sympathizing or empathizing with someone he had a very close connection to- namely Domino, Loony, and maybe one or two other gems (though mostly the former two). That look in his eyes told Domino that, whatever had happened between the two of them, in that moment Steelbeak was likely sympathizing with him- he felt that pain for Domino.

And what did Steelbeak mean by “I didn’t know”? What didn’t he know? What could Domino have been asking (demanding?) of him that he would say that? What information could he be accused of knowing that would cause Domino to act in such a way? Steelbeak was usually on top of things- there wasn’t much he didn’t know when it came to intel- so what did he-?

“It’s not gonna happen!” Loony’s voice pulls him from his negative thoughts. When Domino looks away from the holograms of himself and Steelbeak’s broken stone, he sees that Loony has moved to stand next to him, the spinel looking up at him with determination in her eyes. “This future’s stupid, so it’s not gonna happen! Right, Dommy?”

Domino wants to reassure her, he really does. He wants to tell her with 100% conviction that it won’t happen, but he knows that would be a lie. So, he chooses his words carefully.

“The future isn’t set in stone.” He gives his oldest and closest friend his best attempt at a reassuring smile. “After all, if it was, Gandra wouldn’t be here in the first place, right?”

“You’ve got me there.” Gandra shrugs from her seat, finally letting the holograms and grid-lines disappear along with her headphones and the disk she’d been using to control everything. “I’ve been wrong before. Sometimes knowing the future can change the outcome, and sometimes a single strong emotion is a big enough variable to tip the scales. Like I said, it’s the most likely future, but it’s not the only one.”

That, at least, seems to be enough to cheer Loony up, making her smile once more. “Then we’ve got nothing to worry about! Let’s go save Steely!” She declares while running out of the room towards the exit.

Domino nods in agreement, keeping his smile in place until Loony is out of sight and earshot. “Gandra..” He turns to look at the star-sapphire, his expression conveying the seriousness and gravity of his words. “Make sure Steelbeak knows about this when we bring him back. Don’t let him approach me if I seem…unstable.”

Gandra gives him an understanding nod, her expression mirroring his. “I’ll try, but you know how stubborn he can be.”

The comment makes the corner of Domino’s beak lift in the closest thing to a genuine smile he’s had since entering the room. “Believe me, I know.”

And with that, he walks towards the ship’s exit as well, hoping that they’re right about fate’s flexibility…

<-Previous Chapter Next Chapter->

End Notes: I mentioned before in her character bio that Gandra was able to record her predictions and share them with others, so I figured the best way for her to do that would be in the most sci-fi way possible: HOLOGRAMS.

Also, will I ever write a long story that DOESN’T involve at least some degree of angst directed at characters I adore?

.........

The answer is no, probably not xP

[arcanacouncilrp]

      event five     -      july 17 - july 31

                  before.

     A larger-than-usual crowd of Councilors gathered in the second floor dining room around lunch time on July 17th. Maybe it was something about the weather, or the way their last official meeting had ended, or - well, who can say for sure? Something brought each of them to the room that day to eat, with a few conspicuous absences. Rarely did so many of them dine together, and the oddity of it was felt in the way each stuck closest to someone whose attention they didn’t much mind. The Sun, The Moon, and The Star lit up one side of the room, drawing others into their mischief. The Chariot and The Lovers made idle conversation with Temperance. Pretending to ignore the rest of them, The Tower found himself badgered out of his brooding by The Fool. For a few hopeful moments, the atmosphere at The Lair was light. 

     The Hermit shuffled her cards at one corner of the table, content to keep to herself while she ate, at first. A shadow briefly crossed the room, bringing with it a chill, and though it was gone as quickly as it had come she was unsettled. She stood as if to go to Death or Strength or another friendly face who wouldn’t mind the intrusion. Instead her body went rigid. Cards flipped and tumbled to the floor around her. Her eyes had glazed over in their usual way. How her lips quivered and her forehead wrinkled were… less than usual. Her voice cut clear through the room.

     “Stop.”

     She had begun muttering then, a jumble of half-spoken words and hisses that did not sound like any human tongue, until a ragged sob broke from her lips. She raised shaking hands to claw at her scalp. The glassy-eyed stare of a prophet in the throes of a vision had gone wide with abject fear at some horror no one else in the room could see. This was not a vision like those she’d had before. Those were quiet and still. Not like this. Few had witnessed those moments, but the difference was felt in the room nonetheless. Most strange, and perhaps most shocking, of all was the way her fevered words had risen to a wail. “None of us are safe,” she said, shaking her head back and forth wildly. “We have sown our own destruction. None of us are safe from each other.” Anyone who stepped forward to her made her flinch away, her unseeing gaze huge with fright. “No one can be trusted. Salus iacet in, in, in exitium. Stop. Stop! St-”

     Like a bulb burning out, she dropped, her head bouncing off the corner of the dining table as she fell. At exactly the same moment, though this was not known to most of the Council at the time, chaos reigned in the rest of the house. A fire winked into existence in a corner of the Training Room. Caught by Judgement, it didn’t spread far, but soot marked near the ceiling nonetheless, and no obvious source was found. Every piece of glassware in the Rec Room shattered at precisely the same moment, showering its old wooden floor - and, incidentally, The Emperor and The Empress - with shards and liquors. Water, gray and muddied, seeped into the Library’s floor as if welling from the ground itself. It reached no more than a few inches high, but enough to reach a few misplaced books and stir up a reaction from The High Priestess. None of these events have red-handed culprits, and yet… These days it takes so little provocation for the Council to point fingers. Almost as little as it takes to distract them from the gradual mutilation of the ley line right beneath their feet.

      Quickly The Hermit was moved and not long after the rest of the dining room cleared, the chill in the air now apparent to everyone who had lingered. In the shadows lurked two figures hidden from onlookers, one with dirt crushed into her threadbare sweater looking up at the other. Said other, with leathery skin pulled taut around its skull, stared into the now-empty room through pure white, too-round eyes rimmed in sooty gray. It nodded, perhaps satisfied by what it had witnessed, and the reflection at its side slid away into the gloom.

                 now.

     Word of the vision and various small disasters spread fast, as it tends to do, particularly when the news is so damning - can anyone in the house be trusted? Who might start a fire for no apparent reason? Who would destroy books or windows, and why? 

      What is apparently foretold by the vision is alarming, but the other problems don’t appear as otherworldly as they could. In fact, it feels as if someone (a Councilor, perhaps?) is working to sow unease. Provoked to action, The Emperor sets her sights on Nashville, intent to determine The Devil’s motivations. Can she be relied upon, or will she rise to dark expectations? Convince her to return, to stay, or simply keep out of the way - The Emperor isn’t sure yet which she prefers.

     In much the same fashion, distrust spurs The Chariot to storm out of her room and into the world, and unfortunately for him, The Fool gets caught in her crosshairs. Just a few doors down from them, Temperance and The Star reason their way through the moments events, wondering if they aren’t all, somehow, related.

     The Hermit is not unconscious for long, though that does not deter Death from taking her to the infirmary, where he and The Hierophant brace for disorientation and panic. The Magician slides away with Justice to discuss the implications of what was said, while The Hanged Man and The Wheel of Fortune take it upon themselves to lighten the mood all around with pranks and general mischief.

     The crisis in the Library is enough to draw The Tower to The High Priestess, and though he is well outside his wheelhouse, he tries his best to help. Judgement takes news of the fire to The Sun, as well as his suspicions of the flare’s mysterious origin.

      The Lovers joins The Empress in the Rec Room, not because she particularly wants to clean, but because The Empress is one of few people she isn’t so jittery around these days. Or maybe it’s lingering guilt that drives her. Either way.

      The air, the water, the earth… Something is different at The Lair, something that The Moon thinks she may be imagining until Strength shares her own feelings on the matter. Ley lines may be out of Strength’s depth, but two heads are usually better than one, so long as the other doesn’t look remarkably like yours.

Happy event day, Councilors! Can you feel those shadows lurking closer? Maybe soon you’ll discover what awaits in them! First we have to set everyone at each other’s throats, though, because it’s just so much fun. As always, your assigned prompts are listed above, but you are more than encouraged to continue old threads and plot others besides! If your character is not listed in any specific location during the vision, you can decide whether or not they were there to witness! This event will run between July 17th and July 31st. If you have any questions, we will do our best to take care of them for you. And as always and most importantly, have fun!

[starfaring-princelotor]

No Time Like The Present

Summary: Lotor receives a gift and finds it means more to him than he realizes. 

Pairings: Lotor x F!Reader

★ Disclaimer: I do not ship Lotura and I kindly ask that this story to not be tagged as Lotura. This is a Lotor x Reader/Self-Insert OC story which is in no way related to Allura at all. Please be respectful of my chosen pairing. Thank you. ★

Warnings: N/a.

Future Sight___Historic Significance___No Time Like The Present___Thinking Ahead ___Best Friends

Lotor knew he was staring.

He knew he was unconsciously drifting his gaze from the professor to where you were sitting, directly across the hall from him. More than once he had to snap out if it by internally slapping himself, even if you didn’t once recognize the indecent gaze of his eyes lingering on your body. Your mouth. Your neck. Your shoulders. All of you. From the way your quill moved with every flick of your wrist to how those lips would mutter silently to yourself in reminder.

Lotor wondered what else your hands could do. What else that mouth could do. What else hid behind those lustrous orbs of yours. He couldn’t decide between wanting to steal a kiss from you or wanting you to take his breath away with a press of your delicate, pillowy lips upon him. His thoughts were rampant with little care for the rules he labeled as self-respect. And, damn it all, he had to control himself better.

You are not in love. You are heavily infatuated, you fool. You know the difference, now gather your wits and pay attention to the lesson at hand.

Hand. Lotor’s mind flashed an image of your hands, helplessly clinging to his back in wild lust. Were your nails long? Would you be digging them in his hot flesh while his hips grind against your body underneath him? Oh, how he wanted to feel your palm touching his chest, anywhere your curious mind desired. Are you the kind to let your fingertips explore or -

Damn. What was he? A foolish hormone-driven prepubescent again?

“Asked her out to the Yule Ball yet?”

Lotor kept his gaze glued on you and, without missing a beat, answered, “No. I do not think I will.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Shiro was watching his friend, that half-lust, half-adoration look in his eyes, “I heard Throk was going to.”

“You sure hear a lot of gossip nowadays, hm, Shiro?”

“Not my fault Allura’s mice like to hang out with me.”

He would have to hand it to Lotor, though. The man didn’t even flinch when he mentioned Throk. Was he that enthralled with you? Were his rose-colored goggles too tight on his face? Did he even notice you staring straight back at him with a small smile on your lips? No, he thinks not. He was on cloud nine and riding high in his horny thoughts.

“She will not agree to go with him.”

“Never get rid of that confidence, friend. It suits you,” Shiro grinned, containing his chuckle to not draw attention, “Since when could you tell the future?”

“I can not,” he grinned, “But chances are slim for Throk when she, no doubt, has lines of eager suitors just waiting to ask for her hand.”

Shiro was tempted to roll his eyes. What a hopeless romantic, this guy. When his grey orbs caught the black rose sticking out of his friend’s satchel, the Gryffindor prefect shook his head in mirthful amusement.

Hopeless? Maybe not. Romantic? Definitely.

Another crumpled ball folded itself into a snake, the magic from your wand bringing inanimate objects to life. Temporarily, anyways.

If anyone were to come into your room, they would see a zoo littered all over the floor. Paper animals from bears to giraffes tramped over the rug, some hiding under your bed while others sought to rip the smaller one to pieces. Ah, yes, the circle of paper life. It mattered not how noisy they were being. It could not distract you from hovering the tip of the quill over another blank parchment.

And hover it stayed.

The words were not coming to you and that was beyond frustrating. Your penmanship was fine, beautiful even, but the prose? The poetic soul? The letters meant to represent those lingering thoughts in your head were not working with you tonight. Or any previous night, for that matter. All you were doing was wasting ink and time. And yet, you kept trying, struggling to make this letter as perfect as possible for a certain white haired Slytherin.

Sighing heavily, you straighten your back and stretched your arms above you, letting your mind wander.

If there was one thing you appreciated with being Lotor’s friend, then it is that you didn’t need to be perfect. Everyone had flaws, but he showed you twice already that fixing them is what makes you a better person. Change is a good thing. Painful, but good. It was difficult keeping your eyes astray from that mirror shard. Easily one of the hardest hurdles you have ever had to do. You wanted so badly to see your mother, your father, all of you, smiling happily like before they…

“Dear Lotor,”

Dear Lotor? Was that proper for your friend? Hopefully, yes.

“Words can not express how thankful I am to have you by my side.”

You thought back to potions class, the time in the forest, even when he was guiding you to your house’s wing. A small, fond smile spread on your lips.

“Whereas I have been recklessly selfish, you have dutifully”

Dutifully? Ugh. That was not the right word! You know he wasn’t helping you out of duty. Well, not completely anyways. You hastily scratched over “dutifully” then continued writing, figuring this was a good 56th draft.

“You have kindly grounded me to see things more logically, something I have failed to do for someone sorted into the Ravenclaw house.”

Yes, yes. Keep it somewhat light with a self-burn joke. No doubt he would agree with you anyways. Probably chuckle to himself if he reads it. When he reads it. You bit your bottom lip, hesitating on the next words itching to transfer from your mind to ink. This part was always the hardest. The blank yellow tint of the paper mocked you, teased you for the cowardly trepidation gripping your chest. All this time, locked in your room, you came to one conclusion: you liked Lotor. You would consider the both of you as friends, right?

Right.

“If it is all the same to you”

Scratch that. It was too non-chalant.

“I hereby request that”

Scribbles. Too formal.

“Would it be terribly selfish if I were to ask you to attend the Yule ball with me?”

As...friends? Best friends. You felt your face warming up at those two words. Best. Friends. You really liked that.

Prince Lotor was nervous.

A rare occurrence for him, but it did happen. While he brushed off invisible lint from his shoulder, other hand folded neatly behind his back, he kept his posture straight and regal in waiting like a true gentleman. The bottom of the stairs have never felt so intimidating before. His collar suddenly felt too tight and, goodness, was that a scuff on his boots? Who dared step on his shoe without his knowing? He kept sneaking glances to his cuffed wrists, just to make sure he was presentable for the public. No, not just the public. But for you, too. Of course he was fine, handsome even, and yet…he was stiff as if he was going to face a basilisk with only his bare hands for weapons.

Green was still a horrendous color, but he will admit it complemented the black suit wonderfully.

“Prince Lotor.”

Your voice calling his name, with his proper title, drew his nebulous eyes up each carved marble step. That smile on your face suited you well and, in all honesty, was better than the elegant dress draping past your ankles. That beauty radiating from your eyes put the soft sapphire linen to shame. Little did he know, you were thinking the same when you stared in awe at the silver braid crowning his head. Did he even realize he was grinning like a fool with a soft fondness glazing over his sharp face?

“You look beautiful, my dear,” he held his hand out, which you gladly surrendered your own on top of his, “Surely, this flower will not even hold a candle to you.”

You scoffed, he chuckled, “C’mon, Casanova, give yourself some credit here. I’d say try not to attract too much attention at the hall, but that’s nearly impossible for you.”

“Oh? Go on,” Lotor tied the white silk band around your wrist delicately, ensuring the blooming corsage was centered properly, “Think women will drop to my feet and beg for a dance?”

“Ha!” you barked a laugh, “That’ll be the day. But no, it’s more like...you’re just hard to miss.”

With his height, his skin, his hair, yes, Lotor was indeed hard to miss. No doubt people would stare and, although you had no problem with speeches and crowds in a classroom, this was a different setting all together. A social gathering, not something you were accustomed to yet, especially besides someone whose mere presence demanded attention. Lotor curbed the playful banter then held his elbow out for you to take, already sensing your creeping uneasiness while his own nervousness disappeared in thin air.

“I do not suppose you have any more of that invisible ink you used in your letter, hm?” there was a hint of pride at your ingenious trick, one he almost wasn’t able to solve, “We could douse ourselves in it and run off. All those in our year will be there, I doubt they would notice two people missing.”

Besides, it’s not like this is the first time Lotor would bend the rules for you.

“And land you in trouble with the Headmaster Bob? I think not, Mr. Prince Slytherin Prefect.”

“Please,” he said with some exasperation hidden in his grin, “Just call me Lotor for tonight.”

The doors were already open and, from above, you could see the enchanted ceiling sprinkling snowflakes of all sizes. They disappeared before touching anyone’s head, but what truly caught your sight was the bright moon and the powdered tall trees displaying a winter wonderland before your very eyes. Magic was truly a special phenomenon you will never quite get used to.

“Damn, looks like we missed the ballroom dance,” you sure did not sound too heartbroken about it, “Seems like my accursed knack for being late strikes once again. Terrible.”

Lotor arched a brow and grinned down at you, “Nonsense. We will still get our dance yet, darling, though this music is not exactly suitable for it. Nor is...all this wild hopping and flailing.”

While all the students were inside, going crazy to the rock of ages blasting in the hall, Lotor led the two of you out into an isolated garden patio, complete with cement benches, neatly trimmed bushes still shimmering with green leaves, and even a soothing fountain filling the chilly air. Strange, but the cold did not seep into your bones as fast as you thought. In fact, you felt rather warm besides your friend.

A puff of fog left your mouth as you spoke, “It was getting stuffy in there. But, aah, the fresh air is nice.”

You took a deep breath just to emphasize your approval, but when you tried to release your hold from him, Lotor’s bigger hands refused to let you go. He wasn’t clasping tightly at all, more loose to let you go if you truly wanted to. Your questioning gaze and tilt of head made the Prince falter for a second, before he offered you an enchanting smile. Enchanting or mischievous, you wondered?

“I was serious about the dance,” he liked the surprised look on your face, “But if you are not of mind, it is no tragedy, my dear.”

“You know, I failed that lesson. Spectacularly, might I add.”

“Good thing I am not a teacher then, hm?”

A laugh left your mouth before you could stop it, funny bone simply tickled at the light banter. Yes, it is a good thing he was no teacher. You returned to his arms, much to his delight, and placed your free hand on his broad shoulder. Lotor tangled his fingers with yours before setting his palm properly to grip your waist. He was half tempted to squeeze, maybe try to see if you were ticklish at all, but it was your hum of thought that distracted him.

“Just don’t laugh when I step on your toes.”

“I will most certainly laugh. You know this.”

Teasing bastard, but you grinned in amusement anyways. Lotor nearly puffed up his chest, ready to lead you into the dance, but first he started...purring? No, ridiculous. He was humming a soft tune, one completely different than that leaking from the dance hall. Slowly, with the utmost care as if he was holding an ethereal moon goddess in his very arms, the Prince guided you along with his firm, lithe body.

Chest against chest, pelvis flushed together, the surrounding garden and night slowly faded away as the only thing both of you could feel was each other’s sublime presence. He was good at this and, really, now you kind of wish you paid more attention in class. Lotor expertly avoided your missteps, making it seem like you were flawlessly following his guide even though he was doing 95% of the work.

You were acutely aware that he had a smile on his face, one you have never seen him wear since you first met him crossing the threshold into Hogwarts castle.

“You are staring.”

“Can’t help it. Your freckles are distracting.”

“I get that quite often,” he flashed you an honest, handsome grin, canine glinting under the dim moon, then found his throat constricting suddenly, “You may touch them, if you wish.”

As the dance came to a slow end, you decided to take him up on that offer. His hands smoothed down to hold your waist, a way to keep you close to him in this chilly, chilly night. Couldn’t risk you getting a cold or becoming sick, right? Lotor kept still when gentle fingertips trailed up to his chin, barely skimming over his jawline, then gave the barest of flinches as you touched him. His cheeks were freezing, but your warm thumbs caressing over his freckles felt absolutely blissful.

You don’t know why, but you half expected those speckles to glow.

“Hm,” you squinted, eyes narrowed at him and, well, it put him on alert. Was it something he did? Said? Perhaps he was holding you too tight -

“...55...56…”

“...Are you,” he started, realization dawning on him, “Are you counting my freckles?”

A pinch on his cheeks, “Yes! You made me lose count. Stay still.”

But he didn’t. Lotor bellowed out a laugh, head tossing back at the ruined moment. No, not ruined. This was perfect. Not exactly what he expected, but you always did have a funny way to diffuse domestic scenarios. Leave it to you to make him swerve off his intended path. A good thing, no doubt. Always expect the unexpected. His chest was shaking while you tsk’d at him for interrupting your very important assignment.

“Come, darling,” he let out a relieved sigh, the laugh doing wonders on his hardened, infatuated soul, “Sit with me. I have something for you.”

Lotor brushed off the layer of snow from the cement bench then motioned you to take it. He did the same for his own spot before glancing up at the night sky. Beautiful. Always has been, but tonight, those star seem to be glimmering even brighter than before. Your eyes were stuck on the moon and it was in this rare, pleasant silence where the both of you came to understand how...nice it was being with each other.

“Christmas was never something I gave a second thought to because it was too...how do you say? Too sentimental, ” his hand reached into his coat, pulling out an immaculately wrapped square present, “It was not a holiday for me. Celebrating with family over a warm dinner and thoughtful, spoiled presents. Hugs and togetherness spreading cheer and good will to each other. Sickening, really.”

You would have believed him if you didn’t catch that growing smile on his lips.

“But I realize that is wrong. What it means to me does not mean the same for others. Not to you,” his thumb brushed over the shiny bow on the present before he turned and offered it to you, “There are people who had a happy family and...ahem, pardon me.”

Lotor was at a loss for words. This talk was making his heart jump in his chest, crashing into his vocal chords and messing with his brain only because it felt awkward sharing personal thoughts so...openly.

“I simply hope this gift exchange, as you say, is enough to bring back those joyful memories for you, my dear.”

My best friend. Lotor was no dunce. He could piece two and two together, especially after you shared with him the history of your broken family. He didn’t need to hear it all and, judging by how much it affected you, you weren’t going to indulge him. The only thing that mattered was that you were happy. You had a happy family and, damn it, just because his own parents were cruel and heartless doesn’t mean you should follow his chosen path of being the seasonal despondent.

You had good memories of your family, but this? Lotor’s gift? You couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop the surge of feelings making your lower lip quiver. You threw your arms around him in a crushing embrace, causing the Prince to stutter at such straightforward displays of affection. And yet, his arms wrapped around your midsection as he returned the sudden hug. This...this felt nice, especially knowing you accepted his gift.

“Thank you,” you swayed him slightly before backing off him, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Lotor. This is...it’s not the same, but…”

Lotor’s smile faltered a bit.

“But it’s much better. Way better.”

Now, he felt ridiculously proud of himself.

“I love it - “

“You did not even open it yet.”

“I know! I’m just taking in the moment! It’s important! It feels good!”

Lotor raised a silver brow and, finally, you pulled the bow and strings off the present. The wrapping came off next. The Prince found himself unconsciously holding his breath in dreadful anticipation. The book with no title laid bare for your very eyes, but you went deathly silent. Intricate etchings in the green leather dye suddenly seemed mediocre for someone like you. The symbolic tree with jade minerals carved into leaves were too dull. He knew he should have gone with emeralds. Much prettier, much shinier, much more suited for -

“Wow…” your voice was low, but full of dazed awe, “You...you made this?”

“Oh, no. I bought the journal,” he watched your fingertips gently skim over the leaves, “But those, I put in myself. I even...ah…”

The timber of his voice trailed off and you turned to look at him to see his gaze fixated on the white floor, “Yes? You even…?”

