#his shop or whatever !! definitely not anywhere near the masses of Living

[bcneheaded]

💬🥀 — There's screaming... just around the corner there, just beyond this alleyway. Somewhere near the location of Artemis' shop, but far enough away to make the lesser demonic and shadow entities feel a little too brave, perhaps. To make the scouting goons of the demon's rival, a vampire lord, feel a little too at ease.

" 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎. " Comes a hoarse whisper; voice low as though murmuring a secret. A strangled whimper, and then something wet spattering to the ground. Whatever it was wasn't human, at least. But did that truly make the pain inflicted any better?

Rounding the corner, one would see the suited demon standing within the empty, narrow street, holding aloft an inky black imp-like demon in his gloved hand... Black tendrils wrapped around the smaller entity's throat, face, and arms... squeezing. slowly burning it with infernally heated tar. He was torturing it. playing with his food, so to speak. "𝙸 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑." Artemis' voice rings out in a hushed tone, words still level but scathing; biting; sharp within the undertones. He hated this creature. Hated it's kind. Hated his kind... hated them... 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌. There's a squelching noise-- black tendrils of tar wringing the creature hard enough squeeze out a strained gargle of pain-- and then there sound of something pouring to the ground. A heavy thump moments later.... and a sigh. Yellow pin-pricks of light stare in disgust at the crushed form of the demon at his feet, it's fetid blood trickling down the pavement-- threatening to soil the elder demon's pristine wingtip shoes.

And then he turns his sharp gaze slowly to meet that of the onlooker, seemingly hiding by the wall in the shadows. He says nothing, for now. He simply stares.

[datarevived]

   -- Ⅳ : ᴢᴀᴠᴀʟᴀ

The feeling of the sun was warm today. Its' rays not too hot nor blistering; while being caressed by the gentle tones of the wind that brought in a cooling kiss upon ones' skin. The welcoming of a new day rests upon the horizon, its' luminescence peering through the vented windows of the building she called a home. Today was the day she'd stop sneaking around and hiding. Today was the day she'd make a decision.

The dull twilight of ones' skin twinkled in the soft sunlight of the room as she stretched herself awake to a new day. Body having sprawled against the mattress on the floor, as sheets seem to have tangled her lower legs in a midnight fret, causing a temporary distress solved by none other than viciously kicking until the cotton fell from her feet. A yawn -- or was it a groan? as she tumbles upon her side, lazy arm flung over her face as she debated greeting back the morning with tiresome gaze. 

In the back of her mind, she'd blame the mattress being on the floor, that she should have stacked more blankets to make do for the lack of comfort. But in reality, it was a tiresome mind, too loud to cut off and too persistent to sleep peacefully. Numerous questions and scenarios that had rot through her head during the night -- her purpose, and what she now stood for among the people. What this power in her chest stood for and who granted it -- for what reason, why her -- she'd fail to get the answers she wanted; and so she'd try to get the answers she could, today.

A familiar whirl chimes in the air -- mechanical tick hovering over lifeless body as it queued an audible ' hum '. A single blink of ones' optic as if to consider the following, before its' voice cracked the air in such sharpness against the silence.

" Do you plan to stay in bed all day? " the light asked.

A rhetorical answer -- the Awoken lets out another groan, the tips of her fingers flexing in consideration before rolling onto her stomach and shoving her face further into the pillow. Arms cross over her head, her backside seeming to rise and fall with each breath. Already, the stress of being unreasonable and responsibility was weighing on her social meter.

" It's not healthy, you know. Even as a Guardian, you still have to take care of yourself. "

And her companion-for-life was not helping.

" Ihm ghttin' hmp. "

" ...Ah, what? "

" Ihm' ge'ttin' upppp, " the translation whines, pinched between pillow and cheek as Selene turns her head just briefly enough to inhale clean air and understandable vocals. A pause in her movements before getting committed, the woman then putting her hands at the sides of her head and pushing upward in a mean cat stretch, a few bones in her shoulder popping the excess air between joints as she did so. It was a satisfying yet dreadful feeling -- bringing her knees beneath her core and sitting on her feet, raising arms to the ceiling as she tugged each shoulder once at the opposing side before pushing her chest outward in another stretch following ' pop '. 

A worn expression written across her face, certainly not the one of a full nights' rest but it would have to do. Dulled irises take point around the room, surveying the box-esq environment that had been gifted to her from Hawthorne before looking up upon her Ghost, its' shell hovering in plain sight. A half frown in return to its' original statement, that she'd rather much stay in the damp coolness of her room than go out another day avoiding Ikora's eye contact. 

" Are you always like this? "

" Like what? " the Ghost blinked.

