#he even needles out of gale that despite his best efforts to not let on he does miss it lmao

[anachilles]

PSA:

whenever i’m writing modern!au clegan, john still has the ratstache. always.

thank you 🫶

[galebrainrot2024]

Gale x You (Gender Neutral) Seeking Godhood Part I

Summary: This story picks up on the docks after the fight with the Elder Brain, Gale seeks the crown for himself and you decide to help him find it. Follow Gale as you search for the crown, and Gale decides whether Godhood is worth the cost...

Shout out to Reddit folks for these ideas, I'm just putting pen to paper :)

As you stand on the dock, at the very edge where you watched your companions Wyll and Karlach descend to Avernus, you feel your heart ache in your chest. Despite Karlach’s wishes, Wyll inspired her to go with him, that he would keep her safe, and despite your reservations you knew the world was brighter with Karlach in it. Even if it meant returning to the hells. 

Gale comes up beside you, his hand resting lightly on your lower back. You feel your body respond with the familiar surge of desire and adoration, and yet as you turn your gaze to meet his, you see he’s staring expectantly into the Chionthar.

Mystra had requested Gale return the Crown of Karsus to her. Gale, despite your best efforts, had not disclosed either way his intentions. You knew ambition was as much apart of him as the orb that lie dormant in his chest, and you felt your throat tighten. Something stirred within your gut, and you were terrified. You should be exuberant, shouldn’t you? You defeated the elder brain, saving Baulder’s Gate and Faerûn from domination - you should be feeling hopeful... shouldn’t you?

Sahdowheart had turned from Shar, Astarion refused the power before him, and despite being Gale’s partner, you are unclear where his intentions lie. 

As he seems to gaze endlessly into the murky waters, you break the silence with a raspy voice, “Gale…?” 

“I have to find it.” He says finally, the hand on the small of your back tightening. You feel your throat close, dry up, and because you love him and want his happiness you realize even if he decides to keep the crown, to ascend, you cannot imagine going back to your life without him. You swallow hard. 

“What do you need?” You say, almost breathlessly and he takes a few steps forward to gaze longingly into the dark Chionthar. 

“To salvage the crown,” he says matter of factly, “To find the missing pieces, reforge what has been lost and reclaim that power… oh, to finally be a part of the Astral Realm…” He inhales deeply and a determined smile pulls at his lips. “You can only imagine the power this will allow me - us - to wield. Godhood…” he murmured, pushing a hand through his hair and laughing slightly. “It’s just there, right within my grasp…” you can feel the sense of urgency, the lust for power radiating from him. You find it both frightening and alluring.

“It’ll be like looking for a needle in a haystack,” you murmur, and you see the crease between Gale’s brow deepen as he turns to look at you, his eyes flashing darkly. 

“Then we best get some sleep so we can begin our search. Unless, of course…” His expression softens momentarily, his eyes seeming to glaze over, unable to finish the thought. 

“Unless?” You murmur, talking a step towards him to cup his face in your hand delicately. Even though you asked, you are almost certain you know what he will say. 

“Unless this is not what you want. Unless… unless I’m... not who you want.” His voice lowers, cracking slightly and you can hear the pain in his tone at the idea of being parted from you. You smile, wrapping your arms around Gale’s neck and lithely run your fingers through his hair before brushing your lips to his. 

“You are who I want. You are all I need.”

Gale grins, gripping your waist and pulling you into a passionate kiss that takes your breath away. “I was hoping you’d say that. Come, let us celebrate our victory, tomorrow we have a crown to find.” As Gale begins to make his way back to the rest of your companions you stay on the dock a moment, staring out into the endless waters, the tightness in your throat growing. You may not realize it yet, but deep within your core, into the very marrow of your bones you know Gale will not rest until he finds it. Even if it means losing you in the process. 

You shake your head, pushing the feeling and thoughts away to join the merriment and celebration. Tomorrow, you think, we can worry about this tomorrow. 

[jadewing-realms]

“But I will never forget!”

Katsuki hates being cooped up.

Ochako’s known this for… well, since they’re second year at U.A. at least.

School was one thing. U.A. is pretty big and they were never wanting for something to do, between everyday classwork to all the crazy things that happened during their time there. There wasn’t a whole lot of just… sitting. Still. Tense and waiting. On top of that, given his not-so-subtle obsession with doing everything at three-hundred-and-five percent, he always had something to charge headlong into. Homework, training, internship… He always had something keeping him going, to the point it seemed like he’d never stop.

At twenty-six, he’s still the same. If there’s something to be done, odds are he’s one of the first out there doing it. Time has increased his social acuteness, eased his temper somewhat, but it can never tame his ambition. His concentrated will and overwhelming tenacity is what will carry him straight to the top, he says and she agrees.

But they’re coming into their third day, now. Three days limited almost exclusively to her apartment, leaving only for the occasional meal run but mostly just stuck staring at the same four walls, the same locked balcony doors, the same TV set to the same program. Because even if they can’t be out there, can’t even reach their agencies at this point, they can’t bring themselves to stop watching those who can. At the very least, to support them and live vicariously through their efforts.

Even that’s not enough, though. Not surprisingly. For the last hour, Katsuki’s taken to pacing like a caged tiger, from the apartment door to the balcony and then back again. Back and forth, back and forth.

For a while, Ochako just ignored him every time he passed in front of the television, disrupting her line of sight, but at this point, she’s settled in to watch him prowl, since his constant motion is making her antsy too. Back and forth, back and forth. Beyond his heavy steps, the TV yet spiels forth its newscasts, a constant update on the storm and its passing, and the clock ticks monotonously above the fridge. Beyond the balcony doors, the wind rails through the narrow streets, howling like some possessed thing while rain pelts down like a shower of needles as it flees before each gale. Typhoon Feng rages outside from a dismal grey sky over a dismal grey landscape, powered by the same inexplicable force that drives each of Katsuki’s subsequent footsteps.

She wants to say something… feels the need to, like she should be able to calm him somehow. But she can’t help but wonder if she should. After all, she feels just as frustrated at their immobility as he is, just without the rampaging part. She keeps it to herself and tries to focus on what she can do—like keep herself informed and up-to-date, like sending her best thoughts and prayers to those she knows are out there right now doing what they can to keep people safe.

Tsu is out there somewhere. She, Kirishima, and Tokoyami have all appeared on the broadcasts on multiple occasions over the last three days, all working on-call for rescue efforts, stationed across the city for whenever the next emergency call comes in reporting a collapsed building, gas explosion, crashed boat or flooded station. Ochako’s fairly sure that at some point, she saw Ojirou and Jirou contributing as well.

And of course, there’s Deku.

Ochako can’t help but wonder if that’s half the reason why Katsuki’s radiating with such hostility and keeps glaring out at the storm like he could challenge it to a one-on-one battle to the death right here, right now.

That makes her eyebrows pinch and she finally resolves to actually say something.

“Hey,” she says, only to realize she has no plan regarding where to take that. Wait, maybe she should’ve thought of something first and then spoken up.

He doesn’t pause, only glances at her sidelong as he passes. A grunt of acknowledgment is all she gets.

She pouts a little bit, but pats the loveseat next to her anyway in invitation. “Come sit down. You’re wearing a rut in the floor.”

He snorts. The comparison to a wild animal becomes more apparent. “I can’t f***ing sit. I’ll go nuts.”

“Aren’t you already?” She raises an eyebrow, eying how his steps have yet to falter and his gaze has yet to truly turn from the weather outside.

He just clicks his tongue once and leaves it at that.

Heaving a sigh, Ochako figures she won’t push the issue. She doesn’t have any legitimate reason to do so anyway. Sitting won’t help him any more than the pacing he’s doing now. Though she had hoped maybe sitting next to her might do something to quiet his nerves… not to mention keep her warm, but that’s probably arrogant of her to assume.

They’ve never functioned on a ‘who can tell who what to do’ basis. They’re themselves, and they’re themselves together. Which means she’ll just have to let him march out his aggravation until he’s good and ready to sit still again.

Despite a creeping urge to stand right up and stop his pacing with a relentless hug, she curls her feet up off the cold floor and tucks them under her, sinking as much as she can into the crevices of the loveseat. She reaches over the armrest and drags up the knitted shrug she keeps in a pile there just for days of nasty weather like this. She throws it over herself and curls up as much as she can so she can fit under as many square inches as possible.

“…rising Hero, Deku…” comes through from the television speakers. Katsuki’s footfalls falter.