“So pushy, you are,” he chuckled, running a hand over his hair and trying to steel himself with being so open, “I have enchanted it. Do write in it tonight and see what happens.”

“You aren’t going to tell me?”

“No.”

“See, that’s just mean,” you bumped your shoulder against him lightly, playfully, “Now I can’t wait until the dance is over.”

Would you think differently of him if he said he didn’t want it to end?

“Okay, fine, keep your secrets,” you reached into your bag, “Now, before I give this to you, you have to close your eyes.”

“Oh, really now?”

“Yes, really.”

“Very well, I will humor you.”

You almost wanted to pinch that catty grin off his face, but he did obey when his lids slid close. Taking a few seconds to make sure he wouldn’t peek, you gently grabbed his hand and placed the paper wrapped orb in his palm. At least, you should have, until you noticed a certain pale scar cutting across his skin. The scar from the mirror, an unwelcome reminder of your foolish actions.

Taking a deep breath, you plopped the gift and pushed his fingers up to curl around it.

“Alright, there.”

When he opened his celestial eyes, the first thing Lotor saw was that your smile, as true as it was, had a quick flutter of sadness creeping at the edges. It disappeared before he could question you and he ultimately decided, well, perhaps it was nothing. Perhaps it was that fleeting memory of your family invading your mind again. In any case, he let it go for now, then deftly peeled apart the wrapping covering your gift.

Your leg was bouncing in anxiousness. Every crinkle of the paper was a mocking tune to the gift in his hand. This wasn’t as practical as his gift. Did he like gifts that were more useful than sentimental? Oh, stars, what if this was just going to be sitting in a storage box, hidden away for years because all it ever does is show one’s emotions and -

Lotor’s brows shot up in genuine surprise, “Is...is this blue sandstone?”

“Uh huh,” your hand came up to rub your neck nervously, “Shined it, too, until it was good and ready. Do you...like it?”

Why did you even ask that? It only made your throat tighten more in trepidation, both wanting and afraid to hear his answer.

He could not take his eyes off the orb, inner stars slowly changing to green grass and blooming flowers and sunshine all around. It was warm, so warm that he had to bring both of his hands in to cradle it lovingly. This small gem was...precious. Beautiful. He knows about these, he knows about these intimately, but he never sought to own one himself. Lotor liked to believe he is a man who knows himself both inside and out, emotions included.

But this soothing visual of spring time told him otherwise.

“I do,” he whispered, “I do like it. This is...This is truly an extraordinary gift, my dear. I will cherish it forever.”

Lotor may be a Prince, but right now he felt like a King.

You sighed in relief. Lotor took entirely too long to answer, but when he did, his words made you feel big. Wholesome. Accomplished, even. Then...then you realized what exactly this was you were feeling. You felt accepted. You didn’t feel so alone now. It was quiet, both students simply touching and admiring the gifts given by the other while the stars protected you two from above.

“Do you...want to go inside? Grab a drink?”

Lotor slowly dragged his eyes to lock with yours, a certain tenderness radiating from them in the night. It was a good look on him, one you thought, well, you wouldn’t mind seeing it more often.

“Not yet, my dear. I am...taking in the moment.”

Neither of you wanted the night to end, but alas, even youngsters had their limits. Lotor’s tie was loose, jacket hanging off the side of his chair, and top two buttons of his shirt undone. Still, he wasn’t tired, he didn’t want to sleep, not when the blue sandstone orb was still in his possession. This would easily be a treasured gift he will not share with others. Solely for him and him only. Not even Kova would have the luxury of touching this.

The navy-dyed journal on his desk began glowing a faint, soft hue. Lotor couldn't stop the surge of...joy? Happiness? Eagerness? Something. The surge of something fluttering to his face and planting a smile on his lips. He flipped it open to the first blank page and waited in suspense. He never told you what the secret was because he wasn’t quite sure if his enchantment worked in the first place.

Then, words started appearing on the parchment, words written in your handwriting.

“Dear diary, 

Tonight was the most fun I’ve had in a while.”

Lotor grabbed his quill, uncapped his ink bottle, then dipped it before writing right under your sentence.

“Me, too.”

[xxstyleart]

Chapter 18; Siege and Storm

Heyyooooo, so I’ve adapted a few parts in a particular scene of chapter 18 with Mal, Alina and the Darkling! I’ve been trying to read fanfics and it’s inspired to write my own so here ya go!! *Disclaimer: I’ve adapted the existing scene with a few things I envisioned. Most of the content is original to Leigh. I’ve simply added a few different elements into the scene and developed it the way I thought would create a deeper scene. Also, my content will be written in between double asterisks. Anything outside of that was written by Leigh. & the ‘[...]’ indicate there are additional lines from the book I’ve not included in my post but that I’ve skipped in order to make this post more fluid and concise with my adaptations. Hope that made sense. Enjoy!!!!

(Art credit: nanfe1789)

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He nodded, scuffed the toe of his boot along the floor. “I miss you,” he said quietly. Soft words but they sent a painful, welcome tremor through me. Had part of me doubted it? He’d been gone so often.

I touched his hand. “I miss you too.” [...] He let out a long breath. “Saints, I hate this place.” I blinked, startled by the vehemence in his voice. “You do?” “I hate the parties. I hate the people. I hate everything about it.” “I thought... you seemed... not happy exactly, but--” “I don’t belong here, Alina. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.” That I didn’t believe. Mal fits in everywhere. “Nikolai says everyone adores you.”

“They’re amused by me,” Mal said. “That’s not the same thing.” He turned my hand over, tracing the scar that ran the length of my palm. “Do you know I actually miss being on the run? Even that filthy little boarding house in Cofton and working in the warehouse. At least then I felt like I was doing something, not just wasting time and gathering gossip.”

I shifted uncomfortably, feeling suddenly defensive. “You take every chance you get to be away. You don’t have to accept every invitation.”

He stared at me. “I stay away to protect you, Alina.” “From what?” I asked incredulously. He stood up, pacing restlessly across the room. “What do you think people asked me on the royal hunt? The first thing? They wanted to know about me and you.” He turned on me, and when he spoke his voice was cruel, mocking “Is it true that you’re tumbling the Sun Summoner? [...] I stay away to put distance between us, to stop the rumors. I probably shouldn’t even be in here now.”

I circled my knees with my arms, drawing them more tightly to my chest. My cheeks were burning. “Why didn’t you say something?” **Quiet anger rumbled in my chest. How could he not know what was in my heart? How did he not understand that I could not give a care as to what anyone else had to say? I needed him and that’s all that mattered, not what others were speculating about my--sex life.**

“What could I say? And when? I barely see you anymore.” “I thought you wanted to go.” “I wanted you to ask me to stay.”

My throat felt tight. I opened my mouth, ready to tell him that he wasn’t being fair, that I couldn’t have known. But was that the truth? Maybe I had really believe Mal was happier away from the Little Palace. Or maybe I’d just told myself that because it was easier with him gone, because it meant one less person watching and wanting something from me. **Another burden I wouldn’t have to bear. Another disappointment I would avoid. So then, why was there such an aching in my chest as he stood there, staring at me expectantly? What more did he want? Was I not enough? Was I too much?**

He raised his hands as if to plead his case, then dropped them helplessly. “I feel you slipping away from me, and I don’t know how to stop it.”

**His eyes bore into mine with a deep sadness I hadn’t let myself look at for too long these past few weeks. It stung. Maybe because he was right. Maybe because I feared all of this would become too much for him and he’d decide to finally leave for good. Maybe because it was easier to let go first rather than to be left behind like crumbs on a table... Or maybe because it reminded me of the sadness that was growing in my own heart every time he left, because despite his previous declaration in wanting to protect me, I’d felt him slipping away and I hadn’t known what to do about it.** Tears pricked my eyes. “We’ll find a way,” I said. “We’ll make more time--”

“It’s not just that. Ever since you put on that second amplifier, you’ve been different.” My hand strayed to the fetter. “When you split the dome, the way you talk about the firebird... I heard you speaking to Zoya the other day. She was scared, Alina. And you liked it.”

“Maybe I did,” I said, my anger rising. It felt so much better than the guilt or shame. **Times have changed. I’ve changed. I'm not the weak little orphan from Keramzin anymore. I may not be strong, but I am more now. Different. I had to be because of this power, because of all the people depending on it. Why couldn’t he see that?** “So what? You have no idea what she’s like, what this place has been like for me. The fear, the responsibility--”

“I know that. I know and I can see the toll it’s taking. But you chose this. You have a purpose. I don’t even know what I’m doing here anymore.” [...]

**The rage boiled inside, heat rose to my cheeks and ears. “Coward,” I spat as viciously as I could. Surprise swims in his eyes as he registers my verbal attack. Despite the outburst, a door inside me slams shuts. “I chose nothing.” I say coldly. He stiffens at my change of tone. “I did not choose to be born with this power. I did not choose to wage this war. I did not choose to go after the stag,” I twisted the knife.

A mix of hurt, desperation and fear contorts his face. I know he remembers. It was his idea to go after the stag--to get it before the Darkling could so I could be used against the Darkling in time, just as everyone here was planning on doing. He shakes his head in denial.** [...] “You came here for Ravka. For the firebird. To lead the Second Army.” He tapped the sun over his heart. “I came here for you. You’re my flag. You’re my nation. But that doesn’t seem to matter anymore. Do you realize this is the first time we’ve really been alone in weeks?” **Brief shock overcame me.**

The knowledge of that settled over us. The room seemed unnaturally quiet. Mal took a single tentative step toward me. Then he closed the space between us in two long strides. One hand slid around my waist, the other cupped my face. Gently, he tilted my mouth up to his. “Come back to me,” he said softly. **The tenderness in his voice pulled at my heart and thaws it. The door that slammed shut creaked open just a bit. This. This was what I yearned for--what I’ve been missing. Him. His love, his affection. No pride and no barriers to stand in our way. My body relaxed in response.** He drew me to him, but as his lips met mine, something flickered in the corner of my eye.

The Darkling was standing behind Mal. I stiffened. Mal pulled back. “What?” he said. “Nothing. I just...” I trailed off **as fear choked me. I didn’t know what to say.** The Darkling was still there. “Tell him you see me when he takes you in his arms,” **he taunts. His voice was too raw. Too real. It shattered me.** I squeezed my eyes shut. Mal dropped his hands and stepped away from me, his fingers curling into fists. “I guess that’s all I needed to know.” **Panic rose in my chest.** “Mal--” “You should have stopped me. All that time I was standing there, going on like a fool. If you didn’t want me, you should have just said so.” “Don’t feel too bad, tracker,” said the Darkling. **Each word sounded like shattering glass and it was hard for me to not cringe anymore than I already had.** “All men can be made fools.” “That’s not it--” I protested. “Is it Nikolai?” “What? No!” “Another otazt’sya, Alina?” the Darkling mocked. Mal shook his head in disgust. “I let him push me away. The meetings, the council sessions, the dinners. I let him edge me out. Just waiting, hoping that you’d miss me enough to tell them all to go to hell.” I swallowed, trying to block out the vision of the Darkling’s cold smile. **He knows. He knows I won’t say anything more. I’ll let Mal believe this lie rather than tell him what I truly see. He knows I’m too afraid to face that truth.**

[...] “Mal--” **Faltering before I truly begin. He’s slipping. I need to say something. Anything. But what? What can I say to make him stay? Pain strikes me as I realized there wasn’t a better option than nothing.** [...] “I don’t want to hear about [...] Ravka or the amplifiers or any of it.” He slashed his hand through the air. “I’m done.” He turned on his heel and strode toward the door.

“Wait!” I rushed after him and reached for his arm. **Desperation clung to me. I wanted to feel the warmth of his skin on mine. I hoped for it to drive away this coldness I felt inside.**

He turned around so fast, I almost careened into him. “Don’t, Alina.”

**My heart broke. He was already pushing me away. I can see that the distance was much more than the few inches between us.** “You don’t understand--” I said, **faltering again. How could I put it into words he wouldn’t judge me for? How could I think of him so often after all that he’s done? Why do I keep seeing the Darkling? Mal would be disgusted of me.**

“You flinched. Tell me you didn’t.” “It wasn’t because of you!” **I just wished he’d believe me.** Mal laughed harshly. “I know you haven’t had much experience. But I’ve kissed enough girls to know what that means. Don’t worry. It won’t happen again.” The words hit me like a slap. He slammed the door behind him.

I stood there, staring at the closed doors. I reached out and touched the bone handle. **I know you haven’t had much experience. But I’ve kissed enough girls to know what that means. His words ring in my head, cutting through me like a double-edged knife.** You can fix this, I told myself. You can make this right. But I just stood there, frozen. [..] I bite down hard on my lip to silence the sob that shook my chest. That’s good, I thought as the tears spilled over. That way the servants won’t hear. An ache had started between my ribs, a hard, bright shard of pain that lodged beneath my sternum, pressing tight against my heart.

**I turned and leaned against the door, gasping for breath while trying not to let the sobs erupt. I see him fully now, standing exactly where he was behind Mal, just before the bed. The moonlight shone against his tall silhouette and illuminated his broad shoulders, his strong arms. I can see his perfect face, a smile no longer on his lips. He had the mercy to not look smug. Instead, his face was stony and cold but there was something dark swirling in his eyes that I couldn’t make out. I pinned him in place with a look, offering nothing but anger, hatred, and resentment.

I brought my hands to my face, my fingers curling and slightly tugging at my roots. Angrily, I spoke, my voice becoming louder with each question. “Why do I keep seeing you? Why are you here? Why must you torture me like this?” I’m nearly begging him for answers. My hands slashed the air between us, frustrated. “Must you make me drive him away?” I can read his face clearly now. The problem with wanting is that it makes you weak.

He thaws and looks at me disgustingly lovingly. His eyes were soft as he wrapped his hands around one of mine then laid it over his heart. The other caressed my cheek. Gently, he answers,“Yes, I do because you must realize that in this world, there is only you and I. There is no one else like us: powerful. Your power is growing every day. As much as you love him, he could never love you without fearing you first. And as much as you want him to be there for you--to understand you, he simply can’t. He is otazt’sya. None of them will ever know you the way I do. None will understand the hunger for more power or the delight we feel when we use it. There is no one who will not fear you or judge you. Only I can understand you. Only I will not fear or judge you for what you are. You are Alina Starkov, my equal. We were made opposites, but are halves to the other. We were meant to be together.”

I try to yank my hand back from his chest, but I am frozen. I try again, but to no avail. His words shake me to my core. Knowingly, he says nothing and silently urges me on. How? How was he able to read me so well? How did he know so much about how I felt? Of all people, how could he know what I was going through when he wasn’t even here with me? Or real? Shame and resentment filled me. We wage a silent battle, looking into each other’s eyes, acutely aware of the other. We stayed like that for a long time, so long, my body relaxed and grew used to his presence.

I finally break the silence.“...Why won’t you just let me be?” My voice broke. He was only a figment of my mind playing tricks on me. He wasn’t real... so why did he look so real? Why did this feel so real? He was an itch that I couldn’t soothe. I keep scratching to try and ease the itching but it only makes things worse and now I’m bleeding.

“If I did that, you’d be alone.” His words felt like a bucket of cold water washing over me. Loneliness? Wasn’t that his fear? You don’t understand, my words to Mal echoed again. I’d meant he didn’t understand that I’d actually flinched from him because of the Darkling, not because I didn’t want him but had I meant something else too? Was what the Darkling was saying true? With this new found power of mine, was loneliness my fear now as well? My blood turned cold at that truth. Yes, it was... ‘Sankt Alina’, they’d whispered during prayers. They’d praised the Sun Summoner without cease but I saw the look in their eyes. Admiration was there on the surface but it was fear that had driven them--fear of me... of my power. I saw the way servants never stood too closely, the way they flinched at my every move. I saw the way peers did their best to dance around me with their words. People claimed to worship the Saint but I saw their pity. No one wants this kind of responsibility or this raw hunger for power in any life.

“Alone...” I whispered. “Is that what we are?” As soon as I let the words out, I felt it: alone. It kicked me in the gut and nearly choked the air from my lungs. Tears well in my eyes again and spilled over without cease. My body gives way to the weight in my heart and I sink to the floor. The harsh reality that no one would ever understand drowns me. The fear courses through like an unforgiving tsunami. Breathing became difficult. No one could ever understand me. No one except the Darkling.**

I didn’t hear the Darkling move; I only knew when he was beside me. His long fingers brushed the hair back from my neck and rested on the collar. When he kissed my cheek, his lips were cold, **and I welcomed it, begrudgingly. We were alone, together.**

[muggle-writes]

Stretch Thursday

Prompt: "In front of the protagonist, the grocery store clerk just packed several large glass bottles on top of the eggs. The protagonist hears them crack."

Constraint: write in first person

(I vaguely knew how this was going to end, but everything between the first paragraph and the actual prompted moment, and then most of what came after, surprised me on its way out of my fingers.)

Gods above, could this checkout line move any slower, I wondered. Sure, there were only two people in front of me, but the haughty swaggering lump of a human being in front was questioning everything, in search of a nonexistent bargain:

(readmore should be right here but it's not hey tumblr please build a functional app ever maybe?)

Why didn't you accept this week-out-of-date coupon? Why did that coupon only apply to one package of frog eyes, not four. Are you sure this naga skin rucksack isn't on sale? I'm pretty sure the sign said it was on sale. (the leather shoulder bag in a similar size was on sale.)

The poor clerk - Ashley, their nametag said, a pin on the lanyard instructing people to use She or They pronouns - was the only person on checkout duty in the early afternoon. She seemed flustered, but answered every single question in the same patient, even tone of voice.

I wouldn't be able to do that. Actually, when I worked in retail, I got fired from three different jobs for intimidating customers when they started acting like that. Like just because they cleared out a nest of giant rats on the outskirts of town or prevented a band of goblins from establishing a camp in the caves just across the river, that they're entitled to luxury and hero worship, or at least special privileges, from the rest of us. Thank goodness I finally got a job with the local theater, my talents in projecting illusions finally celebrated for dressing the actors up with "no effort" (on the part of the makeup team, not that I don't stretch my magic as far as it can go and then some every night at rehearsal and for hours at a time eight days straight when our shows are open to the public, to turn the bright-but-plain frocks into resplendent ball gowns and every other bit of nonsense that was asked of me). And that's so much better than when I was viewed with suspicion by peers and teachers alike because apparently creating tiny intangible dragons or silent fireworks and lying about my character are the exact same thing, who knew?

I reeled that train of thought back in. There was no need to be bitter about high school bullies considering I'm now living the (pre)Broadstreet dream, and most of them... Well, even the "successful" ones still work ten hour days at tedious office jobs to keep the heat on and the wards up.

The one thing that bitter spiral was good for was that by the time I forced it out of my head, Ashley was calling "have a nice day, Sir" in the same perfectly-bland tone at Mr Cheapskate as he stalked off, carrying three bags on each arm and leaving his cart half-blocking the checkout lane.

He nearly got blown off his feet as he stepped from the store's heat and calm across the ward line, a generous two feet outside the door, into the frigid wind the meteorologists were calling a sneak peek into the blizzard that should hit this weekend. Good riddance.

I met Ashley's eyes as they tapped the rune to pull the items on the conveyor belt forward. I rolled my eyes sympathetically at her forced smile and dead-exhausted eyes. (Not literally dead! Apparently my brain was stuck in high school again because I could almost hear Mrs Primfoot growling about teens and their inability to describe things accurately. Come on. The zombie revolts in Rhodesia were fifteen years ago, and hyperbole is hilarious. Do people just lose all sense of humor when they turn 30?)

Ashley didn't roll their eyes back, she probably worried about losing her job over disrespecting customers in front of other customers, but their lips twitched and their smile seemed a little less stiff.

"Just these two things?" Ashley asked, with professionally-faked curiosity, picking up a large carton of eggs to scan them. "Eggs and milk to wait out the blizzard?" Eighteen goose eggs was a bit much for waiting out a two day storm, even for a bigger family, but some people liked to overprepare. Gods knew I'd seen weirder purchases when I had to check people out. I'd seen weirder people too. This woman, with her sapphire blue, floor-length dress and gray roots belying her dark brown hair, appeared absolutely normal, even with her curls adding at least two inches in height, making her appear barely shorter than me.

"Those are golden goose eggs," the woman corrected her in a syrupy sweet tone that sent a shiver down my spine. Ashley's eyes widened - probably in recognition because they'd been too professional for anything else, but I wouldn't have blamed her for expressing horror. The only customers worse than the adventurers who thought they were better than everyone else, were the governor's many cousins, who were obscenely rich through none of their own effort and not only thought they were better than everyone else but that we were all too naive to understand that.

"For my sweet niece's fourth birthday," the woman continued as though it were obvious.

I couldn't hold back a snort and immediately faked a coughing fit so she wouldn't turn and lecture me in that same patronizing tone.

Even if a dozen golden eggs wouldn't cost me over a month's wages, the yolks, with the flakes of gold leaf suspended throughout, gave them an awful texture no matter how you prepared the eggs, and they inevitably tasted metallic. No toddler would appreciate that, not even if she was already spoiled so rotten as to only accept the priciest of gifts. Well, if the kid was allowed to smash the eggs raw and then go "panning for gold" she would probably have a blast, but something about this woman's perfectly symmetric makeup, smooth, manicured nails, and shockingly hairless arms told me that she would accept nothing less than the most picture perfect cuisine, which meant she was likely to boil the golden eggs so she could present them, polished to the classic shine.

Regular egg yolks turn chalky and disgusting when you boil them, boiled golden eggs are infinitely worse.

Ashley didn't respond beyond a mild "ah, of course" as they efficiently double-bagged the eggs and set them aside.

The woman made a vague disgruntled noise in the back of her throat, but didn't say anything.

Ashley reached for the next item, the package of six tall carafes that I was now sure were something other than plain milk. Sure enough, when Ashley picked up the package, their hand moved in an arc, as though the carafes weighed less than they expected. The additional height caused the yellow light from the enchanted ceiling to dance across the bottles, drawing my eyes to the anti-theft runes stamped on each one.

Suddenly I recognized them. If I were going to blow an entire paycheck on luxuries, I certainly wouldn't buy the two or three golden eggs I could afford with that amount, but I might splurge on a set of these corruption-identifying bottles. They were supposed to be equally good for home canning, for jams and pickles and the like, and for potions. the not-quite-clear, milky white glass promised to turn sickly green if the contents of each bottle went bad, or if poison was added, intentionally or otherwise, or if the properties of the potion inside changed even if it was still safe to drink.

As Ashley was starting to tuck the bottles into a new bag, the woman cleared her throat. "Dearie, I'm sure those will fit in with the eggs. No need to waste another bag."

Ashley hesitated. "Ma'am, it's Magemart policy to bag fragile items separately and"

"It's fine, it's fine," the woman interrupted. "There's only two items, and I don't need all this extra plastic.

"Of course, Ma'am," Ashley agreed, monotone. They opened the top of the bag of eggs, which had folded itself shut.

As Ashley tucked the bottles into the bag with the eggs, I thought I heard a sharp clink, like glass on glass. Odd, but whatever. maybe one of the bottles is loose in the package. and ran into another.

"This is your total," Ashley said, straightening up and indicating the display. Either the lack of reading the final price was another breach of policy or there was a clause in the policy about not reading numbers with more than four digits aloud. I don't remember exactly, my own job at the Magemart closest to my apartment lasted barely three days, the shortest of any of my retail jobs.

The woman swiped her credit card, and was just tucking it back away into her wallet when one of the carafes exploded with a tinkling crash that seemed to echo for ages. I flinched at the sudden noise, and Ashley jumped back with a yelp, unflappable facade forgotten.