" Like... this, " she flips a wrist, motioning to nothing in particular as she comments, " You know, around. Just kinda... floating about. Do you not sleep or do activities yourself? "

" I... do not, " the reply comes with a vague confusion, " No sleep, no hobbies, well -- there is reading and decoding, but, most would say its' more a chore than hobby, " it rattles, " But, we Ghost don't exactly require the physical stimulation that you life-forms do. Nor do we have a purpose outside our Guardian -- hence, my hobby, is making sure that you have hobbies. And that you're safe, and kept in line. "

" Mmm... sure, " the Guardians' head tilts, the information only half making its' way to being processed. That the Ghost was more an unmovable thorn in her foot, than that of a best friend for life. Interesting, to say the least. At this point, not knowing if she'd be fond of the fact or not.  

Matters to decide for later, she supposed.

With violet brows furrowing in thought, she then begins the day by prying herself from the floor. Pulling ones' self to feet, walking over to the nearby dresser, stocked with two sets of clothes as she changes from her sleep wear -- a tank with cotton shorts to a long-sleeve and fitting pants. The threads in the pocket of said pants prickled at the side as if only recently seamed. Nothing too spectacular, but it beat walking around the place bare. A cotton-braid pair of socks, with boots to match the fix, and she was out the door -- greeted by the rising sun on the horizon as the sounds of the busy Bazaar scurried awake.

" Are you going to talk to Ikora today? " the Ghost asks, keeping its' distance within the Awoken's head space. Its' optic ever so often looking back at its' Guardian, curious of what new actions she might take. Rarely did it seem to meet eye-to-eye, her attention always seemingly caught elsewhere.

" I'm not sure. "

An exaggerated way of saying, ' no ', she walks through the halls of the Tower before coming up to the opening of the balcony. The soft breeze causing her hair to flutter to the side, the sun once more striking a ray against her face, causing a set of star-aligned freckles to shimmer. The smells of the ramen shop just up the road begin to make way into her senses -- lunch prep ushering her to spend what few glimmer she carried.

In the corner of her eye, the Warlock is already at her post. Never a dime missed on the hourglass, it seemed. The mere thought of how a woman could remain so... poise, even in the front line of a war; it sends a chill down the Awoken's spine. A nervous swallow in the back of her throat as she considers her options -- her doubts. If such was true that Ikora was apart of the Vanguard, and that they ran things around here...

" ...I think, I want to talk to the other Vanguards. "

" The others? " her Ghost perks, a questionable expression lighting upon its' sensor. " Is that wise? "

" I'd have to meet them eventually, anyway, right? " Selene hums. " Plus... what if this whole place is just... some sort of recruitment shack. Like, they just... tell you what you want to hear. A bait and trap. "

" You don't trust them? "

" It's not that... " her voice cracks at an offended tempo, " It's just... this is still, just... I don't know, it's just so unreal to me. That this... this is what the middle of war looks like, that half these people have one life to live while the others are just, eating it up and doing whatever they want. That, who decides what goes on around here is driven by people who don't have any reason to fear, and that by any standard is just --  just -- "

" Okay, okay. Wrong term, my bad, " the Ghost interrupts, stopping the woman in her rant. " Ah, perhaps the use... ah,  paranoid? I do believe that is the better definition here. You're weary -- perfectly natural. Humans are very weary creatures, always the unexpected. But! If I might be able to help weigh your options a bit, that the people here might be more of help that say so, whatever it is that they are fighting beyond the wall. "

" Yeah, yeah -- I get it, yeah, " she sighs, waving a hand in surrender as the other is raised to her head -- pinching the higher bridge of her nose as she breathed. Nothing to get the blood boiling like good morning conspiracy theories. " I know... I know here is right. It just, feels right. But I... I want to know what the others say. I want to see if someone says anything different. Or if this place is just... one big... "

" Recruitment center? "

" ..Was going with family, but yeah. That would be the alternative, I guess.  "

The Awoken's mind settling on the latter, she then moves from the shadow of the halls and onward toward the courtyard. Vibrations throughout the pipes of the Tower, rattling in motion between docking ships and fired engines becoming more apparent the further she climbed up the various stairwells. The smells of burnt wire and steel work replace the scent of spices and broth -- the sound of tinkering tools echoing off the plated walls of the gunsmith's shop. To its' side, the sounds of soft tapping and page turning from the cryptarch -- the mans' gaze loitering over the passing Awoken for a moment before going back to his  work in hand.

What could be rightfully labeled as the roof of the Tower -- vibrant in both color and life. Multitudes of Guardians walking about the place, as conversations dotted the corners and other shops. A booming voice that stood among the masses laughed near the edge of the walls, a man built tall and full garb in armor head to toe with hands planted at his hips. Occupied with several other Guardians in full suits, their chat too mixed between the masses to really listen in on the details. 

Had his aura not been so inviting, Selene may have very well mistaken the man as the Vanguard she was here to see. But not too far away, stood another man who seemed quieter of the bunch -- matching a very fitting description of, ' big blue ', as his attention held tight to the city beneath the mass. 

" That is very much a leader pose if I've ever saw it, " her Ghost comments, swerving a round.