Before he can snap at her to turn it up, she’s already reaching for the remote.

“…pulled one-hundred and thirty-two crewmen from the wreckage, emptying the vessel single-handedly,” the woman on the screen spoke with carefully practiced pitch, staring intently into the camera and out of the screen. “Reports say only thirteen were injured from the impact, and all were safely recovered and transported to the nearest appropriate care facilities. Our eye on site was able to catch a few words with Japan’s rising young star after the feat.”

The clip cuts, and Katsuki comes to an abrupt halt right in front of the screen. Ochako has to lean to one side just to see what’s happening. There’s Deku, standing under an awning, drenched as a wet cat but smiling his trademark smile anyways. His big eyes, however, squint against the wind that billows sheets of water across the city backdrop. He has to shout to be heard over the noise.

“We just need everybody to remain calm.” He nods with the reporter, who’s microphone bobs. “Follow directions. If the authorities are encouraging evacuation in your district, please—do it, for your own safety. Otherwise, stay safe, stay smart. It’s tough but avoid going outdoors if you can; there’s a lot of debris flying around, lots of downed wires. We’re out here and we’re watching out for everyone we can, but we need you to be careful too. And uh… don’t worry. We’re here, we’re going to take care of everybody.”

As he waves into the camera, smile unfazed by the storm raging behind him, the newscaster’s voice talks over the tail end of the clip. “A practical warning and heartwarming reassurance from the up and coming Number 11 Hero. We should be grateful for him and for the rest of his contemporaries who are out there right now, battling this storm in a fight to keep the public safe from one of the greatest Villains we’ll ever face: Mother Nature. We’re live with updates; we’ll be right back.”

The screen goes dark, and Ochako lowers the remote slowly. Leaving the ads to play would just be needless noise, and by the shaking of his clenched fists, she figures her boyfriend could use a bit of silence right now.

Of course, it’s not entirely silent. The wind and rain outside are still making themselves heard, and show no signs of stopping.

Katsuki doesn’t start pacing again.

Somehow, his stillness concerns her more than the repetitive motion did.

Should she say something? She still has that looming feeling like she should, but still, there are no words on her tongue. Nothing she can really say to make things better for either of them right now. They might be Heroes, but this is a fight they aren’t equipped to handle, not like others are. So they must wait. Their number will come up after the storm is passed and it’s on to rescue efforts and clean-up.

Not that that’s any comfort to him.

Just as she opens her mouth to suggest something, anything—maybe going to dinner just down the block, if that little ramen shop is still open?—Katsuki speaks.

“We should be out there,” he seethes, the mournful wind a soundtrack to his turmoil. Ochako’s eyes widen; she hears a plethora of emotions all fighting for control of his voice, and all of them tell her he’s way past aggravation at this point. He’s pissed. He shoots her front door a pointed look and she knows exactly what he’s thinking without him saying another syllable.

“We can’t,” she blurts.

“Why not!?”

“You know why!” She pulls the shrug tighter around herself, trying to keep herself together. It won’t do for both of them to go stir-crazy; somebody needs to keep a level head. “We’ve talked about this. As soon as the worst is over, those of us who aren’t out there now will definitely be called out then.”

“That’s not enough. I can’t just sit here while that f***ing nerd—”

She narrows her eyes. “Deku.”

“WHATEVER,” Katsuki roars, slicing a hand through the hair between them like he can cut the conversation short just like that, and yet he keeps speaking, snarling, “he’s out there hogging the press and milking this whole thing for everything it’s worth while I what? Sit here, useless, stuck on my a** just because some big shot said my Quirk’s not good enough!?”

Her glower intensifies and she finds her patience wearing thin with every word. He’s angry and he’s exaggerating, but he has to know it’s not fair to drag their mutual friend like that, not when he’s doing what they can’t right now.

“You know none of that is true!”

Katsuki’s lip curls, he turns on his heel and marches toward the door, radiating intent like the roll of thunder. Ochako jumps to her feet, skin prickling with the sudden reintroduction to the cold and a burst of adrenaline, and she’s ready to take a flying leap across the kitchen to stop him, but she doesn’t need to. He stops himself, right in front of the door, and stands rigid before it, on the cusp of decision.

“You need to calm down. You and I both know there’s a legitimate reason why neither of us is out there right now; I can’t float anything in these winds and heavy rain cripples you,” she says evenly, repeating what both of them already know.

He snaps over his shoulder. “I’M NOT F***ING CRIPPLED!”

“THE RAIN DILUTES YOUR SWEAT, KATSUKI!”

She’s had enough, she matches his volume, sees him turn away and hunch his shoulders.

Then the lights go out.

In her heightened emotional state, Ochako can’t help the shriek that escapes her as they’re suddenly plunged into thick darkness, before she claps her mouth shut. The balcony is now the brightest and the only source of light, and it’s an underwhelming one, casting blotches of dim grey across only the barest edges of furniture, appliances, wall corners. It glints on the gelled tips of Katsuki’s hair. He’s stock still, face hidden in the shadows between himself and the door.

Slowly, Ochako takes a deep, soothing breath, which she sorely needs. That almost got out of hand… She let herself get caught up, fed up with his angst… or whatever it is. He shouldn’t even be thinking about his rivalry with Deku right now, in her humble opinion, not when people are in peril and Deku’s just one of many who are trying to help out, just like any Hero worth their salt wants to, just like she knows Katsuki wants to underneath all the pettiness and insecurity… but still. Her meeting him on his volatile level doesn’t help either of them.

Now that the blackout’s made her take a step back, she regathers her thoughts and then takes a step forward.

It’s time for her to go with her first instinct. She tosses the blanket back onto the loveseat, pads up right behind him and slips her arms around his waist to bury her face against his back. She presses as close as she can, breathes him in, and notes that he’s not shaking anymore. That’s good.

“Hey,” she says again. Calm. Comforting. “Do you remember that joint rescue mission back in third year? With the landslide?”

He doesn’t answer right away. She’s fairly certain he does indeed remember, but then again, he’s always had a penchant for forgetting details he deems unimportant. If this incident is one of them, she’ll have to jog his memory.

“You barfed on a paramedic after lifting a boulder off a the highway,” he says quietly.

A giggle escapes her, to her relief. She can’t even be insulted that this is what stands out in his memory. It was a pretty epic hurl, after all, and at the very least, by the lower pitch of his words, the blackout’s sapped some of his fight out as well. They might be on mostly even ground now.

“Yeah, that one.” She presses her cheek against him, feeling the plains of his back through his t-shirt. “Remember when you and Deku tried to race to the that car that was half buried on top of that next ledge up?”

He sniffs. “We almost caused another collapse.”

“You tripped first,” she says cheekily.

“Yeah, well, Deku slid first, so I count that as a victory.”

Her giggles amplify. “He slid so hard! And so far!”

He chuckles a little bit himself, and her heart leaps. Success! “F***ing nerd shoulda just let himself go. Trying to stop just made it worse.”

When he starts to move, she loosens her grip but doesn’t let go and as he turns around, she blurts a sudden recollection. “You remember when he hit Mineta from Class B*?”

“Oh my g**, I forgot that…”

Ochako can almost picture the moment vividly on the screen of her mind and it loosens her throat so more laughter can erupt out of her. She hides her face against his chest. “So did I, I don’t know why. Mineta’s shriek—”

“Pff, coulda woke the dead.”

At this point, she’s all but forgotten the raging storm outside and the darkness around them doesn’t seem so dark now that her eyes are adjusting. She can see him clearly now. When she glances up at him, he’s smirking, all teeth and growing amusement at her giggle fit. She beams, rather pleased with herself at the results of her impromptu intervention. She nods and can almost hear their batchmate’s squeal all over again. Back then, when all was said and done, the folks in the car were rescued unharmed, nobody had been hurt worse than cuts and bruises, and both Deku and Mineta had sported a full second skin of pure mountain mud. All of them had gotten a kick out of it, even Deku. It had brought her great joy then and it does so now too. Just the same as the fondest part of this particular memory for her.

“Oh, but! But, I will never forget: that was the first time any of us saw you laugh that hard.” She smiles up at him, satisfied with the delivery her point at last.

For a beat, the howl of the wind reasserts itself between them, sending a light chill up and down her spine. Ochako tightens her hold on him and his natural heat, arms looped around his waist, four fingers absently stroking his back as he rubs his unfairly warm hands up and down her arms, left bare by her t-shirt and now abandoned by the shrug she so hastily discarded. Surely he can feel her goosebumps.