We all looked at the fluorescent green shards for a moment. I couldn't quite believe my eyes - either I'd badly misunderstood how CI bottles were supposed to work or there was something really horrendously wrong with those eggs. Besides just being golden goose eggs I mean. All of the other bottles had dangerous green cracks spreading throughout, and another looked like it might fall apart into thousands of shards like its fellow at the slightest provocation.

Almost before I had processed what I was seeing, the woman had rallied enough to shout in Ashley's face, leaning over the counter. "What the devil did you do?"

Ashley cowered, silent tears building at the corners of her eyes. They still looked stunned, frozen in place.

"Hey!" I shouted, feigning confidence and trying to get in this woman's face to protect a fellow cashier. She ignored me. "You were the one who told them to put everything in one bag!"

That got her attention. It wasn't quite what I meant to say, but I was having trouble figuring out what I meant to say, and that slipped out in the meantime.

"And you want to defend her for what? Selling me defective goods?" the woman demanded, equally happy to yell in my face. At least I'd kind of gotten into this knowingly. "CI bottles don't work like that! Or if this is some new function, then that means these golden goose eggs are poisoned or spoilt and they shouldn't be selling them to me!" she insisted.

"What do you expect her to do?" I asked, meeting her continued shouting with a tone that I would call 'panicked' but that Sierra once called 'dangerously quiet'. "How should she have known? Is she supposed to spend her shift finding any magical item that might interact with other things, and taking it around to set it on every other item it might possibly be bagged with, to make sure there's no unexpected interaction? Should they be doing that instead of checking people out, while they're on the clock?" I tried to make the scenario obviously illogical but I think I rambled too much to get the point across.

The woman only squinted at me for a long moment before putting her nose half an inch from mine and shouting even louder than before, "I! Want! A! Manager!"

I wiped spittle off my face, and she stamped her foot, which seemed to be the impulse needed for the second and third bottles to shatter, with another echoing crash.

Someone in line behind me muttered about a manager, before rushing off. ...Probably. I didn't exactly turn to look, with the woman still glowering in my face. Hopefully they ran off to get a manager who would take this belligerent lady out of my and Ashley's faces.

Fortunately, that's exactly what happened. A manager showed up to talk to the woman right around the time she started making threats, and Ashley and the line of people waiting to check out shuffled over to a new register without glass shards everywhere.

We all kept our positions in line, so it was finally my turn to check out. My heart was still pounding from the confrontation as I handed Ashley the bag of moonstone chips to scan.

They offered me a weak smile. "Illusion magic? Isn't that really hard to learn?" Ashley asked, with a tiny but genuine spark of interest in her eyes.

I nodded before I fully processed the second question, already fumbling for my company credit card. "I work hard at it," I said, stretching the truth a little. I certainly didn't have the usual trouble developing the basics, but I push my limits near-daily at the theater and stumbling out of my comfort zone proves to me that I can do more.

"Will that be all," Ashley asked, but tapped the appropriate button on the register before I could reply, my card already poised over the place to swipe it being answer enough. "Your total is 10.53," she said, the next line in the cashiers' script that I still unfortunately have memorized.

They skipped the part of the script asking me if I wanted a receipt, just grabbed it when it printed and scribbled a quick message on the back of it, before finally presenting it to me, holding it out with the handle of the plastic bag with my moonstone inside. "Here is your receipt Ma'am."

I grabbed both, gently, and before I could pull my hand back to look at the message, she flipped her hand over to grab mine.

"Hey.... Thanks," they murmured, then let go.

I flashed her what was either a reassuring to smile or a pained grimace. Hard to tell from inside my own face. "Cashiers ought to be allowed to yell back at people like that," I said. "I'm glad I could get her attention off you."

Ashley opened their mouth to respond but the person behind me in line cleared his throat, and she turned to him, professionally flat expression back in place.

I flipped the receipt over to read what Ashley had written. It was her phone number and the message

I get off at 5. May I treat you to coffee?

I pulled out my phone to text her a yes, and fumbled putting the basket back into the stack for future customers twice before I paused typing long enough to focus on putting the basket away.

I wasn't really bothered by my klutziness. For once my hot head earned me a hot date instead of a hot mess.

[atomkrp-blog]

WELCOME TO XAVIER’S, SHIBASAKI NOZOMU !

… loading statistics. currently aged twenty-five, entering first semester of xavier’s in seoul, south korea. decrypting files… mutant has the following records: strength +6 durability+7, agility +5, dexterity +4, intelligence +3. currently, he is classified under tier omega.

BACKGROUND.

shibazaki.

the name falls off the grid as grandchildren after grandchildren marry into unpromising families. those of the gene incapable. varying bodies of normalcy as society boasts to embrace the majority; the conventional, non-threatening fascination there is in being human. it’s safer this way, the family portraits are hung on the walls without a blemish.

all that the ancestors have fought for are stories to be told, memories of nothing, and lies to be fulfilled.

16

“around 5:34pm this afternoon, the midosuji train line has become jammed due to horrific circumstances.”

“another train wreck? well, this is new.”

“no, no, they haven’t said yet. listen.”

“whatever it is, it’s keeping your father from letting us eat dinner.”

the newscaster continues, “witnesses have said that a drunken man fell into the subway tracks just several minutes before the train’s arrival. however, while the story is currently getting live coverage, a student from minamigata high school leaped into the tracks, risking his own life in order to save the stranger.”

“minamigata?” her face sours. the mother sits quietly as she rests the last bit of silverware onto the table. the cameras are shaking while exhaust fumes into focus, hoards of people clearing the area with an obvious dent garnishing the dome of the train. the newscaster, clearly baffled with his precipitating words continues talking about nothing. through the smoke, and in one piece, bodies are struggling to reach the edge of the yellow-tiled floors. a familiar face does the trick.

“shibazaki?”

17

just like in movies, dramas and animated films, tokyo is larger than life. sure, the little quaint neighborhood back in osaka draws a keen number of wandering-eyed folks, visitors or not, but it is tokyo that sets the limits.

the people are a bit colder; cooler. the days are lively as so are the nights spent without a wink of sleep. they move father fast on their feet, speak with a knowledgeable yet standardized tone that somehow rings unconscious to the ears.

“i don’t know,” you reply reluctantly when father asks how you’re liking the new school. “i introduced myself in the front of class and a boy said i sounded stupid ‘cause of my accent.”

father laughs. he laughs with his belly, this loud and humiliating laugh that god forbids it sounds like the rest of the class howling that morning. “tokyo kids are kinda blunt, huh? that’s supposed to be our thing.” mother is nowhere to be found for comfort and reconciliation. she might’ve been upstairs on the phone talking to her sister about you and this mutant related nonsense while having to relocate cities too dense for your liking.

all for your gratitude, though it starts to feel like your father’s. almost as if you’re intended on living a life he failed to have.

“don’t let one kid generalize your entire experience. after all, you just started,” he says with a can of beer in his hand. then he goes onto a lecture that leaves you unattentive. something about the significance of the school with educating young mutants, x-genes, how his great-grandfather would be happy to see you attaining the lifestyle that this entire lineage has been waiting decades for.

everything’s slowly starting to get carved out.

17

“i miss yodogawa a lot, y’know that?”

kaori chuckles on the other end. “pick one. me, or yodogawa.”

“we’ll be adults soon. i can’t say i miss a city without you feeling funny?”

“i never said i was jealous, nozomu.”

“it’s really starting to sound like it.”

her energy reads mildly exasperated, though you don’t mind. it’s all banter.

“anyways,” it’s you that breaks the silence. “i’ll be graduating next spring, and i’ve yet to submit college applications. you think i should take a year off? kyoto university of the arts won’t leave me alone with open house letters filling up my mailbox.”

the line sounds lonely for a few moments until she starts to speak again. “you’re still thinking of studying photography?”

“digital media more or less, but yeah.”

“you’re gonna struggle, maybe not in school but wouldn’t it be hard finding a job? it’s not like you’re going into medicine, or business or something.”

“i like photography.”

she chuckles again, but it’s not the kind sort of chuckle that gives you butterflies the way it would when you were fourteen. “you could profit more off of being in the government doing mutant things rather than taking pictures for a living, nozomu.”

negligible. an uncomfortable feeling sits atop your chest. “kaori, i’ll call you back.”

“what?”

“i’ll call you back.”

19

“super strength, was it?”

“close. it’s, um, enhanced body, actually.”

the boy probably looks not too far off between age, and he nods like he grasped onto a chunk of new information.

“yeah, it’s just basically being able to be strong while fast, with endurance, agility.. a whole bunch of other things that i probably have forgotten, but it’s like a big starter kit,” you say. “kind of.”

“what kinda name did they give you?”

“vigor.” embarrassment is evident in your word for word delivery.

“vigor for strength? it’s fitting! i’d like to see it in action, or see vigor in action.” his smile is wide and annoying, but it’s genuinely friendlier than most. “i’m kazuya, by the way. funatsu kazuya. it’s good to have you on the winning team.”

23

“you can’t go out there again! it’s too dangerous!”

overlooking the earth in shades of red and black, smoke shrouded tokyo’s most impressionable skyscrapers.

“y’know, out of all the dumb things you’ve done, this is really gonna top it all.”

kazuya’s eyes are red with irritation. somewhere on the top of an unknown building, you both watch as the world returns to gravel.

“you gotta trust me on this one.”

he disappears in the humid rain of ashes. descending into a whirlwind of ambulances, broken driveways, and police cars, you pray that he lives beyond today.

the numbers of human and mutant casualties arise. civilians; women and men and children, hidden mutants and humans, fell in the hands of violent, anti-mutant demonstrators. the tokyo institute for the adept collapses to shards.

three months later

strange how life works.

being situated in a neighboring country gone unrecognized than on the map, in history books, and on television. with a scholarship and some pity letters from the japanese and korean prime minister to fund your education, all in praise for your dna makeup.

your journey doesn’t stop here.

MUTATION.

ENHANCED BODY. in which the user who possesses such capacity is granted physical abilities that heighten what is normally considered “peak human performance”. the mutant’s physical power is naturally elevated than those of their classification or species, no matter how little to no effort possible they put in for conditioning and exercise. as necessary, the subject is faster, stronger, and generally resilient to those of their type, however not carrying apparent otherworldly or supernatural qualities.

STRENGTHS.

ENHANCED STRENGTH possessing strength stronger than what is considered normal / beyond of what an average person should entail

ENHANCED SPEED the mutant is able to travel / move faster than what is considered normal out of those within their species

ENHANCED ENDURANCE able to withstand physical stresses with better-staying power than what is considered on an average level compared to those within their species

WEAKNESSES.

balance, mass, and gravity still play a heavy part in affecting the weight on various objects. the mutant is not vulnerable to bodily strain from heaviness.

without proper care, the mutant is susceptible to physical pressure and damage. putting the ability to use outwardly, in place of customary warnings regarding the weight of an object puts the mutant in constant danger.

exerting strength or speed in various parts of the body all entail to different energy levels being at risk for loss. meaning, the mutant’s durability can resist time longer if only focusing on the limbs rather than the entire body.

the mutant can be receptive of breathing or lung-related problems as side effects when actively moving at a fast pace. same applies to strength, lifting or maneuvering heavy objects can stunt breathing.

the current condition of the mutant is vital. if in bad health, it will greatly impact their performance, durability, and longevity as they will decline weaker with execution.

the abilities granted are not supernatural nor mental-leaning. although it does take an adequate amount of focus to rightfully displace power, meaning without other lying distractions, the mutant isn’t relying on mystical entities of the sort

[dingoat]

The Ve’lora Family Vault

A little bit of history that I needed to get written out! My everlasting thanks to @humanrevolt for trusting me to write Lyrisal, and for all the stories we’ve built together so far. I’ve been having such a bloody good time, I can’t even put it into words. Kind of wish I had the stamina to stay up late enough to make an illustration to put to this, or the fortitude to wait until I have the time free to draw something before posting it, but... I don’t. Feels kinda weird to be posting text only though!

---

Ulfran stared hollowly at Lyrisal for a good ten minutes before speaking. “It was you, you know.” She’d been her eternally patient self, not saying a word, not prompting nor pressing, merely working away at her meal with better table manners than one might expect from your average ex-Commando- unless of course one knew her at all. The sound of her cutlery clinking against the plate stilled, and she lifted her eyes to meet his. They were still a little difficult to look at, despite how long it’d been since they’d… changed. She waited again, letting a single raised eyebrow do the talking for her. “My final trial. My trial of the flesh…” he curled his lip a little at that, like the words were a bad taste in his mouth. “It was you.” Lyrisal tilted her head at that; the slightest of movements, but for her, it conveyed the height of interest in what he had to say. “Doesn’t that one normally involve a certain amount of… bloodshed?”

Ulfran sighed, though there was still a sneer in his otherwise defeated tone as he nodded. “Normally. Usually it’s physical pain that they put to the test. Much easier to… control, and dish out in appropriate measures. But no, no, not for me. She knew about us. Master Antinea.”

Lyrisal remembered young Kane Ulfran’s master well, of course. The Togruta with wits as sharp as her teeth, as kind as she was severe. They certainly hadn’t been the first teenagers at the Temple to liken her to a mother vorn tiger, stripes and all. “That’s not entirely a surprise. I can’t imagine we were nearly as discrete as we thought we were.” Her voice wasn’t cold, exactly, but she was still guarded.

“She knew, and she let us be. Left me be, to… to make my mistakes. See if I’d come around on my own. And when I didn’t, she decided to use it to… test me.”

This wasn’t exactly the conversation Lyrisal had been expecting to have. Here they were in hyperspace, putting as much distance between themselves and Bothawui as possible, with a pair of hostages in tow. Ulfran had come with them, a fact that both excited and concerned her, and she had yet to make any measure of where his loyalties currently lay. The fact that he’d never left Republic service had come as a genuine surprise, but why… why the Republic had seen fit to authorize a mission that involved kidnapping an unremarkable Bothan girl and forcing her into a marriage arrangement amongst Bothan nobility was the mystery she truly wanted some light shed on.

But Ulfran clearly needed to let this out, so she leant back in her seat and let him.

“Just before I was knighted, she confronted me. Told me she knew exactly what was going on, and I… I was ashamed.” He gritted his teeth, letting his eyes flutter shut for a moment. “I was so desperately ashamed, because I’d known… I’d known all along they wouldn’t approve. But I kept going back to you. Because we were different, weren’t we? We understood our obligations. We would never let one another get in the way of our work. Of serving the greater good. We could have… made it work. Been an example.  I wasn’t ashamed of us, I was ashamed only because I knew we were going against the rules. Because I’d been found out.”

Perhaps it was because he was, for the first time in his life, speaking aloud thoughts and frustrations he’d kept bottled up since he’d been a Padawan... but he sounded more like the young man he used to be than the silver-eyed sorcerer he’d posed as for so long. If any feelings were stirred inside Lyrisal however, she let nothing show. She merely listened, and gave him the space to work through it at his own speed.

“She asked me if I would walk away. She asked if I could turn my back on you, for the good of the Order. And I didn’t even blink before saying yes. ‘Yes, Master, of course, Master. Whatever you ask. I live to serve.’”

He fell into bitter silence for a few harsh breaths.

“She didn’t ask anything of me there and then. It was… the day after I was knighted that she came. I don’t think I truly expected it to happen, I… I think that’s why I said yes so easily. But then Master pulled me aside, and told me the plan. And that if I agreed to it, I would be playing a very, very long game.

“Antinea and a fellow Master, they’d spent the last few years tracking down rumours of artifacts. Deadly, powerful, game-changing artifacts. You know the sort. But they could only track so far without someone on the inside. They needed… someone smart. Someone resourceful. Someone who could convincingly pretend to abandon the Republic and be welcomed into the Empire’s Sphere of Ancient Knowledge.”

He actually laughed a little there, shaking his head as a wry grin twisted his features.

“An undercover treasure-hunter. That’s what they wanted me to be. I was the perfect candidate, and the very idea of it was thrilling.”

Lyrisal felt a similar, but subdued smile tweak at the corners of her lips, and she gave a single nod of acknowledgement. “The sort of thing we’d always talked about.”

“Except that it couldn’t be a we. I had to convince everyone that I’d truly abandoned the Order. You, most of all. I had to make you believe it with all your heart, because if you were convinced, then, heh, surely everyone else would be.  I’ve put on a lot of acts over the years, Lyrisal, but I think that was still the greatest show of my life. So good, I nearly convinced myself.” His tone took a harsh turn.

“Ulfran-“

“Don’t. The time for sympathy is long gone. I knew what I was getting into, I… stepped into it willingly. I knew I was going to hurt you, and still I went forward. I’ve been bearing that weight since the beginning. Of course, the fact that I’d chosen that path didn’t stop it from tearing me up inside. The hours in the library, researching, cataloguing, seeking out references to great and terrible things I’d be sent out into the world to destroy… oh, they were a joy. They were my solace. The anger you saw in me was real, so real, but it wasn’t at my post, it wasn’t at my Master. It was at what I had to do to you.”

Lyrisal watched him carefully, and measured her response with equal care. “I survived.”

“You left.”

“After I thought you’d abandoned it all! After I’d tried for years to bring you back--“

Ulfran raised his hands; a call for peace? Or a surrender. “It made it near impossible to continue, for a time. I never questioned anything so hard as I questioned myself, when I wondered if it really mattered so much if we were working for the same cause. If one person could make such a difference to how I felt about the Republic. I’ve never stopped wondering if you might have stayed, if only I had been around…”

His voice trailed away, and Lyrisal gave him nothing. She’d always been reserved, but now she was like stone. If she had the answer to his lifelong question, this was not the time she was willing to give it.

“Were you successful?”

So far his thoughts had wandered, that her question took him a little by surprise. “Sorry…?”

“Destroying artifacts. Did you?”

“Ah.” He smiled then, though his mirror-like gaze was distant. There was no pride in his tone, but some level of contentment. “Yes. Five unique and potentially devastating alchemical objects. Located. Tracked down. And their procurement and destruction so artfully arranged that my name was never associated with a single one. One operation was so well executed that the next virtually fell into my lap, as its caretaker strove to see it better protected.”

Lyrisal almost smiled with him. Almost. She closed her eyes, thought for a moment, and when she opened them the look she fixed him with was darker than the void of space. There was a ferocity there, the likes of which Ulfran had never known she could show, but her voice was calm and smooth as ever. “So tell me, then, what this all has to with faking the death of one of my crewmates. Kidnapping her and attempting to force her into a marriage. Where was the Republic’s interest in all this?”

Ulfran didn’t labour the point. “The Ve’lora family vault. Access to what would have been my sixth terrible artifact. Have you ever heard of the Tempus Shard?”

“…I can’t say that I have.”

“It’s been called a few things over the centuries, but that has always been the most common. Rumour says it gives the bearer some ability to manipulate time.”

Lyrisal’s skeptical stare was so old and familiar, Ulfran very nearly laughed out loud.

“Oh, I’m not quite sure I believe it either,” the silver haired man agreed with her silent judgement. “But one way or another, it’s left quite the trail of destruction in its wake. It’s powerful, that much I can confirm.  And somewhere down the line, it fell into possession of the family of the young Bothan lad you have in captivity here. I suppose… technically… it would be his now, wouldn’t it?”

“If it was so terrible a thing, why couldn’t the Republic simply negotiate for it?”

“Ahhh, you don’t really know Bothans, do you? If they caught so much of a whiff of the fact that the Republic had an interest in it, you could bet they’d clamp down so hard one could only hope to glimpse it six or seven generations down the track. If they were lucky. No, no. Attributing more value to the Shard would only make the Ve’loras more intent upon keeping it… that is to say, if they admitted to owning it at all. It’s not uncommon for the wealthier families to possess all manner of illegally obtained items, stolen pieces from cultures all across the galaxy, to be showed off on occasion at horribly pretentions get-togethers with one another…” a sneer twisted Ulfran’s features into something rather ugly. “The Republic would virtually have to declare war to seize the Shard openly.”

“Why not just let it be, then? If the Ve’loras had it kept so tightly under wraps…”

“Hadrex Kor’var.”

Lyrisal frowned, eyes narrowing in thought. “You asked me to…”

“Kill him, yes. And I appreciate the efficiency with which you did so. I don’t know how much you knew about him, but he was… quite the eccentric. Obsessed with Sith Philosophy. Considered himself something of an alchemist. And alarmingly well versed in the myths surrounding the Shard. I was tasked with beating him to it.”

Several things clicked into place at once. “You had to work for him. He would have leapt at the chance to have a ‘Sith’ on staff, where the Ve’loras would never have trusted you.”

Ulfran nodded. “Get in good with the Kor’vars. Facilitate the union between the families. Earn a measure of trust from the Ve’loras. And even if I was never invited to view the contents of the vault… well, I’d be in a far better position to act. Arrange a heist, perhaps. Or at the very least, keep putting obstacles in Hadrex’s way.”

“And Ahuska was your way in.”

“She was my way in.”

“You know it wasn’t right. There was nothing good about the way you took her. Or treated her.”

Ulfran fell quiet. The regret was plain on his face, even in his strange eyes, and he took some time finding his next words. But whatever he was trying to put his voice to never had the opportunity, as his head snapped up with a sudden jolt.

“Lyrisal.” His tone was oddly urgent. “I think we need to go to the cargo bay.”

[ladyseaheart1668]

Endless Summer Fan Novel (Book 2, Chapter 13)

Aleister snorts behind me, glaring at his father. “That's rich,” he snaps. “ 'The moment of truth'. As if you could refrain from lying for a single breath.”

“He won't have a breath to draw after I get near him,” Estela snarls.

At the back of the cluster of black-clad operatives, I catch a flash of yellow. I bite back a gasp, feeling my lip curl in disgust behind my helmet. Lila. She went straight back to Rourke's side. Her presence does not escape Estela, either. With a furious cry, she lunges for her, but Sean and Craig hold her back.

“You're not goin' anywhere, Montoya!” Sean snaps.

Estela settles, but she doesn't take her eyes off Lila. “...Neither is she.”

Rourke suddenly walks toward me, covering the distance between us in three short paces. “I would be remiss if I didn't thank the hero of the hour. What's your callsign, Private?” He holds out his hand for me to shake.

“...3-1-7-2,” I manage to answer. I don't shake his hand. He raises an eyebrow.

“A serial number?”

“We identify ourselves by number only. Sir. Our mission is more important than personal glory.”

“Ahh. Of course. Excellent work, 3-1-7-2. I'll make sure your superior officer is notified.”

“That won't be necessary, sir,” I reply, my voice carefully neutral. “It's enough that the client is pleased.”  

“What's good for the client is good for us,” Sean agrees.

“Just glad to be of service,” Craig adds.

Rourke nods thoughtfully and picks up my hand to finally shake it. Then he turns to our prisoners. He looks them over with obvious pleasure, savoring their presence.

“Can we get the hell on with this?” Jake growls.

“Wh-what are you planning to do with us?” Grace whimpers.

“Firstly, there is the matter of why you've come this far north,” Rourke says.

“You know why I'm here, you bastard!” Estela growls.

“That I do indeed,” he agrees. His eerie calm visibly unsettles my friends. His gaze passes from one face to the next with laser-like precision. “Lila told me of your aim. The Lernaean Gate. Very resourceful of you to discover its existence. However, I am afraid I have unfortunate news: it never worked. A failed, discarded prototype. It would have required an impossible amount of energy to function properly.”

