#he is asking his very fragile friends and companions to risk themselves in ways we

[wellnoe]

what do you think would happen if Scott Cyclops and John Hellblazer met

i think they would dislike each other. i do not think constantine is scott's type of person. constantine would find scott ridiculous, and perhaps irritating/entertaining in that way. thank you for asking.

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Afraid to Love Again

Lady Tamayo x They/Them Reader

A/N: Heyooo. Tamayo is great, but I kind of struggle writing her. I tried anyway though because I love this demon doctor lady. Be prepared for sickness, death and a dash of angst. There is a happy ending though (my delicate heart wouldn’t be able to take it if there wasn’t)!  Also, it’s kinda a reincarnation/ soulmate kind of deal but I didn’t really develop that angle too much. And I can’t remember how much of Tamayo’s backstory was discussed in the manga vs the anime so just a heads up on that. It’s not super spoilery or anything (I think you could guess how that went) but just in case I thought I’d let y’all know. Hope you enjoy! Word Count: 6,939

The village had fallen on hard times. Work was scarce, poverty and disease was rampant. Over the past several months, (Y/n) had seen many family, friends and neighbors fall ill and never rise again. Those who had the strength to leave did, and many offered passage to (Y/n) as well. Though they were thankful for the offers of sanctuary, (Y/n) remained in their family home. They converted it into a makeshift hospital and began caring for the people who no longer could take care of themselves.

There were no doctors in their little village. The nearest, (Y/n) heard was days away. They couldn’t risk leaving all of these sick souls without someone to look after them, they would surely be dead before they could get back. If these people, their people, were going to die either way, they wanted to be there to make the process as easy as possible.

(Y/n) had seen more death and sickness than most. They had almost forgotten what it was like to truly live.

“(Y/n)-san?”

(Y/n) paused their movements wiping sweat from an old woman’s body, and turned to the cot behind them.

“Yes, Ichiro?” (Y/n) smiled kindly, though their eyes reflected just how tired they were.

“I don’t feel so good.” The young child coughed harshly.

“I know, I’m sorry. Let me get you some water.”

(Y/n) quickly finished bathing the old woman left behind by her family and tucked her in. (Y/n) suspected she’d be dead before the next morning. The rattling, gurgling breaths were just about the only sign that she wasn’t already gone.

(Y/n) put the rag in a basket to be washed for later, then they retrieved some water for the sick boy. They made their way through the sea of moaning people waiting for death, checking in with the more lucid villagers as they went.

(Y/n) was caring for thirty-seven people in their ancestral home and they did so alone. Any healthy people that remained in the village avoided the plagued building at all costs. It was hard work, keeping all of these people as comfortable as they could. But compared to the seventy people they had started with during those first weeks of winter, it was much more manageable.

“Here you go, drink as much as you can.” (Y/n) spoke softly, helping the boy sit up to receive it.

He took a few sips before spluttering, excess water slipped down his chin. He sniffed and held his throat, curling back into himself.

(Y/n) skimmed their hand over Ichiro’s burning forehead and watched him struggle forlornly.

How much longer would they all have to live in this hell?

(Y/n)’s question, however rhetoric, was answered the next night.

(Y/n) groaned between blinks of sleep. They had fallen asleep while standing, again. The noise that so rudely awakened them sounded like someone was rattling the door of the main entrance.

Who could it be at this hour? Weary travelers? Surely they had a fair choice in vacated homes already. No matter, (Y/n) figured once they caught the full blast of the smell of death permeating the air they would retreat quickly enough.

They approached the door sliding it open with little preamble. Even if the smell wasn’t enough to deter the unwanted guests, surely the look of utter despair (Y/n) wore would scare them off.

“I’m afraid if you came searching for lodging, I cannot take you.” (Y/n) spoke, barely perceiving the two people before them. “There are, however, many empty homes you have passed by that you are more than welcome to help yourselves too. I would recommend to be on your way quickly, sickness is rampant here.”

“That is why I’ve come.”

(Y/n) allowed themself a puzzled face, finally looking at the woman and her stern looking companion more carefully, taking in the delicate beauty of the stranger before them.

“I’m a doctor.”

(Y/n) suddenly felt more awake, staring at the woman with unrestrained hope and awe.

“Really?” They whispered, as if afraid this was all just a dream or a sleep deprived hallucination.

“Are you doubting her?” The young man spoke up sharply.

“Yushirou.” The woman warned, leveling a look at her companion that immediately shut him back up. The woman turned back to (Y/n). The soft, empathetic look in her eyes made (Y/n) feel weak. The softness of her voice as she addressed (Y/n) again made them feel fragile, all the while they shook like a leaf.

“Allow me to evaluate your sick. I’ll do everything I can.”

“Please,” (Y/n) nodded, making room for the pair to enter their home turned sick ward, “even in my wildest dreams I never thought anyone would actually come for us. I’ve tried so hard to save these people, but I am no doctor.”

The woman came forward, gingerly taking (Y/n)’s shaking hands in her own. (Y/n) noted how cold they were but still held on to the offered hands like a lifeline.

“You’ve done well with what you have, your kindness is immeasurable. Sleep now, and leave the rest to us.”

“Who are you?” (Y/n) asked, suddenly feeling as if they were about to collapse. Just hearing those words was like a weight was dropped from their aching shoulders. The woman caught them before they could fall, the young man, Yushirou, let out a strangled noise of displeasure but stayed back.

“You may call me Tamayo.”

***

When (Y/n) awoke, it was still dark. They assumed they must have only slept a few hours. At least, they thought so until they noticed a crack of sunlight shining between the curtains.

(Y/n) held their head in their hands and grimaced. They couldn’t even remember the last time they had slept in their own bed before now. They didn’t even remember how they got there. They sighed. It didn’t matter, they needed to get up and see how everyone was doing. They had already been negligent long enough.

(Y/n) noticed as they walked through the halls that all the curtains were drawn. They found it odd. The curtains were always kept open regularly, (Y/n) couldn’t be bothered to deal with such minor details in the grand scheme of things and they wouldn’t start now. They left the curtains closed and continued on their way.

“What are you doing up already?”

(Y/n) turned, shocked at the clear and present voice. It had been a long time since they heard someone who sounded so strong and healthy. They turned and saw a grumpy boy staring sternly at them.

“Who are you?” (Y/n) asked, holding on to the wall as a dizzy spell passed through them.

“Tsk, get back to bed. You clearly aren’t well.” The boy said.

“Yushirou? Did you find any— oh, awake already? You should rest more.” (Y/n) turned back down the opposite side of the hall and saw the woman who had been in their restless dreams the night before.

“You’re... You’re real?” (Y/n) asked, mostly to themself, peering at the woman with blurred vision.

“Yes,” Tamayo smiled sadly approaching (Y/n), “you don’t need to worry anymore. Yushirou and I are taking care of things. Please, rest.”

“No, wait. I want to help. Please, teach me everything you know.” (Y/n) pleaded, sliding to their knees as they gave out.

“Like you could help anyone like this. You were already way past your limits before. Stay out of Lady Tamayo’s way.” Yushirou stated harshly.

“No need to speak in such a cold manner, Yushirou.” Tamayo scolded lightly before coming to kneel at (Y/n)’s side, rubbing their back. “How about this, you rest until you are back to full health, then you may observe my work. Is this acceptable?”

(Y/n) frowned, but nodded in agreement. “Yes, thank you.”

“Of course. Yushirou, help our host back to their room please.”

Yushirou readily complied, easily picking (Y/n) up and retiring them to their room.

“And stay there this time.” He grumbled.

(Y/n) fell back asleep almost immediately and when they awoke once more, another day had come and gone. They felt a lot better, just hungry. So they got up and made their way back down the hall to see what was left of the foraging they had done a couple days prior. Hopefully, Tamayo and Yushirou were well versed in the plant life of the area and got some more.

They stopped at the sick ward first to see how things were going. Yushirou wasn’t around, but (Y/n) saw Tamayo whispering to a sick man. Whatever she had asked him, he shook his head looking a tad uncomfortable. (Y/n) moved closer and Tamayo turned, like she could sense their presence and offered a tight smile.

“You look much better. How are you feeling?” She asked.

“As good as I can be. How have things been going here?”

“I apologize, we lost three while you slept.” Tamayo informed solemnly.

“You don’t need to apologize. It means the world to us that you care to try at all.” (Y/n) replied, sincerely. “I’m sure you’ve noticed we don’t have very much in value. Not many people would work like this for no incentive.”

“You must be one of them.” Tamayo’s eyes softened, “you could have left, but you stayed with them. You have a kind heart.”

“...Thank you.” (Y/n) rubbed the back of their neck and looked away, feeling heat gather around their cheeks.

“I just realized I don’t know your name.” Tamayo said. “How rude of me to not ask sooner.”

“It’s alright. I haven’t exactly been conscious most of the time you’ve been here.” (Y/n) let out a dry laugh, “I’m (Y/n).”

“Just (Y/n)?” Tamayo blinked.

“If I can call you Tamayo, please call me (Y/n).”

“Very well, (Y/n).” Tamayo smiled. “I have a few more people to visit with at the moment. Would you care to observe?”

“Yes, I—“ (Y/n) stomach growled before they could finish speaking, they held onto their gut, abashed.

“Oh, you haven’t eaten? You should have told me, we must keep you healthy. Come,” Tamayo guided (Y/n) to their own kitchen where Yushirou was watching over a boiling pot.

“Yushirou, when the broth is done give (Y/n) a bowl please.” Tamayo asked.

“I just finished it Tamayo-sama. I’ll get on it right now.”

(Y/n) slurped down the broth with vigor and thanked Yushirou profusely, making him blush and turn away. They fed the rest to the sick. (Y/n) had asked Tamayo and Yushirou why they hadn’t taken any for themselves to which Tamayo replied that they had already eaten not long before (Y/n) had woken up.

After a long day of absorbing any teachings Tamayo had to share, (Y/n) was sent back to bed for the night much to their dismay.

“But, I slept just recently! I can still help!” (Y/n) frowned as Tamayo ushered them back to their room.

“I don’t know if you remember this, but humans are supposed to go to sleep every night. Yushirou and I have everything under control.” Tamayo assured.

“You guys need to sleep sometime too you know.” (Y/n) retorted.

“Don’t worry, we rest in turns.” Tamayo spoke. (Y/n) couldn’t explain why, but they felt as if Tamayo was being a bit deceitful with her words. However, they let her be for now and went back to bed without anymore fuss.

When (Y/n) woke up the next morning, they were surprised to see that some of the people looked much better already. Of course they were still quite ill, but (Y/n) felt hopeful for them. Unfortunately, the man, Jiro, that (Y/n) had seen Tamayo talking to the day before had died sometime in the night. A few others seemed to be not far behind him in that aspect. Still, (Y/n) worked hard and learned everything they could about the medicines Tamayo crafted and how to distribute them.

“Tamayo?” (Y/n) asked one night before being sent back to bed by the motherly woman.

“Yes, (Y/n)?”

“I was just wondering... what made you come through here? Our village hasn’t had outsiders since last spring, if even then.”

“I was simply looking for somewhere quiet to practice my craft. We were passing through when we realized this village was a little, too quite.”

“Mm, yeah... well, you’re welcome to stay. You can even live here forever if you want, I don’t mind.”

“That’s a rather, bold, offer.” Tamayo replied after a short pause. It was then that (Y/n) realized how that may have sounded and got embarrassed.

“I mean, because— sorry if that was weird. I just, it’s nice having you and Yushirou-san around. I can tell your both good people, you know? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable!”

“You didn’t,” Tamayo had a far away look in her eye, but she still reached out to pat (Y/n)’s arm in a gesture of kindness, “I appreciate the sentiment, but it will be best for all of we take our leave once we are done here.”

“I see,” (Y/n) tried to keep the disappointment out of their voice, “we’ll just have to make the most out of the time we do have.”

“I suppose. If that is what you wish.”

Over the next several days (Y/n) noticed several odd little behaviors and happenings in their home. They went out one morning to gather certain plants and herbs for Tamayo and when the came back, they noticed a piece of paper with a strange symbol drawn on it that they had never seen before. They questioned Yushirou about it since he was the first one they saw upon returning.

Yushirou scoffed, saying it was a healing symbol and told (Y/n) under no uncertain terms that they shouldn’t look at it, much less even think about touching it. (Y/n) promised him they wouldn’t and backed away into the kitchen with their basket of herbs and a bead of nervous sweat running down their chin.

They also noticed how neither Tamayo or Yushirou appeared to ever eat or sleep when they were around. Even when (Y/n) made something as light as tea, they were refused by both travelers.

Another oddity was that Yushirou always yelled at (Y/n) for peeking through curtains to see if the sun was shining. For some reason, he and Lady Tamayo did not seem to be fond of the sun. Perhaps they were just light sensitive or burned easily. They both seemed to be very fair skinned. (Y/n) was often sent off alone on errands during the day as well. They didn’t complain though, they were happy to help in anyway they could, even if the doctor and her assistant were a bit odd.

Stranger yet was how Tamayo would speak so softly to the deathly ill who showed no signs of recovery. The soft lilt of Tamayo’s voice was not what (Y/n) found strange, they were quite enamored with its dreamlike quality. It was the soft urgency in which she spoke so quietly that always left (Y/n) curious. They only witnessed such events a few times, but they always had ended with the recipient of Tamayo’s whispered words dead mere hours later.

(Y/n) didn’t fault Tamayo for such coincidences. The good doctor probably knew who would die the second she entered the room that first night. (Y/n) figured she was just giving them some form of solace in their final hours to help them find peace.

It was one night where (Y/n) had woken up with a painful thirst for water when things became... complicated.

“We need to think about leaving soon, Tamayo-sama.” (Y/n) heard Yushirou speak as they neared the kitchen. “You have already gone past your limit of resistance by a few days.”

“I’ll be fine, Yushirou. Soon there will be a good handful of people who will have their strength back. (Y/n) still has much I can teach them... we mustn’t leave just yet.”

“The blood here is diseased and of poor quality, even if you could get some without anyone noticing, it would not be filling enough to do much good. Please my lady, let’s keep moving to the next city like we planned.” Yushirou stressed.

“I can’t Yushirou, not when these people need help that only I can adequately provide. I can go a little longer...”

(Y/n) stood still in the hall as they listened in. Tamayo needed blood? For what, a transfusion? They took a deep breath and entered the room.

“If you need blood—“

The air was suddenly knocked out of their lungs as Yushirou came forward with inhumane speed and knocked (Y/n) hard into the back wall.

“Spying? Why couldn’t you just keep your nose away from where it doesn’t belong!” Yushirou hissed, tightening his hold.

“Yushirou!” Tamayo warned, coming up behind him, willing him to loosen his grip, “don’t hurt them.”

Yushirou clicked his tongue in agitation and allowed (Y/n) to slide to the ground in a fit of gasps and coughs.

Tamayo knelt beside them and checked them over with a worried frown.

“I’m sorry, (Y/n). You aren’t hurt are you?”

(Y/n) took a moment to catch their breath before answering, “I, I don’t think so.” They coughed again, “Damn Yushirou, you are a lot tougher than you look!”

Yushirou growled, but upon seeing the stern look Tamayo leveled at him he backed off and looked away, almost sheepish. He looked more like a scolded guard dog than anything else.

Tamayo turned back to (Y/n) looking forlorn, “How much did you hear?”

“You need blood or you’ll have to leave.” (Y/n) answered honestly, “If you need blood, you can have some of mine... I don’t know if it’s the right type, but if it’s what you need, I’ll be more than happy to give it to you.”

Tamayo shook her head. “(Y/n), I don’t think you understand what you are offering.”

“It’s my blood, I’ll offer it to whomever I please,” (Y/n) staggered back to their feet, “and I want to give it to you. You don’t even need to tell me what for.”

Tamayo scanned (Y/n)’s face before closing her eyes and turning away. She walked towards a nearby window and pulled open the curtains, allowing the full moonlight to glide over her skin and flowery kimono. (Y/n) swallowed thickly, clearing their throat they turned to look out the window as well. The young doctor was bewitchingly beautiful and (Y/n) could not risk missing whatever Tamayo had to say.

“Before you commit yourself to this decision, you must first understand what I am.”

“Tamayo-sama!” Yushirou called out only for Tamayo to raise her hand to call for his silence.

“...What you are?” (Y/n) cocked their head to the side, confused. “You look like a normal person to me.”

“That’s what makes a lot of my kind so dangerous.” Tamayo sighed, her eyes still trained on the moon, “Monsters in human skin. Although there are many who wear their sin in grotesque and prideful ways.”

“I’m not sure what you’re getting at, but it’s not like all humans are great people either. Like how Ichiro’s parents left him here after he got sick and still haven’t wrote back like they promised. Even if you are different from humans as you are claiming, I can’t say that your any worse than the people I know. In fact, I’d say you’re better than a lot of the people I know.” (Y/n) tried to explain.

“I’ve done more evil and unforgivable deeds in my time on this earth than I could ever atone for. Even as I work to do better I know I can’t take back all the harm I’ve caused.” Tamayo shook her head and turned to (Y/n), cupping their cheek with a chilled hand, “I’ve aided in more atrocities than you have years on this planet. Do not let what you’ve seen of me in these short weeks fool you.”

“Okay, so you’re committed to believing your evil and irredeemable, is that right?” (Y/n) grasped the hand at their cheek, holding it in their own, “Well, I’m sorry, but I’m not going to believe that. I don’t know what you’ve done, but you’re obviously torn up about it. I can’t say someone who was pure evil would think twice about that.”

Tamayo pulled her hand away, cradling it close to her chest and turned back to the window with a slight tremble before whispering, “I’m a demon, (Y/n). I’ve turned Yushirou as well. We get by on blood these days but before then, I have killed and devoured many humans in five hundred years. Tell me now you don’t find me repulsive.”

“I don’t!” (Y/n) spoke immediately and resolutely, surprising the demon doctor and Yushirou to an extent with their resolve. “I don’t know who you were or what you were going through back then, but the Tamayo I know is kind enough to stop in some nowhere village to take care of sick people she doesn't even know while expecting nothing in return. I can’t say my word means very much in the grand scheme of things, but I don’t think you’re a monster. Monsters don’t mourn over their victims. I think you’re a good person Tamayo, worthy of my blood if you’ll just let me give it to you.”

The determined look on (Y/n)’s face made Tamayo feel as if she’d seen a specter from her past. She felt tempted to reach out again but held back, afraid of what, she wouldn’t allow herself to dwell. (Y/n) took her silence as a hesitation and insisted once more, bearing their arm up to the crook of their elbow.