But what matters more to her is the relaxed expression on his face. The pinch in his brow, the rage in his eyes is all but gone, replaced by… well, by something she can’t quite place. It’s like a look that’s trying to convey to her multiple things at once that he doesn’t know how to vocalize with words. Somehow, he manages to be both gentle and intense in his quietness and she feels her cheeks heat a bit under his wine-red gaze. She looks away.

“…We all know how hard you work…” Now she’s quiet, subdued a bit but determined to see her little pep talk through to the end, even if technically she might stop now and call it square. He needs to be reminded, though. He has to know. “Nobody thinks any less of you just because you have… limits, you know? Everybody does. We all specialize in certain areas of this job… and that’s okay. So…”

She purses her lips, squares herself up and lifts her chin as high as she can, even if it’s no match for his towering height over her. But she looks him square in the eye like she is.

“So when this whole storm blows over and it’s time for us to go out there, you’d better do your best and be satisfied with that! Don’t—”

He silences her by closing his lips over hers. She sputters against the kiss with the words caught in her throat, but quite rapidly, they die away in favor of sharing breath with this crass, stubborn, oh-so-unperfect storm of a man.

And though the wind howls, the room doesn’t feel so cold anymore.

*In this AU, Mineta has been demoted to Class B.

[atariince]

The taste of sulphur

You can also read it on SWG or AO3.

He climbed up the stairs, heedless of the voices behind him, heedless of the wound left by the arrow in his thigh, heedless of the many sounds which buzzed in his ears. Far above, the sky was already glimmering with many a star but most of them were hidden, covered by a darkening cloud which seemed to expend its shadow, a heavy and stinky shadow pouring from the North. “My lord!” cried the voices. “you should lie down and rest! – please Lord Curufin.” He could not care less. Even his son’s words, although they still swirled in his mind, would not stop him. “Do not be so inconsiderate father!”

This was not being inconsiderate. On the contrary, thought Curufinwë, this is exactly what consideration is. Or should be.

Step after step, he climbed, and the tower, this tower which had been built under his command on the eastern bank of the Aros, this very tower of which he knew every stone, every arrow slit, every door, every lock and hinge, this tower, on this very night, seemed higher than ever. How many steps? Curufinwë used to know, but now his mind was lost in a dizziness which he did not manage to control. And this was precisely why he still had to climb, to reach this guard room on the top of it.

Where was Turcafinwë? They had parted a few days before, and with his riders Tyelkormo had ridden to Aglon. But no tidings had been sent although he was supposed to keep him informed. It had been agreed; messengers should be constantly trading the roads between the ford and the pass.

As he walked up what seemed to be an endless path to the decisive spot, to the decisive moment, the foul taste of orkish blood rolled in the back of his mouth, and forced him to stop for a little time. He felt sick. His whole body seemed to protest the effort, and it seemed that all that he had been through during the past two days were gathering in his stomach, memories of blood and death and curses piling in the pit of it, and from this pile, bile and gore were gushing. Poisonous assaults of memories and regrets. He had though he was prepared.

None of them was.

The fit did not last, and soon after he was running up again, discarding the bloody images, vainly trying to ignore the pain of remorse.

How many dead already?

How many more to come?

And still the ominous stench pouring from the North.

It had first struck him at the beginning of the raid, as a foretelling of the blow which was about to fall. And his own hammer would not have fallen with less strength on the anvil. But now, the anvil in question of that of his fate, of his people’s fate, and he was not holding it.

Sulphur and death. Rotten flesh mixed with the foul odour of the enemy’s acid will.

It was supposed to be no more than a raid against the fell creatures creeping into Himlad. No more than a hunt, as they often did, when these demons managed to find a way to their land. His thirty riders should have been enough.

Only he and two of them had returned.

Breathless, Curufinwë kept on climbing and it is only when he finally reached the top that he realized that his whole thigh was red, blood dripping from the wound at which he dared not look; the best was yet to ignore it, but on the steps beneath him, he had left the mark of his desperate climbing, red footprints still wet and sticky, as reminders imbued with the poison of his shame.

He locked himself in the guard room, and before he allowed himself to rest, he rushed to the northern arrow slit and gazed at the land. Above the mountains, the clouds had darkened and they were now reaching Himlad. It was worse on the east, and from the top of this tower Curufinwë could already see the glimmer of firelights. Should the sun rise again, it would be on the most desperate scene, and somehow Curufinwë hoped that the night would linger, and that the cloud would keep Tilion blind until the end of the tragedy.

His eldarin eyes allowed Curufinwë to notice the presence of shadows on the faraway grass, like ants queuing to grab the scraps of a feast, they were gathering on his lands.

He needed no more hint. He knew.

The siege had been broken.

The hammer had fallen, and the doom of his people would be sealed ere the end of the night.

Swallowing back all curses and regrets, he finally rested against the cold wall, allowing his back to push against the stone and his head to fall back and hit their rough surface. Closed eyes, tensed jaws and stiff muscles, his body was but a jumble of tensions. The flesh was sore, the tendrils were burning and the bones rotten. The long years of fighting, of protesting, of defending and repressing. All of them were now falling upon him like rain suddenly pouring after a long and scalding heat wave. All these years and all these efforts swept off in a few hours.

Desperation. Subjugation. And loss.

There was no tear in Curufinwë’s eyes., his despair could not be expressed by tears, nor by any common way. His body was a rock, his mind was a wall of granite upon which he would carve his own curse, his shame, his folly. And it would stand until the fierce gales of despondency knock it down.

How long will it take now?

And yet, he had expected it. The past years had been rich in warnings, and the ill-omens had increased, sharpening his reason as much as his blade. It was no real surprise.

He had thought himself ready.

How could it be?

“Tears unnumbered ye shall shed…”

A cry broke pass his lips. Repressed for too long, it was not yet full, nor liberating. He was still holding back the essence of his angst, and his tensed body could not give more than a faint groan blocked by a sore throat.

He wished he could think of his father, of what his father would do, but thinking about Fëanor now was more than he could do. It was not only shame, not only the impossibility to live up to his memory. There was also a veil, woven by blood and futile attempts, by foolish hopes and shadows, which prevented him from reaching the tokens of his father’s memory. The heirlooms remained hidden to him.

Suddenly the door opened and Tyelperinquar’s tall frame appeared before him. “We received tidings from the Pass.” He said, barely noticing his father’s poor state. “Tyelkormo’s messenger reports that the siege is broken, thousands of orcs are forcing their way into Himlad!”

“I know.”

It is only when he heard his father’s voice that Tyelperinquar understood. “Oh, father…” He murmured, stepping closer, one hand carefully reaching out as to prevent any outburst. “No.” Said Curufinwë, and the word, and the tone of the voice forced Tyelperinquar to stop. His father stared at the stretched-out hand, still hanging in the air between the two of them; a call, an offer, which he was not yet ready to respond to. “I seek neither your pity, nor your commiseration.”

Tyelperinquar did not blink, nor did he removed his hand which was still hanging in suspension, immobile and stiff, determined and yet no threatening. “I offer you no pity, father.” Tyelperinquar’s voice was as stern as his father’s. “But what do you think of solace?”

Curufinwë beheld his son’s eyes, the strength of them, the purity of their power, and he surrendered. His head dropped, his body fell limp, and slipped on the cold floor. In this very moment, Tyelperinquar quickly stepped closer and before Curufinwë’s body reached the floor, his son’s hands were on his shoulders. “You’re wounded. If you want to protect Himlad, you must accept to be cared for. If only for a little time.”

“There is no time.”

“With all due respect, father, shut up.” And before Curufinwë could react, Tyelperinquar was drawing from a purse all that his father’s wound required. Compresses, bandages, a flask of fresh water, needles and threads. The wound looked bad, but Tyelperinquar was hopeful and he promised a quick remission. The bitterness in Curufinwë’s heart broke out through a few acerbic chuckles, to which his son responded with a severe look. “Please, father, I perceive your acrimony, but we must not fall into this trap – this is exactly what the enemy wants, is it not? We must not give up.”

“Who said I intended to give up?”

Once the wound cleaned and the stitches done, Tyelperinquar’s face relaxed, and the smile which he gave to his father was beaming with a gentle composure. Despite the tumult which was waiting for them, despite the shadows which was slowly creeping toward the tower, and the many threats which they had to face, he seemed calm, so calm that Curufinwë found himself confused and speechless. 