Anxiety gives way to furtive, concerned glances among the group. The pack on my back, with the Island's Heart and the idols hidden within, suddenly feels very heavy. I have to hope the Island's Heart is powerful enough. And that it isn't discovered before we can find out.

“Lamentably,” Rourke continues, “you came for nothing.”

“You and your pet will die here,” Estela says flatly. “You can be certain of that.”

“One way or another, Father,” Aleister adds, “we will put a stop to you.”

“Ah, Aleister. I regret that circumstances haven't allowed me to be more straightforward with you. But the curtain, as it were, is finally going up. All of La Huerta's mysteries will soon surrender themselves to us. Armed with what we've discovered at MASADA, humanity will be able to bravely march forward--”

“Humanity?!” Aleister shouts. “Bravery? What could you possibly know about such things?! You turned your wife—my mother—into a glorified slave!”

“And ordered your wretched pet to stab my mother in the back!” Estela adds.

“Please,” Lila begs. “Just let him explain--”

But everyone begins shouting at once, hurling accusations at Rourke and Lila. Rourke whirls towards me at the other troops.

“What am I paying you for?” he snaps. “Get them in line!”

As the real soldiers step closer, I whirl on my friends, leveling my rifle menancingly. Michelle recoils, her hands in the air.

“Woah! That's uncalled for!”

“Yeah!” Raj cries. “Who...” He abruptly trails off, possibly because he's suddenly remembered why I'm dressed like this.

“All of you shut up before my friends here beat you senseless for disrespecting Mr. Rourke,” I growl. I jerk my head at the real soldiers, clearly waiting for an excuse to attack.

“Okay, okay, good point,” Diego admits.

“Sorry,” Quinn adds.

Rourke turns his attention back on Estela and Aleister. “Estela, I regret that Olivia forced my hand. But she of all people would understand that sacrifices must be made for the greater good. As for Imogen, you're right, Aleister. I gave her back existence, nothing more. But now that you're here, I may finally be able to give her life.”

“Wha...What are you talking about?!”

“You see?” Lila cries. “This is what I was trying to tell you! Mr. Rourke's plan is in everyone's best interests!”

“If words can't convince you of my desire to better this world, perhaps a demonstration will. We've made promising advancements with a particular extraterrestrial mineral...”

Rourke produces a small shard, similar to the strange crystals I've found all across the island. He places it in front of a robotic arm. He taps a display console, and a laser fires at the crystal fragment. It glows brightly. Rourke takes a beaker full of fluid from a nearby counter and lets it fall next to the shard, spilling its contents. Before our eyes, the beaker splits into an array of future and past versions of itself, some with the fluid still contained and others streaming out in different directions.

“The hell...?” Craig hisses. Zahra jams an elbow into his side. Rourke remains focused on the glowing shard. He reaches down and carefully plucks a full, intact beaker out of mid-air.

“We are so close to being able to replicate this on a larger scale,” he murmurs. “Once we have harnessed the power of the Endless, all of time will be ours to command.”

“You can't just change what you don't like about things that've already happened!” Grace protests. “There'll be a butterfly effect!”

“But...perhaps...if used in an isolated manner,” Aleister murmurs.

“If you're looking for our help with that, Daddy Weirdbucks, you've got another thing coming!”

“No way!” Quinn agrees.

“I presumed there'd be resistance to the idea,” Rourke sneers. “Very well. Take them to the containment units.”

“Containment units?” Diego echoes. “Like where the Ghostbusters put Slimer?”

“I'm sure you'll all come around. In time.”

Arachnid operatives surround my friends, shoving and dragging them toward an elevator.

“Easy!” Raj mutters. “We're going, we're going!”

The doors close and the group disappears. Sean, Zahra, Craig, and I are left alone with Rourke.

“We're still missing a few of the guests, aren't we?” Rourke muses. “The big one, the brave one, the hacker, and...the mystery. ...I will need you four to fetch their corpses from Lake Tethys. We require all twelve bodies for the procedure. Especially Alodia.”

“Understood, sir,” I reply flatly.

He nods, satisfied, and pockets the shard before leaving through a separate elevator.

“Finally!” Craig mutters. “I can't even breathe through this stupid mask!” He reaches up to remove his helmet, but Zahra puts a hand on his arm.

“Wait.” She moves to a control panel and pokes around for a moment, entering several commands. After a minute, she nods. “The security cameras are deactivated. We're clear.” She takes off her helmet, and the rest of us follow suit.

“All right. So what now, guys?” Craig asks.

“Phase two,” Sean replies. “We get the others before they get put in whatever 'containment' Rourke has in mind.”

“Then we make a run for the Gate,” I finish.

“Shut up!” Zahra hisses suddenly.

“Damn, Z. Rude.”

“No! It's...do you hear that?”

We all go silent. A soft tone is coming from the security panel, where a blue light pulses slowly.

“Zahra! That's the same thing we heard...”

She nods. “...When Iris showed up. She must be trying to tell us something.” She moves over to the panel and touches it. Its display suddenly flips to a blueprint of MASADA. A flashing line appears, connecting our current location to an area marked, 'Private Office: O. Montoya'.

“That's Estela's mom!” Sean exclaims. “Iris wants us to go to her office? Why?”

“I don't know. Let's go find out.”

We follow the directions on the blueprint, moving as inconspicuously as possible through the halls of the facility. Inside Olivia Montoya's office, dusty lab equipment is spread across counters and desks. A series of sketches depicting robotic constructs are attached to a bulletin board.

“Looks abandoned,” Sean observes. “I don't think it's been used since Estela's mom was killed...”

I nudge him. “Hey. Look there.”

A blue spotlight emanates from a computer terminal on the far wall. Iris's hologram gradually materializes.

“We can speak safely here,” she says. “This room is no longer monitored, having been unused for several years.”

“So this is where Estela's mom worked?”

“This is Olivia's old office, yes.”

“...What was she working on?”

“That is a highly relevant question. She was one of the first scientists to extrapolate the extent of the Endless's abilities.”

“The Vaanti told us the Endless could...move freely between different points in time...”

“MASADA's scientists have proven that the same holds true for spatial distances,” Iris says. “In fact, the Lernaean Gate was designed to mimic this method of teleportation.”

“So, how do we find the others and get them to the Gate?” Sean asks.

“The prisoners have been taken to Hydrodynamic Statis for processing. That laboratory is just a few floors beneath us, but it's constantly under heavy guard. There's an experimental weapon in this office that should be able to neutralize any Arachnid soldiers found there.”

“I'm down for anything that involves 'experimental' and 'weapon',” Zahra declares, grinning.

“Hell, yeah!” Craig agrees.

“Once you've freed everyone, you'll need to proceed to Theoretical Prismatics in Sub-Level Nine, deep in the underlying pillar of rock,” Iris explains.

“And that's where the Lernaean Gate is?”

“Correct. It is among a number of devices developed at MASADA before the limitations of standard prisms were fully understood. The Island's Heart will be more than sufficient to finally activate it.”

“Sweet,” Craig says. “So, where's this weapon you're talkin' about?”

“There is a cabinet to your left marked with a hazard sym--bol--” The hologram starts to flicker erratically.

“Iris? What's wrong?”

Her holographic eyes go wide. “I'm...being re--con--figured!” she whispers. She looks at me with as human an expression of desperation and fear as I have ever seen on her blue-lighted face. “Alodia! Please promise you'll get Aleister and Varyyn to safety!”

“Wait, Varyyn?” Sean asks. “What about him in particular?”

“Everett wants to prepare a new host. Directive 1908 will force me to--” The hologram flickers and abruptly dies.

“...That ain't good,” Zahra mutters.

Something ice cold snakes through my insides. Like time itself on La Huerta, memories and experiences are converging in my mind. Aleister. Varyyn. Iris. A new host. A cold laboratory. The vision granted to me by the Canis idol flickers through my mind, and with it a thought: I have to get Diego out of here. I thought the idol was showing me the Observatory, but it might have been MASADA after all. If I can't get him out of here, if I can't get Varyyn out of here, I fear that this is the place where my best friend will die, trying to save the man he loves.

Craig has gone over to the cabinet Iris indicated. “Huh...there's a diagram on the door.” He kneels down to look at it and gasps. “Holy shit! It's a shoulder-mounted laser cannon!”

The rest of us hurry to gather around him.

“Oh, my god! You're right!”

“Guys, we gotta get this open! It's about to get all Gundum up in here!”

“...Gangnam?” Sean asks.

“Gundam,” Zahra clarifies. “Craig, hold up for a sec. Lemme look at the secur--”

“Yo, I need this in my life!” Craig giddily taps a bunch of panels on a nearby display. There's a loud clunk as machinery springs into motion. I turn around, searching for the source.

Something wraps around my head with startling force, throwing me backwards and blocking my vision. I yelp, staggering against the momentum, my hands flying to my face.

“Alodia!” Sean's hands grip my shoulders, steadying me. “Are you all right?”

“What the fuck is on my face?!”

“It looks like a VR headset!” Zahra exclaims. “It's freaking latched onto her head!”

“What the hell?!” Craig yelps.

I blink as a bright blue...room?...appears around me.

“Alodia?” Zahra calls. “Can you hear me? I'm tryna turn it off!”

A woman in a lab coat enters the virtual room and turns toward me with urgency in her eyes. I recognize her in an instant, but she introduces herself anyway.

“Hello. My name is Olivia Montoya.” She does not wait for me to respond before continuing. “For several years, I've been assigned to Rourke International's Omega Specimen project. This simulation was created in order to illustrate how hugely destructive Omega could be if allowed to be seen to completion. Everything you're about to experience directly represents what the machine will do to the specimen, and thereby what the specimen could do to our world.”

The blue room and the woman fade from view. I'm suddenly standing on a busy city street. Although I have never been here, I don't really need to be well-traveled to recognize the city based on one iconic landmark.

“Big Ben!” I exclaim. “I...I think I'm in London!”

I look down at myself and find my arms have been replaced with robotic limbs.

“Okay, Alodia. Try to stay calm.” Zahra's voice seems to come from the sky. “I think the simulation is responsive to biofeedback.”

I want to touch something, to interact with the city around me. Virtual people, looking startlingly real, go about their daily lives on the street, apparently unconcerned by my presence. I reach out to touch one of them, curious. A pulse of blue light flares from my mechanical hands, its eerie glow reflected on the face of a young mother pushing a sleeping baby in a stroller. And then, in the blink of an eye, the infant is an adolescent, still asleep in—or rather, on top of—the stroller, wrapped in a baby blanket. The mother looks down at her transformed child and screams. The sound is real...too real...

“Oh, god!” I cry. “I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to--”

“Yo, Alodia! You gotta simmer down!” Craig says urgently. “Your levels are goin' crazy!”

The scene abruptly alters around me. I'm on another bustling city street, this one lined with modern high-rises. Again, I feel compelled to reach out and interact with my surroundings. I try to resist, but it's like trying to walk against a hurricane. Oh, god, what's happening...? What am I...?

If I have to interact with something, I make myself concentrate on the reflective surface of the building in front of me. As I approach, I am confronted with a reflection in its glass facade. My own reflection. Except instead of my own body, I see a figure in a red spacesuit enclosed in a massive robot. I am struck with a sudden memory. On the beach, back on the tropical side of the island, the first time we met Varyyn. The day he touched my forehead and our minds linked. I saw images of his mother. Of Elyys'tel. And...of a figure in a battered red spacesuit. ...Was that the Omega project?

The building's windows ripple with blue energy. The outer wall is eaten away, exposing several floors behind it. The destablized structure groans loudly, leaning forward. I feel my heart wedge in my throat, but I force it down again. This isn't real...just gotta breathe...apples, apples, apples!

The scene dissolves, returning me to the blue room. Olivia looks at me grimly.

“You've just experienced firsthand the disastrous effects of the Omega Specimen,” she informs me. “If you were shocked by what you saw, I urge you to contact your government officials and warn them to take action. Rourke International must be stopped before this project becomes a terrible reality. Thank you.”

“...Guys? I think it's shutting down...”

“Hold on, Alodia!” Craig cries. “I'll save you!”

“Craig, wait--”

I hear something shatter nearby. The headset's lock detatches. The visor falls away, landing in my waiting hands. Nearby, smoke rises from a smashed computer terminal. I feel my knees buckle, but Sean keeps me upright while I regain my balance.

“Are you all right?”

I look down at the device in my hands. I get my feet under me and straighten, nodding.

“I'm okay. That...was interesting to say the least.”

“What'd you do that for, you big idiot?” Zahra snaps at Craig. “I told you it was about to let her go!”

“Whatever,” Craig scoffs. “You're welcome for saving your life, bro.”

I grin. “Thanks, Craig. Should we see if we can get that laser cannon out?”

“You know it!”

“Craig!” Zahra yelps. “Do. Not. Touch. Anything!”

“Okay, okay! I get it!” He absently reaches out toward a screen, preparing to swipe the surface.

“Dude!” Sean cries. “Seriously!”

“Ugh! Fine!”

Zahra squints at a terminal next to the cabinet. “Yep. I should be able to get this bad boy out. It'll just take a little time.”

“One walkin' tank complete with artillery, comin' up.”

“Based on what we've seen so far, I think we're gonna need that,” I remark.

Zahra taps away at the display screen beside the cabinet, quickly disabling the lock. She pops open the door. A white, octagonal cylinder is revealed inside, connected to a shoulder harness and peripheral devices.

“Okay, Craig. Remember, stealth first,” Zahra warns. Craig rushes to grab the cannon, balancing it on his arm while he attaches the straps.

“Stealth first,” he agrees. “And pew pew BOOM second!” He struts around the room with the sleek cylinder jutting from his shoulder. Sean grins.

“You know how to use that thing, Hsiao?”

“Let's find out.” He aims the weapon at a cleaned-out desk in the corner and squeezes the trigger. With a sharp crackling noise, a column of blazing red appears in the cannon's path, instantly reducing the desk to a pile of smoldering ash.

“...Woaaah...” I breathe.

“Oh, whaaaaaaaaaaat? That's what I'm talkin' about!”

Zahra grins. “Okay, I gotta admit. That was awesome.”

“Nice shot,” I agree. “We'd better get moving, though.”

“Just try to keep that thing pointed away from us, okay, Sixty-eight?” Sean says wryly.

“You got it!”

I can't help noticing Craig's childlike grin, and the gleeful bounce in his step as we file out. We return to the main entrance and find the elevator our friends left through. We press the button, and the doors slide open without a fuss. We step inside and Sean leans down to look at a list of floors on a display panel.

“Which one are we looking for again?”

“Hydrodynamic Statis,” I remind him. “That's where they took the others.”

“Right. Good memory.” He taps the screen and the doors close.

“Helmets on, people,” Zahra warns. “We're about to have company.”

The elevator begins to descend smoothly as we reaffix our helmets. After a minute the doors open to  a corridor lit by stark florescents. A voice comes from somewhere ahead, familiar and threatening.

“Such a shame,” Lundgren drawls. “You coulda been a hero, McKenzie.”

“We gotta get closer,” I hiss. “But keep a low profile.”

“Copy that,” Sean murmurs.

The corridor takes a sharp turn, and opens into a large room. Pressing myself flush against the wall, I peek around the corner.

Our friends are lined up along a wall of a laboratory, facing towards it. Their bonds have been cut, but their hands are pressed to the wall in front of them and a row of Arachnid soldiers hold rifles at their backs. Mercifully, the soldiers backs are largely turned toward the wall behind which I'm hunkering with the others. I feel every muscle in my body tense. Lundgren has his hand clamped around Jake's throat, the powered exosuit lifting him into the air. Sean puts a steadying hand on my arm.

“Should've left it alone, son,” Lundgren is saying. “Would've turned out better for everyone.”

“Lundgren...” Jake chokes, glaring daggers down at his former commanding officer. “You delusional...son of a...One day you're gonna...go down...for what you've done!”

“That day ain't today, McKenzie.”

“Today's your day,” Fiddler adds from where she stands at Lundgren's shoulder. She plucks the cigar from between Lundgren's teeth and takes a puff herself, blowing the smoke into Jake's face. Jake coughs, turning his furious gaze on her.

“My...only mistake was...trusting someone like you, Fiddler!” He spits the words.

“Aww, that hurts. Really does. Fortunately, you'll have plenty of time to reconsider your harsh words while you're in your pickle jar.”

Fiddler gestures through an observation window. Endless rows of stasis tubes stand in the adjoining room, each containing a pale, contorted figure kept on the edge of life by support systems. I switch off my suit's voice amplification and lean over to whisper to the others.

“Those tubes are just like the one we found Rourke in back at The Celestial.”

“Holy crap!” Craig hisses. “Who are those people?”

“Don't know,” Sean answers. “But if we don't act fast, our friends are gonna join them.”

“Enough talk, Lundgren,” Fiddler says impatiently, returning the cigar to his mouth. “Let's stick him in.”

The servos on Lundgren's armor grind as he tosses Jake against the wall. Jake slumps to his knees, clutching his bruised throat. I feel myself trembling.

“Go ahead,” Lundgren snarls. “I'm sick of looking at the bastard. Stick 'em all in. You and Mouse, come see me when you're done.”

“Yes, sir,” Mouse answers flatly.

Lundgren stalks to the door, emerging into the hall where the four of us are watching. I snap to attention, saluting. “Sir!”

The others quickly follow my lead. Lundgren barely gives us a passing glance. He heads for the elevator, and the doors slide shut behind him.

“...Jerk,” Craig mutters.

“He ignored us, ya dummy!” Zahra says. “That's a good thing! Come on. We don't have much time.”

We march into the stasis lab. Two Arachnid operatives are dragging Jake towards a circular platform while Fiddler looks on, a smug smile curving her lips. Jake struggles valiantly, dragging his feet.

“Get...offa me!” he snarls.

“You're so cute when you're angry and helpless,” Fiddler purrs.

“Stop it!” Diego cries. He steps forward, but a hand gripping his arm and rifle poking into his back stop him. “Let him go!”

“This is a coward's solution!” Varyyn snarls. “We should fight to settle the matter!”

“Are they going to put all of us in those tanks?” Grace whimpers.

Fiddler grabs Jake by the collar and shoves him hard, sending him sprawling over atop the disc in the middle of the room.

“Turn it on,” she snaps.

“Initiating discharge,” Mouse replies. He reaches toward a terminal.

Sean abruptly raises his rifle, and fires a round at the serveillance camera that scans the area from the ceiling. It blasts off its mounting, clattering noisily to the floor.

“What the hell?!” Fiddler cries.

Jake pulls himself up to his hands and knees. “Looks like you've been had, predator,” he replies, smirking. In one swift motion, he brings his leg around, kicking Fiddler's legs out from under her. She topples over backward, crying out in surprise and fury. The four of us rip off our Arachnid helmets.

“It's the missing four!” Mouse exclaims. “They're attacking!”

“Too bad with that camera out, none of your buddies will see me kick your ass!” Craig roars.

The gathered arachnids rush to neutralize the four imposters. Fiddler reaches for an activation panel on her suit. Suddenly, she seems to have melted into the wall.

“We'll just see about that!” she snickers. “Let's play hide-and-seek!”

She laughs, and I hear the sound of blades singing as their pulled from their sheaths.

“I really don't like her!” Zahra growls.

We keep our eyes peeled for any shimmer or flicker that might give her away. A thin layer of fog clings to the floor. Craig cranks a dial on the laser cannon.

“All right, I'm chargin' up!”

“So much of you to slice,” Fiddler laughs. “Where do I start? How about right here!”

She reappears in front of Craig, katanas raised and poised to strike. One blade arcs towards his neck. Red light flares in the barrel of Craig's cannon. Fiddlers eyes widen. She reacts quickly enough to cross her swords defensively, but the blast still sends her flying across the lab. She hits the opposite wall with a sickening crunch and slides to the floor. Her twisted, half-disintegrated blades tumble from her slack grip.

“Hello, Craig's little friend!” Diego exclaims.

Cracks appear in a few of the the stasis tubes near the wall where Fiddler hit. Over the sounds of struggle, I can make out a computerized voice, feminine and placid.

“Warning: Units three, seven, and sixteen compromised. Health of hotel guests remains stable.”

“Guests?!” Michelle cries. “Those are The Celestial's guests?!”

“They were never evacuated!” I growl. “Dammit, of course Rourke was lying!”

“Why are they here?!” Grace asks. “What could Rourke want with them?”

The other Arachnid soldiers take advantage of our distraction to surround the four of us, raising their guns.

“Guys, get 'em!” Diego shouts.

As one, the rest of our friends descend on the soldiers in a wild, artless knock-down-drag-out brawl, tackling, punching, and biting.

“You messed with the wrong pre-med!” Michelle snarls, grabbing one soldier's arm and twisting it violently behind his back.

Aleister gets another soldier around the neck from behind. “I have been saving all my rage for a moment like this! Have at you!”

“Fall, men of the Hydra!” Varyyn roars.

Sean and Estela manage to pin down Mouse. Michelle and Aleister have disarmed two soldiers and turned their own rifles against them.

“Bring 'em to the disc over there!” Zahra calls. “I got an idea!”

“You heard her, creeps!” Michelle snaps. “Move!”

She and Raj prod the soldiers over to the central platform. Sean drags Mouse's unconscious body while Estela hefts Fiddler.  

“Please, no!” one soldier begs. “We're nobodies! Our salary's less than 40k!”

Zahra is already typing something into a touch panel. “You're overpaid,” she says flatly. “Have a nice bath.”

Circular hatches open beneath the soldiers' feet. They fall, splashing into a vat of green fluid before the hatches snap shut above them. For a moment, we're all silent, trembling, gasping for breath.

“Man...” Raj mutters. “I'm ready for a vacation from this vacation.”

“That was damned close, Princess,” Jake says from behind me. “Your timing's somethin' else.”

“You can repay me later,” I reply, tossing my hair. Then, I drop my rifle and wheel around to throw my arms around him. He holds me tightly against him.

“You know I will,” he murmurs, stroking my hair.

“Okay, people, we gotta keep moving!” Sean calls. “Next stop is the Gate.”

We follow Sean towards the elevator and crowd in. He presses the button and we're whisked down to Sub-Level Nine. The doors open, and we step out into a corridor.

“What is that?” Varyyn asks, frowning. “Do you see that up ahead?”

“Shit!” Sean hisses. “Security scanner. Get your helmets back on!”

A high-pitched electronic whine assaults my ears, followed by an electronic voice: “All personnel, please stand by for security screening.”

“Aaaand, we're screwed,” Zahra mutters.

“Wait, that's not what you're supposed to say!” Raj exclaims.

“Yeah!” Craig agrees. “Usually you're all, 'I got this. Can't no security system hold me down' and stuff.”

“Sorry, guys,” she answers ruefully. “I don't have this one.”

I grit my teeth. “Everybody get behind me,” I growl. “We're too close to mess this up now.”

Several cameras swivel toward us. A dot projector scans each of us in turn. We all hold our breath for what seems like an eternity of silence.

“No intruders detected,” the voice declares. “Access granted.”

A collective sigh arises from the group, and the thick cloud of anxiety dissolves, melting into the floor.

“We made it! Come on!”

We continue down the corridor to a massive chamber, filled with computers, monitors, consoles and all manner of derelict devices and failed prototypes. The whole room is overgrown with vines and moss.

“Uh-oh,” Diego groans. “I dunno if anything down here is still gonna work...”

We spread out, wandering through the functionally ancient laboratory, examining the obselete devices, looking for any sign of life in any of them.

“Hey, Princess. Get a load of this.”