“Take what you two need. Please don’t make me try to do it myself.”

Tamayo closed the distance between them quickly and held (Y/n)’s arms as if she was frightened of them doing something dangerous to themself.

“Yushirou, please get the phlebotomy kit from the travel bag.” Tamayo asked softly.

Yushirou nodded. Though he was not particularly fond of how close his master was to the human, he was glad she would finally be getting some sustenance.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” (Y/n) tried to joke to lighten the mood.

“You can revoke your offer whenever you wish. If you want us to leave you may ask us to do so without fear. I promise you.” Tamayo said, nothing but sincerity in her tone.

“I’ll keep it in mind, but I’ll do no such thing. Now, I hope you don’t think it rude of me for drinking some water myself first before I get you your... beverage. It was the whole reason I was walking through in the first place.” (Y/n) said as they walked across the kitchen and fetched some water.

Tamayo’s lips curled ever so slightly into a wisp of a smile aimed at (Y/n)’s back as they drank.

***

Now that (Y/n) knew they were sheltering a couple of demons, the strange behaviors they had noted prior made more sense and they took them in stride. They loved teasing Tamayo and Yushirou about the quality of their blood. Often making Tamayo flush faintly or earn a quick jab to the chest from Yushirou that was probably harder than he should be hitting a fragile human.

They kept the knowledge of their species to themself, not wanting to stress the sick or endanger Tamayo in some way. They had since learned that the strange papers that were littered around their house were actually some kind of warding seal that Yushirou could produce to keep their presence hidden to outsiders. If all that Tamayo had told (Y/n) about the realness of demons held true, they were surprised that they hadn’t encountered them sooner. Perhaps the constant scent of death and decay had kept them at bay, figuring there was no fresh flesh to tear into.

However, that was all changing now. Of the twenty-six remaining villagers, twenty-five were making marked improvements in their health and many could even walk about the the house without being too fatigued. (Y/n) had smiled so brightly when they saw Ichiro slide out of bed one morning that they had brought a hand to their mouth in delighted shock. They couldn’t remember the last time they had smiled so earnestly. Tamayo had surprised them, taking their hand away from their mouth.

“Let your joy shine through. The light you have to share could lift anyone’s spirits. I know it has lifted mine, so don’t hide please.” Tamayo said kindly.

“Right!” (Y/n) laughed sheepishly as heat crawled up their neck. They were sure Tamayo could hear the blood rushing through their system but thankfully she was polite enough not to comment on it.

“(Y/n)-san, can you take us outside?” One of the other young children asked.

“Mhm, only for a little bit though. Don’t want to over do it now, do we?”

“Tamayo-san, do you want to come?” Ichiro asked hopefully.

“Tamayo-san is very busy. But I’m sure she’ll be happy to read you a story later. Won’t that be nice?” (Y/n) smiled, saving Tamayo from having to come up with an excuse to avoid the brightness of the spring sun.

A small group gathered and slowly made their way outside, blinking hard against the bright sun stinging their eyes. Still, they felt overjoyed. Many never thought they’d make it through the winter so they took in the scenery before them with a range of emotions.

When they returned, (Y/n) helped everyone get settled again. As they did, they noticed Tamayo speaking quietly to the young woman in the corner cot. She had been fighting against the illness for a particularly long time and had been getting worse as of late. Keeping the interaction in mind, (Y/n) made their way to the kitchens to see if Yushirou needed any assistance with lunch. Now that everyone’s appetites were returning they had to produce a bit more than they had in the past.

When everyone was fed, (Y/n) had managed to find Tamayo alone. The doctor had found the old ceremonial tea room and enjoyed the space, so naturally (Y/n) had given her permission to do with it what she liked. (Y/n) knocked and announced themself, waiting for Tamayo to beckon them in before entering.

“(Y/n), does someone need something? Do you need something?” Tamayo asked, momentarily pausing in her herb crushing to look up at them.

“No, everything seems fine right now. Although Kotori does not appear to be doing well at all.” (Y/n) sighed, kneeling across from Tamayo. “...She’s going to die, isn’t she?”

“Yes.” Tamayo nodded solemnly. “I gave her medicine to dull her pain, but she’ll be dead before the next morning. There is nothing more I can do for her.”

“What do you tell them?” (Y/n) asked, “I mean, I’ve noticed how you talk to the dying ones before they pass. What do you say to someone who’s dying like that?”

“Many times they already know the end is near and have accepted it. Many are relieved to know the fighting and pain is almost over for them. What I offer them... is a second chance at life.”

(Y/n)’s eyes narrowed in concentration before shooting back open. “You offered to turn them into demons, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

“It can be, only if you don’t have someone to look out for you and remind you who you are. I would be there for them as I was for Yushirou of course.” Tamayo assured, though she looked guilty. “You must think it cruel of me to offer this cursed existence.”

“Not at all. Many people fear death. I can especially understand it from a perspective of those who have yet to truly live. As long as they can remember their humanity, I don’t have a problem with it.” (Y/n) smiled, “I’m sure with you to guide them they would be just fine.”

Tamayo blushed and got back to work, grinding her herbs.

“Though I’m surprised, has no one taken up your offer since you got here?”

Tamayo shook her head, but a small smile pulled at her lips, “No. I’m content with their choices though. I think they were all very brave choosing to face the unknown.”

“Speaking of unknown,” (Y/n) mumbled between their fingers as they watched Tamayo carefully scoop her powder into a jar before moving on to the next herb. “Everyone will be more or less back to full health soon... are you still planning on leaving?”

“(Y/n), we’ve already discussed this,” Tamayo frowned, “I was never meant to stay here.”

“But you could.” (Y/n) said, an almost frantic waver in their voice, “you taught me a lot about medicine and how to be a physician, but you’ve quite literally have hundreds of years more experience than I do. Not to mention everyone here loves you, I love you—“ (Y/n) tried to shut themself up but it was too late. As made evident by the roundness of Tamayo’s eyes.

“Oh (Y/n), I’m sorry.” Tamayo said, the pestle held in between her fingers shook.

“Don’t be sorry, just, stay?” (Y/n) stuttered. “You can forget the last part if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“This just further proves that I mustn’t be here.” Tamayo put the pestle down and covered her eyes with her hands.

(Y/n)’s heart ached so much they felt compelled to rub the the spot in an attempt to soothe it. “Is the idea of me loving you really that awful?” They asked, a watery chuckle falling from their lips.

“(Y/n), it’s not that simple.” Tamayo tried to explain, but (Y/n) was already getting up and heading out of the room.

“It’s fine. I’ll try to stay out of your way. Stick around a bit longer for the sake of the village is all I ask.” (Y/n) didn’t wait for an answer. They went to their room and felt numb the rest of the day.

They were jostled out of their upset thoughts by the sound of pounding feet drawing closer and before they could react any further, Yushirou barged in practically foaming at the mouth. (Y/n) was not intimidated by the display however.

“Would it kill you to knock?”

“What have you done to upset Tamayo-sama?” He seethed, his voice a dangerous whisper.

“I’ve momentarily burdened her with my feelings. Don’t worry, once you get on the road again I’m sure she’ll feel much better. And you’ll have her all to yourself again, you must be thrilled.” (Y/n) bitterly informed.

“Don’t speak as if this is no large matter, you’ve left Tamayo-sama very distraught! What did you do? Why was she crying?”

“Crying?” (Y/n) asked, the information chilled them like a sudden torrential rainfall.

“Yes! Now what did you say to her you mongrel? Spit it out!” Yushirou growled, grabbing at the neck of (Y/n)’s clothing to shake them around a bit.

“I kinda... told her I loved her?”

“You what?!” Yushirou bellowed with rage and envy befitting a rival.

“I’m pretty sure you heard me the first time.” (Y/n) still had the gall to tease the demon knowing full well he could think of ten different ways to kill them with one hand tied behind his back.

“You idiot! Don’t you know what she’s been through? And you just think you can say such things and be on your merry way? Honestly, a goddess like her should not have to shed tears for such insolence!”

“What are you talking about?” (Y/n) grunted. The hold Yushirou had them in was very uncomfortable.

“If I tell you, you must never bring this up to Tamayo-sama, and you will apologize right away for your unsavory actions. Do you understand?”

“...yes.” (Y/n) nodded tentatively. Yushirou let go of them and they rubbed at their tender flesh where he had dug in.

“Tamayo-sama was ill once as well,” Yushirou began, observing the books (Y/n) had strewn around the room with a bit of disdain for the mess, “when she was human, she was desperately searching for a cure that would save her from an agonizing death. Then, as fate would have it, one day she met a man who promised her a cure for her ailment. What that man did to her turned her into a demon. It was true that Tamayo-sama was freed from the pains of her illness, but at the cost of everything she held dear. For you see, the man had not explained what she would become and with no way to control herself, she had killed and devoured her husband and children.” Yushirou crossed his arms tightly, “Do you understand now? Can you imagine what that must have been like?”

“I had no idea.” (Y/n) looked down at their feet.

“Yeah, then you come in and— argh! What are you still hanging around for? Go apologize already! You’ve already waited the daylight away, get moving!”

“Okay, I’m going! I’m going!” (Y/n) batted the angry demon away and jogged down the hall. They checked every room until they made it to the sick bay.

They asked around and quickly learned that Tamayo had gone out for a moonlit walk. They thanked the patients and quickly made their way out the door, shutting it tightly behind them.

They looked out from the engawa, scanning the scenery they saw no sign of the demon doctor. Deciding the nearby forest was their best bet, they hopped off of the engawa, bare feet against the grass and dirt, and jogged into the woods.

“Tamayo?” (Y/n) called for her, searching around for any clues to her whereabouts.

They traveled deeper still, teasing the edge of the deep woods where not even the sun could shine through on the brightest of days, much less the soft reflection of the moon. They heard a rustle.

“Tamayo?”

(Y/n) felt the hairs on the neck and arms scrape to attention. Their heart was beating frantically as the noise drew closer. It couldn’t be Tamayo, she surely would have called out in return.

Then, (Y/n) screamed.

They couldn’t remember how they had ended up on the ground. They blinked sluggishly up at the moon only for it to be blocked moments later by a blurry figure. (Y/n) swore they saw swirls of colorful flowers dancing at the corners of their vision. (Y/n) winced and gurgled. Why did their chest hurt so bad, what was this pressure?

“(Y/n), please, tell me what to do. What do you want me to do?” A muffled voice cried, confusing (Y/n).

They tried to take in another breath but it just felt like they were drowning. The voice sounded farther away, but no less pleading, mixed with far away screams and angry yells. Neither of which sounded like they belonged to the figure before them.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

‘For what?’ (Y/n) wondered, the pain had faded greatly. Whatever was happening, it was better than the pain. Perhaps they could go back to sleep now.

And so, they did.

***

When (Y/n) awoke, it was to the soft brushing of knuckles against their hair which was almost immediately drowned out by a ferocious hunger. They bent to snap at the fingers but something had kept them restrained. (Y/n) struggled and growled, the need to tear into flesh was, all too fittingly, consuming them.

“(Y/n), take a little at a time. Control yourself.” The voice beside them gently urged, presenting (Y/n) with a tube. They were highly uninterested at first until the further end of the tube was released from a pinched grip and allowed blood to flow down to their waiting mouth. It wasn’t fresh or hot, but it was better than nothing. After a few minutes of stopping and starting the thick slide of blood, the figure took the tube away all together, causing (Y/n) to growl and hiss with displeasure.

“You will need to learn to pace yourself, the sooner you do, the better.” The soft voice informed, not that (Y/n) really understood them.

(Y/n) wasn’t sure how long this had gone on, but they learned quickly not to bite the hand that feeds you, even if it was only aged blood on the menu.

Then slowly, they felt their brain working overtime. Apparently, there was a lot of information hiding under all of the bloodlust, and (Y/n) thought maybe, just maybe, there was a part of themself that detested those desires for human flesh and bone.

Then one night, it was like a fog had finally rolled out of (Y/n)’s mind and they struggled against their restraints for a whole other reason.

“How did I get here?” They yelled, breathing heavily though they had no real need to breathe at all anymore.

(Y/n) heard the soft patter of footsteps on the matted floor out in the hallway. They were honestly surprised they could hear such a slight noise to begin with.

The door slid open and Tamayo stood there, observing them nervously.

“Tamayo!” (Y/n) sighed in relief, “Where were you? All I remember is going out to look for you. How did I even—“

Tamayo was over in a flash, resting her forehead against (Y/n)’s with her hands cupping their cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” She sobbed, “I didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t speak for yourself. I should have just tried to make your passing quick and comfortable, but I was selfish. I’m so sorry.”

(Y/n) winced, thinking back hurt, but with that last ‘sorry’, they were back in the moonlit woods, bleeding out with Tamayo above them and Yushirou dismantling the low level demon that had jumped them.

(Y/n) leaned their forehead up to meet Tamayo’s more firmly since their arms and legs were still tightly bound.

“You don’t need to apologize, but I forgive you.” They rasped, drawing more tears from the demon doctor.

“I couldn’t lose you. Not again.”

“What do you mean?” (Y/n) asked, puzzled.

“Do you believe in reincarnation, (Y/n)?”

“I think it’s a nice idea, to be reborn as something new.” (Y/n) shrugged as best as they could.

“When I first came to this village, something pulled me to this old house, and it wasn’t the smell of death and ruin. Something inside me told me this was where I needed to be,” Tamayo ran her thumbs along (Y/n)’s cheekbones, “it all led me to you and though you are unique from any other person I have met in all my years roaming this earth, I feel like I knew you life times ago.”

“I feel like I felt something similar.” (Y/n) whispered, “Something about your eyes just felt so familiar. Do you think...”

“Yes and no,” Tamayo smiled sadly, “I believe my husband had a hand in bringing you to me. You may have the same soul but you are still you’re own person with unique experiences. I like seeing little reminders of him in you, but I’m also growing very fond of who you are on your own.”

“Then, why didn’t you tell me before?” (Y/n) asked.

“Because I was afraid and I had every right to be. I almost lost you again.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you.”

Tamayo raised her head to brush a kiss over (Y/n)’s forehead, “Forgiven.”

“...Do you think you could maybe untie me now or...?” (Y/n) asked with a goofy smile on their face.

“Oh, yes, I should do that. So long as you promise to tell me if you ever feel like you’re losing yourself.”

“You have my word, my lady.” (Y/n) replied, leaving Tamayo a bit flustered.

“So, how is everyone?” (Y/n) asked with a stretch, sitting up from the bed.

“They all left for new opportunities in the southeast. I apologize, but Yushirou and I thought it best if they believed you had died. A bear mauling.” Tamayo’s nose crinkled very subtly, but (Y/n) easily saw her displeasure.

“Don’t worry, I understand.” (Y/n) said with a melancholic smile. They leaned over hesitantly and kissed the faint wrinkle of Tamayo’s nose away, making the doctor fall forward to bury her head in (Y/n)’s collarbone.

“I worry that you’re too understanding.” Tamayo commented shyly, earning a laugh from (Y/n) and after another moment of stillness, (Y/n) spoke up again.

“Where is Yushirou anyway?”

“I’m in the kitchen and I can hear ever word you say you blood sucker!” Yushirou yelled, making the doctor and the new demon jump at the volume. “You better get travel ready soon, because you gobbled up the last of our blood supply!”

“Sorry!” (Y/n) called awkwardly, snorting only after Yushirou replied with a handful of sounds that made no sense, but got his grumpiness across.

“Don’t feel too bad. It’s a process Yushirou has endured as well. He was no less needy and feral than you were when I changed him.” Tamayo said.

“Needy and feral,” (Y/n) groaned, “I wish you didn’t have to see me like that.” Tamayo chuckled lightly, raising her head from (Y/n)’s chest to look into their eyes making their breath hitch.

“That hasn’t harmed my image of you at all,” Tamayo kissed their cheek, “you are still the sweet,” a kiss to the other cheek, “selfless,” a kiss to the nose, “person you were before this.”

(Y/n) tentatively raised their hands to cup Tamayo’s cheeks, noting the pale blue hue of their previously clear nails as they did so.

“Forgive me if this comes off as needy, but could I kiss you?” They asked, barely above a whisper.

“Please.” Tamayo responded quickly, pulling in (Y/n) from the back of their neck.

Soft lips glided together, occasionally leaving their target to land sweet pecks elsewhere before diving back in. When they finally drew apart, resting their foreheads together, Tamayo smiled brightly. It was a feeling she hadn’t had since she was human all those years ago.

[sidecharacter-purgatory]

Meng Yao and Qin Su Live Happily As Siblings AU

just like imagine if Qin Su’s mother found out that Jin Guangshan had a child living in a brothel and went to meet Meng Shi, to tell her that the father of her child is an awful, evil man, she shouldn’t want him anywhere near her precious boy

Madam Qin frees Meng Shi and brings her home as a companion/maid and Meng Yao and Qin Su are raised together. Meng Yao gets to train as a disciple when it’s discovered that he has some natural talent, and Qin Su treats him like a brother, although they aren’t told that they are actually related until their teenagers, old enough to understand and handle the truth

Meng Yao and Qin Su attend the lectures at Cloud Recesses as disciples. Meng Yao meets Nie Huaisang and they become fast friends, and he meets Lan Xichen and well…sparks fly

Qin Su meanwhile meets Wen Qing and Jiang Yanli and the three of them become inseparable. Wen Qing and Qin Su are dancing around each other, but both are…concerned about their friend’s complicated engagement with, and apparent crush on, Jin Zixuan. even if the son is not the father, Qin Su fears for Yanli’s safety should she go to live at Jinlintai. if Jin Guangshan would brutalize the wife of one of his subordinates, would he do the same to a daughter-in-law?

Meng Yao’s feelings toward Jin Zixuan are also complicated. on the one hand, that’s his brother. everyone knows that’s his brother, people have been wondering for years whether Jin Guangshan would recognize his bastard son in Laoling, who is proving to be quite a talented cultivator. on the other hand, their father is a monster, and Jin Zixuan was raised by that monster. and it only gets worse when, through Huaisang, he becomes close with Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin, who both detest the “Peacock”

but they encounter each other one evening, and Jin Zixuan stumbles through explaining that he recognizes Meng Yao as his brother, even if their father won’t, and he wants them to be friends, at least. he knows that his father has many bastard children, many of whom are treated unfairly, and if he had his way, each one would be recognized and offered the protection of the Lanling Jin Sect. it’s an olive branch that Meng Yao appreciates, even if he isn’t ready to open up just yet

he talks it over with Qin Su, and though there is risk, they agree to tell Zixuan the truth. Zixuan breaks down in tears when they tell him what his father did to Qin Su’s mother, and he swears that when he is sect leader, things will be different in his home. Qin Su insists that until then, he will have to protect Yanli when she marries him, and Zixuan clams up, but Qin Su just sighs. they both like each other, and they’re already engaged, what’s stopping them. Zixuan admits that he does like Yanli, he would do anything for her, but he…jsut has no idea how to approach the subject

cue the start of Operation: Help the Lovebirds Get Their Sh*t Together, featuring Qin Su, Meng Yao, Huaisang, and, after some convincing, Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin. Lan Wangji is also there sometimes and Suffering. Lan Xichen is aware and willing to help if they need sect leader level assistance.