“If you have not given, up, father, why would you linger here, sitting in the dark while your troops fight for you outside?”

Still speechless, Curufinwë realised that he could not answer the question. What had driven him up there was the urge to witness, to see, and to ponder the dramatic situation. But the reality of it had struck him with so much intensity that his fit had quickly turned into a despaired hysteria, an overwhelming force filling him with this cursed shame, with untameable fears, and unconsciously he had let the shadow reach his own heart. Hence the lethargy, the incoherent paralysis which had kept him locked in this room while they were all counting on him. “Father… do you remember what you told me ere we came to Himlad? When fear and terror had their claws on me?”

He remembered, but he did not reply, locked in his shameful silence.

“You told me that hope was not only our main duty, but also our best weapon. And I shall never forget it.” With these words, Tyelperinquar stood up and grabbed his father’s arm to help him get on his feet. Curufinwë followed and much to his surprise, this simple movement seemed to pull him away from the gloomy fog in which he had been tarrying. Tyelperinquar took this opportunity to put a hand on his father’s back, dragging him closer and keeping him there for a little time. Curufinwë first marveled at the strength of his son, which had so greatly increased during the past years, and which he had barely noticed. Then, it was the intensity of the embrace which surprised him; it lasted long enough for him to feel that the bound between them had not broken, and through this intimate moment, through this precious exchange of affection and trust, it seemed to him that his mind, his sanity, which had remained with the dead riders left on the battlefield, was slowly returning to him. His power grew anew, afresh, sparks of genuine hope kindled by the breath of his son, determination and a decisive force triggered off by his son’s heartbeats. And when, after a few seconds only, Tyelperinquar pulled away, his father gripped his arm to keep him close a little bit longer.

They both knew it was the calm before the storm, but they also knew that beyond the door, darkness awaited them. What would befall them, they ignored, but they both acknowledged two things; the first one was that this moment could be the last one they spent together, alive, in Himlad. The second one was that there was no horror, no threat, no dark power which would ever break the thread of love between the father and the son. And if they both needed each other and relied on each other, it was precisely to challenge the doom which lay before them.

[thecorteztwins]

“Mutant Empire: Sanctuary” Chapters 15 & 16

Tagging the people I think are still reading  along with me: @malakhvent @hexiva @muffiewrites @magnetician @magnet-dad ... how about you, @ofbecomings and @taintedhero, you want in on this too? I’m doing a read-along of the Mutant Empire, a trilogy of X-Men novels (comic verse, not movie) in which Magneto takes over Manhattan and turns it into a mutant society/sanctuary he calls Haven. I tag people I know will be interested in the Magneto (and sometimes Charles) characterization! You can catch up (if you’re interested) by reading the “mutant empire” tag on my blog :) Okay, so this is pretty much the end of Book Two. There is a Chapter 17 after this, but nothing in there I think I’ll be posting about. There’s actually nothing much about Magneto in Chapter 15 either, but there is some Xavier stuff, and I know at least two of y’all will be interested in that, plus just some mutant politics stuff. After that is Chapter 16, which is where we come back to Magneto. Okay, let’s dive in...

CHAPTER 15 At one point when things are looking grim and so is Xavier, another character says he’s ruining her image of him as an eternal optimist, and he responds thusly: “That’s one of the biggest misconceptions about me. I’m actually a terrible pessimist. I don’t believe that humans and mutants are such good souls that they can live in harmony simply because it is the best way to live. That just isn’t reality. I dream of a world where humans and mutants live in harmony, that much is true. But I know that if it happens, it will be because the alternative is so terrifying that we have no other real choice.” If that seems too dark for Xavier by your taste or opinion, this bit does get added in the narration right after: “He was rarely so verbose without cause, and even more infrequently so bitter. But he found it difficult not to become bitter with the gleaming Sentinel just over his shoulder as an illustration of how close they already were to losing the dream. And maybe he had lied a bit. Maybe a part of him believed in the innate goodness of people, believed that peace could arise for its own sake. Even if that were true, a greater part of him had begun to grow cynical. He didn’t like it one bit.” Personally, I think that even if he is really an eternal optimist, being momentarily grim when it really does look like the shit has hit the fan is realistic, and I like the idea of him being human, being able to have moments of doubt and pessimism, even while everyone around him stereotypes him on a pedestal as just never-ending hope without waver. That’s a hard role for anyone to fill, and the idea that he struggles to stay that way is more inspiring than if it just came naturally without effort. When he goes into the mind of Gyrich, an anti-mutant government agent, we get this bit, and it reminds me of what you wrote about Xavier and Anne Marie, Hex: “Without desiring to, he began to get a much clearer picture of Gyrich as a person. As he had suspected, the man was not nearly the villain Cooper had always painted him to be. And yet, he was perhaps even more dangerous because he fought for what he believed to be right. Patriots were always more passionate than mercenaries. The greedy were never martyrs.” Then we get to some mutant politics stuff regarding a new Acolytes recruit named Needle, told through the eyes of Acolytes veteran Amelia Voght: “Needle was new to the game, Voght realized. Not much more than a kid, really, a young woman whose genetic mutation had destroyed any hope she might have had of a normal life. Unlike Amelia, who could ‘pass’ for human without any trouble, Needle had changed far to much to ever be considered human again. Her mouth had distended slightly, and was filled with several rows of long, thin, razor-sharp teeth like needles. They seemed to extend when she opened her mouth, and retract within the girl’s head when her mouth closed. It was not an attractive mutation. She had been bitter, angry, despondent. Then Magneto had come along and shown her that the world had a place for her, that she was as good, no, better, than the humans who had ridiculed her. [...] She was the perfect recruit. In it one hundred percent, with nothing to lose and everything to gain. She also illustrated, for Amelia, one of the prime differences in the conflicting philosophies in the mutant community. Charles Xavier touted harmony between the two races. Magneto spoke of conquest. What Xavier would never understand was that, like abused children, mutants like Needle would never be able to rise completely above the past. They could forgive, if they had the heart for it, but they would never forget. Harmony, for Needle, was out of the question. And if it was out of reach of some mutants, it was out of reach for them all.” I love that wham line at the end. As a note, this bit is told from the perspective of Amelia Voght, so if you (as I do) disagree with the idea that abused children can never rise above the past, or that rising above it is defined as being able to forget it, or that Xavier (being an abused child himself) can’t understand this, understand that it’s not meant as objective fact but the opinion of a character, one who herself, despite being able to pass for human, still ended up suffering the loss of her family at the hands of humans (hence why she’s on Magneto’s side too) Amelia is pretty bitter and pessimistic and not without good reasons of her own, basically, so it makes sense to me she’d think like that even if I disagree and think it was a shitty thing to say (I think she’s projecting, personally) CHAPTER 16 Here’s where things come back to Magneto. Many of the X-Men are still his captives, and they are before a crowd of his mutant followers. Beast starts to speak out against him, the Acolytes yell for him to be gagged, but Magneto says to let him speak. I’m not gonna summarize the speech and go through each bit and what I agree/disagree with, I simply haven’t the patience, but at the end, Magneto then addresses them. Beast makes a really unfortunate mental comparison of him to Hitler and oh the tragic irony and could we not? Anyway, Magneto tells them that they are going to give two or three days respite, then expand the borders of what is now called “Haven” beyond merely Manhattan.  The crowd cheers, Bishop attacks Magneto, Magneto is like LOL I HAVE ALREADY WON and reminds him how he’s letting the X-Men live in order to witness his victory and hopes that they, as “honorable men and women” will come around to his side, but maybe he should make an exception for Bishop. He fires some magnetic force at him, Bishop runs the opposite way and frees Storm, which is when the shit really hits the fan. Firstly because IT’S STORM and secondly because she is SUPER PISSED about the “locking her in a car trunk to use her claustrophobia against her” thing, like she feels SUPER violated by that and understandably so, especially since she knows Magneto knew EXACTLY how awful it would be for her.