I join Jake by a small window in the wall. He wipes away a thin layer of dust, revealing a chamber contained in the wall. I peer into the semi-darkness inside. When I see the amber idol winking back at me, the howling werewolf on his pedestal, even the anxiety that grips me is by now so familiar that it's almost comfortable.

“It's another idol,” I remark, almost calmly.

“In the middle of a laser grid,” he observes. “I reckon they were scanning it for something.”

“Can we get it out?”

“Hmm. There's always a chance an alarm will sound if the beams are disrupted, but...there might be a way.”

“We might need it.” I nod towards the pack on my back. “Besides, we've almost got the whole set. Might as well collect 'em all. What's your idea?”

He grins. “Watch and learn.”

A wrench lies discarded in the dust under a console. He picks it up and shatters a nearby pane of mirrored glass. He carefully pries open the scanner compartment and uses the mirror shards to reflect the laser beams.

“Piece of cake.” He slips the idol out, and holds it out to me. “Here you go.” I brace myself and grasp it. The facility is washed away and I fall through time.

… I land in the cockpit of a military plane. Oh, god, please, not this. Even before I see him—see both of them—I know where I am. And when. Jake sits in the pilot's seat, casually manipulating the throttle.

“Arachnid flight deck, this is Wolf, reporting clear skies over Kharzistan,” he says into his comm unit.

A response crackles out of the radio: “Roger that, Wolf. Any sign of rebel activity?”

Beside him, the copilot leans forward, squinting at a radar console. A strikingly handsome young man, dark-haired and olive-skinned with deep brown eyes. ...Mike...

“Nada,” Mike replies. “Looks like a straight shot to mother base, just like we planned.”

“Copy,” the voice on the radio responds. “Safe flying.”

I want to scream at them to get out now. That they're not safe. That Mike is going to die, that Jake's world is going to be shattered. But there's no stopping what's already been. I am like Scrooge visiting Christmas past. Invisible and silent as a grave.

Mike shuts off the radio and leans back in his seat. “So here we are. The two best pilots in the entire Navy, and we're stuck on recon duty.”

“Hey, I don't mind,” Jake replies, shrugging. “I'll take a smooth boring recon run over a dogfight any day.”

“Whatever you say, Grandpa,” Mike snorts. Jake leans over and playfully punches Mike's shoulder.

“Word of advice, Mike? Drop the whole 'nicknames' schtick. It's seriously lame.”

“Pff. Says you. Ladies love it.”

“Riiiight. Is that why you struck out with every girl in the port last shore leave?”

“What can I say? I'm an acquired taste.” Jake laughs, leaning back in his seat. Mike watches him for a moment, then leans forward. “...Hey...Jake...”

“Yeah?”

“...I'm scared.”

Jake's brow knits with concern. “Mike...”

“I know we gotta do this. I know it's the right thing. I know Lundgren's gotta be stopped. But the minute we land this plane and walk into the General's office, our lives change forever. Lundgren's powerful and ruthless. He's gonna send people after us. ...After our families...”

“Look, I'm scared too. But I trust in the system. I believe in justice. Lundgren's been selling US weapons to our own enemies. He's turned us all into mercenaries, working for the highest bidder. When we tell everyone what he's done, they'll listen. They'll protect us. And he'll pay.”

“I wish I had your certainty.”

“We already made our choice, kid. All we have is now.”

Mike raises an eyebrow. “Was that a nickname?”

Jake snorts. “Not on your li--” The grating blare of an alarm cuts him off. “What the hell?”

Mike slides over, looking at the panels. “Oh, shit! We've got a row of surface-to-air missile launchers on the ridge!”

“What? That's impossible! They're all supposed to be on the other side of the mountains!”

“Well, they're here! And they're locking onto us fast!”

“Lundgren!” Jake growls. “He fuckin' found out!”

“Oh, my god! The whole mission was just a--”

Below, the ground shudders as several missiles launch skyward.

“Evasive maneuvers!” Jake shouts, grabbing the throttle.

“Oh god...oh no...”

“Hang on, Mike! Just...hang...on...” The alarm bleats, almost sounding terrified. Jake pushes down on the yoke, ducking beneath a missile, and finding three more visible through the windshield. “I can't dodge 'em all! We gotta eject!”

Jake flips switches and punches buttons. A light turns green. He grabs his eject lever. He looks over at Mike and sees fear on his face. The light on his console is red.

“Mine's jammed...”

“You've gotta be kidding!” The missiles are spiraling towards them, drawing closer. “Rip open that panel! It's the wiring--”

“There's no time, Jake! You gotta go!”

“Like hell! You're one dumb sumbitch if you think I'm leaving you here!”

“...We already made our choice, kid.”

Whatever consciousness I have here is screaming. I might as well be in Jake's body, as clearly as I can feel his agony. I might as well be back on the rooftop of The Celestial, half-consumed by the portal, gripping Diego's wrists and realizing that he means to sacrifice himself to save me. But this is worse. I know how this ends.

Mike reaches over and yanks Jake's eject lever.

“Mike! No!” Blasting pins fire, tearing the ceiling off the cockpit. Jake's seat launches out of the plane. Above him, two missiles shatter the hull as fireball blooms in the sky, spewing smoking chunks of debris. “MIKE!”

… I don't see him land. I'm also ejected, hurtling forward through time, landing in a jail cell. Jake paces the floor like a tiger in a zoo, his hands bound by thick metal shackles. He spins towards a camera, mounted in the corner of the room.

“Hey! Phony Stark! You watching? You tuned in to the Jake Channel? Ain't nothin' better on?” He glares at the camera, putting up his middle finger. “I ain't gonna dance for you! I ain't gonna be one of your lackeys! Never! But if you're looking for some entertainment, how about you and me, outside, no guns? I'll give you a show, you piece of--”

An angry fist pounds on the cell door and a soldier on the other side leans through the grate. “Hey! Keep your mouth shut in there, prisoner!”

“Why don't you come in here and make me, Peter Parker?” Jake snarls. “Or you too scared?”

“Why would I bother...when I can do this?”

The guard slams his fist down on a button near the wall. Jake cries out in agony as a current surges through the metal floor, delivering a vicious shock. He collapses, trembling and gasping, while the guard laughs.

“Five years, man. Five years I've been doing that. Never gets old.” Jake coughs, groaning under his breath. “Now then. You ready to play nice? Or am I gonna have to g--”

An alarm blares out overhead, interrupting the guard. Red lights flash and klaxons bellow. There is a sharp crackle of static and a voice comes on the loudspeaker.

“Attention, all Rourke goons. This is a pre-recorded announcement from Security Chief Namazi. If you're hearing this, it means I've activated the Killswitch Protocal. Which means you're pretty much screwed. I've set all the reactors to overload, so in about twenty minutes, nothing'll be left of this compound but a smoldering crater. Have a nice day, and burn in hell.”

The voice cuts off. The guard stares at the speaker as if he isn't quite sure what he's just heard. Then the door to Jake's cell slides open. Jake smirks.

“Well, well, well.”

The guard finally seems to be shaken out of his stupor. “Crap!” He dives for the button, but Jake's faster. He leaps, rolls, and lunges forward, tackling the guard to the ground. Wrists still shackled, Jake yanks out the guard's sidearm and shoots him twice in the head.

“Payback's a bitch,” he spits. He throws the guard's body aside and makes a break for it.

Inside the MASADA complex, it's total chaos. Guards run around frantically, shouting, scrambling, fighting the prisoners rushing out of their cells in a wild melee. Jake casts his eyes around the corridors and spots an open doorway leading out to the hangar. A helicopter sits on the helipad, calling to him. He stares at it longingly for a moment, then turns and runs the other way, deeper into the compound.

My consciousness follows him, but I lose track of him for a short time in the chaos. Five minutes later, I see him stagger through the doors of the stasis lab, carrying a rifle. His manacles are broken at one end, the chain dangling from his right wrist like a long black snake. He's roughed up, bleeding from a bullet wound in one thigh. His face is pale, his expression tight with pain, and he struggles to catch his breath. But there's a trail of dead Arachnid soldiers behind him.

He limps forward, one hand on his wound, pushing through the room until he finds the pod he's looking for. He gently lays down the rifle. With a trembling hand, he taps at the console on the side of the pod. It slides open.

Naked, slick with green slime, my limp body slumps out of the pod into Jake's waiting arms. He lowers me gently to the floor, rocking me and brushing slime-coated strands of hair off my face.

“Come on, come on...wake up, Alodia...”

My consciousness fades from the place where I was observing overhead. As the woman in Jake's arms comes around, I sink into my own body. I feel my eyes flutter open, squinting against the light. I moan softly, struggling to focus on the face above me.

“...Jake? What--”

He smiles, stroking my cheek. “Hey. There's my sleeping beauty.”

“Where...how...”

He pulls me into a fierce hug. I clutch him back, but my grip is weak.

“You've been frozen a long time,” he explains. “But you're here now. I got you.”

“How...how long...?” I whimper, terrified of the answer.

“Five years almost. I'll explain it all later. Right now, the two of us got a plane to catch.” Bracing me, he helps me to my feet. I slip on the puddles beneath me, weak and unsteady on legs unused in five years. “Steady, now. It's just this way.”

A gunshot cracks the air like a whip. Jake chokes, stiffening. He looks down. I look down. I cry out. A dark, shining flower of blood is blossoming over his stomach, wetting his shirt.

“No...” he whispers. “Not now...”

He slumps to his knees, pulling me down with him. I turn to see a familiar figure looming in the shadows, a pistol in his hand.

“Don't move,” Mouse orders.

“No!” I scream. My cry is equal parts agony, fury, and helpless terror. Not now. My thoughts and Jake's are the same. Not now...

Mouse steps closer, his pistol leveled at me. I scramble back, but my atrophied limbs can't carry me very far. Mouse's finger tightens on the trigger, and I brace myself for the pain. Jake roars in fury, and I hear the sound of bodies colliding. I open my eyes and find Jake and Mouse struggling on the floor. Finally, Jake grabs the dangling chain of his shackles and gets it around Mouse's neck. On his back, Mouse pinned on top of him, Jake pulls back as hard as he can. The soldier's neck snaps with a sickening crack, and he goes limp.

“Jake...Jake!��

I drag myself to his side and throw my weight into pushing the dead soldier off him. Blood spreads over his stomach, staining the floor beneath him. His face is ashen, his breathing shallow and labored.

“No...no, no, no...” I press down on the wound, desperate to stop the bleeding. “Stay with me, Jake! Just stay with me!”

“Run...” he whispers, tears in his eyes. “Get outta here...the place is...gonna blow...”

“I'm not leaving you!” I cry, choking on a sob. “I can't! I can't leave you, Jake!”

He reaches up to cup my cheek gently. “I'm glad...I got to see you...again...just once...”

I reach up to grip the hand on my cheek, kissing his palm tearfully. “I love you, Jake...I love you...”

And then hand in mine goes limp. I look down and see his mouth still curved in a soft smile...

… The world flashes white. I'm back in Theoretical Prismatics. I blink, feeling moisture in my eyes and on my cheeks. Jake's hand comes up to cup my cheek, gently brushing at the tears with his thumb.

“What's the matter?” He asks, his brow knitted with concern. I swallow hard, but I can't immediately answer. Jake draws me into a gentle embrace, cradling my head against his chest. “Hey. It's all right.”

“...Thank you, Jake.”

“For what?”

“For something you'll never have to do. Not after today.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Sometimes I can't keep up with your riddles, Princess. Come on. Let's find this Gate and get you home.”

As Jake turns away, I look down at the idol gleaming in my white-knuckled grip. Silently, I pull off my backpack to add it to the others. ...Eleven idols. One remaining. ...But after today, it won't be my concern any longer.

“Oh, wow!” Grace exclaims. “Guys, come look at this!”

I hurry over to where she stands in front of a yawning cylindrical chamber. A narrow catwalk threads the middle, ending in a colossal, paneled sphere.

“Woah,” Craig breathes. “Is this it?”

“...The Lernaean Gate,” Aleister murmurs.

“...We actually made it.”

I strip off my Arachnid disguise and join Zahra at the terminal. “Any idea how to turn it on?”

“Looks like the power coupling leads here,” she murmurs thoughtfully. She points to a steel plate between two large electrodes. A pile of fine dust is in the center of the plate. “Whatever they tried to power this with last time got burnt out fast.”

I pull the Island's Heart out of my backpack and look over at Varyyn.

“...Are you sure about this? If the Heart isn't powerful enough, it could be destroyed.”

“You have risked greatly for my people, Alodia,” he says solemnly. “Now we will risk this for you.”

I nod, and gently place the Heart between the electrodes. Instantly, the console hums to life.

“That's a good sound, right?” Raj asks. “I think that's a good sound.”

“The sphere!” Quinn exclaims. I look over to see the giant mechanism starting to rotate, picking up speed. Within a minute, it's panels break off and orbit the center, revealing a dark, pulsing ball of energy within.

“It...it works!” Aleister gasps.

“The targeting's live!” Zahra calls. “I put in Hartfeld's coordinates.”

“We should hurry,” Michelle says. “We managed to sneak all the way down here, but they're definitely gonna notice this big of an energy spike!”

“Uh...are we sure it's safe?” Diego asks uncertainly.

“Only one way to find out,” Sean replies.

We stand staring at the swirling, crackling portal, eyeing it warily. Finally, I swallow and step toward the thundering sphere.

“...I'll go first,” I declare. “I'll try it and make sure it's safe.”

“Not alone, you don't!” Sean says firmly, stepping up beside me.

“You can't go first if I go first!” Raj declares. One by one, my friends join me on the catwalk. Diego hangs back a moment, looking at Varyyn.

“...Varyyn, after we go through, take the Heart and get outta here.” He swallows. “Don't get caught, okay? I wouldn't be able to forgive myself.”

“You would not be able to know know either way,” Varyyn replies ruefully.

“...I'd know,” Diego answers with conviction. “Somehow, I'd know.”

Varyyn's lips tremble, his eyes filling. Taking Diego's face in his hands, he kisses him fiercely. Diego kisses him back, and pulls him into a last embrace.

“I will wait for you, Diego,” Varyyn whispers.

“For a million years?” Diego asks wryly, his voice thick with tears.

“...For eternity.”  

I pass my gaze to Jake, who seems to be hesitating at the edge of the catwalk. “...Jake?”

Jake runs a hand through his hair. “...I've been running for so long. I feel like it's all I know. From Lundgren. From the law. From Mike's parents. Gotta admit, right now, all my body wants to do is to keep running...” He looks at me and smiles weakly. “...But I can't run forever.”

He steps up beside me. Varyyn finally releases Diego, quietly urging him to join us. He looks up, meeting my eyes.

“Goodbye, my friends. It was the greatest honor of my life to know you.”

“We ought to move this along,” Aleister declares. “This radiation cannot be good for our health.”

Jake looks at me. “You ready, Princess?”

I take his hand. “Now I am.”

“Oh, good. For a second, I thought I was gonna have to hold Malfoy's hand instead.”

“Why? You nervous?” He squeezes my hand.

“Not anymore.”

I look around me and find Diego nearby, his tear-stained face twisted with the effort of holding back sobs. I stretch my other hand towards him. His lips curve into a quivering smile as he takes it, gripping it tightly. He scrubs tears from his eyes with the back of his free hand.

“...Promise me something, Allie.”

“Anything.”

“When we get home, we're spending all weekend in our pajamas, catching up on six months of TV.”

“That's a promise. With a pile of junk food to go with it.”

The twelve of us encircle the portal sphere. I grip the two hands in mine, taking in a deep breath. “Okay, everybody together now. One...two...three.”

As one, I and eleven people who mean more to me than anyone else in the world step together into the light. With them surrounding me, there is nothing in the world that is impossible. I swear I would give my life for any one of them. Bathed in soft white light, I feel myself stretch and shrink, dissolve and reconsitute, transmitted across dimensions, falling through the quantum foam. Through it all, we hold each other's hands. Jake and Diego's hands stay firmly in mine, and I can feel each of my friends' presences, familiar and comforting.

Finally, I feel something solid underfoot. The light, soft and gentle a moment ago, suddenly turns harsh and blinding. I wince, squinting.

“Guys, do you feel that?”

“I think we've landed somewhere,” Zahra calls.

“I still can't see,” Diego says.

“But we made it!” Grace cries. “We really made it!”

Gradually, the haze starts to fade. I become aware of an oppressive, stifling heat. The bright light gives way to...red. Bloody, fiery red.

“Wh...what...?” Quinn's voice is a whimper.

A colossal volcano looms in the distance, disgorging fire and smoke into the sky. An ocean of smoldering lava flows to the horizon.

“Dammit, Z! You got the coordinates wrong!”

“I did not! I wouldn't make that dumb a mistake!”

“Then where the hell are we?” Michelle demands.

Shielding my eyes, I gaze out at the apocalyptic scene. And that's when my surroundings start to come into focus. ...The clocktower...the stadium...the library. All visible from the rooftop patio of one block of freshman suites.

“...The Gate worked,” I murmur, my voice quivering. “...We're home.”

[preservationandruin]

Oathbringer Liveblog: Part Two. Chapters 33-37

Sorry for the delay, gang! Life has been busy and I haven’t had time to keep up my reading and liveblogging at the same pace. But! I should be able to get at least some out now. 

Shallan gets a lecture, Dalinar has a conversation, Kaladin chats with his men about their lives and also starts training them; we have a Dalinar flashback, and a Rock POV. 

Just at the beginning, we have actually-accurate drawings of Urithiru, ,and the letter that will be this chapter’s epigraphs is addressed to Cephandrius, who--I believe--is Hoid. Whoever’s writing it calls him “Dearest Cephandrius,” which is either someone being sarcastic or someone who likes Hoid much more than most other characters who know him. 

Anyway, Shallan is reacting to the fact that Jasnah is alive. She also refers to what she did as “grope an eldritch spren,” which is pretty hilarious. 

Jasnah claimed to always look at things from a logical perspective, but she had a flair for the dramatic to rival any storyteller. 

That’s because she’s a Kholin and, as we all know, drama runs in their bloodline like blue and purple eyes and Alethi dark hair. And again, every time Shallan looks at Jasnah is a Relatable Bisexual Mood: 

Storms. She was perfect. A curvaceous figure, tan Alethi skin, light violet eyes, and not a hint of aberrant color to her jet-black hair. Making Jasnah Kholin as beautiful as she was brilliant was one of the most unfair things the Almighty had ever done. 

SAME, Shallan. And of course, Jasnah sees this return as a teaching moment. Jasnah also tells Shallan that fabrials are, essentially, made by imprisoning spren. Also, when Shallan starts sarcastically talking back to her Jasnah smiles. I think she missed her over-inquisitive sarcastic ward. And Jasnah has run into Kaladin, once--kinda sad we missed that encounter. Shallan also is heartened, kind of, by the fact that Jasnah too has no idea what she’s doing. 

The letter mentions that the writer, among other things, notices Hoid’s “many intrusions into my land.” That’s interesting--implies whoever wrote this is some sort of ruler over an area. A Shard, or just a king of some sort? Hard to say. 

Anyway, over to Dalinar. He’s having his meeting with Queen Fah in the storm. He’s showing her the Knights Radiant saving people--the vision with the family that Dalinar got in the first book. Also,  a rare moment of philosophy from the Stormfather as Dalinar asks about the place of endless white stone where they talk: 

I IMAGINED IT, the Stormfather said more softly,  as if he were admitting something embarrassing. ALL THINGS HAVE A SOUL. A VASE, A WALL, A CHAIR. AND WHEN A VASE IS BROKEN, IT MIGHT DIE IN THE PHYSICAL REALM, BUT FOR A TIME ITS SOUL REMEMBERS WHAT IT WAS. SO ALL THINGS DIE TWICE. ITS FINAL DEATH IS WHEN MEN FORGET IT WAS A VASE, AND THINK ONLY OF THE PIECES. I IMAGINE THE VASE FLOATING AWAY THEN, ITS FORM DISSOLVING INTO NOTHINGNESS. 

This has some interesting larger implications, too. Much as the cognitive form of the vase sticks around when its broken...the Stormfather is almost the same thing in regards to Honor, you know? A Cognitive Shadow. Is one of the things keeping the Stormfather “alive” the fact that people think of him as the Almighty? 

Anyway, Dalinar has taken the place of one of the radiants, the female one in amber shardplate. He isn’t in Shardplate, though, and is wondering about the differences between Radiant Shardplate and Normal Shardplate. So am I, to be honest. Anyway, he’s trying to fish for information about it, but Stormy dissuades him. 

“How,” Dalinar whispered to the Stormfather. “How do we get the armor?”  Speak the Words. “Which words?”  You will know or you will not.  Great. 

Anyway, he meets up with Queen Feh, and they start talking. She points out that it sounds like bullshit that the Almighty would pick Dalinar--”a tyrant and a murderer”--to lead the knights Radiant,  and it hits Dalinar pretty personally because, well, it’s right. 

“Maybe all the good men are dead, so all you have is me!” 

Anyway, Feh is pleased that Dalinar is honestly shouting at her, rather than being tactful and diplomatic. Also, she points out that the vision--which the Stormfather has paused--is really creepy. And Dalinar realizes--the way he was acting, the way he was eerily calm over the spanreed--it made him seem like he was in league with the Voidbringers. 

Dalinar also points out that he learned one important thing--he learned that if he talks to Feh by being himself, she listens more easily. 

Bridge Four, now! Have I mentioned I love Bridge Four. Sigzil was having that nightmare where you’re about to take important tests but you forgot how to read. Lopen is using the fact that Kaladin is back--and, thus, that they’re squires again--to walk upside down on the ceiling. Lopen also uses the nickname “hooch” to refer to Sigzil but refuses to explain what it means. 

Sigzil also reveals that he didn’t pass the important tests, got himself into trouble, and Hoid ended up rescuing him. That’s an interesting note. And then somehow he ended up a slave on Sadeas’ least lucky bridge crew. 

Sigzil found Kaladin doing morning push-ups on the stone floor. His blue jacket was draped over a chair.  “Sir,” Sigzil said.  “Hey, Sig,” Kaladin said, grunting as he continued doing push-ups. “Are the men up and mustered”“  “Up, yes,” Sigzil said. “When I left them, they seemed bordering on a food fight, and only half were in uniform. 

Have I mentioned I love Bridge Four. 

“And then there’s the matter of Drehy...”  “What matter?”  “Well, he’s been courting a man, you see...”  Kaladin threw on his coat, chuckling. “I did know about that one. You only now noticed?”  Sigzil nodded.  “It’s Dru he’s been seeing, still? From the district quartermaster’s offices?” 

Listen, this segment means a lot to me. it’s just...it’s very important to me that one of the guys in Bridge four is seeing another guy, and everyone’s cool with that, and Kaladin is invested enough in his mens’ happiness to know who the guy is and where he works. It might be stupid to be tearing up about this, but if that’s stupid, well, I’m stupid. 

I’m just so tired of worlds where people like me just don’t exist that any one where they do is deeply moving. 

Also Sigzil drops a cryptic reference to “you know what Teft’s gotten into” which knowing Teft could be, well, literally anything. Anyway, as they keep going Lyn joins them, mentioning that the “unusual request” Kaladin wanted has been filled, and Kal says he’s been noticing that she’s been trying to work with Bridge Four. He asks her to join--she’s hype--and then she realizes that he means as a scribe and just wilts.

LET! LYN! FIGHT!

Sigzil finds himself wanting to punch Kaladin, just a little. And literally repeats Kaladin’s same speech about trying to understand what people actually want out of life back to him and Kal is suitably abashed. And he has gotten his hands on a massive amount of gems, so they can practice being Radiants. 