“are we going to talk about your crush on Zewu-jun?” Qin Su asks Meng Yao

“are we going to talk about your crush on Wen Qing?” he fires back 

they don’t mention it again. no one mentions Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji’s mutual crushes, it’s excruciating enough just having to be near them. Jiang Wanyin and Nie Huaisang are already hooking up, but no one’s going to talk about that either

but at least by the time the lectures at Cloud Recesses have ended, Yanli and Zixuan are thrilled to be engaged and doing all sorts of gross couple-y cute things while everyone else looks away and reminds themselves that this is a good thing, they haven’t created a monster

but still things turn bad. Wen Ruohan is still up on his mountain doing Evil Villain Things. and when Meng Yao hears that Cloud Recesses has burned and Lan Xichen is missing, he has to go in search of him. he smuggles Xichen back to his home in Laoling, and they fall in love while Meng Yao tends to an injured and exhausted Xichen night and day 

Meng Yao still goes undercover as a spy in the Wen Sect. it’s perfectly believable that he would want a hand in destroying the Jin, everyone falls for it. it’s in Nightless City that he meets Nie Mingjue for the first time, an unfortunate first meeting. Mingjue can’t believe that this is the boy his little brother befriended, or that Xichen sent him letters waxing poetic about 

Meng Yao is still the one to kill Wen Ruohan, a hero of the Sunshot Campaign right alongside Nie Mingjue. and Nie Mingjue still tries to kill him upon waking up, but Xichen explains their plan, how Meng Yao had to do those terrible things, and with no history of betrayal between them, Mingjue may be hesitant, but he accepts. and when he sees how Xichen and Meng Yao look at each other and hold each other…well, he thinks wryly, he has little choice but to accept his best friend’s new companion

with Meng Yao a war hero, Jin Guangshan is suddenly jumping at the chance to recognize him as his son. Meng Yao accepts his new name and status, but only so he can immediately return to Cloud Recesses to marry Xichen, using his newfound power and money to help rebuild Cloud Recesses. he hates his Jin name, but it hardly matters. he is A’Yao to those who matter, and Lan Furen to everyone else

(Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng never lost their golden cores. they escaped capture by the Wens, and though Wei Wuxian was still cast into the Burial Mounds and created Demonic Cultivation, he does not need to rely on it exclusively to keep himself alive)

Qin Su, meanwhile, is desperate to find out what happened to Wen Qing, and with Wei Wuxian’s help they discover the prison camps. Wen Ning is not yet killed, and they’re able to smuggle him out to be reunited with his sister. but they cannot let these abuses go unpunished. they go to Cloud Recesses, and Qin begs Meng Yao for help to protect the last remnants of her lover’s clan. Meng Yao and Xichen agree that they cannot allow this to continue. Wei Wuxian leads the prisonbreak with Lan Wangji at his side, and the remaining members of the Wen Sect are brought to be sheltered in Cloud Recesses. 

Jin Guangshan is furious, and would go to war against the Lan sect, but is prevented by his heir, Jin Zixuan, as well as his now legitimized son in Gusu standing against him. Nie Mingjue pledges to defend Cloud Recesses as well, he may still distrust the Wen’s, but he has absolute faith in Xichen and even Jiang Wanyin, despite his fragile position as the very young leader of a recently decimated sect, pledges his support as well

(it helps that his alliance with the Qinghe Nie sect is strong, thanks to his developing relationship with Huaisang. Mingjue wants his little brother to be happy, and if Wanyin makes him happy then so be it)

Jin Guangshan is deposed, put on trial for his crimes against the Wen prisoners, and Jin Zixuan succeeds him as sect leader shortly before his marriage to Yanli. and a year later, everyone attends baby Jin Ling’s 100 days celebration including several happily married couples: Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, Qin Su and Wen Qing, Lan Xichen and Meng Yao, Nie Huaisang and Jiang Wanyin. 

A’Yuan is is raised communally in Cloud Recesses by his myriad aunties and uncles, but when he is old enough decides to keep his Wen surname, despite wearing a Lan ribbon.

Zixuan keeps his word about searching for all the siblings his father refused to recognize, offering support to all who need it and taking in the one’s who need a home and want to study cultivation. the youngest is Mo Xuanyu, still a baby. Yanli and Zixuan adopt him and raise him as their own, he and Jin Ling grow up almost like twins

AND EVERYONE LIVES HAPPILY EVER AFTER THE END!!

[clansayeed]

Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ― Chapter 20: The City of Shadow

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ⥽

While struggling with nightmares of lives she’s never lived, a shadow from the past looming over her city, and the proposed idea that her life may just be a little bit too weird to handle alone, Nadya makes sure to tell herself that everything is perfect just the way it is. If only. When the self-proclaimed King of Vampires (and Maker of her sometimes-girlfriend and always-boss, can’t forget that little tidbit) Gaius Augustine returns intent on claiming Manhattan as the throne that was promised, she and her friends find themselves forced into the task of saving the world. But with millennia-old vampires and an Order of hunters on their heels as well as allies hiding catastrophic secrets at their backs… it won’t be an easy task. Too bad destiny didn’t exactly ask for her input.

Bound by Destiny II and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

TAG LIST: @googlesentmehere, @cess02

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Destiny II tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

The key to defeating Gaius lies deep beneath the streets of Paris, beneath the famous catacombs to the once-revered jewel of the Vampire King's Court. For over 400 years the crypts have waited, abandoned. But if they want any chance of saving their home, they have to be willing to risk whatever may slumber within.

[READ IT ON AO3]

It doesn’t bode well for her peace of mind that not even twenty minutes into their journey, Nadya can feel the beginnings of the all-too-familiar headaches starting to knock at her temples. Worst. houseguest. ever.

“Does this mean we can just… get this over with here?” Nadya grinds out. Serafine looks back at her from where she leads the metaphorical charge; her smile is sympathetic, but not at all reassuring.

“We’ve just hit the Seine, that’s all. It will pass.”

Great, just great. Water pressure is screwing her around before the actual creepy mojo. Why couldn’t they have packed aspirin in one of these dumb bags? “What about further on?”

Serafine doesn’t have an answer for that, though. And that says it all.

Nadya stops counting the minutes after that. For her own sanity if anything.

Lily is nearing the end of her shot-for-shot recount of The Fellowship of the Ring (because she is personally offended by the fact both Adrian and Cadence lived during Tolkien’s lifetime and have neither read the books nor seen the movies, and also because Jax told her not to) when the narrow corridor widens out just enough to give her a little breathing room. It’s not much of a difference for the more broad-shouldered of them, but they don’t even need to breathe anyway.

Where the beginning tunnel was rustic and just a path carved out of the ground, this leg of the journey is noticeably different. The ground is more flat; earth packed from decades of footsteps long gone. The dug-out walls are cemented in place with limestone, and above their heads the ceiling curves up on both sides to end in an arch with a pointed tip.

Eventually they come across the first sconces laid into the wall masonry; metal dark and rusted over the years but sturdy and undisturbed. Serafine grabs a match book from her pack with one hand and brushes cobwebs from an ancient torch with another. It takes several matches to catch and hold a flame but once it does the effect is immediate — the path suffusing with flickering yellow light and a heat Nadya didn’t know she was already missing.

Adrian follows suit and lights the torch on the opposite wall. When they reach a new set every few minutes they always stop and help coax the fire to life. “To help guide us back,” is the explanation she offers; but the way her voice catches thick in her throat tells a different story.

A story none of them have quite gotten the full picture of, yet, and that may have been okay before — when it was lost to history. But now they are lost to history.

Serafine makes sure of that.

“When your entire immortality is spent living in the ebb and flow of tidal fear, it can be so very easy to succumb to the despair of it. To this day I would not be surprised to learn that was part of the Holy Knights’ doctrine calling for the faithful to purge the world of our existence. If it was not they who felled us with their own hand, then they sought to make eternal life so full of loss, of misery and death and fear, that we would do their work for them.

“There were many whom I called companions that succumbed to those very thoughts.” The way she says it; like she blames herself. “Those of us who remained did so for more than just ourselves. Many were like myself — we had seen the world change so many times with our own eyes it was no longer the one we were born into. And we knew we would see it again.

“We found ways to seek the proverbial light in the darkness. Many of us had fled to La Cité Sombre from the richest courts of the mortal world. We brought our passion and fine taste here and to the crypts. The mortals hastened to be rid of their infected dead, so we took them off their hands.”

While Nadya tries to think of several polite ways to casually mention that something like that isn’t something casually mentioned, Lily beats her to the punch.

“What did you people do with the dead bodies? Do I want to know? I swear to God.”

“Careful up ahead here, mes amis, we’re getting close.”

It takes the combined efforts of all five vampires to pry open a set of double doors. The rotted wood practically crumbles to the touch, and the hinges barely bend half of the doorway before they snap and clatter to the ground.

Immediately a pungent foulness, thick as a wall whether it was tangible or not, assaults Nadya’s nose. A hair-curling stench of decay — of death — Nadya is all-too familiar with by now. What an unsettling notion.

The open doorway empties out into a near-pitch black room. The last torches were too far back to give it proper lighting, but the bright blue-white of their flashlight beams reveal some kind of atrium. An outpost, maybe? Though it isn’t much taller than the path they just left it’s spacious enough for them to spread out for the first time in hours; that’s not something to take for granted.

Serafine crosses the space in long and purposeful strides. She already knows what she’s looking for; another set of sconces and torches framing the exit. The familiar hiss-snikt of the match and the blessed warmth that follows is more than welcome.

A warmth that’s instantly sucked away; replaced by a cold wave of realization as the rest of the atrium comes into light around them.

“My god…”

Nadya doesn’t even recognize her own voice; feels the back of her clammy hand press up against her lips as if that might contain her shock.

It doesn’t.

Skeletons litter the flagstones at their feet. She looks down to see one a hair’s width away from the toe of her boot and instantly recoils; presses herself back against something solid she’s too horrified to immediately recognize. Adrian’s arms come around her protectively; but he can only do so much.

Old-fashioned armor, ancient and the real-freaking-deal, must once have fit snug and secure on these bodies. Not anymore; not with the flesh long since rotted away, along with whatever ate the rot itself. But without exposure from the elements they’re pristine and almost bleached. All except for the places where a thin blanket of grey dust coats the sharp jut of bone exposed in the armor’s gaps.

Objectively Nadya had known they were essentially entering one large burial tomb but… it isn’t until this moment that she’s faced (quite literally, eye sockets hollow and black as the void) with the gruesome reality of it all.

She’s just glad she’s not the only one.

Serafine recovers first. Lowering her head deep and reverent, words whispered on her lips so faint there isn’t even a trace of them in the stale air. A prayer, Nadya slowly realizes; and she averts her eyes out of respect for the woman’s mourning.

She steps out of the safety of Adrian’s comfort, fingertips tenderly brushing his forearm.

Go to her, that touch says, because she can see he wants to. A want bordering on need. In a blink he’s across the room and hovering just shy of the woman’s trembling shoulders. Less confident here than he was just moments prior. Nadya’s heart goes out to the guy.

Jax comes up on Nadya’s left. He rests a hand on her shoulder something just shy of tender; a hesitance in his furrowed brow she’s not used to seeing on that normally cocky expression. He coaxes her back with just his fingertips; she’s more than willing to trade places with him if that’s what he wants.

Lily wraps her arms around herself; isolating herself like an island in a sea of bone. Somehow Nadya has a feeling there won’t be as many violent video games in the apartment when all this is over.

If they survive it, a morbid part of her thinks.

In front of her Jax takes a knee, brushes the same fragile touch over the nearest set of remains. Not reverence, but not fear either. All it takes is the slightest pressure and the skeleton’s bottom jaw clatters to the floor. Only it’s not the bone that Jax can’t look away from. But rather the grey smeared on his fingertips.

A choked noise comes from Cadence. He clears the distress from his throat and looks away out of respect. And it’s in the weighted silence and dancing shadows that Nadya realizes why they’re all so distressed.

“Vampires don’t leave skeletons.”

Nadya cringes; she hadn’t meant to say it aloud. Stating the obvious that everyone else had already come to understand maybe even from the moment they entered the atrium. Yet here she is, stupid human Nadya, who finally understands far too late that it isn’t dust blanketed over the dead, under their feet, silky on Jax’s fingertips.

It’s ash.

However small this room might be the dead inside are countless. More than the preserved armor and bone, they hang in the air; caught by the eye in the firelight like dust motes in the early morning sun.

It’s only going to get worse from here on out, isn’t it?

“The continent was stricken with Plague. As the dead multiplied, so did the faith of the desperate grow. The Holy Knights used that to their advantage; they used the dead and dying to lure our kind out with false hope, and starved the rest. What started as a refuge from the onslaught grew—flourished. It was more than a place to hide — it was, for the first time, a community.”

Her voice cracks and wavers more than a few times, but Serafine doesn’t let the emotions stop her. In fact they give her the strength to keep going; to tell a story long overdue. Not just to relieve the weight of it from her soul, but to fill in the spaces the Knights had tried to destroy — and prove their failure.

“For over two hundred years we had this.” Even with tears shining in her eyes, Serafine manages a wistful smile. “Long enough for some to have never known a life on the run. And long enough for a culture to flourish and grow within our ranks. To this day I still cannot fathom how so much was taken from us so quickly.”

She buries her face into Adrian’s shoulder, seeking a comfort he gives open and freely. He buries a kiss on the crown of her head, face almost lost in wild curls.

“Kamilah only mentioned it once,” he murmurs, “I don’t even remember what for. But it was one of the only times Vega agreed with her without a peep, so it’s hard to forget.”

Serafine hums, nods. “He was still newly Turned when the City fell. Were he not a child of Gaius I doubt he would have survived.”

Nadya and Lily exchange glances, and they must be riding the same train of thought. One that goes to one town only: Wouldn’t That Have Made Our Lives Easier-Ville, USA.

Cadence eases himself from the wall with his foot. “I’ve read sparse accounts of the City, but all of them date prior to 1570. And none of them actually… say what happened.”

Whether Serafine is going to answer him is really anyone’s guess. When Nadya had first noticed it seemed like she was pointedly ignoring his (admittedly very hard to ignore, on account of his tree-like status) presence, she wrote it off without a word to anyone. Probably just too involved in her own drama, right?

But now… now Nadya’s not so sure. And that’s probably why she does respond; because if she doesn’t then there’s nothing but surety.

“The Holy Knights raided the City.”

“Didn’t you have defense measures in place?” asks Jax with a frown. It earns him a harsh glare.

“Of course we did! But they were well-informed, or well-prepared. They sealed off the main gates to the surface and ambushed us when we were the most congregated; when our guards were lowest, during a night of celebration.”

Nadya’s voice is thick in her throat. “You were sitting ducks.”

“We were lambs, and the slaughter was led to us.”

“What does that mean?”

Serafine’s eyes glow from the nearby torch, but the look of them is nothing but cold; as dead as these forgotten skeletons.

“The Knights were told where they could find us; they were challenged to do so. A fool’s attempt at posturing; hundreds of lives sacrificed for petty glory.”

Cadence blanches. “Who would do such a thing?”

“Who indeed…”

Adrian keeps close even when Serafine pulls away; ready to be there, however she needs. But despite his kindness all it takes is one look for Nadya to see the uncertainty hidden right under the surface of him. Something to talk about later — if they can.

“Come —” the vampiress hikes her bag higher on her shoulder and makes for the only way forward, “— the City is vast; we have a long way to go.”

Which… yeah, that’s fair. They are on a time crunch and all, and the sooner she’s back up where there’s sky and clouds and birds the better in her opinion. But that doesn’t mean Nadya doesn’t keep her little butt propped against the wall until the last possible second.

Only she’s not the last one to get moving.

“Cadence, you coming?”

He startles and jerks his hand away from the top half of a breastplate. More like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar than a vampire touching dead people armor. “Yes, I am. Sorry… this sort of stuff, you know,” he dusts off the knees of his jeans and stands back to full height, “it’s practically pseudo-porn for a vampire historian.”

He tries to laugh it off, but the attempt is as nervous as it is short-lived. Nadya’s pretty sure he’s frowning when he looks at her and asks “what’s the matter?” but she can’t be certain — not with the ridiculous carnival mask he’s decided to put on.

“Why are you wearing that?”

His hand flies to his face. Like most habitual glasses-wearers, more than once Nadya’s caught sight of him pushing up something no longer there. She feels that way right now — but better to rely on contacts for the first leg of their trip than trip and break her only pair before they really got going.

“What, my glasses?” — confusion slowly shifts to concern —  “I’m not… wearing anything.”

“Okay, pull my leg, but really.”

But really he feels around like he’s got no idea what she’s talking about. Which is frankly just dumb. It’s gaudy and gauche and some other g-word that means silly probably. But most importantly it’s there.

Isn’t it?

“Maybe you hit your head in the alley a little harder than I thought.”

He’s halfway to pulling a small pin-flashlight out of his jacket pocket when a voice behind her makes Nadya practically leap out of her skin.

“What’s going on here?”

The hairs on the back of Nadya’s neck stand straight up; not the first time she’s ever felt that happen when there’s a vampire at her back — she’ll take being biologically cautious over potential predators over obliviousness any day. But it’s never happened with someone she knows — someone she considers a friend.

Worse still, she’s heard that tone from Serafine before. Biting; borderline cruel even. Filled with centuries of contempt that Nadya hopes — on some level — she’ll never get advanced enough in her Bloodkeeper powers to understand.

It’s how she spoke to Gaius in her memory of Versailles. And it’s how she’s speaking to Cadence now.

Fortunately (for him), he doesn’t take notice.

“Give us just a moment, Miss Dupont,” he clicks the flashlight on and coaxes Nadya forward, “I’m checking Nadya for a concussion.”