Her stomach is already twisting in an eager knot at the thought. The brief idea of hunting down the remaining Vanguard, first, then saving the king for last -- it's an option on the table but whether or not it'd place her anywhere different, is slim chance to none. To suck it up, get it over with -- she wanted answers, and who better than the leader of the pack to get them? It was a mental battle of persistence and cowardice, the Awoken's face twitching in discomfort before taking in a deep breath and flooring it towards the man with a staggered walk. Her Ghost, the small light which held plenty of commentary before, quickly popping out of existence as she approached, its' guidance silenced by the figurative means to observe and not heard.

Before words can leave her mouth, it was one step too late that the Titan turns his back to the city, his full attention held in approach as he meets her gaze eye to eye. As if sixth sense, or perhaps just the idle sound of footwork from behind -- the man replicates the traditional Awoken features, his skin touch of blue and eyes sharp as nails against night. An inquisitive look dosed upon his face, brow anchored upward in question as he stares back at the doe before him. 

A silence is given in return -- the woman held hostage by her own nerves as she stares back. The height difference only just now dawning on its' intimidation factor, the Titan's shadow engulfing her like an eclipse. His face lacked the warmth of the Warlock's smile, and his voice remained unspoken, immediately lacking Hawthorne's charm. What was she thinking, just only having one foot in the den and already going towards its' pack alpha? What did she expect?

" Eh--Excuse me... " the two words slipping through her mouth, it feels as if it takes the remainder of her breath along with it. " I was... l-looking... "

" --Looking? " his jaw opens, curiosity piqued in favor as one brow raises higher. " Something I might be able to assist, Guardian? "

Ah. A traditional habit they seemed to have -- the disregard to names. A previous conversation held with Hawthorne echoing in the back of her head, it's just easier that way. Pensive expression slipping through the cracks of constraint for only a second, the Awoken regroups her words in full before trying again. 

" I... I mean, I was looking... for the Van..guard. "

Pause is held for what felt like hours, the woman sheering away her gaze to something minuscule upon the ground as she waited. In return, the Titan's face softens momentarily, brow put at ease and corners of lips curl in interest. It isn't a smile, but a look of concern -- the nudge of ones' head as he speaks, his voice resonating in low cadence.

" We've not met, have we? " it's stated far less than a question, and more as matter of fact. " I would welcome you to the Tower, but it seems that someone else has beat me to it, and has already offered you space, " he motions, a hand raising in gesture towards her familiar attire. " I apologize that we've not been introduced earlier or I'd been happy to oblige... but I am Zavala, Commander of the Vanguard and seer to Guardian Military Operations. To whom I owe the pleasure? "

" I'm... I -- my name, is Selene. I'm... H-Hawthorne, actually, got me... settled in... " the Awoken fumbled, her eyes darting to anything else than to maintain eye contact with the other as her hands grabbed at the loose ends of her shirt. Her cheeks pinched in ache at the attempt to remain presentable -- a hallow hole in her chest nearly suffocating her by a whim. " I... don't mean to intrude... "

" Ease yourself, Selene. There are no enemies here, " Zavala  spoke, this time cracking a soften smile. " I am unsure what has you so... perturbed. But I assure you, you are safe here. A place of solid peace and mind, may there be no safer place out there. "

How unfortunate that his words only fulfilled the opposite of what they mean to encourage.

" S-Sorry, it's just... adjusting, " she manages to speak out, one hand reaching towards the nape of her neck. Another survey of the courtyard and its' distortion before taking a breath and meeting back eye contact with the Commander. " I've... talked to Ikora Rey, and, wanted to.. speak with the remaining Vanguard if it was possible... "

" Ikora? " he repeats, quirking another brow movement, " A woman often too wise for her own good, but unmatched in the laws of Warlocks. I can only hope she remained positive in mentioning the remainder of the Vanguard, " a chuckle. " I am... right to assume then, as a New Light, she's given you some insight on the situation we find ourselves currently? "

" S-Somewhat... she mentioned a war. Something about, Cabal and the Traveler, " her eyes move up to the figure in the sky temporarily, " And that... Guardians are, typically the front line. Especially uhm... new Lights... "

Another pause -- the Titan works to process all of his words correctly, perhaps more in detail than the Warlock let on. As he, too, takes a glance at the chained Traveler, his expression is something Selene's already witnessed before upon the face of Ikora when she spoke all the same of the deity. A pained look of failing hope -- something so far to grasp, yet barely brushing the fingertips of the chosen.

" ...We've lost many of our best. Ghaul having been a step ahead this whole time, and with it, leaving us to be hacked away by the masses. The Red War will not just be known for its' fight against the Red Legion, but the blood of our fallen brothers and sisters... we owe it to them to fight. To keep strong, and win against this threat that's taken away from us so many. " a hand moves in place as Zavala grips the railings of the Tower, the fabric of gloved mesh tightening against his figure. " This is not just a War for the Traveler, but for the very species of the human kind. Should we lose, risk extinction against the Cabal, and like a history untampered, we become like the rest we dare never meet. "

Put into a larger perspective, the decision begins to weigh twice as much upon her shoulders now. A grimace of features as she raises hands from shirt to arms, wrapping her own across her chest as she hugged at her own frame. A being so small, yet so full of power. The human race stood on the line, and the Guardians were the only ones who stood a chance to fight back. It was less of a heroic journey and more of an obligated fate, sewn between crimson string that fell indestructible to scissors of the Gods. 