Basically this is BIG TIME PERSONAL Magneto yells for his followers to kill her if they have to, and Storm thinks that this reveals his “true colors” but we actually see that he's “saddened” by the idea when the book shifts to his POV. Before that shift, though, we get Storm absolutely TEARING SHIT UP. There is thunder, there is lighting, there is fog, there is wind, people are LITERALLY BLOWN AWAY by 110 mph gales, there is sleet and hail and ice and snow, IT IS CRAZY, SHE IS AMAZING like this is some Grade-A Weather Goddess stuff right here, y'all Then the POV shifts to Magneto, who is in awe as he should be. And “for the first time” he wonders if she's the most powerful X-men of all. Uh for the FIRST time? Really? Yeah I don't buy that...okay, maybe he considered Xavier the most powerful, I guess. Anyway, he starts to think holy shit she actually might end my plans altogether SHE'S THAT BADASS. One of the Acolytes asks him how they can kill this woman, Magneto answers “How indeed” and thinks how “despite his words, he did not want Storm dead. He had always had more respect for her than for most of her comrades, and this display only heightened that respect. Storm could be of great use to him in the future. Of course, if she forced his hand, well then he would have to kill her.” Magneto uses his powers to force his way through the fog and wind and hail that rages all around him, which takes far more effort than his usual levitating and shielding, because DUH HE'S IN A FUCKING HURRICANE THAT IS PERSONALLY ATTACKING HIM SPECIFICALLY but then he makes it to where he has her in his sights. He thinks “how beautiful she appeared then, in all the glory of her mutant power. She was a shining example of the magnificence that was the genetic x-factor, the reason why humans must give way to mutant rule. There was a grandeur about her that took his breath away.” Even Magneto gushes over how great Storm is, if only in his head, and I LOVE IT. Storm catches sight of him and attacks hi shield with lightning, his shield can't take it, he begins to fall, his body in pain, he hits a malestrom, and as his breath begins to leave him, he speaks into his comm unit for the Sentinel he now controls to seize Storm. Excuse me, seize “alpha mutant designate Storm” Hell yeah she's an alpha mutant! (Note: This was before Grant Morrison invented the concept of the “omega mutant” basically there's never been any consistent canon way of classing mutants and it varies by writer) Then he's tossed around in the storm itself, which draws him towards her, and he wonders if he will die, if she will kill him. But as he has “no desire to find out” he summons another magnetic force bubble around himself, thinking how his powers are unmatched in terms of sheer force and devastation, how Storm only survived this battle as long as she did because she had the element of surprise. Sure bro, whatever you wanna tell yourself -eyeroll- He thinks how if she doesn't surrender, he will destroy her and make an example of her to other rebellious mutants by impaling her on the spire that drops the New Year's Ball. And yet, even as he's thinking these smug, vindictive, brutal things, “Magneto found himself a little saddened by the thought.” of doing it. I really love the mix of emotions, especially such diametrically contrasting ones, going on in Mags at the same time, I feel like that’s really fundamental to him. Anyway, they fight for another two pages and I won’t bore you with a blow by blow but this would make a GREAT movie scene. Then the Sentinel shows up, Storm looks and up and sees it, and the last lines of the chapter are “Realizing she had lost, Storm attempted a retreat. She did not get very far.” There is one more chapter and an epilogue in the book after this but there’s no Magneto stuff and it doesn’t really change much, besides that the other half of the X-team is back from space so I guess they’ll be joining the Magneto plot in the next/third/final book. Which is fine with me because I didn’t care about the space plot besides Cr+eeee you should all love Cr+eeee

[gwyvian]

Resistances and Dalliances

Chapter 19: Wind Shear

“This is our ship,” Evfra said, approaching an angaran lounging by what appeared to be a small freighter; the pilot, Ryder guessed. He straightened at attention with a sinuous grace that spoke of combat training as soon as he recognized Evfra, just as the slash across one eye spoke of battlefield experience, though he didn’t seem to be the same as other fighters she had seen around. “Veraan,” Evfra nodded to him in greeting.

“Evfra,” the pilot responded with a grave nod of respect, then turned to Ryder with a disarming smile. “Captain Veraan Tavre, at your service. I know, of course, who you are.” He looked back to Evfra. “I understand I am to make a special delivery to Voeld?” By his accent he was native to Aya.

“Yes. You will be taking us,” Evfra said, gesturing at Ryder, himself and the coterie of angara standing behind them.

Veraan stared for a moment, but regained his good humor in an instant. “It would be my pleasure! But… may I ask why? My cargo isn’t usually alive… or beautiful,” he added, smiling slightly at Ryder.

“Just focus on your task,” Evfra said almost wearily, giving her a frown. “The Pathfinder isn’t here for you to admire, nor is ‘why’ your concern.”

“Of course, Evfra, I meant no offense,” Veraan bowed his head in acquiescence and his smile was wiped away in an instant; though, he did shoot a curious look at Ryder anyway.

Ryder rolled her eyes at the Resistance leader. It wasn’t her fault if other men found her interesting; besides, she suspected that Veraan was harmless. He wasn’t nearly as forward as Mashiar had been, but quite apart from that she also instinctively felt she could trust him a sight farther than the commander, though she couldn’t have exactly said why. Perhaps it was his obvious respect for Evfra; his reaction was quite different than the commander’s had been in the same situation.

“What do you normally carry?” Ryder asked Veraan in a conversational tone. Evfra frowned at her, but she ignored him; there was no reason to be impolite – but mostly she just felt like rubbing salt in both Evfra and Ashae.

The glowering lieutenant stood a firm single pace behind her, as she had been since they had left Resistance headquarters. Ashae didn’t bother to make it a secret that she was guarding Ryder, even to the point of having a hand on her sidearm, and Evfra let her do it. This was after, without a single protest from him, the woman had demanded to accompany them to Voeld for reasons she kept to herself, unless it was to make sure Ryder’s ‘poisonous influence’ didn’t sway the Resistance leader to his doom, or some other nonsense the woman had concocted regarding Ryder’s supposed sinister designs.

“Supplies mostly,” Veraan replied promptly. “Medical supplies, nutrient paste, munitions… you name it, I’ve probably shipped it.”

“Quite the vital role you play,” Ryder smiled.

“Without a doubt,” Veraan gave her an easy grin, before remembering to curtail it when he glanced at Evfra.

“We don’t have time for this,” Evfra said gruffly, “let’s get underway.”

“The Bavroa is yours,” Veraan gestured at his ship and waited until Evfra and the others had all boarded her before climbing into the cockpit himself.

There was a surprising amount of room in the freighter’s interior and Ryder was relieved to see that there were seats along either wall; Veraan might not be used to passengers, but his ship clearly was built to carry them if necessary. She eyed the straps on those seats dubiously however, wondering if there was a reason they were so hefty, but she chose a seat and strapped in without commenting on it. She had a line of sight to Veraan in the front of the ship and she watched his fingers deftly weaving across his panels as he went through his pre-flight check, but her attention didn’t remain on him long. Tajix was being lead aboard; he wasn’t restrained, Ryder had gone head-to-head with both Evfra and Ashae about it and won that point at least, but the lieutenant looked as dejected as ever. She couldn’t do anything about that just yet though, so she tried to push her sympathy and desire to do something aside; his best defense would be if they finally uncovered Firaan’s true identity beyond any doubt.

Instead, Ryder studied Ashae, who had sat down across from her with a cold stare. “Are you just going to glare at me the whole journey?” she asked the lieutenant.

“If you’re up to something, I will find out,” Ashae said.

“Here I thought you’re giving me the benefit of the doubt,” Ryder snorted, rolling her eyes. Evfra sat down next to her and she felt a pleasant flutter in her stomach to be near him, even though she was still angry with him. It was an infuriating mix of emotion that commonly accompanied the Resistance leader, she was beginning to realize.

“I am,” Ashae said.

Ryder’s eyes returned to her in surprise. “You are?”

“You wouldn’t be sitting there if I wasn’t,” the lieutenant replied, eyes sliding to Evfra with a disapproving frown.

Evfra, to his credit, returned the stare with an icily neutral one of his own; he was the picture of ease as he crossed his arms and leaned back, not at all bothered by Ryder’s proximity, although even Ryder thought maybe he was a little too relaxed. Still, it sent a fresh wave of affection shuddering through her, thrilled that he wanted to be close to her. At the same time it thoroughly exasperated her: would the man never learn boundaries? Clearly Ashae suspected that Ryder had somehow ensnared Evfra, if not the extent of it, and behavior like this was hardly going to soothe the lieutenant’s suspicions.

“Is everyone settled?” Veraan called back.

“Proceed,” Evfra said.