She tries not to tense at the woman’s touch on her shoulder. Luckily Serafine is too fixated on the situation to notice. “Has something happened?” Then, her lilting voice practically in Nadya’s ear—

“Did you see something?”

There’s too much at stake for her to start lying now. “It wasn’t a big… I probably just saw shadows or something.”

“Regardless, it could be important.”

Eventually Cadence angles the light away from her eyes. Nadya has to blink the spots away quickly because he’s barely finished when Serafine’s hands are on her shoulders and turning them to face one another. Away from him, her mind supplies like an instigating little jerk.

Serafine sweeps a long look over their skeletal audience. “Did you see what happened here?”

“No. It wasn’t a memory, that’s why it’s probably nothing.” And judging by the look that gets her, if Nadya tries to brush the woman off one more time she might not get a choice in telling. Okay… fine. “It was a mask.”

“A… mask.”

She isn’t asking. “Yeah, some dumb dingy gold Phantom of the Opera thing. But that’s probably my imagination.”

For the first time since she laid eyes on him, Serafine turns and takes Cadence in fully. He towers over her; but he towers over most. But there’s something in the way she stands that puts her at an advantage, and leaves Nadya wracking her brain to try and understand it. Is it her years; does she wear them like Kamilah does? Or is it her confidence; a personality loud and full of life that outshines the muted greys of Cadence’s identity issues?

Or maybe it’s the one-sided recognition.

She knows.

“Is she well enough to keep going?”

It takes the historian more than a moment to realize it’s him she’s addressing; directly this time, too. He nods. “No signs of a concussion, and if it were something worse we’d see signs by now. I’m not well-read on psychic abilities by any means… but, Nadya,” offering her a shrug and an apologetic smile, “if you saw anything… that’s on you.”

Right now she’d admit to just about anything to cut through this tension.

“It was a shadow, I’m sure of it.”

“I agree.” Serafine says, and wastes no time urging both of the stragglers out of the atrium.

Adrian and Lily are three torch-lengths down when they finally catch up. Serafine resumes her place at the lead.

But this time Cadence keeps several paces back. Trailing along after them in silence; the more intentional cousin of quiet.

Lily takes her place back up at Nadya’s side and links their arms together. “Everything good?” she asks.

“Of course,” Nadya lies, and meets her eyes with the truth.

No. Not at all.

It comes as no surprise that her headaches keep getting worse. Nadya tries to trick herself into believing it’s the pressure from their increasing depth, but eventually she’ll have to accept her tiny human fragility has nothing to do with it — it’s the Bloodkeeper thing.

So long as it makes itself useful when the time is right, she reasons with herself—silently and in her own head; she’s not foolish enough to say it aloud, then everything will be worth it.

“The King’s Manor and the heart of the City are just up ahead!”

Despite all of her earlier grief Serafine can’t control the swelling crescendos of excitement in her voice. The vampire’s equivalent of a heart beating faster and faster. Nadya’s relieved either way — how haven’t they walked all the way to Rome by now? Another ten minutes and she was this close to sucking up her pride and asking Adrian to let her piggyback.

But putting the emotional sentiments aside — it’s just another network of tunnels. Hopefully taller and wider than the last but she’s not putting any money on it. There are only so many ways someone can style what’s essentially a person-sized anthill.

Suffice to say the sudden rush of fresh oxygen in her lungs leaves Nadya lightheaded for more than a few reasons. She swallows it greedily, fully intent on taking advantage of the fact she doesn’t have to share. Which is a good thing.

Because when they all finally stop it’s at the edge of a balcony carved into the side of a natural cliff, with a set of twin stone stairs winding down on either side to the vast expanse of a hollowed-out cavern. And the view punches the breath out of her anyway.

Jax digs the heels of his palms against his eyes.

“Tell me the claustrophobia is getting to me and there’s not a giant French castle in the middle of Deep-Fuck-Nowhere, Underground.”

They can’t. Because there very much is a giant French chateau in the middle of Deep-Eff-Nowhere, Underground. It just sits down there unassuming and strange; looking like someone could have plucked it from the surface world and just dropped the entire estate down a very deep hole to fall right here. Gardens and all. The back of the building is set into the cave wall, and a winding, sloping path cut into the face of the rock spirals up to a natural plateau where a waterfall rushes softly behind. As her brain finally manages to process more of the underground chamber Nadya notices many such paths all curving up and out across the echoing space; almost all of them leading to archways similar to the one above their heads.

Cadence whistles low under his breath. The sound carries, bouncing from stone to stone until a hundred Cadences are seemingly all in concert. “Talk about making a mountain out of a molehill.”

Adrian finally manages to pick his jaw up from the ground from sheer awe.

“To think all of this was under Paris’ feet for so long… untouched for all these years.” He glances to Serafine with another compliment on the tip of his tongue, but it dies quickly when he notices the wetness welling up in the corners of her eyes. “What is it — what’s wrong?”

Hastily Serafine shakes the tears down her cheeks and away. “Ce n’est rien,” she chokes out thickly, “it is nothing.”

“Obviously not.”

Their hands meet at their sides; never too far apart.

“I had just assumed that the Knights had destroyed everything in the city. Even le Château de L’Ombre. If I had known that it survived the ambush…” She trails off when words can no longer equate to everything bottled up inside.

None of them try to imagine her grief. (Nadya tries her very best to think of anything else; even bordering on the inappropriate, because of anyone there she’s the one who truly could.) Something so beautiful, so captivating could only have been a labor of passion. And who wouldn’t miss the place they called home?

“But never mind the past — we cannot change it no matter how hard we wish or pray.” Nadya swears she catches a flicker of her dark eyes, but her curls make it impossible to be certain. “If the manor’s interior is as intact as the structure itself, I have high hopes for our mission.”

She takes the lead down one side of the steep stone steps. Adrian stays close at her side, and one by one they follow. Natural moisture from the close waterfall have left the steps slick and eroded unevenly; but while Nadya practically tiptoes down each one Lily looks ready to just slide down the banister.

“Finally,” she grins and stretches high up to the (finally) out-of-reach ceiling, “some good luc—ow!”

Rubbing her bruised upper arm, Lily throws a bewildered glare at Jax behind her. “Firstly; ow, rude! Secondly; that’s way no fair. You’ve got, like, fifty years on me you geezer.”

He just shrugs; doesn’t regret a thing. “Then stop jinxing us.”

“I’m using reverse psychology.”

“You can’t — that doesn’t make any sense.”

“You know what else doesn’t make any sense?”

Nadya tries to warn him as sneakily as she can, but the stubborn man ignores her and falls right into Lily’s trap. “What?”

“Your mom.”

Smack! Nadya facepalms so hard it echoes off the stone and follows them all the way down to the Manor.

Age and air thick with mist had rusted the front door’s metal hinges a long time ago. All it takes is the lightest push and the nails bend, groan, and snap in their anchors. Serafine had meant to open the doors. Instead she pushes them inward in creaking defeat.

The fallen wood kicks up centuries’ worth of dust—it’s just dust Nadya it’s just dust just tell yourself it’s dust—she tugs the collar of her sweater up over her mouth to keep from breathing it in. At least Serafine has the decency to look back at her with an apologetic wince. “Désolé, Nadya,” she whispers, and kindly waits until the cloud settles before venturing on.

They creep through the shadowy foyer; shuffling feet and the eerie lack of her companions’ breathing makes Nadya feel like a thief in the night. It’s eerie; predatory. But finally it dawns on her… that’s the point.

They listen; they wait.

Just before her heart can jump out of her throat Adrian gives the all clear.

“We’re alone.”

But that doesn’t mean they can spread themselves thin. Better safe than sorry. Serafine says something up ahead about the residential wing… full disclosure — Nadya isn’t really listening anymore. In her exhaustion she’s practically joined them in the ranks of the walking dead.

Thankfully for her aching feet  they don’t continue much farther. A right turn opens out to a different foyer with similar stairs to the ones outside at the far end. Between sweet sweet sleep and where they stand, though, is another wave of collapsed armor and skeletons. She whines and tries to breathe through her mouth as much as possible.

They navigate the floor like a minefield of bone. Lily couldn’t look more ecstatic — though she’s decent enough to keep it to herself for now. Nadya wouldn’t mind if, like the video games they seem to be living now, there was some reward or loot on the other side. But nope.

Just more walking.

Nadya’s stamina bar runs dry parallel to their arrival. She’s only lucky in the little things after all. “Pick a room at your leisure.” Serafine says, and motions with both hands to old half-rotten doors lining either side of the hall. “We shouldn’t waste more time than we already have, but this is not a venture to undertake without a rested mind.” Nadya looks up and finds the vampiress addressing her specifically. “Once we begin, we can’t risk stopping. Conserve your strength.”

Nadya yawns unabashedly. “Don’t gotta tell me twice.”

And she’s not the only one. Jax ducks into a room on the other side of the hall without so much as a “sweet dreams.” After a moment’s pondering Cadence takes the adjacent door equally wordless — though he at least offers Nadya a tight-lipped smile before closing the door.

Lily and Nadya take the nearest door; but hang back and watch as Serafine takes Adrian’s hand and coaxes him further on, teasing him under her breath. “My old chambers are close. Come along.”

“You know you guys should be resting too, right?” Nadya calls out; and doesn’t have even a lick of regret that the last of her energy is used for sass.

“Goodnight, Nadya.” Adrian says back; without looking.

Lily snickers beside her; puts one hand on the door ready to close it quickly before she shouts out to them; “Use protection!” And slams the door shut.

“What are you still doing here? I thought we agreed to abandon the first places he would look.”

“For you — yes,” she answers; but can’t seem to tear her eyes away from the wide stretch of the city out before her, “but for me it would be a fruitless effort. When the time comes he will find me no matter where I am. It is inevitable.”

The smuggler vampire hates talking to peoples’ backs. Just one of the many things she’s come to learn about Ms. Espinoza in their weeks working together. So she isn’t surprised when the woman comes into view at her side.

It is inconsequential in the end; as most things are.

A long moment of silence passes around them, between them — through them. Neither compelled to speak by any forces greater than themselves. And neither big fans of idle chit-chat, either.

Finally she pulls back; wraps long fingers around the rooftop railing still wet from that afternoon’s rain. Standing here in their melancholy, however mutual it may be, is not a luxury they can afford.

They have such precious little time as it is.

“Is everything in place?”

The younger vampire gives a curt nod. “My guys could only get two trucks. There were some suits nosing around the warehouse night before last; asking questions.”

“Human?”

“Couldn’t be sure. They definitely knew something was up.”

There are too many possibilities; too many variables. Each worse than the last. Centuries of battles and wars — both as a weapon on the field and commanding from the shadows — but it is here, in the middle of a city that could not be more oblivious, that all of her experience fails her.

“The governor agreed to give us until the end of the week before bringing forth her own measures.”

“Forgive how fuckin’ little I believe that.” Maricruz laughs bitterly. The disrespect alone in the look thrown her way would have been grounds for her to bring the brandless, no-name vampire to a heel once upon a time. But those times are long gone.

And here she is, trying with all of her might to keep them from returning. But the passage of time has never left her wanting for irony in any form before. Why would it now? She’s never been bored enough to pursue the universal theological truth, but whatever higher power was pulling her along really needed to back the fuck off.

“Regardless,” though she wishes desperately this weren’t the case, “we have no choice but to continue as planned. Make sure they are loaded and your men are ready to make the trip as soon as the riots begin. Our window of opportunity is smaller than I would like, but we’ll make do with what we have.”

“And if they don’t make it?”

A very real possibility; one she’s had to come to terms with against all else.

Against that familiar voice echoing in the back of her thoughts begging of her — demanding of her — that she do everything in her power to save everyone. That is what Nadya would do. That is the kind of person she is.

That is the kind of person Nadya believes her to be, and she intends to be worthy of it.

“Then we relocate those remaining and try again.”

Whatever argument Maricruz wishes to offer is lost when the first high-pitched wails of police sirens trickle up from the streets below. Little flecks of flashing red and blue weaving against the darkness and towards the heart of the city. Towards the first of many uprisings to come this night.

“Looks like it’s go-time.”

Indeed, she agrees silently; yet finds herself frozen. Kept still by the air and the voice; once thought of — never quite forgotten.

But she would not want to forget.

This is why she fights after all.

“You comin’ along this time?” Maricruz calls out to her; voice distant as she nears the rooftop exit.

She closes her eyes; feels the sharpness of the wind try to cut at her from this high in the heavens. Trying to chisel away at the eternity of her. It has before… but not this time.

“Are you coming or what?! Oi — Kamilah!”

Nadya can still taste the freshness of the city night air on her tongue. She keeps her eyes closed out of desperation; a longing that she knows is in vain but hopes she can power through regardless.

But it’s no use. The memory is gone… and Kamilah with it.

[johannesviii]

Very jumbled, mixed thoughts about Spyfall part 1 and 2 under the Read More.

Ok so first I’m writing this because I’m kinda hyped for this series but I’m also very very scared.

This is an extremely flawed opening that also takes a lot of risks and I tend to respect that more than good but bland stories, and it also made me want to talk about it, whereas my reaction to S11, apart from Demons of the Punjab and It Takes You Away, was basically “eh this is nice” followed by a shrug

Don’t get me wrong I love the fact that Thirteen exists but her character in S11 was a bit of an enigma for me, and now she has started to wander down some dark, dark paths

What I wanted from S12 was “more material for Yaz”, “an arc”, and “understand Thirteen as a character”. We certainly have an arc, so hurray for that. Yaz has more things to do but I want to see more. And Thirteen... more on that later

Ok so Spyfall

The idea of aliens that are technically portals is great. Their plan of conquest was meh and the resolution was underwhelming.

The tuxedos and the gadgets and stuff were great. Wanted to see more gadgets but eh. Thirteen in a tux on a bike was a wonderful sight. The scenes with the main companions were good.

Loved to see Ada Lovelace. And Noor Inayat Khan, who I knew nothing about, and I do have thoughts about her presence but more on that later.

And the Master is back.

Boy do I have thoughts about that too.

Ok so the actor is doing an amazing job and I loved when he was undercover and not particularly subtle about it and it still worked. Love that he has a TARDIS again, and the TCE. Wonderful stuff.

I have mixed thoughts about how aggressive he seems to be, yelling, killing people like it’s nothing, asking Thirteen to kneel and nearly choking her. On one hand he did way worse things to some older incarnations, and I certainly wouldn’t want to see the Master starting to see the Doctor as some sort of fragile thing now that the character is played by a woman. That would be pretty awful. On the other hand, we now have, in practice, a Master played by a man of color being very aggressive towards a Doctor played by a white woman and that has also some pretty awful connotations. I’m not even sure how that can be solved. I don’t even know how I’d handle it. I don’t know. It just leaves a bad taste in my mouth, that’s all.

I actually don’t mind the fact Missy’s character development has seemingly disappeared (wait and see). First, it’s not like it’s something new in the show ; I mean the Doctor’s incarnations contradict themselves all the time. Six’s whole thing was how he was learning to become more gentle and caring and then Seven becomes this master manipulator who tends to use his friends like assets.

Second, I’m not even sure this new Master has reverted to the status quo of “haha look how evil I am”. He certainly tries to but. like. Everytime he’s not threatening or killing people or talking about his evil plans, he looks really, really unsure of himself. In at least two scenes, he seems to be this close to bursting into tears (especially when Thirteen says his name and in his message about Gallifrey). Is he even enjoying being evil anymore? Doesn’t seem like he is. He’s doing some horrible shit in this story but it looks almost performative. Like when Missy killed a couple of UNIT people to prove to Clara she wasn’t “nice”.

He didn’t boast about destroying Gallifrey, either.

Heck, he couldn’t even say that to Thirteen’s face. He used a recording to say it. He didn’t even mention it before trying to kill her on the plane.

Speaking of which, I’m not mad Gallifrey has been destroyed again. Happens all the time in the extended universe anyway.

Very curious about this whole “lie” thing.

And now I have to talk about Thirteen

Where do I even f█cking start

Ok so. Either it’s written without much care or it’s written to send the character on a very sinister path, but I was baffled by some things Thirteen did in that story.

We already saw her do some debatable things in S11, especially at the end of Kerblam!. Which made me dislike that episode immensely, because I thought it was out of character for the Doctor to care that little about people being exploited and basically enslaved.

But maybe it was in character for Thirteen.

I mean we now have a Doctor who allies herself to two incredible women from history, basically uses them as assets, then erases their memories without permission and doesn’t even save the one who’s gonna die later?? Hello? Why even bring a real person into the plot if you’re not gonna treat her story with care? An imaginary spy would have been better, that’s just disrespectful

And then there’s Thirteen saying the Master using the Nazis to find her is “a new low even for him” even though she does the exact same thing to escape later and weaponises them to use them against him? It was one thing to make this fake message outing him as a spy, that part was actually clever, but removing his disguise to prove he’s a man of color in front of a bunch of armed racists?? And then leaving him stranded there?? Excuse me? Thirteen what the f█ck? Hello? Isn’t that a vile thing to do? Come back here immediately and explain yourself??

So yeah

I mean, I’m not against a main character doing really terrible things as long as it’s framed as bad. But this wasn’t. It was framed as a “HA take THAT” moment

Is anyone going to talk about that or are we just going to ignore it

idk it just left an awful taste in my mouth

Thirteen I don’t know what you’re doing but you’re walking on a very dark path and I’m not sure I want to follow you

TLDR: flawed story, characters doing extremely debatable things, intriguing arc. I’m really scared about the future but I still want to know what comes next. Bring it on

[flyswhumpcenter]

Found You in the Woods - Chapter 2

PREVIOUS CHAPTER / NEXT CHAPTER [TBA]

Summary: Even if Manon was searching for Alan near some woods yet again, she truly didn’t expect to find him lying on the ground in the middle of the leaves fallen from the trees. (or: Manon proves she’s so much more than some potential burden and Alan is a stubborn idiot, but that’s why we love them)

Fandom: Pokemon (Anime, post-XYZ) Ships: Marissonshipping (Alain/Mairin)

Chapter Summary: Manon scolds Alan for being irresponsible, when she'd have expected it to be the other way around.

Wordcount: 2.5K words

Notes: (insert here line about how I should be studying for my exams currently taking place and sleeping appropriately instead of working on fics) Well geez, that's really not the direction I hoped this fic would take, holy shit. I thought it was gonna be a more traditional "stubborn character pushes through illness, more at 7", but that surely didn't happen. Oh well, happy incidents or something. Why, I don't know. is it OOC? Maybe. May also come back to it tomorrow or later this week. (I need to go back to my other Pokemon fic...) ((The next chapter will be good though, I promise!))