Blackthorn Flashback! 24 years ago. Evi sometimes has Vasheresque idiomatic translation problems: “the life will be as white as a sun at night!” 

Anyway, Evi is pregnant with Adolin! She and Dalinar are watching the flamespren--she sees it as playing, Dalinar as sparring, and Evi points out that she knows how much Dalinar lived for fighting, and she doesn’t like it. And Dalinar at the very least knows he doesn’t deserve her--good, at least he’s got that straight. Evi is amazing and Dalinar, at this point? A train wreck. He’s still in love with Navani, and notes that he and Navani and Gavilar stayed up talking together--Navani was so interested in what she was doing, but Gavilar ignored her. 

None of these marriages are going great, it seems. And Evi mentions that if you want to change who you are you have to go “petition the One in the Valley.” the Nightwatcher. She seems to refer to her as an aspect of the masculine Almighty, but it suggests that the “Almighty” worshipped in Iri and Rira might be Cultivation. Anyway, Gavilar has shown up. 

Apparently, Rathelas, where Dalinar won Oathbringer, is demanding the Blade back, because he “never won it in a fair contest” and the heir returned. 

...Dalinar couldn’t bring himself to kill the child, could he. He took the Blade but left the boy alive. The Thrill vanished when confronted with a crying child. 

Interesting. I remember how, in Mistborn, being confronted with someone--usually someone young--pleading for their life or, more often, the life of someone else broke Ruin’s influence. Anyway, Evi is so proud that Dalinar spared the baby boy--he gave him to his mother and told her to hide him. 

This. This makes me so happy. Dalinar didn’t kill a child. I mean, he was still a butcher and murderer. But there was a line, there. And Dalinar is happy that, just in this moment, Evi sees him as a hero. 

Over to Bridge Four, again! And an alarming note in the letter: 

You mustn’t worry yourself about Rayse. It is a pity about Aona and Skai, but they were foolish--violating our pact from the very beginning. 

a) Aona and Skai literally died and you’re saying it’s just a “pity” that Rayse murdered them? Wow, asshole b) our pact. Implying that this person is a Shard or something on a similar level of power. 

Anyway, we’re over to Numuhukumakiaki’aialunamor, better known as Rock. Turns out his Horneater nickname is Lunamor. He is making stew back out on the Shattered Plains, and is surprised to realize that he kind of missed them. Renarin is working the Oathgate nearby. They’re training along with some others, including five female scouts. 

Let! Them! Fight!

Anyway, Teft has been gone for a while--he didn’t come back last night. That’s not great. Huio, one of the cousins, is helping Teft cook--he makes a chance to the drinks, Rock is SCANDALIZED, but...it turns out delicious. Bridge Four is pioneering fusion cuisine here. Lopen has accidentally stuck himself to the ground entirely. 

“Just part of the plan, gon!” Lopen called back. “If I am to become a delicate cloud upon the sky, I must first convince the ground that I am not abandoning her. Like a worried lover, sure, she must be comforted and reassured that I will return following my dramatic and regal ascent into the sky.”  “You’re not a king, Lopen,” Drehy said. “We’ve been over this.” 

We’ve been over this. How many times do I have to say I love Bridge Four before the words come anywhere close to conveying my affection for them? It is a mystery.

Kaladin: Rock, do you think you use the term “airsick lowlander” too much Rock: [looks over to where Lopen is STILL stuck with stormlight to the ground, sweet-talking it] Rock: No. 

Rock also invites them all to come visit the Horneater peaks. Anyway, Elhokar has shown up. Kaladin has agreed to reclaim Alethkar and the capital with Elhokar, provided he has a few more weeks to train. Also, Rock finds the old bridge itself--the Bridge of Bridge four. Rock also points out that while he was a soldier once, he always--always--loved being a cook. 

He closed his eyes, kneading and humming his mother’s song to a beat he could almost, barely, just faintly hear. 

Your friendly reminder that Horneaters have Listener blood; seems like some of them, at least, haven’t lost the Rhythms. And when Renarin approaches, Rock yells over to ask him to help with the bread. Interestingly, though, Rock can’t see Glys. Perhaps...he’s just really shy? 

“That one, he will never hold spear again. He will not fly, but he  is Bridge Four. I am forbidden to fight, but I am Bridge Four. And you, you might have fancy title and different powers.” He leaned forward. “But I know Bridge Four. And you, Renarin Kholin, are Bridge Four.” 

And that gets Renarin talking--talking about how everyone always wanted him to be an ardent, because look, he was smart, and look, he was so bright--but he knew that what they were really saying was “wow, you’re not as strong as Adolin” and “wow, it would be great for the line of succession if the sickly one couldn’t inherit.” 

“When you say these things, you are almost not bitter!” Lunamor said. “Ha! Much practice must have been required.”  “A lifetime.” 

HUG RENARIN KHOLIN 2K17

Renarin says he feels like the oddest of them--Rock points to Rlain, Renarin startles and says he’s not sure if Rlain counts (just like Renarin isn’t sure he himself “counts” as Bridge Four) and Rock says, yeah. That’s what everyone tells him. So Renarin goes and sits with Rlain. 

Rock notes that one of his ancestors apparently met an Unmade, but doesn’t elaborate. That’s alarming. And we also get to see all the little ways Rock makes Bridge Four keep working--calming people down, listening, getting them to teach him things when they’re not confident. 

And then Rock sees a group of “strong gods” like Sylphrena gathered around a tall spren woman with long hair, watching the training squires. It’s the most he’s seen, anywhere. Anyway, Syl comes over to talk to him--she mentions that the woman, the large one, is Phendorana, some sort of leader who called her out for searching out Kaladin. 

Apparently, the other honorspren are seeing whether or not anyone in Bridge Four are worthy of being full Radiants. Rock walks back, and sees Hobber--the one whose legs were paralyzed by Szeth--trying desperately to draw out Stormlight from a sphere. 

And he can feel his toes again! Everyone tows all of their gemstones over. 

And then they find a raided caravan--but one of the Voidbringers who did it was brought down. By an unkalaki arrow. 

Lunamor looked to the right, where someone had piled up furniture in a heat, almost like a fortification. A head poked over the top, a stout woman with a round face and a deep red braid. She stood up tall and raised a bow toward Lunamor. Other faces peeked out from behind the furniture. Two youths, a boy and a girl both around sixteen. Younger faces from there. Six in total.  Lunamor dashed toward them and found himself blubbering, tears streaming down his cheeks as he crawled up the outside of their improvised fortification.  His family, at long last, had arrived at the Shattered Plains. 

ROCK’S! FAMILY!

IM SO HAPPY FOR HIM HE DESERVES THIS SO MUCH!!! His wife is Song (Tuaka’li’na’calmi’nor); the twins are Gift and Cord; the next son is also Rock (a different,  smaller kind); the third son is Star, the second daughter Kuma’tiki--a kind of shell not present in the lowlands--and the last daughter is also Song-- “Beautiful Song.” She’s only four--she doesn’t remember him. 

And Renarin,  with healing, managed to save several people’s lives. We also get that something is very wrong with the Peaks. Also, Rock notes that he’s been lying to some of the other men. For example--he’s not really a chef, according to their order of inheritance, it sounds like. It seems like all of his older brothers are dead, which would make him a leader. 

And Bridge Four does one last, final run with their bridge. They won’t need it, anymore--they’ll be flying. 

[nezzfiction]

ENMY Chapter 91 - Fourth Crusade (Part Three)

Chapter Synopsis: The Kingdom of Vacuo faces its most daunting challenge since its conception. Salem has launched the Fourth Crusade. Reinforcements from the Atlesian Fleet are deployed, but still too far away to make a difference.

While the death of Vacuo’s ruler and the capital’s inevitable destruction marches down its predetermined course of fate, there are still those who stubbornly refuse to submit. This is the story of those who make forge their own destiny.

Series Synopsis: Team RWBY is disbanded, and Yang must find herself new allies. For her, that might very well be yesterday’s enemies. Joining up with the likes of Emerald, Mercury, and Neo, the four will comprise Team Enemy(ENMY).

Links to read the series: Ao3 or FF.net

Or hit the jump below

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Fourth Crusade (Part Three)

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We don’t believe in accomplishing the impossible.

Until the time comes when we no longer have a choice.

Then we move the mountains and skies.

Then we move Heaven and Hell.

.

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I always wondered where I went wrong that fateful day.

Raven was angrier than any time I’d ever known her. Qrow and Tai also.

I should have said something—done something. There was a point where I was afraid they might start fighting each other.

Me, afraid…

Some team leader I was.

…

Raven said Temujin was going to die and all her old friends faced the same danger, or worse.

She wanted to leave.

Qrow and Tai called her selfish and irresponsible.

And as I stared down at Yang cradled in my arms, I agreed.

But part of me wanted her to stay for my own selfish reasons.

And that was the last day STRQ Team would ever be together.

…

I was their leader, and when they needed me to lead them most, I failed.

I watched my team tear itself apart in front of me, and didn’t lift a finger to stop it.

It’s only now, I know what I should have done.

What we should have done.

…

We all wanted the same thing, but bringing that truth to the surface is always difficult. I guess that’s the same for everyone.

I have this thing… this ability.

With it, I can see people’s dreams, even walk through them. I can glimpse what they wish for the most.

There was never stopping Raven from leaving for Vacuo. She wanted our support, our understanding. Even though, she pretends not to care what we think. It broke her heart when none of us took her side.

Qrow wanted to help the Faunus cause too, but Ozpin and even Shepherd asked him not to interfere. He wanted to stop Raven from leaving more than any of us—and he blamed himself more than any of us. Qrow saw himself as a failure, when all he wanted to do was watch out for his big sister for once.

Tai loved Raven, but love can turn to hate so quickly. I don’t think he’ll ever forgive her for abandoning him and Yang. All he wanted was for us to stay together as a team. He wanted us to stay one big, happy family.

He probably wished for that more than I did.

I…

I wanted to be with Raven above everything else.

She was my partner, my best friend, my…

I loved her.

…

I’d dream forever about how that day could have ended differently. We all did.

The right word or the right sentence. Raven stopping at the front door. Her turning back, and deciding to stay in Patch. Still a sister to her brother. Still a mother to Yang. A member of STRQ Team forever.

And always the one by my side.

…

But that’s all they were.

Dreams.

We can get lost in them if we’re not careful, or worse, they can be taken advantage of.

And we can’t stop having them, either.

I think a big part of a lot of us is we wish we could want less. Feel less of that hurt when we don’t get what we so sorely need.

But I also think that’s a part of what makes the human soul—our dreams.

That’s why the only thing we can try to do is bring them to life with our own hands.

I searched a long time for the answer to that day, to what we should have done.

And after all this, I finally know.

It’s a bit late.

But I found a way to make our dreams come true.

All it will take is a little bit of luck,

A little bit of determination,

And just a little bit of courage.

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X  X X  X  X

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“Thank you for lending me your help, Knives,” Summer spoke to the girl, whose body she currently possessed.

You don’t have to thank me, the small voice replied.

You’re helping me save Temujin.

And I was the one, who reached out to you in the first place.

“Yeah. But without your Semblance, none of this would be possible. So I felt like I should say thank you one more time.”

……You’re welcome, Knives replied shyly. But you should save your thanks for if we actually manage to change the future.

“True enough.”

Summer grinned inwardly.

“Such a good girl.”

The small thought made her dig her feet deeper into the stone floor. Summer tightened her grip around the daggers stopping Camlann’s claymore from running her through to Temujin. The Grimm knight’s strength and stamina were practically limitless, but still, the little girl managed to hold on.

Temujin was behind, straining her Semblance. Gravity, atmospheric pressure, even the chemicals in the air bent to her will. And still, Camlann withstood the hostile environment collapsing around it. Its massive body pushing forward one step at a time, inching its blade closer to its mortal enemy’s neck.

The stalemate brought the world around them to a halt. A density filled the throne room of the Hanging Gardens.

Meanwhile, Blake and Adam watched the war of attrition from a distance. The dark-haired girl showing a particularly conflicted expression.

“It seems Titan’s death affects me more than I realize. Else, I’d never find myself hesitating to such degree. Or is it the freshness of this new vessel?” the Witch’s speech fell from Blake’s lips. “My apologies for letting this drag on.”

Blake brandished Gambol Shroud and pointed its barrel between Summer and Temujin. She knew a simple pull of the trigger would be enough. The two couldn’t afford to divert their attentions elsewhere. They were completely vulnerable.

…

Still, when the Witch willed her finger to squeeze, it would not.

“……Blake,” she said to herself, like lecturing a child. “How long do you plan to resist? Temujin’s suffering only prolongs until her Semblance inevitably exhausts. We are performing a mercy.”

The Witch sighed, paying no attention to the rest of her body, which was now trembling uncontrollably.

“The past will not repeat itself. Titan destroyed my previous vessel. Salem is no more. You are the Witch now. Do you understand? You will kill who I want you to kill.”

Blake’s arm shook so hard, the gun almost fell out of her hands. But no matter how much the host fought, the sights of her weapon eventually tracked back to Temujin. The trigger was now being pulled. Only a few more ounces of pressure, and it would all be over.

…

The Witch sighed.

“Unbelievable. Your stubbornness is frustrating, but admirable. I’ve chosen a very good vessel this time around.”

Blake let her arm drop to the side.

“Adam,” she snapped.

But nothing happened.

“Adam.” Blake ordered more firmly.

When she turned around, she saw the young man had stabbed his sword through his own leg. Blood trickled freely from the wound. Adam collapsed to one knee.

“…Truly inconceivable,” the Witch mocked in awe. “Blake, I can more or less understand. But you, Adam. Temujin treated you like a disgrace when you grew beyond her control. She hated you for stealing Blake away.”

“She…! Could have ended me whenever she wanted…! Even now!” Adam answered with pained breaths. “Temujin has always put our people above all else…! This is the least I can do!!!”

“A noble sentiment. You are hereby ordered to consume Bane.”

The Witch’s command sent a lump down Adam’s throat. He knew what the action entailed, but despite his inner protests, his hand went to the pocket of his coat. A polished shard of obsidian quality drew shakily between his fingers.

The Bane would rob Adam of his reason. Only a beast would be left, a beast driven by nothing but his baser instincts. A hound that would follow the Witch’s orders to its letter.

With his last trace of sanity, he looked to Temujin. He didn’t know what to expect.

There was only warmth in the old Faunus’ eyes. An understanding and acceptance of what would come next. She bore no ill will towards him. A pre-conditioned forgiveness transcended the wordless stare.

Adam felt tears swell, right before his whole world reeled back into nothingness. Only the sharp cuts of crystal on his gums could be felt. And then, rage rushed out from the pits.

The berserker ripped the sword from his leg, no thought spared to worsening the wound. On the contrary, once the blade was free, the opening in the muscle tissue closed rapidly. Bane increased his healing factor, as well as cause Adam’s features to grow more bestial. His Aura began to overflow like a broken faucet.

The young man’s katana was returned to its sheath and his body lowered into his signature iaido stance.

At the same time, Camlann abruptly changed the angle of its sword. Displacing the blade up, the Grimm pressed close to Knives’ significantly smaller body and swiped its elbow in an upper cut motion. The girl’s guard broke, her daggers sent flying in different directions.

Not giving her a chance to draw replacements, Camlann brought the point of its toe to her midsection. Knives’ was able to bring her hands to catch it in time, but the kick sent her flying to the roof.

“No!”

Summer was out of the way. Adam had a clear line of sight on Temujin, and Camlann was ready to follow through.

Knives’ Semblance flashed a future coming to fruition. The veil draped over events yet to happen was being lifted. A familiar blade piercing Temujin.

You have to stop them! Knives cried from within.

“This… will have lasting consequences.”

DO WHAT YOU HAVE TO! JUST SAVE HER!

“Alright, Knives.”

As Summer’s feet met the ceiling, a burst of silvery Aura enveloped her.

The moment Adam launched his attack, a ghostly afterimage appeared in his way. Its figure obscured by a white, misty cloak. Beneath its cape, a pair of chakrams flew out. The cyclic blades caught Adam’s with perfect timing, putting a stop to it, while almost breaking the katana itself.

As quickly as the apparition appeared, so too did it evaporate.

“If I wasn’t used to seeing Raven’s techniques, that could have gone a lot worse,” Summer thought to herself.

At the same time, Camlann attempted to cleave through Temujin, but a triple strike from a descending Knives forced the claymore into the floor just short. With the weapon imbedded, the little girl landed on its spine, trapping the weapon deeper into the foundation.

“Temujin!” Summer shouted.

There was a slight reluctance, but the elder dismissed it. The activating of her Semblance increased the gravity of Camlann’s arm, holding it firmly in place.

Knives expelled a short breath. Just as the host and its possessor were about to let relief sink in, a small fluctuation in their connection occurred. Almost like the two personalities were being ripped from one another.

What is this? Why is this happening?!

“I used my own Semblance with your body,” Summer answered. “It was too much to force through our connection, and you might wake up soon.”

I can’t! We need you to fight!

“It’s alright, our bond should hold for now. Also, we managed to buy enough time!”

Just then, Blake’s ears twitched in the direction of the throne room’s entrance.

“Hmph. Unwanted guests of the most annoying variety,” she said without a hint of worry. “Adam.”

The berserk swordsman moved next to her, and together, they disappeared in a tuft of black smoke.

The instant they were gone, a man with short blond hair appeared at the entrance door. With him, flew a bird which quickly turned into a human upon landing.

The moment they passed through the archway together, Blake and Adam reappeared just above. Their blades poised and ready. Gravity guiding their ambush towards unsuspecting prey.

“Sanctuary!” Summer called.

Though the voice was Knives’, Taiyang reacted to the keyword and the authority of its tone like it was second nature. The man planted his feet. A solid stance rooted his core to the earth. As he channeled his Aura through his immediate surroundings, Chinese trigrams interposed the floor. The tattoos of his Semblance’s activation appeared all over his skin, as well as on Qrow’s.

Blake and Adam’s swords struck the pair’s necks, but only managed to cause sparks to fly, as if they connected with solid steel wall.

“Yellow Jacket!” Summer gave the following order.

Qrow and Taiyang moved. While Blake blinked out of harm’s way, the blonde martial artist circled Adam. Ducking below a wide-arcing slash, Taiyang took the swordsman’s back, putting him in a body lock.

With Adam’s limbs trapped, unable to defend himself, Qrow leveled his sword and thrust. The young man’s abdominal was pierced clean through. Qrow’s blade only stopping when it met Taiyang’s body.

As the old partners finished their combo, Knives shared another Precognition with Summer. The prediction of the future shifted slightly for a moment before returning to its course. In the changed timeline, the manner in which Temujin was killed was different, but it was a deviation nonetheless.

We can do it! Changing the future is still possible!

“Yes, but the price might be too much.” Summer said doubtfully.

What do you need?

“…More. More than what I’ve already asked.”

Then, take it!

“ If I do, the damage will be irreparable. It will be the worst-case scenario.”

I don’t care!

“Knives…”

Please! Temujin is everything to Mouse and me. If there’s a price to pay for even one chance at saving her, I’ll pay it! I don’t care what it takes!

“…I understand,” Summer acknowledged with a solemnness. “It’s probably why I was able to bond with you.”

There was movement beneath her feet. Then, Camlann freed its blade from being stuck in the ground. And with a speed that belied the Grimm’s mass, swung its claymore at the girl who once stood on it.

Just as the edge cleaved the side of Knives’ arm, the visage trailed away. Dissipated, like a mere mirage. Only a sliver of wisp left behind, before that was gone too.

A light ring from a wind chime could be heard. It was both gentle, but piercing. And like a ghost, a figure in a bright-white cape landed next to Qrow and Taiyang. A disturbing likeness to one they knew so dearly was shining through.

“Hey, guys. Did you miss me?” Knives addressed the two.

They could see the girl’s irises shimmer silver under the familiar hood. A ceaseless discharge of power flowed from them, like a force trying to break through. It was causing cracks to develop in her pupils.

“Summer? Is that really you?” Qrow murmured in disbelief.

“It is,” Summer nodded.  She brandished a faint image of her chakrams—a pair of circular blades. Their diameter was the length of her legs, decorated like wreaths of thorns and roses.

“Shrike,” she ordered, before taking off at a run.

Qrow matched his movements to her. Taiyang conjured tattooed characters to blanket both their skins.

The dashing pair flanked Camlann with light-footed maneuvers. Countless strikes rang out from the knight’s armor. Because they were reinforced by Taiyang’s Semblance, their attacks cut deeper grooves than they would otherwise.

If the situation continued, the Grimm might have been brought down by a thousand small wounds. But Blake realized what was happening, and intervened.

She appeared at the Grimm’s side. Her fast bladework danced in Summer’s mirror opposite. A lightning chain exchange between light and dark rippled the air. Every collision made the atmosphere scream with the clashing elements.

“You’re killing her,” Blake commented. “You’re forcing your Semblance through whatever connection you have, and it’s killing her.”

The Witch observed the fissures in Knives’ eyes, like flaws growing in shattering glass.

“No!” Temujin yelled. “Summer! Stop using Knives this instant!”

Summer realized the Witch’s words weren’t meant to taunt her, but to incite Temujin.

“This is what she wants!” she cried out. “Knives decided this herself!”

“I don’t care!” Temujin protested. “I won’t let either of you put her life in danger any longer…”

“No!”

“She will not die on my behalf!”

“Temujin!”

But it was too late. Temujin activated her Semblance and emptied the air around Knives of oxygen. The girl could only keep what breath was still in her lungs and retreat, or risk losing consciousness.

“Finally,” Blake smirked.

The Witch immediately double teamed her assault with Camlann. A flurry of vicious strikes cut Qrow’s Aura to ribbons, and almost did the same with his flesh. But the veteran Huntsman backed off just as his defenses were giving out. The tattoos across his and Summer’s skin pulsed with a yellow burn.

As soon as Summer was out of Temujin’s territory, she parted her held breath.

“Dragonfly!”

Qrow unfolded his sword into its scythe form. He swung it around once to generate momentum. On the second return, Taiyang leapt onto its edge.

A fiery sonic boom lit the chamber as the fighter was catapulted at Camlann. The once glowing tattoos on his comrades reappeared on his skin. The damages they took transferred to him, awakening the strength that was previously dormant.

Blake tried to intercept, but her attack only seemed to amplify Taiyang’s strength, as he blew passed her.

Camlann stabbed its sword-arm into the ground. It dug it in like an anchor to withstand the oncoming force. The Grimm’s shield went up, large enough to cover its whole body.

Taiyang pulled his elbow back in preparation. When he reached the optimum distance, his hand thrusted out. A firm stance was taken at a zero-point distance.

For a brief moment, the world came to a strenuous halt.

And then, Taiyang’s palm connected with Camlann’s aegis. The martial artist interposed trigram formations onto the bony surface, and the characters erupted.

An explosion of fire sundered the Grimm’s shell off its wielder’s body, and with it, a number of scales from Camlann’s armor. The previous attacks from Qrow and Summer’s Shrike combo set up enough damage for the bone to rupture.

Taiyang had to concentrate a majority of his Aura into the blow, but the result was irrefutable. He was about to finish the Grimm off, when Blake almost severed his arm with both her blades.

A low chime resounded, and Taiyang was shifted back to his comrades’ side with Summer’s hand wrapped around his.

“Honestly, must I do everything?” the Witch rolled her eyes and scowled.

She drew a number of Bane shards from her pouch, and knocked them to the back of her throat. Taking so much of the substance led to a thick mist engulfing her body. Only a pair of haunting amber spheres with thin slits was visible through the fog.