The ship moved and Ryder clutched at her straps; vertigo flipped her stomach and needles of pressure pushed against her as they picked up speed and she found herself thinking that maybe those straps weren’t nearly hefty enough to keep her in her seat instead of ripping free to be plastered to the back wall. Nauseating though the ascent was, she recognized skill when she saw it: though the freighter clearly wasn’t designed with passenger comfort in mind, Veraan took them smoothly through the atmosphere and out into space as seamlessly as possible with what felt like substandard inertial dampeners, if the freighter even had any. The discomfort didn’t last long, however; it was still a somewhat bizarre feeling to feel the ship in that way, but she adapted to it quickly enough once the feeling that she would lose her breakfast passed.

During the flight Ryder turned her attention inward, blocking out the conversations among the fighters they had brought along and ignoring Ashae’s continued glare as best she could. It was an effort not to speak to Evfra or lean closer to him when he was just right there, but if there was anything that could dampen the embarrassing amount of eagerness she felt to connect with him, it was the subject of Firaan. She had sent her team off with instructions in the quiet hours of the previous evening, setting up the playing field to snare Firaan if they could, but her nerves were already frayed from the whole attempt. Probably they would remain so until it became clear beyond a doubt whether or not they could actually pull off their plan; unfortunately, outsmarting Firaan involved a distressing amount of guesswork and assumptions what with the scant solid information they had on him.

It had better not be you, Ryder thought, eyes going to Tajix again. She supposed Evfra was right to keep him under his eye; after all, Firaan had obviously planned ahead quite a few steps into the game before, so it was not inconceivable that even detained as Tajix was he still could turn out to be their quarry. Ryder didn’t believe it in her heart, though. If nothing else, the hurt he displayed at the Resistance leader’s lack of faith in him seemed genuine; either that or he was very good at faking it, and somehow she doubted that any angara could maintain that amount of falsehood for this long without slipping at least a little.

Time stretched and Ryder blinked after a time as she realized her thoughts had dribbled away, leaving behind a meditative silence. There was something soothing about feeling the motion of the ship that seemed to loosen knots in her she didn’t realize she had, now that she was becoming used to it; drowsiness enveloped her as she swayed with the minor course corrections Veraan made, wishing that she and Evfra were alone to enjoy the experience without the likes of Ashae breathing down their necks, but she contented herself with imagining it for the time being. Once on the subject, it wasn’t hard to get lost in pleasant thoughts of sharing moments with Evfra, so she let her mind drift wherever it would go.

Though she didn’t quite fall asleep, it took Ryder by surprise hours later when suddenly the ship began to rock with the turbulence of Voeld’s stormy atmosphere and she became aware of her surroundings again. The soft chatter between the fighters had ebbed and flowed throughout the journey as far as she could tell on the periphery of consciousness, but all of them went silent as they broke through the clouds into the howling snow flurries gusting across Voeld’s endlessly white landscape until they seemed to be swallowed by the distant mountains looming gray on the horizon. The landing flipped her stomach quite as much as their takeoff had, but this time around at least she didn’t feel like she was going to be ripped out of her seat; she had to admit, Veraan knew his way about the planet, he made use of the gale as if navigating a boat on a river with a strong current and despite his ship’s deficiencies, their landing was one of the smoothest she’d experienced on a smaller sized craft.

Evfra was the first to extract himself, gathering everyone’s attention with the motion. “Secure the prisoner where I can ask him questions,” he commanded to the fighters on either side of Tajix. “Ashae, you and the Pathfinder find me after I’ve spoken to Anjik.”

Unstrapping herself and stretching her muscles as they protested their protracted motionlessness, Ryder went up to the cockpit, ignoring Ashae’s glower as she passed. “My compliments, Veraan,” she said. “I can see why Evfra trusted you to bring us here.”

Veraan grinned up at her, his expression a mix of embarrassment and pride. “That is very kind of you to say, Pathfinder.” He stood up and towered over her, looking more relaxed and exited than before. “Stars, I am honored to have been chosen for this mission – I trust it was a smooth ride?”

“Smoothest I’ve experienced!” Ryder laughed. “Don’t tell my pilot I said so.”

Veraan winked. “Your wish is my command, Pathfinder.” His smile faded when he caught sight of Evfra glowering in their direction before he stepped down and the captain hastily gestured for Ryder to exit ahead of him, but he did shoot her an apologetic look.

“Just hold there a moment,” Ashae said, stopping Ryder from climbing down with a prohibitive arm. “You’re not walking around here armed.” She held out her other hand for the sidearm at Ryder’s hip; another thing she had had to fight for in the first place, though at least on that point Evfra had overridden the lieutenant’s adamant rejection. Only, Evfra wasn’t there at the moment.

“Excuse me?” Ryder asked coldly. “Evfra said I was free to carry weapons – I have before and I have never used it against any of you.”

“No, your weapons are different ones,” Ashae said with narrowed eyes. “But Evfra is not here now and if you truly want to prove yourself to me, you will stop arguing and hand it over. Unless of course you mean to insult us by implying that you are not safe at a Resistance base.”

Ryder gritted her teeth, barely biting back an angry retort, but finally she unstrapped her gun and handed it over. Perhaps the woman was giving her a fair chance in her own way and if this would gain the lieutenant’s trust, she was willing to do it; but in that moment she dearly wished she could just beat the woman senseless. Quickly turning from Ashae’s sudden smug face before she acted on that impulse, Ryder climbed down – and immediately walked into an ambush.

“Lady Pathfinder! What an unexpected pleasure!” Mashiar’s voice preceded the man himself, forest eyes seeming to drink her before he seized her hand to kiss it before she could stop him. “I said this was my favorite goodbye, but I believe it is far more satisfying as a greeting,” he gave her a roguish smile, but not before he gave the Bavroa a puzzled glance. “I assume you have come because of the news?”

“Hello again,” Ryder said weakly with a forced smile, eyes darting around for Evfra, but the Resistance leader was nowhere to be seen. She barely listened to what the commander was saying; now that her feet were on solid ground, she was seized by the urgency of their mission there and she wasn’t about to spend precious time prying the man off her. If she could only find a good excuse…

Pathfinder, Mashiar’s physical response indicates high levels of stress and endorphin response, SAM said suddenly. Ryder’s smile froze in place, mind whirring. So he was genuinely surprised to see her, yet hiding his response for some reason? If he had somehow developed real feelings for her and hid them… Something scratched at her in the back of her mind, an uneasiness that had to do with what signals she may have unintentionally let on about her feelings for Evfra. Could it be that…

“Mashiar! What in the stars is the matter with you?” Ashae demanded behind Ryder, making her jump slightly.

“Nothing,” Mashiar said, straightening hastily and letting go of Ryder’s hand as he blinked at Ashae in surprise.

“Don’t tell me you’ve fallen to her… charms?” Ashae sniffed. Her eyes slid to Veraan as the captain followed them out. “It is almost like an infection,” she muttered under her breath.

“How can I not?” Mashiar asked with a laugh, but Ryder noticed that he was definitely a little wary of the lieutenant from the way he eyed her; well, that at least was a point in her favor, not even Evfra had been able to stop the man’s advances on her. Ashae’s implication with that look at Veraan, though…

“You should know better; both you and Evfra should,” the lieutenant glared at Ryder before offensively looking her up and down. “I suppose she’s pretty enough, but Evfra of all people shouldn’t see her that way. Neither should you, she’s an alien!” she added, eyes spearing the commander again.

Ryder buried her face in one palm; the entire conversation was going so wrong so fast. If she could have been certain that Ashae wouldn’t tackle her, she would have just walked away without a backwards glance and left the entire mess to stew before she sank in it. Mashiar’s attentions and Ashae at once was too much for even the strongest stomach in her estimation.

“I’m not Evfra,” Mashiar said defensively, “I don’t lead the Resistance. Why should it be anyone’s concern if I choose to court her?”

Ashae snorted. “If that’s the way you feel, we should all feel fortunate that you’re not in charge.”

“What brings you to Voeld?” Mashiar asked, a muscle twitching in his face.

“You don’t need to know that,” Ashae replied coldly.

To Ryder’s surprise, after a stretched moment Mashiar bent his head in acquiescence. “Quite. Forgive the question, I spoke in haste. Pathfinder, would you grace me with a walk?”

“In this climate?” Ryder asked incredulously before she could stop herself.

“I know how to keep you warm now,” Mashiar grinned slyly, “I’ve been studying.”

Ryder wanted to sink through the ice. “I uh… I’ve got stuff to do here, Mashiar,” she said evasively.

“So you’ve bewitched him as well,” Ashae said disapprovingly.