AO3 version available here.

Time has never seemed so slow to Manon before this day. She really has no idea how far that Centre is, much less how long it’s going to take for help to get there. She trusts Charizard, she really does (she has no other choice anyway), yet her impatience is once again getting the best of her. She’s never been the calm or patient type, sure thing, but in such a situation, nobody could blame her for being so upset and wanting everything to go faster, right? The situation was urgent!

That sense of urgency, she mostly feels it whenever she surprises herself glancing at Alan, hoping he’d start waking up or at least show he’s still alive by doing something else than painful, weak grunts. On second thought, the fact she’s able to qualify anything Alan does of being weak, even frail or fragile, is a rift in space and time: Alan doesn’t really go well with either of these adjectives, much less with the idea itself of weakness or vulnerability. Her impatience must steam from this contrast between the last time she saw him, healthy and being cold to her again (she knows it was more of a ruse anyway, maybe a dare to see if she was truly able to keep up with him no matter what), and… whatever this is. A daytime nightmare, perhaps?

 With how little she’s actually equipped for adventure, Manon has no way to check anything. Her only thermometer is the clammy palms of her hands, something way past imprecise. What if her hands are too hot to actually evaluate his fever? If that’s the case, she can’t be able to tell if his fever is getting worse! And, if it does, then what? She doesn’t know what Pokemons Alan on him right now, much less if they’d actually obey her like Charizard did. Would the sense of urgency currently raging in her heart spread to them? So many questions, so little possibility to answer them and be sure she’s not getting totally mistaken.

Despite how cruel the vision under her eyes is, Manon cannot look away from him. She’d have never imagined she’d ever see Alan, the strong and strong-willed Alan who had risked his life in the battle between two Hoenn legendary giants to save his Charizard, the stubborn Alan who never gives up on anything he decides he’s going to accomplish, the Alan who put the world into jeopardy only to help fix it later as an attempt to atone, be this fragile on her lap, at nature’s mercy, so vulnerable it feels like she could shatter his entire body with merely a misplaced embrace.

Manon wants to cry. Not for her, because she’s doing perfectly fine, but because the situation calls for it. The more she thinks of what could have been, the more she sees her dearest friend (aside from Chespie), the heavier her heart gets. What if Pokemons in the forest had attacked him? What if Charizard had never found her? Wouldn’t he be… No. She’s here to protect him, and so is Chespie. They’ve gotten stronger since he last saw them, she’s going to show the world if said world forces her into doing so. She won’t let anyone, or anything for that matter, endanger him anymore.

 Suddenly, breaking through the artificial serenity of the overly-calm forest, resonates a different grunt. With the earring of a Fennekin, Manon turns her head towards the one currently lying with his head on her lap, her heart skipping a beat when she notices his eyes trying to open. Manon shakes her head: he must be stirring in his sleep. Then she shakes it again: he’s waking up! Finally, he’s waking up, he’s alive and he’ll be able to explain to her what happened to him! Everything is going to be okay, thank Arceus, thank Xerneas!

She didn’t know what she really expected from his current condition, but her heart still hurts badly when she notices his eyes. Like everything else, they’re not like themselves and yet so his: his usually sharp and piercing icy blue eyes are foggy, reddened around the ages, unclear like a mirror covered in mist. She should have seen it coming, she knows that, but it doesn’t prevent her from biting her lip thinking it shouldn’t be this way.

 A few, heavy moments fly by. There is still no sign Charizard is coming back. The forest is oddly quiet, but it’s been since the very moment she’s arrived there with Chespie. Her companion is also dead quiet, barely reminding the world he’s still there. She wonders if he’s able to talk, if he can hear her if she speaks to him, if he’s waking up for real or if he’s just going to fall asleep right afterwards, if he can tell her how he got himself in this dangerous mess. She wants to scold him, to hug him, to bombard him with questions, to tell him she may have saved him from bigger dangers; but she can’t do that, not for the moment. She painfully needs to wait, and then wait again. Maybe she’s going to wither away before she can do anything about the situation. Goddammit.

Finally, after these excruciating minutes, Alan visibly stirs and his eyes fully open. Well, “fully” may be overselling it… It’s more that she can tell he’s trying to open them fully, but it ends up looking half-closed anyway. Her fight against her own impatience and sense of urgency is turning into a curb-stomp battle with her as the loser of it all: as such, she prefers to focus on him, in hopes it’ll make time go by faster and bring help to them. Charizard must have found the Centre by now… right?

 “Ah, you’re awake, finally!” she yells, almost more to herself than to him, a smile making its way onto her worried face. He’s not fine, but at least he’s alive, there’s that.

Of course, she receives no answer immediately. Instead, Alan moves his head around, sighs and finally looks at her. If she didn’t know him better, she would have almost thought this look on his face wasn’t of surprise, but rather his next stage of waking up.

“Ma…” His voice is dry, hoarse, and barely a whisper. “Manon…?”

“Yep, that’s right, it’s me!”

She’s a bit too excited about watching someone wake up.

 Alan tries to sit up, elbows against the grass and the fallen leaves, a hand flying to his head.

“H-hey, don’t overdo it!” she tells him, in a moment of panic, trying to see if that’ll get him not to be too stubborn about it. She doesn’t want it to become the next time where he’d break his shoulder for her.

“Where… are we…?”

Oh, good question. She’s got zero idea where they are, considering she’s just followed a Charizard until she was presented with the fainted figure of her friend and desired travelling companion. (Still in her dreams, she guesses).

“I… don’t know, actually. But Charizard’s gone to get help, so it should be fine, just rest!”

She giggles nervously, as if to convince either Alan or herself that truly everything is one-hundred-percent fine when it’s not, while he looks around. Does this dude even stay still for a second? He’s always moving, even when she’s asked him not to and that he’s sick! How’s she supposed to make him behave?

“What help?” Alan asks as he gets up, only for him to stumble and her to quickly sit him down to the ground. He’s terrible, terrible she says!

“The one for you because you were unconscious on the ground with a fever, dummy!”

 Manon doesn’t really know why she’s scolding Alan, the thick-sculled and utterly confused Alan who’d never listen to her before. It’s not like she expects any rational answer or reaction from him either, so as long as she speaks, she may be able to keep him grounded until help arrives and he’s obligated to surrender to medicine (and people who actually know what they’re doing, because she sure doesn’t know that).

In lieu of a reply, Alan coughs in his fists, loudly, hoarsely, to match with his voice and everything. All of her grudge against him melts into a tiny puddle of stupid feelings as she hears and watches this, prompting her to rub his back as if that’s gonna make anything easier on him. She got too caught up in her own mind to remember he was still unwell and needing medical attention before he got tremendously ill, so she shuts up for a few moments and waits for the fit to be over.

 “Hey… You’re alright? That sounded painful…” she then asks him, trying to get his eyes to look into hers, hands on his shoulders, tone softer than anything she’s ever said to anyone who wasn’t Chespie. Speaking of him, he’s back on her own shoulder, silent, solemn. Probably doesn’t have anything to add, anything to make the situation better. Just like she does, in fact.

“Ah…” He pants first, then clears his throat, coughs again, and finally finds the voice in him to respond. “I’m… fine enough, I guess…”

“That can’t be right! You felt hot and your cough’s super nasty, you can’t be ‘fine enough’!” She wants to scold him like a kid, she really does! He’s such a Tauros-headed idiot sometimes, just like her, if not even worse! Just a pain, a big bad pain for her, but especially for himself!

 Alan doesn’t reply again, too busy looking at her confused and being too dizzy to really get up. She sits down next to him, just in case he needs a place where to put his head which, suddenly, seems way too heavy for his poor neck and body.

Neither of them speaks, at least for a while. All the noise around them are breathes, some faraway falls crunching under the weight of small Pokemons and Alan’s cough, which sometimes comes back, sometimes gets replaced or announced by some throat clearing. Manon can hear the birds soaring in the sky, the little things you only hear in a forest, the beating of her stressed heart and what she thinks is Alan’s pulse, sounding almost quicker than her own. He’s usually cold-blooded, she knows it, she knows that, but… But…

 “I hope Charizard’s found help and that they’re on their way…”

She can feel her friend slumping on her, head on her shoulder, left side lodged against her right. A faint smile must be on her lips by now: he’s alive, he’s going to be fine once this is all over. He’s strangely not moving much anymore, apparently content with pseudo-resting against her. At least, she’s found him in times, she can now watch over him and, she hopes, she’ll prevent him from hurting himself any further.

“You… mind if I babble about? I’m scared you’re gonna faint again if you fall asleep…”

“I’m not falling asleep…”

 Manon doesn’t feel like directly rebutting him. Alan’s feverish, she can sense it through their clothes (he’s sticky too, she knows that from having put her hands on his shoulders), it’d be like hitting an injured Pokemon for the sake of proving she’s right or something. Yes, he’s stubborn and, yes, he still seems to think she’s dumb: but he’s sick, he can barely keep up with a conversation, he can’t get up properly… She needs to be caring and patient, not as jumpy as she usually is. That sucks for her, but it especially sucks for him.

Frankly, seeing Chespie bedridden was way more than enough for her, she doesn’t need to see her other dearest friend falling deadly ill on her watch.

 A new silence follows, thicker than the previous one, covering them both in a thick layer of fabric, wrapped around their throats. Manon doesn’t have a single clue as to what she should be saying next, if she should even be saying something too. Instead, she just stares at Alan with his eyes fluttering like broken roller blinds. He seems so out of himself, so unlike his usual tough guy persona, that she cannot help but worry more with each passing second. What if it’s actually already too late? What if he’s sicker than she thinks? How sick is he, anyway? He won’t let her touch him to test out, she knows that, so she’s left with speculating through observations

And, well, she sucks at analysing other humans. If she was any good at it, she’d have been able to tell Lysandre had terrible plans in mind. Perhaps she’d have been able to tell Alan her true feelings, to convince him he didn’t need to cut all ties with her. Everything would be better; she’d be able to know what she can do to help him feel at least a bit better. No, no, instead, she’s just sitting there, her sick friend against her, slowly but surely either falling asleep or losing consciousness again. Where is Charizard when you need it?

So Manon silently prays. The girl who’s always noisy, always nosy, never getting quiet and always asking questions, making remarks and comments, snarking at people, sliding some jokes; is silent and prays. Praying who, she doesn’t know, she didn’t think about it. She just repeats over and over in her mind how she wants everything to be better, for her friend to feel good again, for the illness to go away and the fatigue to disappear. It’s dumb, she knows that, praying Xerneas only work in fairy tales and nursery rhymes. At least, she thinks so? If it works, she’ll get back what she said and be the happiest girl ever for her poor, poor friend.

 The complete, too heavy to be serene silence breaks in the snap of a stick from behind her. She jumps, taken aback, balancing Chespie out of her shoulder and making Alan almost land on the ground, barely catching him back with her surprised arms. His eyes try to look at hers, or that’s what it feels like, but they’re too unfocused and glassy to properly do so, and as such it ends up failing. This is still so weird, so unnatural…

However, a smile is soon brought where right before it stood a frown. Charizard is back and, with it, what looks like a medical team. The rest of the rescue mission passes in a flash: the nurse and other people she doesn’t know take her friend away on a stretcher, Charizard still out of its Pokeball offers Chespie and her to fly to where the staff comes from. The sudden change of pace is unexpected, and that surprises her.

 As they fly away from the forest, Manon thinks, a lot, much more than usual. Today’s weird, too weird. The changes of pace all over the place are awful, she wants them to stop, she wants today to go back to normal and boring. She wants to get her normal Alan back, the one who gives her snarky remarks, the one who’s too stubborn to ever go back or accept things the way he doesn’t see them, the one who’s worked and fought again Lysandre, the one who almost brought the end of the world before helping fix it. She just wants her friend back, free of illnesses and exhaustion, to travel with him and not be Kalos’s worst nurse ever.

And, well… Is that asking too much from the world?

[hyper-writes]

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon - Race for the Cure: Chapter 2

Hey. Are you okay?

H-Huh? Who’s--?

Oh! You can hear me! I’ve waited so long to hear your voice..

…

It’s all right, Kro.

!!!

We are in your mind, well sort of. I’m not really even supposed to be talking to you right now. But...I had to tell you. You are in danger.

WHAT?

Don’t panic! I will protect you, but you will have to get strong on your own. We aren’t as strong as we once were.

I-I have no idea what you are--

I have to go. Goodbye old friend…

WAIT--!

The sudden jump from the bulbasaur earned a yelp from the pink mudkip, who had been carefully dressing their head wound. Though the surprise quickly wore off when Nuyt saw the fear in the patient’s eyes. “Oh geez! Hey, it’s okay!”

This however didn’t really seem to comfort the distressed pokemon. But when the bulbasaur tried to stand up, they only made it a few inches off the ground before falling back onto the grass nest.

“H-Hey! Don’t move too much!” the pup insisted, applying pressure to the bandages in an attempt to stop the bleeding. The bulbasaur growled anxiously, pain clouding their conscious as tears welled in their bi-colored irises. “I-I know, just gotta make sure everything stays clean…”

After about half a minute--which felt like an hour to the cub--mudkip finally pulled his paws off their head. Bulbasaur panted heavily, claws dulling with every nervous drag against the wood floor. But they were brought back to the present by the shiny pokemon nudging a pristine apple in front of their nose.

Tight pupils stared at the apple for a good minute before finally rounding out to stare hopefully towards the pup. Nuyt gestured with his paw, a nervous smile on his face the whole time.

The bulbasaur stayed still for the longest time, gaze locked on the fruit as if trying to decide whether it was worth the risk. Though, one growl from their belly was all it took for the pokemon to take a big bite out of the Perfect Apple. A pale-pink tongue lapped over the their maw as they tried to get every drop of juice.

“See? It’s pretty good huh?” The mudkip asked, tail wagging behind him as he sat in front of the other. The bulbasaur nodded, pawing at their head to relieve an itch. Only to pause when they heard the rattle of metal, one look was all it took for it to click.

They were wearing a shackle.

“Oh, hey don’t worry about that!” The water pup interjected, fidgeting a bit in place as if fighting the urge to directly intervene. He had to be gentle with a patient in such a fragile state.

“Nuyt? Child please keep your voice down.” The deep voice nearly shook the ground, just the weight was enough to put the patient on high alert. And things only got worse as the massive figure showed up in the doorway. Even bent down, the mountain pokemon blotted out what little sunlight came through the windows.

Though the shiny mudkip wasn’t really affected by the monster’s presence, a big ol’ grin on his face as he spun around to face Gigalith. “It’s okay, Giga. They’re awake!”

This seemed to catch Gigalith off guard; but the second he caught sight of the wide-eyed bulbasaur, the shock melted away to instead switch to unwavering compassion. “I’m sorry, child. I didn't mean to frighten you.”

Luckily he was not alone in this front; Nuyt swiftly bounced over to the other child, sporting an inviting smile. “It’s alright! That’s just Gigalith, he’s the bestest healer in the whole world!”

A timid laugh echoed from the rock monster’s throat, “Oh, Nuyt. I wish that were true.”

“It is, though?” Nuyt replied quickly, the hearty laugh from Gigalith was enough to get a hiccupy giggle from the bulbasaur.

“C’mon, Kro!” The excited yap of the mudkip caught the attention of a small group of children, they had been talking amongst themselves in the middle of the village.

The striped bulbasaur followed Nuyt out from the small hut, the bandage on their head only there to keep the wound clean; otherwise they were simply in the rehilbiltation stage. Which was pretty amazing considering they were a day ahead of Gigalith’s estimate, though neither Nuyt or Gigalith would look a gift Rapidash in the mouth.

The four waiting kids approached the pair, one trailing behind the rest. Venipede was the first to speak, “Hey, you’re pretty cool!” he chirped while Ponyta sniffed at Kro’s head curiously.

“I know right? Kro is the coolest!” Nuyt grinned proudly, rudder tail swishing behind him while Kro allowed Ponyta to get a good sense of their scent. They had been told that they had a pleasant smell, so it only seemed polite to share.

Though, their attention was quickly pulled from the three new pokemon when they saw a small Poochyena behind the ranks. The canine pokemon pawed idly at the grass, staring past the ground in a distant manner.

“Well, we’ll have to sssee if they can keep up! Ready for a rematch?” Ekans prompted as he presented a worn cloth on his rattle.

“Hey! It’s my turn to start!” Venipede interrupted.

“You guys, it doesn’t matter y’know. Cause I’m gonna win either way.” Ponyta chuckled, raising a hoof in front of her chest with a confident grin.

“I think Kro should start, it’s their first time after all.” Nuyt stated, earning a reluctant nod from the others. “Okay, Kro. You ready to pl--huh?” he whined in confusion when he looked to his side and found that the bulbasaur wasn’t there anymore.

“O-O-Oh! I-I’m so-s-sorry!” All four kids looked towards the source of the stuttering, and were all silent for a moment while watching Kro observe Poochyena. “I-I d-d-didn’t see you th-there, I-I…”

Kro hesitated at first, but then they rested their paw on top of the pup’s. Poochyena looked up to the bulbasaur in sheer fear, but then that worry melted away and he sniffled softly. Kro offered a gentle smile to Poochyena, which led to the pup giggling anxiously. “T-Thank you…”

Kro turned their head towards Nuyt, appearing guilty. Though the young healer simply nodded before speaking back up, “Okay guys, we’re down two players. But that’s okay! Ponyta can be on my team.”

“H-Hey! Don’t leave me with that snake!” Venipede squealed indignantly, which earned laughs from the other three kids.

Meanwhile, Kro sat next to Poochyena. And there they stayed while Nuyt and the other kids played a game they called Goalie.

It was a little confusing for Kro, but all they really cared about was keeping an eye on Nuyt. This was the first time they had seen the mudkip in action, and honestly they were pretty impressed. Nuyt was really fast, like almost on par with Ponyta. Though his turns were much sloppier, as evident when he went for the scarf but kept skidding regardless of the fact that Ekans--and the scarf--were already on the other side of the square.

Ekans cackled while Nuyt shook off the dirt from his skin, “Still as sloppy as ever! C’mon, dig your tiny paws in and let’s get goi--HEY!” Ekans shrieked when Ponyta swiped the scarf from his grasp.

“You should stop gloating, and focus on winning!” The equine called back, only just avoiding trampling Venipede when the bug tried to trip her. Though it looked as if things weren’t going to be that easy.