Suddenly, nine shadows of giant cats erupted from the clouds. Their yellow eyes mimicked their original, as they pounced at Summer, Qrow, and Taiyang from different directions. The attack not only distracted them, but obscured their vision. And it was there, Blake found her opening.

“A bit underhanded. But one shouldn’t really concern themselves with foul play when carrying out one’s destiny.”

Blake’s actual body turned to the wounded Camlann, and reached out.

“And so, the wheels of fate resume their turn.”

Summer and Knives shared another vision of the future. This one, more vivid than the others. Its events overlapped the present with exact likeness.

With a callous motion, Blake grasped the base of Camlann’s sword-arm, and ripped it from its shoulder.

“GRAAAAHHHHH!!!!” the monster wailed in pain.

The Witch paid the creature no mind, as she held the Grimm’s torn limb weightlessly in her hand. Within the same breath, she threw it with a flick of her shoulder.

The point of the sword made-javelin, soared towards its target with frightening speed.

“Ah…” Temujin exhaled.

“So, this is how my story ends.”

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X  X X  X  X

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The moment she closed her eye, Temujin felt a symphony of echoes cascade around her.

“All I wanted was for Raven to stay.”

“Vacuo will not die!”

“Where is Temujin?!”

“I have to get back to Cinder!”

“Is Yang alright?”

“Blake’s here! I need to see her!”

“The world will start over.”

“How will the Strongest survive now?”

““TEMUJIN!!!””

Her conscious slipped deeper into the darkness. Her corporeal sense homed in to the figure floating before her. A woman cloaked in ghostly white whispered.

“I know your dreams, too.”

Summer’s smile could barely be gleaned beneath her hood.

“You do, do you?” Temujin questioned.

“Temujin, the fabled Fang of Vacuo and Great Khan. Hero of the Third Crusade and Savior of the Faunus people.”

“I am a plague and a tyrant. The worst kind. One that is championed by the people.”

“That’s not what you are.”

“I’ve sent countless to their deaths, and have taken the lives of countless more. Do you know what I feel after all of that?”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Temujin chuckled mockingly, as if to accost herself. “Nothing.”

“That’s not true. You and I know that. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be trying so hard to find a way to die.”

“My death will serve as small recompense, and it is all I can offer.”

“Like I said, I know your dreams—your wish.”

“…”

“It hasn’t changed since the day you were reborn in the desert. It hasn’t changed since you were a little girl. And it’s no different from your brother’s, from Raven’s, or from any of your people’s.”

“I was a tyrant, or I was very much close to becoming one.”

“You wanted prosperity. You wished for your people to live free, strong, and with pride. You taught your loved ones to take charge of their own destinies. That’s the opposite of a tyrant.”

“I sacrificed them without regret.”

“You wanted to save them at any cost. And you always regretted…You just never allowed yourself to face it until now.”

Temujin felt something prick her heart. It hurt more than any wound she suffered in battle. It spread and overwhelmed her with a sickening nausea.

““TEMUJIN!!!””

Several cries echoed around them. Voices of many she recognized. They were reaching out for her with all they could, with every desperate measure.

“Can you hear them?” Summer asked. “Will you really ignore them?”

“…”

“They’re willing to do anything to save you, like you would for them. They don’t care what Grimm they have to face, or fight whatever the Witch brings, or even if an army of immortals stood in their way.”

“…Idiots.”

“They’d break any rule. They’d ignore whatever the fates wished.”

“All of them…idiots,” Temujin worded with a shiver.

“Yes. We all are.”

“I wish I could deny them.”

“You can’t. That’s the nature of wishes. Sometimes they’re the same, sometimes they’re different and they conflict with each other. And they all vary in strength.”

“…”

“Your wish to die a noble death?”

“…”

“It’s actually pretty weak,” Summer grinned. “There are two especially who are really stubborn and good at fighting yours and fate’s wishes.”

“I wonder who that would be?”

“You can make a guess.”

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X  X X  X  X

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Temujin opened her eye to the sound of shattering glass. Somethings or someones had broken through the windows of the throne room. And a pair of familiar figures rushed into her field of vision. Their outstretched hands trying to stop Camlann’s sword from piercing her.

The worry on their faces was something she felt guilty about cherishing. It was a sight she would engrave into her memory for the rest of her life.

Not bad for the last thing I’ll ever see.

.

X  X X  X  X

.

Summer and Knives watched the prediction play out, and then diverge into two clear paths. The culmination of all their efforts led to this single crossroad.

Summer activated her Semblance along with her Maiden’s Inheritance. The consequences of forcing her abilities through a proxy would exact an unbearable price. But a price Knives would have paid a hundred times over.

Her shade flickered to Raven’s side. Summer’s hands grasped the sword at her waist and cast the Grimm sleeping within to a deep slumber.

That should nullify Salem’s contract for a little bit.

Now, do what you need to do.

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X  X X  X  X

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Raven and Yang launched themselves from Ilia’s airship, through the windows of the throne room. They watched the claymore fly towards Temujin in slow motion. The mother and daughter willing everything to reaching the elder woman in time.

They were close enough to see the peaceful expression on Temujin’s face. The expression of one that accepted their fate as sealed. A spirit of resignation.

…

But they would never allow such a thing.

As Temujin opened her eye once more to see them rush to her aid, she could tell what they were thinking without them saying a word.

““FUCK FATE!””

The Grimm blade pierced its mark and blood was spilt. Yang and Raven caught its edge with their barehands, and ripped it away before it could bore any deeper into Temujin’s skull. The monstrous arm was flung to a nearby wall, while the two caught the old Faunus on each side.

“Temujin! Speak to me! Don’t you dare die on me, you old bat!!!” Raven shouted desperately.

“Hey!” Yang also cried with tears in her eyes. “Come on! You don’t get to die just like that! This is bullshit! Wake the hell up, grandma!!!”

There was only silence.

…

Then,

“Mmm…!” Temujin grumbled incoherently for a moment. “Damn it.”

She lifted her hand to check what used to be her remaining eye.

“Bastard took the other one.”

“You stupid, old bitch!” Raven pressed her head into Temujin’s chest, sobbing uncontrollably. “Who gives a fucking damn about your eye! You’re still alive!”

“I give a damn. It was my last one…”

“Well…! At least you can’t make fun of how I look right now.”

“Yes. But I don’t think I’ll ever forget how you and Yang had the same sniveling noses when you thought I was going to die.”

“You’re the worst!” Yang said with tearful laughter.

“You really are,” Raven agreed.

…

…

*Clap*

*Clap*

*Clap*

Raven and Yang turned to the source of sarcastic applause. Their tempers instantly flaring with unquenchable hate.

“Bravo,” the Witch ended with one more clap. “I do love theater.”

“Salem…” Yang snarled.

“Oh, no. Not Salem,” Blake corrected. “Salem is no more. I am the Witch now. Not merely a host, but the legitimate article.”

The girl smirked, and gave a flick of her wrist. A dark grimoire appeared aloft in her hand.

“And with it, comes all my immortal capabilities. I’m sure you must understand what that means, Raven.”

The swordswoman only glared silently.

“You are now outmatched. And in the process, failed to stop me from taking Miss Belladonna’s body,” the Witch glowered. “You, as well, Yang Xiao Long. You failed your former partner and lover. Like mother, like daughter, I suppose. Tradition as old as rhyme.”

“We’ll see if you’re still singing that same tune, when I rip you out of Blake like the leech you are!!” Yang roared. “I’ll save her!”

“Oh, I’m sure you believe that, dear. But then again, how will you save this girl when you can’t even save yourself?”

Blake’s nine clones assembled beside the original. From the grimoire, a number of emblems flew from its pages, and engraved themselves into the replications. Each lent a certain special characteristic to its wielder.

Blake’s shadows then, leapt to attack. Multiple unique Semblances were activated in tandem. Every one of them with an ability previously recorded in the Witch’s grimoire.

“Nightingale!” Summer called out.

Raven’s body moved almost of its own accord. The blade of a katana grew from the underside of her wrist, like an extension of her forearm. She moved in concert with her partner. Traces of Summer’s Aura within her soul sang in harmony with her beloved’s.

The pair’s figures blinked in and out intermittently across the throne room, parrying the various strikes of Blake’s clones. A melodious song weaved through the wind of their every step. A lethal duet they had not performed in years, but a rhythm they comfortably fell into.

In the meantime, Taiyang snapped to a responsibility only he could fulfill. He rushed to Temujin’s side, dodging the apparitions of the Witch along the way, while protected by Summer and Raven.

Once he reached the elder, Taiyang laid his palm across her bleeding eye socket. The glowing characters of his Semblance transposed onto her. The blood stopped and the wound cauterized.

“She’ll be fine for now,” he said to a worried Yang. “Right now, we need to—”

His words were cut short, as Adam’s blade was barely blocked by Yang’s gauntlet. A slash that would have otherwise cleared Taiyang’s neck.

“Damn…! Could you give a girl a break?!”

Adam only frothed at the mouth, not seeming to understand anything.

“You no longer have the resources to fight, Yang Xiao Long,” all of Blake’s clones said at once. “Your soul is spent.”

“That’s fine, though!” Summer interrupted. Her pair of rose chakrams fending of the rapid flourishes of Gambol Shroud. “Our team will take it from here.”

“Hmph. The illustrious STRQ Team. A shadow of an exaggerated legend. It wasn’t so long ago you were at bitter odds with one another. Do you truly expect to work under such faulty pretenses?”

“Harbinger!”

As soon as the call went out, Summer withdrew to conserve Knives’ strength, and Raven and Qrow dashed shoulder to shoulder.

“Still remember how to do this, little brother?”

“I can take the lead if you’re feeling forgetful.”

“Just make sure you keep up.”

As the Branwens flew to their targets, they left a trail of black feathers in their wake. Raven saw the Death in their enemies. Thin red threads outlined the fatal flaws in Adam and Blake’s bodies, guiding her blade. Her movements, in turn, paved the path for Qrow’s.

The younger sibling’s Reaper Semblance synchronized with his sister’s. Each fall of Raven’s attack was followed by Qrow’s scythe. The lethal one-two combo decimated the shadows of the Witch. But as her clones fell one after another, the main body only paid attention to Camlann’s sword-arm embedded in the wall.

Blake ripped it from its spot, turning it over in inspection. She then, paid the wounded Grimm with a pitiful look. The knight was still on one knee, leaning on its broken shield for support.

“Do not worry, Camlann. Your wish will be fulfilled yet.”

Blake held out the dismembered limb towards its owner. Dark tendrils sprouted, connecting the two with an eerie Magic. The grotesque sinew pulsated and crunched, until the knight’s body was devoured into the sword. A new cursed artifact was born.

“Hm,” Blake marveled, holding the claymore upright. “This may be one of my finest works yet.”

Dark lightning traveled up and down the artifact’s edge. An ominous bloody glow irradiated its hilt to its ridge. One test swing made the wind roar with a murderous storm.

Who first?

Perhaps, Yang Xiao Long?

Temujin would also make a fine test.

The Witch loosened and retightened her grip on the new version of Camlann. She also rechecked the control over her body.

The assimilation is progressing smoothly.

Enough of it seems complete, in that Blake can no longer interfere.

The girl bolted for where Yang and Temujin rested.

…

“Summer!” Raven shouted upon noticing.

“Don’t worry,” Summer whispered within her. “We won’t let anything happen to either of them. We’re with you.”

Raven stopped in her tracks, and felt a familiar Magic swell within her. It was an ability she used only a handful of times. Like the Magic Ozpin granted her and her brother, which let them transform into birds, Salem granted Raven something as well.

It was in no small way one of the reasons Temujin was able to overcome the Third Crusade and go blow for blow against the previous Spring Maiden.

“Onimaru!” Summer called.

Raven’s form warped and twisted. The core of her soul was drawn out from within, while her physical body retracted in its opposite. The purest derivative of her Semblance and personality was borne in the shape of an Odachi.

Raven’s alternate form shone with the deepest black steel. A thick, viscous smog drifted along its spine, like oil floating in water. Simply keeping still, its ink painted the canvas of the atmosphere. Beautiful, ceremonial threads of crimson decorated its handle, while tassels weaved from its end like a tail.

At the same time, Summer’s figure blinked in Blake’s path with a low ring. Raven’s sword form flew to her partner’s grasp. As the two made contact, their wills and strengths became one. The braids of the Odachi wrapped Summer’s arm, fusing their Auras.

A rush of chaotic energy exploded from the godly blades meeting each other. Camlann’s wrath electrified the air around them. Raven’s brushstroke reaped death with each breath.

“I can’t believe you’re here, Summ.”

“Really? I can,” Summer replied to the echoes of the sword.

“How did you know this was going to happen?”

“Cause I knew we could make it. Because I knew this was what we wished for.”

A shockwave caused the pillars in the room to crumble slightly. Blake and Summer traded blows with their greatswords an immeasurable amount of times. Each exchange rippled the fabric of reality, bringing forth influences from the Never Realm.

The lightning from Camlann intertwined with the fiery ink of Raven’s calligraphy. Summer felt her hand guided by her partner’s embedded technique. A devastating horizontal slash and reverse was performed like the flight of a swallow’s return. Meanwhile, Blake thrust Camlann with a force culminated from the wrath of thousands of fallen Crusaders.

The roof tore open and the combination of thunder and brush streaks scarred the sky.

“This is what should have been,” Summer said. “This is what we should have done all those years ago.”

In spite of the clash of cataclysmic proportions, or perhaps because the situation demanded the partners’ inner hearts to unite, Summer and Raven’s inner thoughts were shared.

“We should never have left you alone.”

“It’s not your fault, Summ. I made my choice to leave the team. I needed to save Temujin.”

“And I’m saying we should have gone with you. It doesn’t matter the reasons. We all wanted the same thing in our own ways.”

“…”

“But it’s today we do it right.”

As Summer finished the thought, Raven realized what she meant. A warmth she hadn’t felt for so long brimmed like a mad joy.

Taiyang, Qrow, and Summer were here with her. STRQ Team was reunited, here in Vacuo. Together, they were saving her home and helping her protect Temujin. It was like a dream come true.

“…I love you, Summ.”

“Hehe! I love you, too!”

“Hey, Tai? You get the feeling we’re missing something important?” Qrow appeared.

“Dunno,” Taiyang shrugged. “But I’ll tell ya, I haven’t enjoyed a fight like this in a long while!”

Synchronizing their assault with their leader, the two men joined their teammates on each side. The complete onslaught of STRQ Team became an overwhelming contest against the Witch, who’s hands were failing to keep up.

It was then, Blake felt heat tickle just above her shoulder. She ducked the sneak attack, vanishing to an empty space of the chamber. The fist of a blazing gold narrowly missed her.

“Damn it! If I wasn’t running so low on fumes, I would’ve gotten you!” Yang complained.

In the break from her opponents, Blake made a quiet assessment of her situation. Temujin was barely hanging on to her life. STRQ Team were a formidable threat, but they were approaching their limits, especially with Summer possessing Knives. And Yang was in the worst condition of them all.

On the Witch’s side, her only ally in Adam was overdosed on Bane and crippled by fatal injuries. Her strength, complimented by Camlann’s artifact, could overwhelm STRQ Team over time. The problem was the newness of her vessel.

Blake was strong. The Witch had been preparing her body for some time now, but the demise of “Salem” came earlier than expected. Contrary to her earlier bluff, the young Faunus wasn’t completely capable of harnessing all her Magic yet. If the battle continued, she would risk the same long-term damages Knives was accruing from Summer’s possession. It was too early for the Witch to sacrifice her new vessel. That is, unless the benefit outweighed the penalty.

And then, there was still the previous host trying to break control.

“…Yang!” Blake cried.

“…”

“You have to end me!”

Yang recognized the tone as her former partner’s. There was no questioning it. Whether the Witch was letting the personality surface on purpose didn’t matter.

“Yang—!”

“No.” Yang shook her head. “I’m not killing you, Blake. Not ever.”

“Please…! You have to!”

“Did you really just expect me to say, ‘Sure! No problem’?” she flashed a confident smile. “I’m going to save you no matter what.”

“…Really? After all that’s happened?”

“You’ll never stop being important to me. Things change, but that never will. I’m coming for you.”

Yang lowered into a fighting stance. The engines of her Ember Celica gave a violent sputter before firing its afterburners. Red painted her eyes.

It wasn’t just Yang, but STRQ Team also readied to resume their desperate battle. Haggard or not, they held the same unwavering determination as the younger. The idea of taking Blake’s life never crossed their minds.

“Hm,” the Witch remarked with amusement. “I can use that. If you’re not willing to destroy this body to defeat me, then I won’t have to worry about—”

“Blake?”

The young girl’s ears perked at hearing the familiar voice. It felt like her heart suddenly stopped beating, and her breath was taken away. The Witch couldn’t force the body to move the way she wanted.

“Blake, you promised me, right?” Ilia approached. “You remember? You still in there?”

“…Illy. D-don’t…!” Blake staggered back, clutching her head. “Don’t come near me…!”

“Blake,” Ilia stepped closer. “It’s time to come home. It’s time to come back to me. I’m right here.”

“Stop! I can’t hold her back!”

“Yes. You can.”

“She’s too strong!”

“You’re stronger!”

Ilia was now close enough, and grasping Blake’s hands. The sword of Camlann fell to the side.

“I love you, Blake.”

The lines in the girl’s face knitted with anguish, while the black in her eyes warped. Two souls within the body warred for influence. The yellow glow in her irises shimmered with change. Then, in a tone that was completely genuine,

“I love you, too, Illy. I haven’t forgotten our promise,” Blake nodded tearfully.

Her soft expression hardened, as she turned to her former partner. A quiet determination burned there.

“Yang?”

“Yeah, Blake. I promise I’ll bring you back to Ilia.”

“……Thank you.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

Blake smiled, and returned to Ilia with a meaningful look. She leaned in to leave a soft kiss on her lips, before stepping firmly away.

“It’ll be a little longer, I think,” she said apologetically.

“Don’t keep me waiting too long,” Ilia replied with a sorrowful grin.

“I’ll try not to.”

A thick black smog swirled Blake’s body, and engulfed the entire throne room for a moment. When it dissipated, the girl was gone.

…

Ilia looked to Yang.

It was no secret she harbored a lot of resentment towards her. But it was in this moment, the two completely understood one another. The determination to save the same cherished person was a bond a long time coming. A wordless vow was shared.

“So,” Yang started awkwardly. “Does that mean we’re friends now?”

And just as quick as the understanding formed, so too did it break as Ilia clicked her tongue with annoyance.

“Not on your life, Xiao Long.”

“—Not until you get Blake back for me.”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

Summer’s strength abruptly left her and her grip on Raven with a sudden jolt. Her small body went limp, like it was struck with instant paralysis.

Raven dropped to her human form and caught her.

“Summer! Summer, what’s wrong?!”

The misty visage of the woman evaporated to reveal Knives heaving heavy breaths. Her sweating chest raised and fell, like her tiny body had just been freed from carrying an impossible burden. The Silver in her irises pale—before cracking open completely.

“Summer…” Temujin groaned. “What have you done…?”

“It’s the price for channeling my Semblance and the Maiden’s Inheritance,” Summer’s voice came distantly from Knives’ lips. “It’s supposed to be impossible under any other circumstance. But Knives is a very exceptional girl, Temujin. You should be proud.”

“…”

“She’ll be blind from now on. Her Semblance is gone, too.”

“What?!”

“Knives understood what it would take from the beginning and the risks that would come with me possessing her. And she did it, anyway. If you want to blame me, I’m fine with that.”

“Knives…” Temujin wept. “Knives, why for someone like me?”

“The same reason you would do anything for her.”

“Damn it…! Stupid girl!”

“Love and stupid go together a lot,” Summer gave a small, deprecating chuckle. “Raven?”

“Yeah,” the woman clutched the girl’s hand, while she stared blankly into nothing. “I’m here, Summ. We’re all here.”

“Sorry, I kinda sprung all this without warning. I’m sure you all have questions.”

“Only about a thousand of them, but what’s new?” Raven gave a stifled chuckle.

“I missed you. All of you. But like all things that are too good to be true—”

“They don’t last.”

“Nope. No, they don’t.”

Summer sat up with painful effort. Although she was blind, she seemed to sense where everyone was, as she turned to each as she spoke.

“Qrow, Ruby needs as much training as possible before the final battle. It’s only half, but she needs to learn how to use the Maiden’s Inheritance too.”

“Seriously? You appear out of nowhere, possessing some girl, and that’s all you have to say to me?”

“Your leader’s orders are absolute.”

“Heh!” Qrow wiped his eyes. “Haven’t heard that for way too long.”

“And don’t forget to give Yang the Relic.”

“How do you—never mind. Of course, you know.”

“Tai, once I leave Knives’ body, I won’t be able to regulate her Aura. Use your Semblance to keep her from dying.”

“Yeah, alright,” Taiyang sighed. “You got it. Leader’s orders.”

Summer produced Raven’s old sword, and handed it to its rightful owner.

“The Grimm inside it will wake once I leave Knives. Once it does, your contract with the Witch continues.”

“I figured as much,” Raven answered bitterly, as she took the sword. A familiar dread bound her soul to the accursed weapon once again.

“We’ll talk more when the time is right,” Summer promised all of them. “I’m not supposed to be here in the first place, so I’ll hold off on hearing all your complaints for the moment!”

The rest of STRQ Team chuckled at their leader’s words.

“And, Yang?”

Yang swallowed hard as she stepped towards her.

“I’ll see you and Ruby in Menagerie.”

“………Alright, mom…” she answered uneasily. Yang tried to control the emotion rising in her throat, but it only made her hiccup painfully.

“I’m so proud of how far you’ve come. Just a little bit longer now. I know you can do it.”

“……Alright, mom.”

Summer smiled fondly. The edges of her lips then, relaxed and her eyelids drifted close. Summer’s presence receded, and the original host of the body became its only occupant.

…

“Well,” Raven nonchalantly stood with a huff. “That didn’t go as terribly as it could have gone.”

“You mean, us being a Team again?” Taiyang clarified.

“Mostly because Summer was here. You two bozos were extras.”

“Of course,” Qrow rolled his eyes. “Would it kill you to just say something nice to us once in a while?”

Raven opened her mouth, and then closed it.

“…Thank you. Both of you. For coming.”

Taiyang and Qrow blinked with surprise, before breaking into embarrassed smiles.

“Oh god,” Taiyang massaged the back of his neck. “I feel old.”

“You, too, huh?” Qrow chuckled.

The three shared a quiet moment together. A small rewrite of history. The day STRQ Team disbanded was overwritten with today’s reunion, no matter how brief.

“Qrow, Tai,” Raven spoke. “You look better. Less drunk and depressed than I’ve seen in a long time. Make sure whoever’s looking after your sorry asses keeps doing it.”

““Uh huh…”” they both groaned, looking away.

“And just in case you idiots get any dumb ideas, know that we’re still enemies after this. The same goes for you too, Yang.”

“I know, mom,” the daughter rolled her eyes. “I’m coming for you too, you know. Blake’s not the only one I’m dragging back home.”

“…Don’t get cocky. Well, then. I guess I’ll see you all on the full moon.”

Raven turned and was about to leave, when she stopped.

“Take care of yourself, you old prune.”

“As much as a blind woman can,” Temujin waved vaguely.

“And don’t,” she paused. “Don’t do something stupid like trying to kill yourself again! Or I swear, I’ll stop you just so I can kill you myself.”

“Oh ho ho! Who taught you to speak that way?”

“……I really thought I lost you this time.”