Anyone to chose any differently -- to decide that enough was enough and that they'd live their life normally, while those condemned to a single life worked tirelessly to survive, were they looked at in poor taste? Or were they shunned all together, nothing but rumors upon dirt to those who remained so cowardly and/or selfish to abide by the strengths they were given.

She didn't ask for this.

No one did. 

But certainly, in her mind -- Gods, she didn't ask for this.

" Had it not been for the Traveler, I doubt even humanity would have survived past the Golden Age... " Zavala's words pick up, guiding the Awoken's attention back to his front, " But here we are. More alive than we've ever been. And I'll be damned I let the Cabal take it from us. "

His hand lessens around the railing in front of him, his gaze teetering back to the Guardian present. Selene's entire body seemed encased by uncertainty, so much so that the Commander could read it without question. He takes a breath before continuing, rephrasing the very same that had been spoken of from the Warlock days earlier.

" -- We do not ask that all Guardians fight. That is a choice for them to make their selves, and in doing so, your decision to make. We cannot ask you to risk life after life, fighting for something you do not believe in. But if I might be able to give one simple request, " his voice comes between a mix of empathy and solidarity -- " is that I ask you to think it over, Guardian. Not everyone can do the things that you can do... nor can they achieve the heights you can achieve. With this boon of the Traveler, it is my belief we owe it to those who cannot fight for themselves. That we are gifted in such a way that we are meant to do so much more. If you believe your strengths to be shone elsewhere, however... there is none to stop you. Nor will we see you as any less. "

It was a concern on its' own how contempt his face sat in the process of delivering a bold-face lie. His words thrown on her like a weighed cloak, sewn with half-needles as they gnawed into her skin. The repeating definition -- ' gift ' -- such things were given in joyous occasion, not bestowed upon those unnoticed. And yet, it seemed all the same here -- both between the Vanguard and other Guardians who seem to accept such responsibility so lightly.

Was she wrong, for being so callus?

Was she wrong, for needing time to decide?

" I... I'll think on it."

Right now, all she wanted to do was retreat back into her room. To dive back under the blankets, sink into the floor and melt away. What she wanted, answers to questions that plagued the back of her skull like a continuous tune, and yet what she got was a louder tempo. It was sickening -- she felt morally sick, her chest aching to explode at the lack of air and her arms wanting to bruise at the brute force her nails seem to dig against.

She didn't want to think.

She didn't want to be here.

She didn't want to be a Guardian.

She just wanted to be.

" It's all we can ask for, " the Commander nods, offering a plain smile. " Was there anything else I can do for you? "

" No, thank you. I'm... actually going to head out for lunch. Then... ah... "

" Rest easy, Guardian. Enjoy your meal, " he finishes the farewell for her. Whether its' to be polite and ease her burden, or be it for his own impatience -- she didn't know. He was but a temple, impossible to read in the ways she could others. Fatigue quickly zapping the rest of her energy as she turned and walked away, the mental capacity of all that was running through her head meeting the equivalent of informational override.

" That was... different, " her Ghost hums, sparking back to life as it weaved near her shoulder. " What do you think? "

. . .

" I don't want to talk about it right now. "

[anodyne-sunflower]

Love me like you do (Part 3)-Balem series

A/N: As promised, here is the next installment. ❤️ Feedback always welcomed! I’m not sure how long this will be….it came out to be six parts, but now I wanna extend it and make Balem suffer for some ass lmao

MASTER LIST

*****

It took a moment for Mr. Night to leave, and you watched him carefully until the large doors closed. With the softest of footsteps you creeped over to the door, placing your ear to it. There was nothing but silence on the other side, and ignoring the voice nagging you to stay put, you tugged on the handles, furrowing your brow when they didn’t budge.

“No, no, no! Ugh! Come on!”

You kicked the doors in annoyance, running a hand through your hair as you whined loudly. There didn’t seem to be an escape route anywhere near you, and as you glanced around the room you felt your stress levels increase. No matter where you looked, nothing around you appeared to be familiar. The bed was large, gold and black sheets tucked neatly around it, and large silk curtains hung from the bed posts. A far cry from your simple twin bed back in your apartment, not to mention the large bath at the edge of the chambers, marbled, and of course lined with gold. It was almost too perfect in your opinion, and if you had to venture a guess, this room belonged to the only man who seemed worthy of it.

“Every woman’s dream bed.”

You muttered, running your fingers over the many pillows that laid against the headboard. You had to wonder how oddly that man slept in order to need so many pillows. Or was it meant for decoration? Either way, it seemed excessive, though you couldn’t deny how comfortable it looked. With a sigh, you turned towards the windows, at least you guessed that’s what they were. Long black curtains hung over the far side of the room, blocking one long wall, and you curiously walked over to them. You pulled the curtain back, eyes widening at the view before you.