Ryder gritted her teeth; how was this her fault? “I thought you’re supposed to be giving me a chance here, but all you seem to do is blame me for everything.”

“I am giving you a chance,” the lieutenant replied, “and so far all you’ve seem to done is attempt to seduce men of rank in the Resistance.”

“I have no intention of…!” Ryder spluttered in outrage, feeling her face go hot despite the blistering cold Voeld’s winds breathed across her skin.

Mashiar laughed. “Ashae, she doesn’t need to seduce anyone, she is simply magnificent on her own. I’m sure you wouldn’t understand,” he added in a more frosty tone, though his smile remained in place.

Ashae snarled and launched herself at Mashiar, but the commander danced back out of reach, smile wiped away and replaced with anger. Before Ryder could even think to react, Veraan was there between them in an instant, glaring both ways with a frown.

“Please, this is no way to set an example,” the captain said calmly. “Ashae, respectfully, the Pathfinder deserves better.”

“Stay out of this, pilot,” Ashae said angrily, but she did not attempt to get past him.

“Commander,” Veraan addressed Mashiar, somehow managing to ignore the holes Ashae’s eyes burned into him, “the Pathfinder has important work here. I think we shouldn’t keep her from it.”

Mashiar smiled coldly. “Don’t get cocky with me,” he warned, but abruptly he seemed to realize that Ryder was still there listening to them and he gave her a sheepish look. “My apologies, Pathfinder, my behavior is unworthy. Apologies, lieutenant,” he said to Ashae reluctantly, but Ryder noted that he did not apologize to Veraan.

She stared at all three of them. “How about I go take care of that important work and leave you three to sort out your feelings about me?”

“Just what makes you think you can wander around freely?” Ashae demanded, taking a step towards her.

“I’m not your prisoner anymore,” Ryder said, clenching her jaw for a moment to regain control of herself. “You have my weapon. I am surrounded by armed angarans and you know why we are here. If I betray you I would have to be pretty damned stupid to do it here, unarmed and alone.”

“It is truly disheartening,” Mashiar said a little sadly, “how poorly your people must think of us to believe we are holding you here against your will…”

Ashae glared at the commander, looking frustrated. “Just don’t get any ideas,” she said finally; Ryder was too relieved to respond with anything more than a nod.

“So,” Mashiar said cheerfully, “I assume we’re joining the vanguard sent to meet your forces?”

Ryder studied him for a moment and even Ashae’s attention seemed to leave her for once in favor of the commander. “No,” she said finally. “Not this time.” She might as well plant the right rumors starting with the commander.

Mashiar’s smile faded in confusion. “I see,” he said. When Ryder nodded in lieu of a farewell and turned to leave, he made as if to follow her, but Veraan touched his arm.

“Commander, if you would, I need someone to sign off on my cargo,” the captain said, smiling apologetically.

Thank you, Veraan! Ryder thought fervently and walked away quickly before the commander could protest the request and follow her anyway. She kept moving, not really knowing where to go, but before she even rounded a corner some twenty paces away she found herself face to face with Evfra. The Resistance leader clearly had come looking for them when they hadn’t turned up as he expected.

“Why is Voeld always so… difficult?” she demanded from him. Not being able to find solace in his presence in the way she would have liked made her feel alone, even with Evfra standing right there in front of her.

“I hope you aren’t too taken with the local scenery,” Evfra remarked, eyes flicking to Mashiar and the others.

Ryder’s irritation flared, but instead of allowing herself to be provoked she looked him up and down ostentatiously, crossing her arms. “It’s improving,” she said casually.

Evfra grunted sourly, but appeared content to let the subject lie for once. “Anjik sent a vanguard force to greet the Initiative strike team,” he said, casting a cold stare around that sent everyone who caught glimpse of it hurrying to busy themselves with their tasks and give the pair of them a wide berth.

“I know,” Ryder grimaced. “Mashiar just asked me if we’re going to join them.”

“Did he now?” Evfra frowned speculatively.

Ryder took a deep breath. “In all fairness… you should know that I think he has some serious intentions towards me. He reacted very strongly to my arrival – don’t look at me that way, I didn’t encourage him!”

“I know,” Evfra said flatly. “Are you sure that’s all it was?”

Ryder shrugged with a resigned sigh. “SAM’s physical read on him seems to confirm it, but… he’s as likely a candidate as anyone else. I don’t know anymore, the idea of Firaan makes me suspect almost everyone I meet – even Veraan could be him for all I know.”

“Veraan is one of those I trust,” Evfra said, though he seemed reluctant to admit it. “He was one of those who carried your team members off world.”

Ryder looked away, feeling suddenly guilty for using the captain to get back at Evfra and Ashae; she didn’t want to drive a wedge of suspicion between the Resistance leader and Veraan. Especially since she suspected that he really was trustworthy, the same as she felt for Tajix. She wished Evfra put together with the whole madness that was Firaan didn’t scramble her senses quite so thoroughly; she didn’t want to cause harm to anyone if they didn’t deserve it and of late it seemed that her influence on any angaran she met was not a particularly good one. Maybe Ashae was right about her after all.

“Evfra, do you think I…” Ryder trailed off as she looked back up at him, uncertainty swallowing her words. She wished Evfra could read her mind, console her that she wasn’t a disaster to everyone she met, but then even he had good reason to wish she had never entered his life and she was not sure she wanted to face the possibility of a different response from him than the ones she needed. After all, love her or not, she had brought as much misery as joy to him.

“If you what?” Evfra asked.

“It’s not important,” Ryder shook her head, ruthlessly pushing her feelings down. She changed the subject. “Are we ready to begin?”

“Yes, although it will take some time to make Tajix cooperate,” Evfra said grimly. “Time we do not have.”

“Let me talk to him. I never doubted him as you have, a friendly face should loosen him up,” she said.

“How does that help?”

“If you plant the seed, he will just refuse to participate. If I do it, it’s an opportunity for him to prove his innocence given to him by someone he knows is on his side – or will know is on his side, once I’ve talked to him.”

“Which is precisely what I don’t like about that plan,” Evfra grimaced. “You do believe in his innocence.”

Ryder let out a long breath. “We’ve talked about this. You know it won’t work any other way.”

“If Ashae…” Evfra began, but Ryder cut him off.

“Don’t even think about involving her in this – just a few minutes ago she was accusing me of seducing you and everyone else I meet! The more she knows, the more she will be a liability because she cannot see past her dislike of me.”

“Perhaps I should put an end to that,” Evfra mused.

“Yeah, maybe you should,” Ryder agreed, but frowned. “Wait, how exactly can you put an end to it? If you knew a way to stop this nonsense, why the hell didn’t you do it already?” she demanded.

“If I confided in her, she may understand the importance of secrecy and she would no longer endanger our secret by casting doubt on you,” he said, but didn’t look convinced of his own words. Clearly it was an idea born of frustration and not any real hope of success.

“Evfra, no, this is a terrible idea,” Ryder said pleadingly, but her heart was treacherously close to making her hold her tongue; her mind won that competition, however. “She wouldn’t understand.” How I wish he would do it anyway…

“She may not,” Evfra agreed. “Her feelings would complicate matters.”

“Her feelings…?” Ryder asked icily, but she waved him to silence before he could answer. “No, don’t say anything, I don’t want to know.”

Could he possibly mean…? The thought that Ashae might view her as a rival – it didn’t bear thinking about. Even stopping Evfra from either confirming or denying that suspicion, her blood boiled and everything shifted around in her mind where the woman was concerned. She bit her tongue to keep herself from demanding that Evfra tell the lieutenant that he was hers. No, the entire subject was a distraction now; they had to focus on Firaan first.

“I already told Mashiar that we’re not joining the vanguard,” Ryder said in as calm a tone as she could manage.

“Then Firaan will soon know we didn’t take his bait, if he doesn’t know already,” Evfra said. He eyed her for a moment. “Convince Tajix that it’s in his best interest to dig up those communication logs.”

Ryder smiled grimly. “This time we’re the hunters.”

[Author’s Note: Special thanks to Veraan’s co-creator, Taoshay @reignitedn7!]

[faithstruetales]

When traveling, my itineraries are typically well-researched and packed with excitement to the minute, in fear that I’d miss out on some incredible experiences. However, with Seattle, for some reason I just let go, and everything magically fell into place.