“Yeah! Bring it over here, Ponyta!” Nuyt barked excitedly, running after his teammate with renewed vigour.

As the kids played, Kro noticed two figures out of the corner of their eye. It was two pokemon they didn’t recognize, and all that initially registered was the color of one of them. A pale green.

“W-Wow, Nuyt is p-pretty good. I t-think he might a-actually w-win. How b-bout you K-Kr--K-Kro?” Poochyena shivered when he saw the distant look in the grass pokemon’s eyes. He followed their gaze, preparing himself to see something terrifying. But he was baffled to just see Scyther and Lucario. “K-Kro, that’s just S-Scyther and Lucario. I-I mean, Scyther’s k-kinda grumpy b-but…”

Kro’s whole body started to shudder, they took a few steps back before finally bolting the opposite direction. The voices of the other children becoming drowned out by a distant chanting.

This was not good, the forest was a dangerous place that only got worse the further in you went. Only the brave entered such a place alone. Or someone running from the shadows.

Thankfully, Gigalith was quick to come to his charge’s aid. Nuyt had bolted after the bulbasaur the second they’d ran, and it was good that Ponyta has the foresight to alert the healer. The small pup wasn’t alone for more than a minute before the massive pokemon caught up to him. “Nuyt! Slow down!”

Though the mudkip wasn’t going to be persuaded, his friend was out in the very forest that had nearly killed them a few days prior. There was no way he’d stop until he found them.

Gigalith slowed his own pace, if Kro was nearby he didn’t want to jar them with his thunderous steps. Nuyt was used to it, able to jump with the rhythm rather than stay there and ride with the trembling earth. But with Kro’s head injury, he couldn’t risk harming them unintentionally.

The healer scanned the surrounding area, his head jumping back towards Nuyt when his tail thumped lightly on the dirt. Gigalith approached his apprentice slowly, knowing full well what the gentle thump meant.

Nuyt didn’t want to startle them.

Gigalith’s eyes widened as he saw the missing bulbasaur, their back to the duo. The trembling in their legs practically broke his heart. But that pain was dulled with the swelling pride for Nuyt, who was slowly inching towards Kro on his belly.

A soft chirp left Nuyt’s mouth as he tilted his head towards his shivering companion. Kro’s head snapped to the sound, but their anxiety faded slowly as Nuyt whispered comfortingly to them. Within a few minutes, Kro pressed their forehead against Nuyt’s. Tears streaming down their face while Nuyt purred gently.

Gigalith allowed the two some privacy, Nuyt was best suited for this kind of thing. Ever since they’d found Kro, the young mudkip hadn’t so much as left their side. And while Kro is appreciative of Gigalith too; it wasn’t until he would leave the hut that he’d hear their weak voice talking to Nuyt.

There was something growing between the two children, and honestly Gigalith was glad. Everyone needs someone they can trust, he would know that better than anyone.

A half-hour passed before the trio made their way home, both children set up between the healer’s front feet for protection. It was more of a comfort thing, to put something between Kro and whatever startled them.

Nuyt walked beside his friend, offering his shoulder should they need the support. But Kro was more tired than anything, every little step made their eyelids heavier. They went as far as they could before finally collapsing, “G-Giga!”

The healer froze, backing up to see what had happened. One look at his charge and he nodded; Gigalith lowered his head and gently slipped his maw over Kro’s body. Once he had a good grip on them, he walked the rest of the way home. Nuyt trotted beside his mentor, soft blue eyes staring up at his passed out companion with a small whine.

What had scared them so badly?

Please don’t forget to comment! That fuels the writing process and is overall just nice! I wanna hear your theories and stuff, seriously that is like the best!

[pope-francis-quotes]

17th May >> (@ZenitEnglish By Deborah Castellano Lubov) #Pope Francis #PopeFrancis ‘May You Be Inspired by the Example and Dedication of the Saints,’ #Pope Tells #Healthcare Workers

Issues Threefold Call to Defend, Respect & Promote #Life

‘May You Be Inspired by the Example and Dedication of the Saints,’ Pope Tells Healthcare Workers

Issues Threefold Call to Defend, Respect & Promote Life

Defend, respect and promote life.

Pope Francis stressed this to some 300 members of the Italian Catholic Association of Healthcare Workers. The Pontiff received them today, May 17, in the Hall of the Consistory of the Apostolic Vatican Palace.

The Holy Father expressed his gratitude to the healthcare workers for their important work, reminded them to always treat patients as people, “not numbers,” and recognized the ever greater ethical challenges nowadays.

Stressing that life must be protected, he also noted that ‘conscientious objection’ must be done in a respectful way.

“To keep your spirit always alive,” the Holy Father underscored, “I exhort you to be faithful to prayer and to be nourished by the Word of God.”

“May you be inspired by the example of constancy and dedication of the Saints: in fact, so many, among them, served with love and selflessness the sick, especially the most abandoned.”

Pope Francis concluded, entrusting them to the Immaculate Heart of Mary, to which their Association is consecrated. “May She, who practiced hospitality and charity, remain always for us refuge in toil and model of service to brothers,” he said.

Here is a Zenit translation of the Pope’s address:

* * *

Dear Brothers and Sisters!

I greet you all, members of the Catholic Association of Health Workers, in particular your President, whom I thank for his words, and the Ecclesiastical Consultant. I’m happy to meet with you and to share with you the intent to defend and promote life, beginning with those that are most vulnerable and needy of assistance, because they are sick, or elderly, or marginalized, or because they come into existence and ask to be received and looked after. To all of these, you offer in different ways an irreplaceable service every time that, as health workers, you give them the care of which they are in need and the closeness that sustains them in their fragility.

The observance of the 40th anniversary of CAHW’s foundation spurs you to thank the Lord for what you have received from the Association and for having granted you to work in this time for the improvement of the health system and of the conditions of work of all health workers, as well as the condition of the sick and their families, who are the first recipients of your commitment.

Over the last decades, the system of assistance and care has been radically transformed, and with that the way has also changed of understanding medicine and the relationship itself with the sick <person>. Technology has attained sensational and unexpected goals and has opened the way to new techniques of diagnosis and care, posing ever more strongly problems of an ethical character. In fact, many hold that any possibility offered by technology is per se morally feasible, but, in reality, any medical practice or intervention on the human being must first be assessed <to see> if it actually respects human life and dignity. The practice of conscientious objection, in extreme cases in which the integrity of human life is put in danger, is therefore based on the personal need not to act in a different way from one’s ethical conviction, but it also represents a sign for the health environment in which we find ourselves, as well as in relations with the patients themselves and their families.

However, the choice of objection, when necessary, is done with respect, so that what should be done with humility doesn’t become a reason for contempt or pride, <in order> not to generate in those that observe you an equal contempt, which would impede understanding the true motivations that drive you. Instead, it’s good to always seek dialogue, especially with those that have different positions, listening to their point of view and seeking to transmit your own, not as one who pontificates, but as one who seeks the true good of persons. To make ourselves travel companions of those that are next to us, in particular the least, the most forgotten, the excluded: this is the best way to understand in depth and in truth the different situations and the moral good that is implied.

This is also the way to render the best witness of the Gospel, which casts on the person the powerful light that continues to be projected by the Lord Jesus on every human being. In fact, Christ’s humanity is the inexhaustible treasure and the greatest school, from which to learn continually. He, with His gestures and words, has made us feel the touch and voice of God and has taught that every individual, first of all one who is least, isn’t a number but a unique and irreplaceable person.

In fact, the effort to treat the sick as persons and not as numbers must be made in our time, keeping in mind the form that the health system has assumed progressively. Its corporatization, which ha put in the first place the need to reduce costs and the rationalization of services, has profoundly changed the approach to sickness and to the sick person himself, with preference for efficiency and not rarely has put in the second place attention to the person, who has the need to be understood, listened to and accompanied, all the more when he has need of a proper diagnosis and an effective cure.

Among other things, healing passes not only from the body but also from the spirit, from the capacity to rediscover trust and to react; so that the sick person cannot be treated as a machine, nor can the health system, public or private, conceive itself as an assembly line. Persons are never the same among themselves; they are understood and cured one by one. This obviously calls for, on the part of health workers, a notable commitment, which is often not sufficiently understood and appreciated.

The care you give the sick, so demanding and overwhelming, calls for care to be taken also of you. In fact, in an environment where the sick person becomes a number, you also risk becoming so and of being “burnt” by very hard work shifts, by the stress of the emergencies or by the emotional impact. Therefore, it’s important that health workers have adequate protection in their work, that they receive the correct recognition for the tasks they carry out and be able to enjoy the appropriate instruments to always be motivated and formed. In fact, formation has always been an objective that your Association has pursued, and I invite you to take it forward with determination, in a moment in which often the most basic values of respect and protection of the life of all is often lost sight of. May the formation you propose be not only comparison, study and updating, but give particular care to spirituality, so that this fundamental dimension of the person is rediscovered and appreciated, which is often neglected in our time but is so important, especially for one who is living a sickness or is close to the one suffering.

I also encourage you to value always the associative experience, addressing with new impetus the challenges that await you in the realms we have considered together. A good synergy between the regional headquarters will enable the strengths of individuals and of various local groups not to remain isolated but be coordinated and be multiplied.

To keep your spirit always alive, I exhort you to be faithful to prayer and to be nourished by the Word of God. May you be inspired by the example of constancy and dedication of the Saints: in fact, so many, among them, served with love and selflessness the sick, especially the most abandoned.

Dear friends, I accompany you with my prayer in your precious task of witness. I entrust you to the Immaculate Heart of Mary, to which your Association is consecrated. May She, who practiced hospitality and charity, remain always for us refuge in toil and model of service to brothers. Please, do not forget to pray for me. Thank you!

[Original text: Italian] [ZENIT’s translation by Virginia M. Forrester]

17th MAY 2019 15:54POPE & HOLY SEE

[inkling-hero]

Monoku Monologues, #001: Life and death

You may be wondering those of you watching or reading or however this event was recorded what unholy grandfather of all evil surrounding my area and body is and why i'm bleeding to death preparing the mother of all finishing moves, well I’ll start with this, my name is Riptide J. Monoku and i'm a hero born with a curse destined for something greater than myself. That living nightmare and physical form of malice and chaos before me eating away at my world and everything I’ve ever worked for is Luxxar, the embodiment of evil itself. I was born to kill him, created by fate to save all life as existence itself was crumbling to nothing, everything that has and ever will be rested in my hands as my tears blurred my vision.

 I had one final trick up my sleeve to save everyone, as the chaos and malice of Luxxars true demonic form swirled around my area and body,  the fate of the whole world no the fate of all life rested on my being, I knew that to win this final fight I had to make the ultimate sacrifice and break my promise...to him. I gave it one final push and looked at the embodiment of hatred and anger, "LUXXAR!" I shouted my right fist and arm being enveloped in ink, fire, ice and electricity, the last of my armor being destroyed by the increasing wind pressure from my body expelling it by flexing. "YOU HAVE TAINTED EXISTENCE WITH YOUR VERY BEING AND I RIPTIDE JUPITER MONOKU WILL BRING AN END TO THE SUFFERING YOU HAVE CAUSED ALL LIFE BY TAKING YOURS!" I screamed my scars glowing their brightest with my fiery red and white aura enveloping my own body. I could feel the hopes and dreams of all my friends, every one that I’ve ever encountered cheering me on praying for my safety as I  jumped and said my final words to expel the world ending demon lord. "TRUE" my eyes were as full of water as a river my body and will power giving it beyond 100% "INKFERNITE" the memory of my father telling me that I was destined for something grand washed into my mind as i said my final word "PUNCH!" I gave it 1000% of my max might letting the world see what a hero had to do to save the world but i'm getting too far ahead of myself, and yes I know what a dick move to just end that amazing visual, I gamble that you’re on the edge of whatever you’re sitting on just dying to know what happened as soon I landed that punch, you’ll learn about it soon enough, for now let's start from the beginning, my beginning as the greatest hero Inkopolis has ever known.

 It all started a little over 18 years ago on May 7th, the day I was born along with my younger brother Fiery, I was born with a terminal illness, I had clear colorless tentacles and my eyes were as red as blood. The doctors did all they could to see if I could be corrected but nothing could fix me, my parents would have been devastated that is if they were normal inklings but they weren’t at all they knew from that day I had to be protected at all costs, for I had what my family calls ‘Makos blessing.’ I won’t get into the details what I will tell you guys however is how much time and effort was spent into ensuring my safety.

 Now my dad King Cross Monoku was the leader of a small tribe hidden in the mountains far away from Inkopolis, and I know what you're thinking ‘sweet cod you're royalty!? You're a prince!? Why are you a fighter then!?’ to answer whomever asks yes, yes, and tone it down a bit i'll get to that soon enough. Now my father Cross, my mother Fiora and the rest of the village were always watching over me. It didn't matter if it was 3 am in the morning on the coldest day of winter, the royal guards; (who were very nice I might add) those guys and many others constantly took shifts making sure I couldn't get hurt.  I was always feed food softer than memory foam. It took two hours at least to bathe me because and I quote my late mother “The sponge could scratch you and you can die.” I mean would that really kill me, probably not.

 Fast forward to when I turned seven, my twin Fiery was already walking, running, speaking and dreaming of growing up in Inkopolis, he said that he’d one day be an elite inkling just like in the articles and stories he read every night. Hearing him dream so highly wanting to become a worthy turf war champion, it inspired me to help him achieve that goal no matter what the cost, even though deep down I knew I couldn’t help him with my illness. I was allowed to watch my brother however, train and practice turf battles, he wasn’t really good at it at first but it didn’t stop him from trying his best. I always cheered him on and it was pretty fun viewing his progress but a part of me felt hurt, because I knew I couldn’t ever get to experience that joy.

 A month or so had passed since my twin started practicing his turf war skills and I endured yet another physical, still my condition was as bad as ever, I felt sorrow course through me, tears filling my vision. All I could do was pray for so that I too could one day lead a normal life like Fiery, fate however had something else in store for me. I was one day watching Fiery try to perform a backflip from my little protection bubble, my guards taking a quick tea break and the second the two of us were left alone, the second everything changed.

 We both heard a monstrous cry and my brother Fiery was nearly stabbed by an odd black shadowy figure, had it not been for my guards that rushed in to save him, it was very mighty indeed shattering their weapons and taking their lives. It’s still a bit fuzzy in my mind but seeing that thing kill my guardians, my companions, the two people that had watched over me as a child when my parents could not, it infuriated me. That thing aimed for my brother next since it flew past me with a rapid lunge and I saw the terror and fear swell in his eyes, and that’s when it happened. It was like a flame had been ignited and jump started my body, I broke out of my bubble and clenched my fist tightly it felt hotter than the sun itself  quickly turned around, facing its sharp fangs and claws and punched it dead on in its gut. For the first time in my life I knew what it meant to be strong to know rage and hatred, my fury didn’t end there, each punch that was thrown at that thing made it cry out in anguish. Fiery couldn’t believe the sight that I Riptide the most fragile inkling on earth, risked my life to save his. “MY BROTHER HAS A DREAM AND I’LL GO TO ANY LENGTHS TO MAKE SURE IT COME TRUE!” I roared with all my might, I clenched my fist tightly and ink surrounded it having a red and pink glow lash over it. I let that bastard thing have it directly smashing it in its face before it yelled in agony exploding into smoke and steam, my father barely rushing in to see me yell at the top of my lungs having its blood stain my ripped clothes and body.

 Turns out it was a shadow beast my father claimed, very rare and dangerous, he was ecstatic to see his own son beat one to death, and as a child to no less…yeah not really a normal thing to be proud of heheh, but the point was that my body had suffered a few injuries I was bleeding, but alive, by the miracle of all miracles, I was alive, I had color all over my body, a nice shade of magenta mixed with red and pink. During the aftermath of the attack I immediately went to the doctors, after hours and hours of examination, it was concluded that my body was no longer vulnerable to any hits, I was finally free of the risk of losing my life to a simple toe stubbing on the coffee table, (yeesh what a way to go huh? Ohhh nooo my son died due to stubbing his toe, cod i’d never hear the end of it from the villagers beyond the grave.)

 My father Cross and my mother Fiora, decided that I could train under their wing now, to be a hero to defend and protect those who can’t protect themselves. Years passed, both mind and body were sharped, heightened to a higher peak than I ever thought possible. I learned and excelled at using my family's Ink manipulation arts, I trained day and night having my own dreams now, to become the greatest hero in history and make my family proud. On that fateful day now 11 years ago, I created my dream, and that's how I started to become the greatest hero in Inkopolis.

Finally after so much preparation here it is, the first chapter of Monoku Monologues, learn how Riptide became the greatest hero of the city and quite possibly the world! Once a week or two I’ll be releasing a new chapter, so get ready to explore the inner workings and mind set of the great legend himself!

//BONUS: IF THIS GETS 5 NOTES BY TOMORROW MORNING ILL RELEASE THE SKETCH I MADE FOR RIPTIDE FACING OFF AGAINST LUXXAR//

[incensus-nix]

.: the escape :.

❝ He’s what? ❞ Brittany grabbed the shoulder’s of Scribe Haylen, her voice disturbed that this was even a possibility. 

The scribe held her arms close, just nodded quickly. ❝ I-I’m sorry. The news is spreading like fire. Maxson has him held in the cells. He’ll be executed first thing in the morning. ❞

Brittany felt sick, her arms falling off the others as she held her temples in her hands. ❝ What proof do they have? ❞

❝ Genetic testing... He’s matched a missing construct known as M7-97... ❞ The scribe started, but the Knight turned to her and gave her a threatening look.

❝ Then test again. ❞

❝ We have. Several times in fact... It’s an exact match. ❞

Knight Hart sat herself down, legs weak as she tried to grasp the alarming message given. Brittany had worked directly under Danse since she had been rescued by the Brotherhood of Steel in her childhood. Her family had been caught in the crossfire of raiders and Gen-1 synths, battling out for settlement territories. Carelessness from the raiders who didn’t concern themselves with who could be in the way in a firefight, and the Institute clearing a path for their new mission, too, didn’t have a care for the collateral.

It was the Brotherhood that put an end to the madness, taking out both synth and raider factions to secure the area for the citizens of the Capital Wasteland and establishing themselves as the superior power. 

What Brittany saw was a shining beacon of strength and hope after her loses in the forms of bullets and power armor. Her savior was a strapping man with light skin but dark features, commanding the lead and sending his troops forth to recover the land.

And in that soldier’s presence did a young girl latch onto her savior and the Paladin escorted her to their ship. It was that moment to when the Paladin sworn an oath to protect the child and bring her up in the ranks of the Brotherhood.