“Dear god…”

There stood towers along the horizon, dark, smoky, and ominous as they clashed with the dusty orange color of the sky. Bright lights aligned the tips of them, some red, others yellow, and if you squinted you could make out a few people running along the ramps, and bridges. It looked like the oil refineries back on earth, and if you didn’t just witness the many odd creatures, and high tech weapons, you’d actually think you were back home.

“Where am I?”

You bit down on your lip in thought, worrying it between your teeth as you tried not to lose your mind. Crazy at seemed, the only realistic option was that this was an entirely different planet, and you were just kidnapped by some space overlord. You supposed, as far as fairy tales went, this could’ve gone a lot worse.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

With a start, you jumped back, hitting the large windows along the wall as your eyes met those of the man who had incapacitated you earlier. He was standing just before you, hands clasped together in front of him, looking as confident as ever. Green eyes trailed over your form, as if he was studying your every feature and logging it in his mind.

“W-Where did you…?”

You held a hand over your heart, clutching at it as if that would settle the rapid beat. It was almost unsettling how quiet he was, and you had to wonder how he even managed to sneak up on you. You didn’t recall the sound of doors opening or footsteps.

He scoffed, lips curling up into a smirk as he edged closer to you. With every inch of distance he closed, you stepped further back, trying to sink into the window like that would save you from his menacing presence. With a swift glance over your body, he moved his gaze to the outside view, a proud expression on his face.

“Jupiter.”

“What?”

His chest was mere centimeters from your own, and you were far too flustered by the proximity to process his words.

“Is that not what you earthlings call it?”

He seemed unimpressed with your silence, and he looked you over with a glint of annoyance in his eyes. For some reason, that alone was enough for you to find some courage and respond to him.

“You mean to tell me I’m on another planet….?”

You look back outside, an overwhelming feeling taking over as your gaze roamed along the refinery. How was any of this even possible? A day ago you were leaving your simple part time job at a coffee shop, and you wake up on Jupiter. How exactly does one explain that?

“That can’t be-”

“Have you lived your life believing your own kind to be all that exists?”

Balem leaned down, whispering softly as you trembled before him.

“It is better to accept this, than to pretend it isn’t true.”

He moved away from you, giving you a disgusted look before turning quickly on his heel. His cape created a soft breeze as he walked away, and you stood against the corner, gripping the glass as best you could in your moment of panic.

“Change your clothes, the ones you have on are hideous.”

You looked after him, scowling deeply at his insult.

“I-”

“Now.”

His tone was even, finished, and before you could argue back you saw him lift a steady hand and click something behind his ear before he seemed to teleport away in a mass of blue and gray.

He left you there, even more confused than before. As if he simply told you the time of day and expected you to be okay with it. You walked towards the bed, touching the soft material of the outfit left behind for you. You weren’t sure what game this Balem, at least that’s what others seem to be calling him, was playing with you. However, you weren’t too keen on being part of whatever it was. He appeared to be far more intrigued by you than expected, and judging by the lizard creature from the dungeons that captured you, being able to keep your life seemed to be a rarity around a man like him.

You picked up the dress, raising an eyebrow in disapproval at it. It was long, black of course, and the bottom half was a coarse, transparent material that allowed anyone to see the bodysuit and your legs underneath. The top, though ornate, was far too revealing for your tastes, and the long sleeves were made up of designs of leaves and flowers. It was beautiful, that wasn’t debatable, but this was not something you were even close to use to wearing. The V neck didn’t leave much to the imagination, you had to guess, but after seeing the outfits he wore these people seemed to value their fashion far more than their hospitality.

“Definitely not.” You dropped the dress back on the bed, scoffing at it. You are quite content with your sweater and leggings at this point, and you had no interest in extending your stay here. Moreover, did he truly expect you to flaunt about in a revealing outfit? Not to mention it might be for his own sick pleasure.

“Oh my god, am I sex slave?”

You slapped your cheeks with your hands, pursing your lips in deep thought. He could’ve certainly taken advantage already if he truly wanted to. He was far stronger than you, and even possessed abilities beyond the scope of normal. So, if he intended to have you, he was certainly taking his time. You guessed that was at least a decent thing he could do.

The doors opened just then, and you looked up to see two women, clad in very loud outfits of you said so yourself, coming towards you.

“Um…”

“Lord Balem has asked that we make sure you clean yourself up.”

“Clean myself up? That jerk…”

You whispered the last part, not wanting anyone getting the word out that you had just insulted their king, or emperor, whatever he was to them.

“That’s not necessary.”

You tried waving them off, but they simply looked at one another with smiles before continuing their pace towards you. You quickly rose from the bed, debating whether running off was a good idea, but they instantly grabbed the dress and with some odd device waved it over you. You gasped when the leggings and sweater disappeared, leaving you naked before these two women like it was nothing.

You moved to cover yourself, but with another movement of the device the black dress was now so elegantly clung around your body.

“Perfection.”

One of the girls bowed to you, smiling and softly clapping her hands together as the other one nodded.

“Lord Balem will be pleased.”