We flew into Seattle and rented a car with Hertz. I’m still in awe of how super easy it was to get our car, despite being a packed holiday weekend. I read quickly that Seattle had many eclectic neighborhoods. I wanted to try them all, but time was too short in this soulful city, especially as we were staying at the Maxwell Hotel.

Maxwell Hotel – Pineapple hospitality

AKA “The Naked Experience”

This place ruined my life forever because I loved it so damn much. Upon walking into the lobby, a very friendly lady talked to me for fifteen minutes about her recommendations for the night. She then suggested I either take a cute adorable yellow bike or shuttle to one of their hot spots for free. There’s a funky lounge and bar, a rock star pizza restaurant surrounding welcoming pineapple water, coffee, and coconut cupcakes. The elevator was quirky, the hallways were classy, and I opened my door to see an adorable husky stuffed animal named “Fluffy” on my bed. Come to find out I could even adopt him to benefit local animal shelters.

Although the complimentary hot popcorn was tempting, I took a steaming hot shower, slipped on my complimentary robe and slippers, and fell into a cloud of dreams. A friend from back home had assured me that heaven was not ready for me, and I would not be dying on the plane, but perhaps my plane had in fact crashed. Not only was the bed divine but my husband and I each had our own fluffy twin duvet. I tried to buy them later but unfortunately the Simmons Beautyrest Black Luxury Hotel Collection Mattress cost $1,395 and the two twin duvets would end up being $900.

After an hour nap, it took great effort to get up, but we ventured to an amazing restaurant in Capitol Hill.

Capitol Hill

Capitol Hill is said to be an eclectic hipster neighborhood, perfect for a night out on the town with fun bars and restaurants. During my research, I too, believed the restaurant selection was the perfect entrance to a foodie’s paradise. It took me awhile to make a decision, but I finally settled on Herb & Bitter Public House.

Dinner at Herb & Bitter Public House

The Herb & Bitter Public House was a whimsical tapas bar where every table featured a menu covered by a different children’s book. I loved the atmosphere, the cheese platter was yummy, and the mixed drinks were handsomely strong.

Like the bars in Georgetown, the ones in Capitol Hill felt like they had soul, enough to inspire the likes of Nirvana. The area reminded me of the lively narrow streets in Boston, highlighted by beautiful rainbow crosswalks.

We were supposed to do some bar hopping and neighborhood exploring but we just couldn’t get that bed out of our thought clouds. Unfortunately Capitol Hill was not as exciting as the gigantic marshmallow patiently waiting for us at the Maxwell Hotel. We soon took an Uber back, put the “I’m naked” notice on the door and sank into Cloud 9. I’m sorry to say that I fell asleep at 10:00 in Seattle but I don’t regret it for a second. Days later I’m still thinking about that stupid bed, checking Seattle flights, scrolling past the haunting advertisements in my Facebook feed, and ultimately booked a night at their sister location in San Diego.

The First Starbucks Ever

The very first Starbucks to ever come into existence is conveniently right out side the Pike Place Market. We waited 45 minutes to get a coffee. To our dismay, the barista confirmed the quality of coffee found here was exactly the same at every other Starbucks. I had hoped they’d have some sort of exclusive blend but as they didn’t, I was feeling the crisp fall weather and ordered a pumpkin spice latte. I will forever be labeled as “ridiculous for being a basic bitch at the Mecca of coffee.” In my defense, there are much better brews out there, even in Seattle, so as always, follow your bliss.

Beecher’s – Cheese. Cheese. And More Cheese.

I cannot honestly say that Beecher’s has the best cheese I’ve ever had. Their grilled cheese was actually kind of meh compared to some I’ve tried at L.A. food trucks. However seeing cheese handmade and trying their mac & cheese was definitely worth the experience.

Sorry, I was too hungry to take a proper “before” picture

Pike Place Market

I’ve been to many markets around the world and after Camden in London, Pike Place Market was my favorite. It’s perfect for foodies, the eclectic, and the adventurous. You could easily spend a few hours here, taking it all in, especially on an empty stomach. I loved listening to the musicians as I tried the original Starbucks, went cheese tasting, and slowly sipped a cup of fresh apple cider.

Inside the market, you can try some of the freshest fruits, vegetables, and organic apple cider varieties.

You can even try chocolate pasta and go olive oil/ balsamic tasting

Among all of mother’s natures gifts, I was most impressed by the incredible exotic flower bouquets, ranging from $5-$15. If I ever lived here, I would need to have a serious weekly flower budget.

I bought this endearing necklace featuring stones from Puget Sound near Seattle, for whenever I needed the city to be a little extra close to my heart. I checked out some toys and other local crafts. I was beginning to wonder where I could find some hacky sacks, chili pepper lights, and zombie dolls in the same place, and as luck should have it, someone had already thought of that for me. Score.

The Seattle Waterfront

From inside Pike Place, take the elevator down and walk left towards the water. You will come across an enormous Ferris wheel, the aquarium, an artistic fountain, and a riddle to solve. Now, you may be asking yourself, why is “Ferris” in “Ferris wheel” capitalized? Which brings me to Fun Fact 206: In 1890, George Washington Gale Ferris Jr., a 33 year old engineer from Pittsburgh, put up $25,000 of his own money to create a giant revolving steel wheel in Chicago to rival the Eiffel Tower being displayed for the world fair. Unfortunately, even though the wheel was a huge success, after the fair Ferris was sued countless times, went into bankruptcy, and died from typhoid fever in 6 years later. While that’s a crappy way to go out, I hope he’s sitting on a cloud somewhere watching all of the beautiful Ferris wheels turning around the world and seeing his name capitalized.

Good job, Ferris

PAX

The plan after Pike Place Market was to venture into one of Seattle’s many other amazing neighborhoods, like Fremont or Ballard. However, as we were leaving we saw this… and well… parked the car.

PAX is an incredible yet intimate gaming convention held every year in Downtown Seattle. Even if you aren’t a gamer, but can appreciate magic and creativity, I’d highly suggest checking it out. I didn’t attend any of the panels but immensely enjoyed myself walking around, looking at games, and people watching.

Cannabis Tours

You might not smoke marijuana but it’s kind of interesting that it’s completely legal in the state of Washington. I was curious how it all worked, as our hotel lobby had stacks of cannabis tour pamphlets.

We walked into a smoke shop and asked, “How does this work? Do I need some kind of special card?” She took our licenses and we entered a room with all kinds of variations – rolled joints in pretty tubes and bags, cookies, brownies, and candy. A man put a huge menu binder on a glass case, describing all the differences and all I could think, is gee, there must be some really happy people in Washington.

The Gorge Amphitheater

The main purpose for our Washington trip was to experience one of the countries most stunning concert venues – the Gorge Amphitheater. The Gorge is a nice 2.5 hour drive east to Quincy, Washington, right outside George, Washington. Yes, there are people who get to say, “I live in George Washington.”What a wonderful world…

Camping there alone, especially with all the friendly enthusiastic fans, was an incredible once-in-a-lifetime experience. The Gorge was so much more than a concert. I don’t think I will ever be able to appreciate one the same way ever again, so hopefully I’ll be back here one day to hear that beautiful sound complimented by a sun setting over a scenic panorama of majestic cliffs.

The Space Needle

Some would say that Seattle is most known for the Space Needle – a 360 degree observation deck 540 feet high. While I’m sure the view is amazing and it might be fun to eat inside, to me, Seattle seemed like it would be better experienced somewhere random on the ground level.

Georgetown

A ten minute drive from downtown Seattle, you’ll find the delightful town of Georgetown. Walking around, we were welcomed by street art and some acoustic rock playing in the distance. The vibe felt like I always had imagined Seattle to be – a place with perfect combination of heart, grit, and soul.

We stayed at the Georgetown Inn for a night since it was close to the airport. It was cheap, clean, friendly, and a short walk to some intimate restaurants and bars with just the right amount of character. As we took in some homemade orangecello and happy hour pizzas at Via Tribunali, I felt comfortable just lingering for awhile.

Street Art in Georgetown

I wish I could have lingered in Seattle longer, because I loved every moment here, even when I wasn’t enjoying “The Naked Experience.” I can see why people love this unique city, but for me sleeping in thi was just a tad more enjoyable than becoming sleepless in Seattle.

© Faith’s True Tales 2018. All original words and images by Faith Brady unless otherwise noted.

Ever so often, travelers must make an ultimate decision. Is it better to explore or get naked? When traveling, my itineraries are typically well-researched and packed with excitement to the minute, in fear that I'd miss out on some incredible experiences.