Nearly two decades later, a knight sits quietly, hands shaking as she comes to realize her most trusted companion had been the enemy all along.

❝ Knight Hart, Paladin Danse needs you. ❞ The scribe was young still, learning her place and position. What she suggested went against the entirety of the Brotherhood of Steel’s identity.

❝ Scribe Haylen, what are you suggesting? ❞ She did not what to think what her sister-in-arms was implying was to help a synth...

The scribe stood a moment, lips tight with sympathetic eyes, nodding slightly. ❝ After everything he’s done for you, and you won’t even go see him... He’s a good man still -- ❞

❝ --He’s a synth! ❞

❝ And he took care of you! ❞

They were now standing toe to toe, Brittany clearly taking the height advantage and looking down at Haylen. As much as she wanted to put the scribe in her place, she made her point very clear. There was no way that the knight couldn’t at least say her final goodbyes...

Arriving at the disciplinary deck of the Prydwen, it was all empty save for one occupied cell. Brittany and Scribe Haylen marched their way threw the narrow cell halls, reaching the end where Paladin Danse sat, staring down into his hands in silence.

❝ Danse... ❞ Haylen spoke, wrapping her hands around the cell doors. ❝ Please look at us... ❞

The shamed soldier looked up, seeing both women staring down at him, the eyes of pity from one and a broken heart in the other’s. ❝ Knight Hart... ❞

Brittany covered her mouth, feeling slightly sick and trying to hold back a gut wrenching cry. She never thought in her entire lifetime that she’d be standing over her Paladin in such a way. ❝ How could this happen... ❞

❝ It’s alright, Knight. ❞ He said plainly, already having accepted his fate as he talked himself through it behind cell doors. ❝ It’s the right thing to do. I’m a synth, which means I must be destroyed. ❞

❝ Danse, no -- ❞ Brittany blurted out, both hands covering her mouth. ❝ Please, don’t... ❞

He stood now, facing her on the other side of the prison, looking her dead in the eye, sure of himself in his decision. ❝ If you disobey your orders, you're not only betraying Maxson, you're betraying the Brotherhood of Steel and everything it stands for. ❞

❝ I don’t care -- ❞ her voice broke, tears welling up now in a way she couldn’t control.

❝ Listen to me, Knight -- Synths can't be trusted. Machines were never meant to make their own decisions, they need to be controlled. Technology that's run amok is what brought the entire world to its knees and humanity to the brink of extinction. ❞ He tried explaining his own rational, his tone getting firmer as he spoke.

Gripping the bars of the prison, she pressed her forehead to the cold metal. ❝ I said I don’t care, Danse! ❞

❝ I need to be the example, not the exception! ❞

❝ Then maybe we’re wrong! ❞ She shouted back, hot tears flowing down her cheeks as she became overwhelmed with her emotions. It was only then did she really come to the realization that she hadn’t idolized the Brotherhood and their beliefs. It was him. Danse could’ve been a Gunner mercenary or a simply farmer. Whatever it was, she followed him. He saved her, and that’s what she owed her life to. Not any faction or organization. She owed her life’s debt to the man bound to the executed my morning’s light.

❝ Please, keep your voices down... ❞ the scribe reminded them, risking a lot to simply be there visiting and having such conversations. In truth, Haylen was envious of Knight Hart and Paladin Danse’s relationship. The scribe, too, looked up to the Paladin and sought his approval and friendship for years. But, she wasn’t a soldier. She was studious, a learner, picking up fragments of the Old World and studying them until she could share the information to better improve the Brotherhood of Steel for their own greater purpose. 

However, she wasn’t much like her brothers and sisters in strong biases. If Haylen could learn and apply science to their tech, then she would, but she was overall curious about the world around her. The Brotherhood of Steel granted access to all this information, giving the scribe endless possible sources of information. 

In truth, she didn’t even hate synths all that much. She hated what they did to people, and what people did in that fear, but if a synth, unknowing... Living a life in a veil of ignorance... It was just as any human would be doing. But such thoughts were frowned upon, so she kept her lips shut tight.

❝ I know this is difficult... For you both. But this is what’s right. I can’t live, I shouldn’t live. ❞ Danse tried to reason with them again, his expression far more saddened than before.

❝ It doesn’t have to be this way... ❞ Brittany exhausted her pleading, her voice low and tired. ❝ Please, this is wrong. ❞

❝ This life is wrong, Knight. I can’t keep leading you into a lie. ❞ 

❝ It’s not, Paladin. ❞ Scribe Haylen chimed in, agreeing with Brittany. Catching them both off guard, she continued. ❝ Everything you’d done was for the good of the Brotherhood. For the people of the Capital and Commonwealth. ❞

❝ But when are they my memories or someone else’s? ❞ He argued.

❝ What if it wasn’t about memories, but actions? That’s... that’s all you, Danse. ❞

He stood in silence, unwilling to accept her argument. ❝ Please, don’t do this to yourselves. Just... go. ❞

Brittany just shook her head at him, determined. ❝ No. No, I’m going to get you out of here. ❞

❝ And then what? ❞ He barked, not even amusing the idea.

❝ And then we’ll run away. ❞

❝ That’s a foolish plan and we’ll end up dead. They won’t let us go free so easily. I won’t let you put your life on the line for mine. ❞

Glancing to the scribe, then back to Danse, she swallowed hard. ❝ You saved a small child from becoming like the rest of the world. I’m going to save you now. ❞

❝ Don’t -- ❞

❝ That’s an order, Paladin. ❞ Brittany stood tall, nodding once, then nudging Haylen to get moving so that she could follow. It would take the night to get him to escape, but it would happen. And there was nothing he could do about it.

Leaving him for now in his holding cell, the two women got to work, devising a plan to get them out. Haylen was already starting to formulate one even before she had spoken to Brittany, she admitted, hoping that the Knight would jump on board with the idea of sparing her friend.

❝ And you just somehow knew I would be okay with this? ❞ Brittany asked, surprised in the depth of thinking Haylen already had gotten to in all this. 

❝ We both care about Danse. But, of the two of us that is capable of keeping him safe, well... That would be you, Hart. ❞ It pained the scribe to admit it, but it was a truth. And any heat that she got after would have been worth it.

It was rare in these moments did Brittany shed her soldier skin and reveal human emotion beneath the armor she build up for so long. Embracing the scribe, she held on a moment. ❝ Thank you, Haylen. ❞ 

Hugging her back, Scribe Haylen wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, then gave the other a weak smile. ❝ Please, take care of him. This is the most fragile he’ll ever be.. He’ll need someone strong enough to carry for you both. ❞

Touching the other’s cheek and nodding, Brittany’s eyes weld up again. ❝ I promise. ❞

With the two women in understanding, they got back to work on the escape plan. It would come down to the scribe adjusting the locks a bit and breaking them, having to move Danse to another cell. Brittany, prepping two sets of power armor, would come down to the prison bay and order a false attack on a group of super mutants at the Boston Airport. From there, the attention would be diverted and both Hart and Danse would escape in the firefight hidden in their armor and flee the Prydwen.

❝ Think it’s doable? ❞ Brittany asked, looking for honesty.

❝ As long as keep things natural, we are certain to make it so. Ready? ❞ Scribe Haylen grabbing her tools, smiled a bit, with more confidence than before.

❝ Ready. ❞

As their plan went into motion, the Knight told those still working on their power armors that she was taking parts of Danse’s to eventually convert onto her own, the soldiers thinking nothing of it other than a good use of resources. With most of the Prydwen fast asleep or few enough to keep their eyes peeled from her, she pressed in a few power cores into the armor sets, then made way to the ammo keep. There, she helped herself to a mini nuke reseting on the shelf, then quickly ran to the edge of the ship, holding it out and ready to fall.

❝ Here goes nothing... ❞ Dropping the mini nuke from her hands, the bomb quickly fell beneath the giant blimp and exploded beneath the bay, alerting soldiers to wake and equip themselves, all rushing down to the airport.

❝ Greenskin bastards! ❞ Brittany yelled, falsifying their enemy and sending off her fellow Brotherhood soldiers to search for the attackers.

In the cell block, Scribe Haylen began to mess with the locks of the prison hold, fiddling with it several times in attempts to break it apart. 

Both hearing the explosion, Danse’s eyes went wide. ❝ What’s happening out there? ❞

❝ Um, nothing? ❞ The scribe lied, finally busting open the lock and pushing the doors open. ❝ But, we maaay be experiencing some nuclear fire... I recommend getting into a suit. ❞

❝ What are you getting at? I’m not leaving. ❞

❝ You can be so thickheaded. Get going, Hart is waiting for you. Go! ❞

Torn between reporting them all and actually following through with their scheme, Danse and Haylen hid by a wedge in the doorframe, keeping them in the dark while soldiers with laser rifles ran quickly past them. Few short moments later, they were in the clear, making their way to where the power armor suits were being held. Waiting, Knight Hart stepped into her suit, placing her helmet over her head and blocking anyone’s entrance besides Scribe Haylen and Paladin Danse’s.

❝ You’re really going through with this? ❞ He asked, hesitating stepping into the armor. 

❝ Are you? ❞ Brittany asked, her voice muffled to sound more mechanical by the suit’s voice receptor.

He said nothing in response, but climbed into his suit and let the limbs fold around his body, then flipping the helm of his suit as he usually did and placing it over his head.

The scribe below them both smiled, then nodded to them. ❝ Good luck... And goodbye. ❞

Brittany had already made her peace, but Danse nodded in response now, his chest feeling a bit heavier than before. ❝ Goodbye, Haylen. ❞ It would be their last spoken words to each other.

Now ranking with the other soldiers to assist in the attack, Knight authorized a take off in a vertibird, a two man piloted helicopter that hand Danse in the driver’s seat while Hart manned the minigun attached to the side. 

❝ Get this thing flying, soldier. ❞ Brittany said in command, careful to not use his name in the process. Without spoken response, Danse took off for the launching dock and turned the ship west, flying from the rest of the battle and leaving the airport behind.

❝ You think they noticed yet? ❞ Danse said, slipping off his helmet now that they were out of clear visuals of the Prydwen.

❝ Yes... I think they could be hunting for us now. ❞

They both went quiet, Brittany taking a seat next to the Paladin.

❝ What do you think they’ll do to Haylen? ❞ Brittany asked, her voice scared.

❝ She’s smart. I’m sure she had an exit strategy already set. ❞ 

❝ God, I hope you’re right... ❞

They flew for hours until they reached a stretch of radiated marsh, landing the vertibird in it as they quickly leaped onto dryer land in their suits. As much as they would like to keep flying in it, they were more of a target when seen in a flying airship when few had ever seen on in the Commonwealth.

❝ Where are we at the moment? ❞ Danse asked, looking around at the unfamiliar territory.

❝ More north than west, I think. These wetlands separate the rural areas from the city. If we want to seek refuge, we’ll probably need to head that way. ❞ They needed to lose a trail, though she was certain they hadn’t been caught in sight just yet. The disruption was far too large for them to organize a search and destroy mission one after another.

❝ Lose the suits? ❞ 

❝ Not yet... My geiger counter keeps clicking. Better off staying in them until we reach more populated areas. Then we’ll stand out a bit too much... ❞ 

❝ Roger that. ❞

As they trudged onward, through the muck and irradiate mud, they climbed through a heap of fallout and trash, breaking open a closed gate into the outskirts of the greater Boston area. Avoiding any contact, it seemed they had gotten lucky with the barren streets at night. Usually, it was an easier time for raiders to make their moves, the night shielding murder and thievery.

Approaching a collapsed prewar apartment building, the two runaways abandoned their power armors, both soldiers feeling a sense of identity torn from them. They lived much of their lives in battle with those suits. But they were a target in them, and hardly good for being unseen. Knight Hart placed her holotags on the suit’s wrist, the last bit of Brotherhood stripped from her. 

In the rubble of building, Brittany salvaged bits and pieces of prewar clothing that had yet to completely fallen apart over two hundred and plus years. Handing over to Danse, it was a simple tee shirt and overcoat, some bits been eaten away by radroaches that found their way in and out of the rubble. For herself, she manages to gather up a torn tank top, a small workman’s probably, along with faded blue jeans and leather jacket. It would do, at least for them both to be camouflaged.

Grabbing their weapons, they made their way deeper into the city’s remains, staying undetected until the colors of dawn began to peer over the broken buildings. They were exhausted, dragging themselves through heaps of broken buildings and never stopping to rest.

Not until they reached the glowing red neon that read over a few battered doors reading Goodneighbor overtop. The Brotherhood knew of this place but never entered. It was a place for every bit of lawlessness imaginable, run by an incorrigible ghoul of a mayor, addicted to his chems and anarchy.

❝ This is a bad idea, ❞ said Danse, lowering his head as he made his way first into the city.

❝ It’s shelter, ❞ Brittany argued back, slinging her gun over her shoulder to look less threatening. Several of the town’s guards, if they could even be called that, eyed the new group but only made side remarks about staying out of trouble and there would be none.

They managed to salvage a few caps, selling fusion cores and bullets they had left over in their ammo packs, using the money to get rest over at the Rexford Inn. It was a troubling to sleep in the morning, trying to get rest when everyone else was beginning their day, and not by the Brotherhood’s usual standards. The smell of chems and waste began to fill the senses, making the already emotionally exhausted duo to start to feel the physical signs. Still, they powered through, gaining at least a scattered few hours of sleep in until about midday.

❝ We can’t stay here... ❞ Danse confirmed again, seated now incognito at the table with Brittany in the Third Rail, the underground lounge of Goodneighbor. At least they could be away from the grime the settlement produced, not that being in a bar was that much better but Magnolia’s entertainment was far better than listening to retching at the Rexford.

❝ We gotta make due, Danse. Neither one of us is gunna make it out of here unless we get our shit together. ❞

❝ Should’ve just left me there... This is a worse mess. ❞

Brittany was hurt by the statement, adverting her eyes and blinking a few times to dry out any tears that were trying to press forward. ❝ Don’t say that. ❞

❝ But it’s true. Now we’re stuck in this forsaken city with no exit plan. The Brotherhood will find us. We know. We used to do this. ❞

❝ Danse, stop, I’m tired. ❞

❝ There’s no place for a synth like me. I don’t fit in here and if not here, I can’t imagine anywhere else. ❞

❝ I said I’m tired -- ❞

❝ Ahem -- ❞ A figure appeared to them both, then pulling up a chair and seating himself at the edge of the table, setting his beer on the tabletop. ❝ You guys should keep your topic of conversation to chems and gossip if you want to remain invisible. ❞ The figure tilts his cap up, his face hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, even in the darkest part of the lounge. ❝ Which, if I’m sitting here, then you’re doing a really poor job of that. ❞

❝ Can we help you? ❞ Danse’s voice was annoyed that someone had interjected onto their conversation.

❝ Nah, I’m good actually. But you might want to consider how I can help you. ❞ There was a sly grin, the man pushing his glasses up his nose. 

Brittany glared at him. Goodneighbor was full of schemers, and this one looked no different. ❝ Whatever you want, just get lost. ❞

The man, leaning back into his seat, lifted his hat to rub the top of his head, then placed his hat back down and rested his hands behind his neck. ❝ I assume muscle boy here is a synth? ❞ Brittany and Danse both gave the stranger threatening glares. ❝ You said it, not me. Promise, I just have good ears. And, don’t mind me adding, but I hear you’ve gotta problem with this fine city Mayor Hancock has set up? ❞ The two of them remained unfazed. ❝ Honestly, same. Never really liked Goodneighbor, but hey, when you wanna let your freak out, this is the place to do it. ❞

❝ Stop wasting time, what are you here for? ❞ Brittany spoke for the duo, readying herself for a fight if need be.

The stranger, leaning forward a bit, straightened his cap out and waved for them to get closer too, to which, they did as commanded. ❝ Keep heading northwest. Beyond the RedRocket and river, you’ll see a sign out front. Sanctuary. If you’re willing, there’s a place for you. ❞

Sliding away as quickly as he came, the drifter stopped at the bar to chat a few with Whitechapel Charlie, the Mr. Handy bartender who relished in giving folks a hard time.

❝ Sanctuary? Think it’s a ploy? ❞ Danse asked, perhaps humoring the idea, seeing any place was better than Goodneighbor.

She rested her chin in her hand, unsure exactly what to say. It seemed she was the one coming up with all the answers now, something she wasn’t exactly certain in doing around Paladin Danse. ❝ Probably... But they don’t like our kind much here either. We’re not exactly fitting in as best as I hoped. ❞

❝ We should go. ❞

❝ He really talked you into it that quickly, huh? ❞ Brittany was surprised how soon Danse leapt onto the idea, but at least he wasn’t moping around as he did since they had gotten to the city. ❝ Alright then. Lets move out. ❞

It took the duo two days to reach the edge of the river, the giant, monolithic looking rocket placed over the fueling garage as a symbol that they were close. The bridge leading them into the the subdivision had a broken statue of what looked to be an Old World military figure from one of the ancient wars. Copper in make, most likely, though it was green with oxidation. Or radiation could’ve stuck to it after all this time...

At the entrance of the neighborhood, there was a caravan just leaving, two pack brahmin mooing loudly as they passed by the duo, as if they were announcing that the neighborhood had company. The settlement guard paused the machine gun turrets from open firing, not until she got a quick investigation of who these new folks were.

❝ We were told to follow the path here... A man in sunglasses in Goodneighbor... ❞ Brittany spoke, making sure that she would be the voice of the two of them.

The guard smirked. ❝ Looks like Deacon just couldn’t help himself. Get yourselves on in. Sounds like you’ve had a long road behind you. ❞

Danse and Brittany looked at the other, surprised with how easily they had been trusted into safekeeping, but neither one would fight it. As they moseyed along the broken street, they noticed the buzzing of vendors and farmers doing their daily commands, a few of the Minutemen discussing something intently with a few other civilians.

❝ Hey -- ❞ a familiar voice dragged out. ❝ Though you’d never show up. Jeez, I’ve been here for like, ever, waiting for you guys. Get lost? I thought your types were all about navigation and what not. ❞ The man now wore a simple tee shirt and jeans, styled with a pompadour wig but still hidden behind the sunglasses.

❝ Are these the Brotherhood soldiers you were telling me about? ❞ A woman spoke now, her silver hair tied back with scars stretching across her lips and extending into her cheeks.