“What is wrong with you-”

Before you could get your insults and annoyances out, they turned gracefully around and headed back outside, leaving you there tugging on the dress and attempting to get out of it.

You looked up to see them bowing to someone, and with your hands clutching the upper half of the outfit, you saw Balem enter the room again, this time screaming his head off at that mousey looking man.

“I did not ask for your opinion, Mr.Night! I-”

Balem’s gaze fell upon you, hiding behind one of his bed posts with a blush on your face. It was obvious you weren’t comfortable being so ‘on display’ for people, but as he turned more towards you, he could see the dress perfectly from his point of view.

The V neck dipped beautifully over your chest, revealing just enough to gain his complete attention, and the bottom revealed your long legs to his wandering eyes. It was a sight he wouldn’t soon forget, and with a single movement he pushed the clipboard into Mr.Night’s hands roughly, his dark, silky voice echoing in the room.

“Leave us.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Without hesitation, probably from being scolded earlier, Mr.Night scurried out of the chambers, giving his Lord one last nervous glance before shutting the doors, and bowing.

****

Thoughts?!

[kyberled]

also; kind of a meta topic — what would braig's life had been like if his father, rather than his mother, died? what would he have been like if his mother had raised him alone (or perhaps with her parents, or a new partner, or other extended family) in her care, without eadric? or, perhaps divorced from eadric in a strangely ideal situation in which they receive financial stability from him but he rarely has any contact with braig.

Metas || Accepting literally always

Ho boy. I got a lot to say about this. First off, I do wanna make a few points about Eadric, cause, he wasn’t always a flaming mass of acrid fecal matter in a vaguely bitter humanoid shape. He wasn’t a great person by any means, but it was a lot of the fallout following Shiv’s accident that made him as bitter and disgusting as he is, today. He never wanted kids to begin with, and would’ve been a bad parent regardless, but, yeah, not quite as awful as he is, now.

So, if Shiv had never died, Eadric still wouldn’t be very involved in Braig’s life. As I said, he never really wanted kids, so he decided he’d take on extra duties and whatnot at work, which had the double bonus of letting him stay away from his responsibilities and bringing in extra money so Shiv could take time off to actually, you know, be a parent to their very young infant son? But it worked out well for them, they each got what they wanted (mostly), Braig was well looked-after by Mum and Dad didn’t get to bother him while also providing the financial support, and sometimes Shiv would go out to help at the hospital she worked at and leave Braig in the capably-programmed hands of the various droids they owned, after lecturing them on exactly how to take care of her baby, right down to the very finest of details regarding his feeding. She was kind of obsessive over making sure Braig was okay. If Eadric had died, then obviously Shiv would have to spend a lot more time at work, and a lot less time with Braig, in order to make end’s meet, and he’d probably spend a lot of time being raised by droids, which, while not necessarily a bad thing, it would definitely impact his upbringing and perception of things. As an added bonus, this would really stress Shiv out and make her feel guilty about not being there for her kid, which in turn would bring down her mood, and of course impact their relationship. She does her best to avoid taking any of it out on Braig, of course, and on the rare instances she does snap at him, it’s followed instantly with apologies and hugs - “I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to yell at you, it’s not your fault, you didn’t do anything wrong, work’s really tough right now but I still shouldn’t have yelled, I’m sorry, I love you��, that kind of thing, but she still feels kinda like garbage afterwards. Once she works her way up in the hospital staff, it’s less taxing on her, and bonus points come in the form of getting some time off to spend with her boy. Some usual activities for them include going to the book store, the tea shop, or the park, though they also enjoy spending time at home. Sometimes they’ll just read, or watch holovids, or cook. Braig figures out he likes cooking a lot earlier in this verse than the canon, since he doesn’t really have much else to do, without training or missions to get in the way. He’s obviously not in nearly as good shape as he is in the canon verse/main timeline, for obvious reasons, but he’s still a wiry little guy with a metabolism that could outpace an out-of-control speeder. I like to think that the Force in an untrained individual, or, at least, an untrained Braig, manifests itself in the form of loads of pent-up energy, all the time, and a lot of stimuli that non-sensitives can’t pick up on, kind of like the air being filled with static electricity and your ears always getting filled with whispers, maybe random fluctuations in temperature without it getting actually hotter/colder– It’s kind of hard to explain, but just think about the air feeling different based on how strong in the Force a place is, and of course this can also amplify other sensations caused by the Force, as well. I also headcanon, at least in Braig’s case, that phantom touches can be a thing, like feeling something brushing by when nothing is there, and it can be really disconcerting if you’re not used to it. Of course, how strong these are depends on how strong the specific person is in the Force. Since Braig is still the same old Braig, he’s got enough midichlorians swimming about in his cells that he could have been a Jedi, if his mother had agreed to give him to the Order, and so he’s pretty susceptible to the different signals the Force sends into his brain. Adding to this is the fact that he’s never gotten any training, and so has no idea how to throw up the ‘shields’ or barriers that Jedi use to dull the feelings that the Force gives him, so he’s basically just getting slammed in the face with all sorts of stimuli twenty-four seven, but it’s been like that for as long as he can remember, so he’s pretty much used to it, by now.