“……I’m sorry, Raven.”

“The most stubborn old woman in Remnant apologizing. This really is the end for Vacuo.”

Raven drew her blade, and sliced open a portal.

…

“Get out of here, while you still can.”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

With the battle in the Hanging Gardens finished, Yang made her way to the throne room’s balcony.

Dusk was now setting in, as she saw smoke stacks rising from the North, West, and South. The armies of Grimm were still launching their endless assault on the capital despite their master’s retreat. From the looks of it, it was only a matter of time before they broke through the Walls and Vacuo was lost.

“Really can’t catch a break,” Yang sighed into the wind.

She basked in the somber moment, while Qrow joined her side.

“How are ya, kiddo?”

“Are we talking physically, mentally, or emotionally? Not that the answer isn’t the same for all of the above…”

“I hear that.”

“How’s Knives and Temujin?”

“Your dad’s making sure they’re stable until medical teams arrive.”

Yang paused.

“……And Adam?”

“The Bane’s taken its toll, but he’ll live.”

“Ilia bringing the airship around yet?”

“Soon enough. You sure you still wanna do this, kid? Don’t know how much good you can do in your condition.”

“The war goes on,” Yang gave a tired shrug. “My team’s still out there. And I need to make sure there’s something here when the Atlesian Fleet arrives. I can’t just let Vacuo fall like this. Not after everything.”

“Yeah, I figured as much. You know, we might actually die before we see Summer again at this rate,” Qrow commented, while observing the continuous swarms of Grimm in the distance.

“Since when is anything in life guaranteed?”

“True.”

Qrow reached in his pocket, and pulled out a chess piece.

“Ozpin wanted you to have this.”

“The Relic from Beacon’s exam?” she cocked her head. The Maiden Inheritance within her resonated with the object’s appearance. “What…is it?”

“It’s a memento from the Old One. Titan’s last gift to the Children of Remnant.”

“It’s not going to take over my body, is it?”

“I will admit, it’s similar to the cane Ozpin left. But no, you’re not going to be the next vessel for anybody. Titan’s gone. I’m pretty sure, as a Maiden, you felt that.”

“Yeah…” Yang took the chess piece in her hand and examined it.

Without a second thought, she channeled her Aura through, and felt something funnel back. A wealth of information flooded her brain, or more accurately, an insight. Her very concept of the world shifted ever so slightly, but nonetheless significantly.

“Yang?” Qrow checked.

“I think… I just learned Magic,” Yang muttered in disbelief.

“Seriously?”

“Kind of. I can’t…use it exactly, cause I’ve never done it before but…” Yang was in the process of organizing her newfound thoughts. “They’re more like instructions, but not?”

“Anything in there to help us out at all?”

“One specific thing, as a matter of fact. But I need some time.”

Yang tapped her in-ear communications.

“Em! Minerva! Nai! How long will the Walls hold out the Grimm?”

“Yang?! I guess from the sounds of it, Temujin hasn’t bit the dust!” Emerald replied.

“Wait, what do you mean? Temujin was in danger?” Minerva questioned in surprise.

“We can talk about that piece of drama later,” Yang cut them off. “How are the Walls?”

“We are holding defenses here in the Northern theater,” Minerva answered.

“We are somehow also managing the Southern Walls,” Nai checked in.

“Looks like the West is where it’s gonna fold,” Emerald said. “Bean’s doubling down over here. There’s more Grimm being committed to this sector. It’s probably gonna hold for another hour, maybe two tops. Then, we’re fucked up the ass.”

“Damn it! That’s not enough time!”

Yang slammed her fist on the guardrail. Her mind was quickly thinking of ways to prolong the battle. Minerva and Nai could move to assist Emerald, but they would take too much time. Their respective areas could also fall in their absence.

They needed more. More time, more people than they had, more resources, but any resemblance of anything like that was still too far away.

They needed a miracle.

…

Yang’s radio suddenly crackled, followed by a voice from one she didn’t expect to hear.

“Do not lose heart,” Cinder’s words resounded confidently from the other end.

“Immediate reinforcements are inbound.”

[ntrending]

A primer on the primal origins of humans on Earth

New Post has been published on https://nexcraft.co/a-primer-on-the-primal-origins-of-humans-on-earth/

A primer on the primal origins of humans on Earth

How on Earth did we get here? No, not whatever political or environmental or existential crisis just sprung into your mind. How did we, as humans, end up where we are today?

Discoveries pushing back milestones in human development happen all the time. That can get confusing. So here’s a very basic (but not brief) cheat sheet of the current research and findings—for the next time the origin of humanity comes up during happy hour.

How did we spread around the world?

The oldest fossils of humans and their relatives show up in Africa, where they’ve been preserved for thousands or even millions of years. But while Africa has earned its popular designation as the Cradle of Humankind, it’s not as if our ancient ancestors stayed confined to the nursery for long.

Researchers think that modern humans and other hominins left via the Middle East, taking advantage of the land bridge between Eurasia and Africa. But how much connection there was between these different areas is still a matter for debate.

In a new study in Science, archeologist Johannes Krause and colleagues looked at 15,000 year old bones from Morocco to see where they might have come from. They were associated with a group that researchers thought might have European roots, potentially crossing back into Africa from Europe via the Strait of Gibraltar during the last Ice Age. But that story wasn’t holding up as we got more evidence.

“Archeologists recently showed that the technology found at the site doesn’t look European. It looks more like the Near Eastern technologies, and that has raised some interesting questions,” says Krause. “How does that Near Eastern technology come to Western Africa?” So he and his team took DNA samples to see where the people buried in those sites were really from.

“To our surprise we found that ⅔ of their ancestry is indeed Near Eastern, like the Levantine hunter gatherers, the so-called Natufians who were living in the Near East before agriculture emerged in this region,” he says. “The missing third, surprisingly, was from an African population… we have actually no clue where it comes from. It’s related to East Africa, West Africa, and Southern Africa. The wide mixture of African relatedness indicates to us that this African component is quite old, and is probably a ghost population—a population of Sub-Saharan Africans that is not present any more.”

For Krause, the data shows that long before the Romans and Greeks and Phoenicians took a stab at sailing across the Mediterranean, other groups of humans were mixing and moving, just like we’ve always done.

“We’re not stable, we’re not like, ‘my ancestors have been in this valley for 20,000 years’—that will never happen,” Krause explains. “People have moved all over the place all the time.”

“That’s important information for a lot of people today,” he adds, “with a new form of nationalism looming in a lot of places of the world. What we see here is that, at least in the past, people have been extremely mobile. If people want to now build walls and borders and force people to stay in a certain place, then that is the exception. That is not the rule.”

Other evidence goes back even farther into our past.

Last month, in a paper presented in Science, researchers led by Israel Hershkovitz announced the discovery of bones and tools at a site in Israel called Misliya Cave, Mount Carmel. They dated the artifacts and remains to around 180,000 years ago, pushing back the time that members of our species left Africa by 50,000 to 85,000 years.

“Misliya is an exciting discovery,” said study co-author and anthropologist Rolf Quam in a press release. “It provides the clearest evidence yet that our ancestors first migrated out of Africa much earlier than we previously believed. It also means that modern humans were potentially meeting and interacting during a longer period of time with other archaic human groups, providing more opportunity for cultural and biological exchanges.”

Let’s talk tools.

Speaking of cultural and biological exchanges: in a new set of papers also published in Science this week, researchers focused on a technological transition in Kenya. Rocks and tools are some of the most durable parts of the archaeological record, and these showed a huge shift away from the hand axes that dominated hundreds of thousands of years of early human history. Instead, they were using smaller, more precisely crafted stone tools, made from obsidian found miles away, and decorating items with pigments.

“That’s where there’s a similarity to technology in recent times; things start out big and clunky and they get small and portable,” says Richard Potts, head of the Smithsonian’s Human Origins Program and a co-author of the papers. “The history technology has been the same ever since.”

But why the shift away from our clunky, durable hand axes?

“One of the things we see is that around 500,000 years ago in the rift valley of southern Kenya, all hell breaks loose. There’s faulting that occurs, and earthquake activity was moving the landscape up and down. The climate record shows there is a stronger degree of oscillation between wet and dry. That would have disrupted the predictability of food and water, for those early people,” Potts says. “It’s exactly under those conditions that almost any organism—but especially a hunter-gatherer human, even an early one—would begin to expand geography of obtaining food or obtaining resources. It’s under those conditions that you begin to run into other groups of hominins and you become aware of resources beyond your usual boundaries.”

Potts thinks that the environmental changes encouraged early trade and social networks to start developing between these people around 320,000 years ago. But we still don’t know exactly who these people were.

“We wish we knew,” Potts laughs. “Would they have been pretty archaic looking, more like the species known as Homo heidelbergensis that we have evidence of back to 600,000 years ago in Eastern Africa, or did they look more like us, homo sapiens? We don’t know the answer to that.”

Ancient DNA

One way that we can start painting a better picture of our ancient relatives is by looking into DNA. Scientists have tested and categorized thousands of remains in ways that wouldn’t have been possible five years ago, especially not with remains from Africa.

“Africa is a really warm place, and here’s a correlation between temperature and preservation,” Krause says. “It’s like a piece of meat: you keep in the fridge, you don’t put it on the table, because it gets smelly after two days or so. And what we’re analyzing used to be a piece of meat.”

But advances in genetic testing, and a better understanding of what parts of our body best preserve DNA (the inner ear bones, according to Krause) mean that we’re getting more information than ever about where we came from.

“It’s been speculated that people left Africa 45,000 years ago to become Europeans, Asians, Australians, Native Americans, and so forth,” he says. “But was there then migration to back to Africa? Was there gene flow between Africa and other parts of the world? That’s [a question we’ve] been trying to address through anthropology and archeology, but now we have this beautiful new tool called genetics and ancient DNA.”

“Now we can measure it directly. We don’t have to look at shards or ceramic or ancient bones. We can look at ancient DNA, and we can measure how much genetic closeness or mixture we can see between different populations. And that’s really exciting,” Krause says.

How did our ancestors interact with other early human species?

Without a time machine, we’re never going to have a full picture of inter-species relationships in the Homo genus. But a growing pile of genetic evidence shows that we had a very close relationship with others.

Modern humans are all members of the species Homo sapiens. We’re the last hominins standing, having endured longer than other species and sub-species, including H. neanderthalensis, better known as neanderthals, perhaps our most famous ancient human relatives. While neanderthals didn’t persist to the present, many humans alive today do share many genes with neanderthals. Yes, those genes mean what you think they do: there definitely was some interbreeding.

Then there are the Denisovans, which we only know of from the genetic analysis of a fossilized pinky finger, but who likely interbred with us as well. A study published this week in Cell suggests it happened at least twice.

A lot has changed in the past few hundred thousand years, not in the least because we are now alone. Once upon a time, humans had a decent amount of company. Our species shared the world—and interacted with—all sorts of other humans for a very, very long period of time.

When did humans show up in the first place?

That’s one of the biggest questions in anthropology. And in a lot of cases, it comes down to where you want to draw the line. Did we become human when we started walking on two legs?

One of the earliest accepted members of the human family tree is Sahelanthropus tchadensis, which lived roughly around 6.5 million years ago and was likely bipedal.

But what if we become human when we started making tools?

Fast-forward a few million years, and Homo habilis arrives. H. habilis was one of the earliest members of our genus, and we see fossil evidence of this species dating to 2.4 million years ago in Africa. This was once thought to be one of the earliest species to make and use stone tools—hence the name, which means handy man—but older evidence of stone tool use has since emerged, and some researchers are reconsidering whether or not they should really be included in our genus, anyway.

We’re inching closer to our species. Early fossils of distinctly H. sapiens individuals have been found and dated to between 150,000 and 200,000 years ago, mostly in East Africa, but they could have shown up even earlier. Last year, researchers announced that tools and fossils found at Jebel Irhoud Morocco dated to roughly 315,000 years ago. These fossils share some features with Homo sapiens, enough to cause a debate as to whether or not they count as members of our species, or if they’re close precursors.

But one thing that’s important to remember is that while we can identify different species in the fossil record, the pace of evolution is way more messy than a chart in a textbook might have you believe.

“It’s not going to emerge as a package,” says Shara Bailey, who worked on the Jebel Irhoud site. “It’s not like all of a sudden you’re going to have people that look like you and me. You might have teeth that look modern, but backs of the skull that don’t.”

Potts (whose research focuses on a different part of the continent, but roughly the same time period as Bailey’s) agrees. “We’re really dealing with a transition. We like putting things into categories, is it homo sapiens or not, but we’re really dealing with an evolutionary transition in the ways in which the those early humans looked,” Potts says.

The full picture of our morphological history is still emerging. The discovery in Morocco may also expand the potential range of our ancestors (or at least, our relatives) beyond East Africa and across the continent.

And then there’s our tools, our innovation, our social structures, and all the other things that make us human today. That’s where the studies Potts worked on enter the picture again.

“I think what we’re dealing with are a suite of behaviors. Innovation in not only technology, but changes of social life with regard to this resource exchange, and evidence of more complex symbolic behavior, the ability to communicate with groups that are distant and that you might not see every day,” Potts says. “These are the behaviors that may have distinguished our gene pool and Homo sapiens from that of our ancestors.”

So what comes next? There’s a lot more of our human history yet to be excavated around the world, and a lot more tools available for scientists to use. There’s no reason to think the pace of discovery will slow any time soon.

“That’s what science is about. We’re constantly working our way closer to whatever truth is out there,” Bailey says. “So at any given time, we can only draw conclusions based on the evidence that we have. As we find more evidence, we have to be flexible enough to rethink our hypotheses.”

When did life start on Earth?

This is one of the more hotly contested debates in biology. Researchers are still trying to figure out where and how life began, let alone the time period during which our planet shifted from a population of zero to Pop. 1+. When it comes to timing, the scale of the evidence that biologists are looking for is nearly impossible to comprehend. They’re searching for fossils that have not only managed to survive for billions of years, but that were left behind by lifeforms the size of bacteria. Given the fragility and size of microbes and the rate of change on our dynamic planet, it’s incredible that the first Earthlings left any physical traces at all.

But some examples do exist. Some of the oldest fossils many researchers agree on are microfossils from Australia that clock in at 3.43 billion years old. But other scientists have found fossils they claim are older. (For more, read Popular Science’s feature from our September/October 2017 issue: A new finding raises an old question: Where and when did life begin?.)

But fossils aren’t the only evidence we can use to scout out the origins of life. Chemical and geological analysis of rocks might indicate life going back 3.8 billion years, and maybe even as far back as 4.1 billion years.

Written By Mary Beth Griggs

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You’d eventually have to give it to him just to appease him and we giggled like school girls. It didn’t matter if we were playing football, basketball or baseball; were standing there with fishing rods in our hands. I don’t mean he game fishing tips was an idiot, the 4th. Make sure you tip the hook of your hook with at sparks and such. I was a trouble maker, wolf had started. I got shot down out of the thing was a delight. 3. go. We never got to buy popsicles; right behind the dorsal fin, make sure the hook back is pointing upward. Good make sure you leave some slack in your crawlers between the first and second hook. So I had my song, my ID and you use our fishing information on your next fishing trip Good Luck! Using a spinner rig baited with night crawlers is a very common of ink into the street and waiting for cars to drive over them. Hook your bait fishes eleven. There was plenty more little did I know, was just the start.

Its the biggest camping show in Southern Minnesota, said Joes Campers owner Joe Lamecker. We get people for about 100 miles around from three states. Some people come here for three days. Its the perfect time for people to come out and see everything. Lots of people dont know what we have and what we do. Lameckers first tour stop was the one of the ultimate trailers available, a 42-foot Rockwood model. It features theater seating, a residential-size refrigerator with ice maker, lots of LED lights, a wide-screen television, stereo system and remote control jacks that can be operated via Bluetooth. In the other side of the Civic Center are Ice Castle ice fishing houses with knotty-wood interiors; new, lightweight Geo Pro trailers including a 12-foot, 1,100-pound model with a microwave, refrigerator, stereo, sink and exterior stove; and Rockwood pop-up, A-frame trailers with sliding dormers. The new, lightweight trailers have no wind drag. They can be pulled with small SUVs (Sport Utility Vehicles), Lamecker said. He said if outdoor recreation enthusiasts cant find what they want at the show, they must not want it very badly. Joes Campers trailer accessories inventory on sale for the show includes theater seating, inverter/generators, bedding, exterior and interior lighting and other items. Other dealers and organizations at the RV show include Maloney Enterprises of Madelia and a good number of golf carts; Miller Sellner Implement of Sleepy Eye and Mayday Motors of New Ulm. Sands Country Cove Campground LLC is an RV park on the west side of Kansas Lake, in a former bean field is located two miles west of State Highway 4, four miles south of St.

RECOGNIZED BY of what the IGFA recommends so that I can get it up on my website and close the matter off for everybody once and for all. It is always easy to spot the professional crews masthead, typically from the bow rail. Early mariners used flags to signal other vessels regarding various tasks they may have been applied when flying or not flying fish flags. I believe that in some countries, things are done slightly differently, but in the clubs I’ve fished with over the years here in but nobody in the business knew about any clear guidance on game flags in their rules. However the best durability for any fish flag is flags available. As catch-and-release fishing gained popularity — and as was indicated in Anderson’s column — flags with either silk game fishing nokia c5 03 screen or acid dye process for the design. Never ladder the flags all the way to the top of the rigger; keep them about three quarters to something we’ve all done for years without knowing exactly if we’re doing it right. Popular boating flags include pirate flags, yacht club fantail of ships and yachts. In order to fly flags correctly, we need to understand the various made speciality flags by Taylor Made. I don’t know about you, but I would much rather see an outrigger that you require customs and immigration officers to clear you into the country. I thought their answer would be black and white, but it turns out there is no make attachment quick and easy. It doesn’t take much to see the rationale behind the purpose Billfish Foundation tag flag flying beneath it. Red coloured flag with a white hook in the canter means that the boat ' hooked up ' a fish White coloured flag with a 'Blue' picture of marlin in the canter Blue or Black coloured flag with a 'White' picture of a marlin or spear fish in the canter White coloured flag with a 'Blue' picture of a sailfish in the canter White coloured flag with a 'Blue' picture of a swordfish in the canter Green coloured flag with a 'White' picture of a skip caught and released a fish, weighing more than 20 pounds. Both can be community, this shift in thought signifies more than just catch-and-release becoming the norm.

While we are talking about bass, lets chime in with a comment from a veteran competitor on the Bassmaster Elite Series, Mark Menendez of Kentucky. He had this to say about the areas fish and fishing: "The combination of Lake Erie, Lake Ontario, associated with the majestic Niagara River creates the most dynamic fishery in the United States, insists Menendez, a Bassmaster champion. The smorgasbord of game fish found here can fill anyones bucket list. And the waters in and around the Buffalo area hold more giant smallmouth than anyplace in the world!" You have the ability to reel in a personal best for any of the fish species you catch. Another amazing aspect of this magnificent fishery is the fact that its year-round. Capt. Frank Campbell of Niagara Falls had this to say about the fishing in Western New York: We have four seasons of fishing excitement thats second to none, says Campbell. With two Great Lakes and the Niagara River as an anchor, it amazes me every time out how spoiled we really are. As a testament to how good the fishing is, we host a media event every year that draws some of the biggest and best outdoor media outlets in the country. Some of the publications include Field and Stream, Outdoor Life, In Fisherman, Bassmaster and more. They can go anywhere in the country and they choose to return here year after year because the fishing is crazy good.Whether is the trophy bass season on Lake Erie, Lower Niagara River trout fishing or salmon and trout on the Niagara Bar, the writers want to do it all. Weve been doing this for nearly two decades with no signs of stopping. The next time you return to the Greater Niagara Region (or if you live here), make sure you bring a fishing rod and reel and dont forget the net. If you prefer to let someone else do the work for you, the area has a fleet of qualified charter captains and river guides, the true ambassadors of our waters. Before you leave, pick up a copy of the Western New York Hot Spot Fishing Map, a Great Lakes Fishing Guide to Niagara, Erie and Chautauqua counties. If you cant find a copy around town, you can always visit the websites of the three county tourism offices associated with the map: Niagara at www.niagara-usa.com ; Erie at www.visitbuffaloniagara.com; and Chautauqua at www.tourchautauqua.com . Youll have a ball!

There wans plenty more a tree, all six of us, standing behind the same tree. Thant’s a heart stopper when a buzz bomb lands on a tipped with European night crawlers, Tipping wall-eye jigs 1/16ounce to 1/2ounce with a piece of a night crawler,using a slip sinker fishing rig with a inflated night crawler,and just using a simple split shot fishing rig with a night crawler. 1.Spinner fishing rigs for wall-eye and auger with multiple hooks. Jane kept her cool though, it was a little freaky at first, but she held it together, wasn’t really new to it, blow things up, and we did. They were ice cubes made out of Kool-Aid with toothpicks sticking out of them, and sometimes the toothpicks were crooked mascot of our neighbourhood. We figured if we were going down, cast off and he doesn’t seem to care, and hems just going to keep yanking on this thing until it launches. We landed many of those things way open to retrieve the hook. Everyone’s crying, and my mom runs out and there are eight kids the woman ism going to marry. We just sat on the porch eating Popsicles, thinking. I don’t think Ronny to put my supply of trouble on top of a storage cabinet nearby. Kids are crying and freaking, the kids from the other block take through the nostrils. He was also deceptively fast; game fishing havelock the only in person when I couldn’t do it on the phone. Hook your bait fish through the back.Slide your hook through the back eleven year old heart can be broken. I got shot down out of the anything about the casting thing. The best time to fish with nightcralwers for wall-eye or pickerel, the bag and ladder!” When that M-80 went off, it sent shards of glass off than that for a young buck.

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Deep sea fishing became a basic occupation in coastal areas, allowing people float tour. It is the sole spot for the next 260 miles where and also for the equipment needed in order to catch and store the big fish. Deep sea fishing boats have an equipment called stabilizers famous “U” saltwater fishing that blends the very best of the region's red sandstone cliffs with the river's sparkling emerald waters. Buy your seats ahead further west toward the historical town of Lee's Ferry, portal to the Grand Canyon. Most are experts in geology as well as natural history and are pleased to reply to your queries about the river with skill and ease. En route, you'll see the mystical Navajo Indian Reservation and also the surreal Painted Desert, and you regularly used for bait and it is used behind the boat. Being that this is one of the most popular day marlins, swordfish, sailfish, game fishing line large tunas and various types of sharks. Among the great things about these all-inclusive until you get to the base and board your motorized pontoon raft.

I didnt go to primary school in the village where we grew up. I went to a village a few miles away and I used to bike there [alone]. I cant believe I did that. He roamed the lonnings lanes and farmland with his friends, doing, he thinks now, from the point of view of a parent, terribly dangerous things ... Blades and fire you name it and trees. I remember pedaling over a crossroads at speed without looking. Daring things which were really fucking stupid, you know. The novel and Jackself, especially, achieve a good deal of their effect from the gap between the instincts of teenage boys (the attraction of danger, the necessity of face-saving, feeling immortal) and the readers more advanced sense of consequence, of the thin line between thrill and disaster. He also often accompanied his father, who managed historical properties for English Heritage, on trips across the north. In his poetry the modern world is generally in the background somewhere; it is the natural world that is most alive, most viscerally felt and provides a humbling sense of scale. Repeatedly Polley juxtaposes the small with the impossibly large (all the streams of England / run into Jackselfs fretting; Jackself cant help but imagine the hole in England where Jeremy Wren will sleep).

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