❝ Yep. Thought they could be handy. ❞

The silver haired woman approached, eyeing them both. ❝ So, Brotherhood of Steel, hm? You, ❞ she points to Danse. ❝ The synth, right? ❞

❝ Keep it quiet -- ❞ Brittany defended, but the woman waved her off in disregard. 

❝ I don’t care, actually. But I’ve made this town a refuge for those that are deemed unwanted. Like ghouls, synths, I don’t know, whatever people are these days. And, unlike where you dragged yourselves out of, I’ve have rules. You are to be dressed, clean and serve with a purpose. I want all my residents to show some proper manners around here. If you want chems, by all means, just say your please and thank you’s. Fair? ❞

It was alarming to say the least, but they both nodded respectfully. ❝ Yes ma’am, ❞ Danse spoke, for once feeling slightly intimidated with the woman’s power.

❝ Ugh, ma’am. I feel like my grandmother. Go make yourselves useful. ❞ She waved them off, rubbing the side of her head. The Minutemen had been nagging at her about other business but she was more interested in finding wine.

❝ Can someone else fill us in with what just happened? ❞ Brittany asked, looking mostly the the man they now identified as Deacon. 

The spy smirked, then rested his hands behind his neck, just as he did at the Third Rail. ❝ The Railroad has set up some safe havens; this is one of them. Seeing that you were Brotherhood of Steel, well, assuming ex-Brotherhood now, because, y’know, synth stuff, thought you might need better protection than a few Triggermen in Goodneighbor. Bethany, the woman you just met, she’s got you covered. Just like, take showers and stuff. She’s really weird about some things. And do not, I repeat, do not kill any of the cats. They are for petting, not food. ❞

❝ I’ve never even seen a cat... ❞ Brittany admitted, only reading about them in book written by scribes. 

❝ Well, maybe you should just steer clear. They’re, uh, still kinda feral... ❞ Deacon stretched his lips into a dramatic frown, then started walking, assuming they’ll follow. ❝ Look, I’m not really sure about you two. But we’ve got good ties with the Minutemen and Railroad’s been trusting out here. If you’re really done with the Brotherhood of Steel, you can find your place here. We’re keeping a close watch on you both, though. Step out of line and -- ❞ He motioned a gun shot motion, blowing out the smoke from his fingertips.

❝ Understood... ❞ Danse said, looking over to Brittany for assurance.

❝ Look, there’s more to fill in, but just get yourselves settled for now. There’s some rooms in the blue house just where you entered in from. If you want work though, we could use some more muscle. Turrets are useful and all, but having some eyes and ears would be great. Think it over, we could use a few more like you two. ❞

While Deacon excused himself, Brittany looked up to Danse, pleading a bit in her eyes. ❝ We could belong here... ❞

❝ We’ll see, Knight. ❞

❝ I’m not a knight anymore... ❞

There was a small silence between them, Brittany reaching for Danse’s rough hand to hold into her own. 

Gripping it back gently, Danse simply nodded and spoke softly. ❝ We could belong here. ❞

[planarchaosproject]

Planar Chaos: Chapter Twenty-Seven

Now They're Really Leaving I Promise.

"Okay," Marthel said, sitting astride one of the necks of Kyari's hydra, "is everyone sure they're ready this time? No more bouts of narcolepsy or sudden desires for human flesh? Looking at you, Ash and Rhyne."

Ashleigh blushed from her position on the back of Maelstrom Wanderer. Sverre and Lisandra sat on either side of her passing Abby back and forth between them. Oona, as always, hid herself in the hood of Sverre's black cloak. Odom stood further up the elemental, hanging on to the barky protrusions that almost resembled antlers.

Rhyne, on the other hand, showed no signs of remorse for his attempt to eat Brock during first watch the night before. Marthel had woken up to his friend's cries of pain as he attempted to fight off the wild planeswalker with one broken arm. Said arm was now in a sling and slowly mending. It would be fully healed in a few hours. It was for these reasons Rinok and Vilhelm had seen it in everyone's best interests to tie Rhyne to the back of the spider construct Vilhelm had dominated. The warrior and the male vampire sat on either side of Rhyne as added insurance in case the ropes were to mysteriously break or catch fire.

"Let's just get a move on," Brock said from the neck to Marthel's left. Kyari and Sa'Raah sat on the necks to their right. Both women were fidgeting and anxious to get moving after the previous evening.

"Nadia, if you'll do the honors?" Marthel gestured to his angelic companion.

"I'd rather not," she responded sulkily. "Marthel it's silly."

"Please," he begged, clasping his hands beneath his chin.

She rolled her eyes. "Fine." Nadia took a running leap off of the ledge and jumped into the air, unfurling her wings and crying out dramatically "Into the great beyond!"

"The great beyond!" echoed Marthel, Odom, Ashleigh, Sa'Raah, Sverre, and Lisandra.

THREE DAYS LATER

"How can we be lost?" Vilhelm called over to Lisandra. "This is the right way, isn't it?"

"As far as I know, we were going the right way, but now it seems as though the maze is tricking us."

"It's a plane," Vilhelm howled. "There's no consciousness here to trick us!"

"You underestimate the power of the old walkers, Vilhelm," Sverre said sagely.

"Oh pleas," Rinok chimed in, "you had your power for all of five minutes and then it got taken away."

Sverre's hand moved to his wrist, ready to pull up his chainmail sleeve and summon Jormungandr right underneath Vilhelm's spider.

"Guys," Kyari groaned, "can we please stop fighting. It won't get us anywhere."

"Kyari's right," Brock said. "Violence isn't the answer here."

"Oh, you're one to talk about violence," Ashleigh countered. "Need I remind you that you cracked my chest cavity open and were about to stomp on my still-beating heart?"

"You can't prove that," Brock said.

"But we can," Vilhelm and Lisandra said in unison.

"Couldn't just be vampires or psychics, could it," Brock mumbled. "It had to be psychic vampires."

"I'm somewhat psychic and not a vampire," Ashleigh said, raising her hand.

"Nobody asked you," Rinok sighed.

"Rinok, just do us all a favor and go back to being quiet," Sa'Raah growled.

"Why don't you make me?" Rinok responded, trying to egg her into a fight.

"Let me out of these ropes and I'll show you all what a real fight is," Rhyne said around his gag.

"If everyone doesn't shut up right now I will turn this elemental around," Odom declared, crossing his arms.

Nadia glanced over at Marthel. She saw the redness underneath his dark skin. The constant bickering was starting to get to him. This harmonious project, this grand adventure that was supposed to give everyone a new understanding of the multiverse and themselves, hadn't started as planned and he'd grown to accept that. But now it was at the risk of imploding once again when their goal was so close. His left eye started to twitch, but he kept the smile on his face as he stared straight ahead. His hands were folded in a seemingly calm position, but the veins stood out and they were shaking slightly. Nadia feared that if he were to part them, there would be bloody spots where his fingernails dug into the skin.\

Ever since the Rise From Hell, Marthel had been extended an open invitation to every revel held by the Rakdos guild. This was an invitation he'd only ever accepted when he desperately needed to blow off steam. Nadia had the feeling that once they made it out of the maze Marthel would disappear to one of the Carnariums for a few days before returning to his apartment roaring drunk and in the company of the Rakdos's Blood Witch, Exava. She disliked the woman, certainly, but only for what she brought out in Nadia's chosen champion. He tilted too far into the dark whenever in her company and it would take Nadia days, sometimes weeks, to draw him back into the light and re-balance his fragile nature.

"Guys, this isn't getting us anywhere," Kyari said, her voice far louder than usual. Nobody present save Marthel and Brock had ever heard the elf shout, but this was as close as she came in such mixed company. "Everyone needs to just shut up before we get ourselves more lost. It's not like there are maps for this place anyway. We're going based on a hidden cipher in a book written by a madman or a genius. I'm still not sure which he is. But that's what we've got to go on, so let's give Lisandra a few minutes to figure out where we went wrong."

"Let me see," Sverre leaned over Lisandra's shoulder.

"I can read it just fine," Lisandra hissed.

"I'm familiar with the language too," Sverre said. "I can be of some help."

"I'm not sure how you could be. This doesn't make any sense. If I follow the standard cipher that's etched into this back cover here, it says 'rainbows form a loop, not a bridge,' and that's completely different from the instructions previous paragraphs gave us." Lisandra placed the frustrating book delicately in her lap.

"How familiar are you with old Dominarian turns of phrase? Because that's an old saying that means chasing after the fantastical is futile," Sverre said.

"So this entire text is a big joke?" Lisandra's eyes grew wide.

"Not necessarily. See, fantastical in this case might also mean ideal or perfection."

"And we've been looking for clues that fit our ideal picture of Urza..." Lisandra said softly. Then louder, "We don't need to do that, we just need to follow our guts and trust our intuition."

"So what way is your intuition telling you?" Sverre asked.

Odom interrupted them. "Mine says go up."

"I..." Lisandra searched her gut feelings, something she hadn't done in a while. "I have to agree. We go up."

They began their slow, careful ascent in single file. Maelstrom Wanderer, followed by the spider construct, and Kyari's hydra bringing up the rear in case of mutiny from the group in the middle. The dull gray of Xerex soon gave way to shining silver and pearls. They were headed in the right direction, they could all feel it. Even Marthel's spirits began to rise.

"Stop, we need to go left," Brock said.

"My gut's saying right," Sa'Raah said.

"Mine's with Sa'Raah's," Rinok said.

Ashleigh nodded in agreement.

Everyone turned to look at Brock.

"I don't know why, but something is telling me that if we go right that we'll regret it, but going left is the right way to reach our goal."

"So do we split up?" Vilhelm suggested.

"That's a negative," Odom said. "We stay together or we don't make any progress."

"We vote on it," Kyari said. "Those in favor of going left?"

Brock raised his hand. Abby raised a tentacle, but they discounted its vote being that they thought it was too young to understand what was happening.

"Those in favor of right?"

Everyone else's hands went up.

"Right it is," Kyari declared. Their convoy turned to the right and began trekking deeper into the shimmery grotto of inner Xerex. A faint music seemed to dance through the air and what seemed like natural light filtered down from above. A massive crystal floated above their heads giving off that light. It was easily bigger than Maelstrom Wanderer at its full size, likely larger than several of the elemental stacked together.

"It's gotta be in there, right?" Sverre asked.

"No doubt about it," Odom agreed.

"Abby's getting really nervous, guys," Ashleigh said. The infant abomination was squirming and making squawking noises, hiding its eyes from the light. "I've never seen it this restless."

Abby wanted Mommy and Daddy to realize that they were all in grave danger and should leave immediately, before whatever was sleeping nearby woke up. Abby's eyes met Brock's. He understood why Abby was so scared. He'd felt what Abby had felt. Abby reached out a tentacle in Brock's direction, squawking for him to tell Mommy and Daddy what was about to happen.

Brock felt something when the abomination looked into his eyes. Something was pushing on the edges of his mind, and it was scared and pleading.

"We have to leave." Brock said. "NOW."

It was too late. As soon as the words left his mouth, almost a dozen wurm constructs erupted from various points in the walls surrounding the crystal sun. The wickedly sharp edges of their maws glinted in the crystal's light.

"Okay, Rinok, time to prove yourself," Odom said. "You're a master tactician, right?"

Rinok simply stared at the constructs, his face expressionless. At his disposal he counted three mind mages, himself an accomplished warmage, a beast- and a dragonmaster, a sadistic cannibal, a mad scientist, a monk with a talent for fire, a jack of all trades, a very long-lived necromancer, an angel, a faerie queen, an elemental, a hydra, and a mechanical spider.

"Telepaths in the back, keep us connected. If anyone is proficient with fire or lightning, they're our front lines. Summoners in the middle to bring us whatever aid you can, if summoning anything to this plane is even possible." Rinok jumped down onto the platform, drawing his greatsword in one fluid motion. "Melee fighters, to me."

He was soon flanked by Nadia and Marthel.

"This is all we've got, huh?" Rinok asked.

Marthel brandished his twin swords, Brutality and Elegance. "Seems so."

"Wait, where do I fit in all this? I'm none of those things," Odom asked.

"Just stick with the elemental, and heal us when necessary. Your chaotic life magic can do that much can't it?" Rinok barked.

"No promises," Odom mumbled.

Ashleigh deposited Abby in Odom's arms. "I'll be right back, I promise." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before sliding down Maelstrom Wanderer's side to join Brock and Rhyne in the contingent of element-slingers. Sverre quickly partnered up with Kyari and Sa'Raah while Lisandra and Vilhelm remained back with Odom.

"Here's the plan," Lisandra said, "I'm going to see about maintaining some sort of order here, read when people's weaknesses are being exploited. Can you try and do whatever you did to my spider to those things?" She directed Vilhelm's attention to the wurms.

"I can certainly try, but they might be harder to subdue." If a few of them died here he wasn't that concerned. It just made his job that much easier later on.

"Everyone ready?" Rinok shouted. "We move in when they're within two-hundred yards."

It was a tense few seconds before the wurms made it to Rinok's point of reference. "Forward!" he shouted, rushing in. The hot metallic wind being belched from the wurm constructs raked through his lungs and whistled past his ears. This was living. This was battle.

Sverre slammed his palm into the ground, pulling up his sleeve as he did so. "Alright, big guy, time to have some fun." The tattoo on his arm began to glow with a dark aura. He began to rise from the ground, a wurm as big around as the world tree of Helheim under his feet. The fetid smell of dead flesh filled the air, but to Sverre it was sweet nectar. His bound companion, Jormungandr, the world serpent, let out an ear shattering roar.

Kyari hadn't left the back of her hydra. "Okay, Primey, let's see what you can really do." She urged it forward.

Sa'Raah was having more than a little trouble reaching out to find a creature to come to her aid. She didn't have any shortcuts like Sverre had been able to create. Breaking through the barrier around Xerex to seek out her mother or another dragon took more effort than she'd realized. Her breath came quick and ragged, sweat dripping down the back of her neck even though it was cool.

"Vilhelm, that one's headed for Sa'Raah, shut it down," Lisandra said. She held on to Maelstrom Wanderer's barky bits at the elemental lurched forward under Odom's command to cover Sa'Raah while Vilhelm set to work on the mechanical wurm.

"Any time would be great, dude," Odom shouted as the wurm slammed into Maelstrom Wanderer's side, causing the elemental to let out a bellow and counterattack viciously. Molten goo poured out of the elemental's stomach, some of it splattering Sa'Raah.

"What is this?"

"What he eats," Odom responded.

"It's..." Sa'Raah felt the power coursing through her hands. "It's mana?!"

"Duh!"

She scooped some up in her arms and slung it towards Ashleigh, Brock, and Rhyne. Only Brock was having success creating a sustained flame, relying on the ghostfire technique. "Use this, it'll make it easier!"

Sa'Raah sunk her hands into the growing pool of mana and dug deep inside herself for the power she needed to reach across the planes and bring her dragons. There was one species she'd met in her travels that would attack these constructs with gusto: the Skyship Stalkers of Kaladesh.

"Brothers and sisters of the wing," she began, "the Envoy implores you to grant your assistance in this, my time of need."

A pair of the giant, red beasts erupted from the pool of mana. Sa'Raah caught one of their tails and pulled herself up behind the wings.

"Envoy we are here," they said in draconic. "What would you have us do?"

"These wurms attacked us," Sa'Raah explained. "My friends and I must defeat them."

The dragons salivated when their eyes found the wurms. "We come to your aid with pleasure."

Ashleigh and Rhyne dug their hands into the mana pouring from Maelstrom Wanderer's belly as Odom worked to close the wound. The elemental was regenerating quickly, but if they wanted to be able to run Odom's help was required. Bright red blazes sprang from Rhyne's hands. He let out a shrill cackle and ran headlong into the fray, barreling past Rinok's coordinated assault on one of the wurms and jumping into another's gaping maw. Ashleigh reached into the minds of everyone around her and cherry-picked her favorite destruction spells. Lighting arced from her fingertips, jumping between nearby wurms.

Kyari's hydra had entangled a wurm in its many necks. Several of the heads were biting into the metal body, ripping it to pieces. She surveyed the battlefield. A couple of the wurms appeared to have been paralyzed by lightning, and another few bore signs of having been melted by fire. Sa'Raah soared through the air on dragonback, her mount and its companion raking their claws across the angered wurms. Rinok, Marthel, and Nadia were working together and Lisandra stood back with Vilhelm keeping tabs on the situation. Kyari felt Lisandra's mental check ins, and they were oddly comforting. Sverre rode around on the back of Jormungandr in a similar manner to Kyari riding on her hydra.

Then she saw something that chilled her to the bone. More wurms came pouring out of the walls. She looked to Rinok. He'd seen them too and judging by the look on his face knew they'd never be able to make it against so many.

"Retreat!" came the order from Rinok. "Fall back!"

Rinok, Marthel, and Nadia rushed back towards a now healed Maelstrom Wanderer.

"Climb on up, guys," Odom said. He was dripping with glowing goo. "Sverre, Ash, Brock, come on!"

Everyone fell back to the elemental, abandoning the spider. Kyari and Sa'Raah were forced to unsummon their companions, sending them back to their planes of origin.

"But what if he gets lost," Kyari protested before Sverre forcibly unsummoned her hydra.

"It'll be fine, Kyari. It's going back to Shandalar, back to its home," Brock put an arm around her.

"We're missing Rhyne," Rinok said.

"You sound upset," Vilhelm said as Maelstrom Wanderer began to move, lumbering away from the growing army of wurms.

"He's not missing," Odom said, hauling Rhyne up and over the side of the elemental.

"That was so much fun," Rhyne said. "Why'd we stop?"

Everyone broke into laughter.

Abby let out an indignant squawk.

"I know, sweetie, I know. You tried to warn us," Ashleigh cooed.

"So... we go the other way?" Sa'Raah suggested.

"You mean the way I wanted us to go the first time?" Brock asked, crossing his arms.

"What do you want us to say, man?" Odom said. "That you were right and the rest of us were wrong?"

"Of course..." Lisandra had returned to poring over the thesis. "After that idiom, it says we shouldn't get distracted by shiny things."

"Isn't anybody worried those things are going to chase us?" Sverre said.

"They shouldn't," Marthel responded. "The thing about constructs is that they're typically built with a specific purpose. Those should just leave us alone now that we're out of the bounds of that giant crystal thing."

"Do you suppose that was the heart of this plane?" Ashleigh asked.

"It's possible, but we need to go deeper than the heart to get to what Urza's left here for us." Marthel smiled, and this time it was a genuine one. Everyone had actually worked together for a common goal rather than forming factions and trying to kill each other. He sincerely hoped this kind of thing kept happening.