Tl;dr, Braig who was not taken in by the Jedi is more easily distracted, and wired on some kind of energy, and in some places gets really bad mojo and just generally feels terrible, and that definitely reflects on his mood.

He’s also a lot less selfless in this AU, if that’s the word I’m looking for. Or, well, maybe more attached to material goods is a better way of phrasing it. Less likely to put himself at risk for the greater good, or whatever. I wouldn’t call him a bad person by any means, but he’s not trained to think other people just matter more than he does. He tries to be helpful when he can, and he wants to make his mother proud and do good like she does, but in the end, he’s just a normal teenager. He’s not a civil servant, not a monk, just a kid with a pretty good heart in his chest. He’s less brave, as well, since he hasn’t been forced to endure the horrors of war at a young age, but he also doesn’t have a lot of the same fears he had as a Jedi, such as the fear of worms and snakes, of narrow underground spaces, and even his fear of abandonment isn’t nearly as bad as it was what he was a Jedi. He’s not subject to the nightmares and insomnia and whatnot in this verse, so, while he’s not as in shape, he’s probably healthier, since he’s getting regular sleep and a lot less stress. He’s also got a lot fewer scars, for obvious reasons, so, that’s a bonus.

In this verse, Shiv actually doesn’t have nearly as many problems with Eadric, the Republic, or the Jedi that she does in the canon, so they’re probably still married in this verse. Eadric’s not as much of a trash heap, as I said, but he’s also not the most involved person in the world. Braig doesn’t know him very well, but they don’t have the same antagonistic and detached and quite frankly abusive relationship they would have if he were Braig’s sole caregiver. He is still pretty strict, though.

Probably the really only positive interaction he has with his dad in this is chess. Instead of Obi and Shaak, his chess partner is Eadric. It’s really the only form of strategy Braig has to employ, so he’s not quite as good at war games as he is in canon. He’s also not even close to being at the level of combative skill as he is in canon. Again, this one’s kind of a given, but, oh, well.

He still goes on walks/jogs around the neighbourhood, usually at the parks, since, even if the Senate district is safer and less crowded than some other parts of the city, he finds the parks are a lot quieter and easier to navigate. I dunno if martial arts clubs are a thing in the Star Wars universe, though I’m not sure why they wouldn’t be, so he does that as well. It’s a good way for him to burn off more of the Force-given energy, gives him a decent social circle, and the bonus points are, Eadric quietly, and very distantly, approves of it as an activity.

Braig’s still interested in medicine, and follows in his mother’s footsteps of becoming a doctor, and in fact would volunteer his services to the war effort. He wouldn’t go out to the front lines, but he would go to planets that had been hit by the war and were trying to get back up on their feet, and give medical treatment to the people there. He might go to the front lines if he was dragged out, but he avoids it like the plague. Refugees, he will gladly help, but he doesn’t want anything to do with a war zone.

Even so, Braig’s not nearly as well-travelled as he is in the Jedi verse, and he doesn’t speak nearly as many languages. He speaks a few, but it’s more conversational than fluency, at best.

He wouldn’t live with his extended family, since they’re all living at least a couple levels down, and Shiv worked her butt off to get to the surface, where the air is filtered and clean, the sunlight is natural and bright, there aren’t nearly as many feral animals roaming the streets unchecked, and it’s generally a nicer place to live. If it were just her, she wouldn’t be as adamant about it, and might even venture a few levels down to live more within her means (If this were in a timeline where she’s not with Eadric/doesn’t have that financial boon), but, she would never subject her son to that. Only the best for him, she thinks. She kind of spoils Braig relentlessly. She’s also the glue that holds them together as a family, too. I’m not gonna say Eadric and Braig are best friends, or anywhere near as close as Obi and Braig are in canon, but it’s a positive-neutral sort of thing. 

He’s quieter in this verse, since he doesn’t have to confront politicians or enemy soldiers all the time, he hasn’t developed that outspoken personality as much. He’s more introverted, and another part is due to the fact that he doesn’t have that Force training he does as a Jedi. He doesn’t have the reassurance of being able to sense people’s emotions, so he’s not nearly as confident when speaking. 

I mean, overall, he has a pretty good life. His mom spoils him, he’s not a soldier, he gets an education. He can’t complain.

He does feel like he doesn’t really belong, though.

And, sometimes, on his runs around the city, he’ll stop and stare at the Jedi Temple, and he’ll wonder.

[homo-pink]

First off: you are everything fucked up and beautiful in this world. Second: I'll be going on my first ever visit to NOLA for my birthday in May, and (since you love it so much) was wondering if you had any tips/recommendations for places to go/see/eat. I'm thinking a ghost tour is definitely in order. Any personal favs? Too touristy for you? Would love any ideas you have to offer — thank you!

1) i just went to new orleans again over spring break weekend and it was unbearably fucking dreamy and decaying and weird and wonderful. expectedly.

2) i’m so so excited for you. you’re probably going to leave part of your heart behind when you have to say goodbye. at least a little throb of it.

3) of course i have recommendations. of course, oh god, so many.

i’ve never been on a ghost tour, personally. i tend to be weird about anything structured or laid out with guidelines, go here, do that, gasp at the right time. i like to do my own poking around, seeing what i can see, meeting who i’ll meet.

if you can, don’t stay at a hotel chain, something you can find anywhere else. the whole charm of being there is being there authentically, i think. i love le pavillon with the big statues in front (there’s more up on the roof around the pool). it’s noted for being one of the most haunted hotels but i’ve stayed there so many times and have yet to be touched by any dead darlings, sadly. but they do offer free peanut butter & jelly sandwiches and hot chocolate every night down in the lobby. everybody leaves their rooms in masses to go down. it’s fun.

also highly rec the creole gardens b&b. cutest, most charming place i’ve ever stayed.

for food:

– the camellia grill on carrollton. expect a line on the weekends anytime before noon. always. there are no tables, just one long winding countertop with stools. it doesn’t seat more than 20-ish at a time but it’s worth it to wait, very much. park across the street in the shopping center where sally beauty supply is at. 

– reginelli’s pizzeria. there’s a few locations and all are good. i like the poydras one best for sentimental reasons. it’s not just pizza. they have good everything. i always get the pesto tortellini and the garlic knots. cheesecake is also A+

– betsy’s pancake house is a must must must every time. it’s easy to pass if you’re not looking for it. there’s nothing special about it on the outside but it has a lot of history to it and the food is so so incredible. the silver dollar pancakes are knee buckling if you’re a pancake slut. the owner was murdered a few years back and it was a kind of big thing. it’s bittersweet to see her photo inside.  

–  ideal discount mart’s a tiny little grocery spot that sells the best cookies in the center of the store. and the house made rice pudding is almost ambrosia???

places to go:

– anne rice’s old house. whether you’re a fan or not, it’s fascinating to peek into the gates and think about someone living in there, looking out those windows, sitting in that garden, and coming up with dreamworlds to write. right there.

– holt cemetery. it wasn’t always gated up the way it is now. you used to be able to (mostly legally) get in at any time. but you can still go during daytime hours. there’s something extra sorrowful clinging to this particular yard.

– larry flynt’s hustler clubs. because because because. ♥

– the market (it’s down in the french quarter near decatur. you’ll know it when you see it. tons of vendors. who will push you to spend $50 on a $15 item. just say “i only have $10 on me” or whatever and 95% of the time, it’s yours.)

– and if you’re a supernatural fan, there’s a little voodoo shop that i can’t remember the name of (but it’s on decatur street near an antique shop that sells dead butterflies) and they have this high shelf of candles. it’s mostly memorial stuff, dead musicians and actresses. but they have a pair of saint sam winchester and saint dean winchester candles up there, arranged together sweetly. ♥ ♥

– audubon park. there’s a special tree there that hangs low to the ground and you can sit down on it and watch life walk by. it’s written into one of my favorite PZB books. 

– the prosthetics room @ st. roch. it’s filled with artificial legs and false teeth.

– maskarade. they sell high quality handmade masks. mostly animal faces. kind of expensive but so worth going in to look at. and you’re allowed to put 1 mask on and take 1 photo of yourself. most mask shops won’t allow that. 

– every shop on magazine street but especially the trashy diva boutique.

– the museum of death. thank you @dollylux for this one. i hadn’t known it was there until this past trip. i thought it was only in california. it was one of the most gratifying experiences. you can’t take any photos but it’s magic inside. the first room is purely animal corpses in varying stages of death. some are taxidermy heads or bodies, and some are in jars. some are framed. some are rare. it’s mostly dedicated to serial killers though. the next room plays a video on BTK in detail, shows clips from his trial, etc. they have old body draining tables on display and burial dresses hung on the walls. a section of mourning dolls. graphic crime scene photos in glass cases, including sharon tate. and dorothea puente’s cookbook (!!!) and in the very back is a theater but the seats are pews and it feels very much like a small church. it’s dark and quiet and there are altars in the corners and the film that’s playing is food-yanking gore set to some upbeat maybe-60s music. it’s graphic as f. 

an entire little corner of the museum is for jeffrey dahmer. i spent most of my visit there. they have his entire confession (nearly the size of a phone book) that you can flip through and read. you can also see his old request memos and letters to his friends. in one sent out for thanksgiving, he wrote, “i suppose you’ll be eating turkey and pumpkin pie. i don’t know what i’ll be having.“ 

in the last room right before the end of the exhibits is a podium of notebooks. one where you can write in your ideal death (it’s both wonderfully dreamy and fucking hilarious to flip thru it and read what others have written. mine is in there too now) and another for how you think your light will actually flicker out.

when that’s done – there’s the death merch. i almost bought one of everything.

oh and the bathrooms in back are labeled as embalming rooms ♥ ♥

i hope you have so much fucking fun when you go. please tell me all about it!