#how dare you question someone else's private connection to Divinity

[croziers-compass]

Something I wish for everyone to know is that you signed up for this. Your gods - your spirits - your Horrors - your Divinities? They know you. They know you deep and intimately. They are aware of you and your passions. They know what you are tuned into. They speak to you through your passions and your designs and your impact on the world around you. If your heart throbs for plants they will send you messages through them. They will send you messages on the wind if you are listening to it. You decided what synchronicities you are receptive to. They simply tuned into your frequency and speak to you through those things that draw your attention and focus. They know you. So no. Someone that may get synchronicities from the same Divinity as you through a different avenue and medium does not mean that they are wrong or being tricked or fooled. What a petty thing to deem for another person. The things that linger and lurk and offer up their words and their wisdom to you will speak to you through whatever you focus on in what ever form that takes. The Tongue of your Gods is in your mouth.

[dottiechan]

Tempest (Pt. 4)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |  Part 5  

Read on AO3

Pairing: Ava Du Mortain x f!Detective

Wordcount: 2177

Warnings: mentions of death, smoking

Summary: Ava’s handler has information that will turn her lengthy mission upside down - along with her heart.

Lady Ashbury’s parlour, London, 1898

“You’re ridiculously torpid this afternoon, Ava.”

The hostess’ words ring clear in her ear and she almost flinches - not like the others can hear them. Nate has taken it upon himself to entertain Lady Ashbury’s guests when Ava turned even more sullen and laconic than she usually would in a setting such as this. Afternoon tea wasn’t exactly her scene after all. Nor was being parted from the private detective in such a hurried, unplanned manner as the invitation that simply could not be refused was thrust upon her this morning by a note from Lady Ashbury. Letters such as that hold no importance to her at all normally. She doesn’t socialise. She doesn’t attend parties, or put on a show for the sake of being thought of as ‘pleasant,’ whatever that is supposed to mean these days.

But it would have been impossible to ignore her handler’s request.

“You said it was urgent, Lady Ashbury.” Ava folds her arms almost petulantly as she gazes out the window, refusing to look at the older vampire clad in a divine tea gown of showy green silk and soft cotton frills.

“Had I known this lengthy assignment would make you so surly, I would have invited you to my gatherings more often.” The sentence passes from the socialite’s parted red lips, and the corners of her mouth twitch upward in a way Ava can’t help but feel secretly mocked. “Oh, don’t frown like that! Or else we will all die of your ennui. I have great news, great news indeed! But I see no reason why we shouldn’t have an equally pleasant afternoon to ourselves before we talk business.”

“Half of your guests are not even of the Agency,” murmurs Ava, her disapproving glance sweeping over the almost gaudily overdecorated room. Eventually, her eyes settle on Nate serving tea cakes to some of the ladies, all refined charm and long fingers and even longer smiles, and a pang of guilt runs through her when she realises that her old friend is actually enjoying himself, thriving and basking in the plenitude of attention he is showered with. She’s been so absorbed in her love for the detective that she nearly haven’t had enough time for him as of late.

“All previously settled engagements, of course. I’m sure you understand how rude it would have been of me to entreat them not to come,” Ashbury lies fluidly, yet her brown eyes glint with a mocking light that betrays her immediately and on purpose. She delights in the tensing of the muscles in Ava’s jaw.

“Of course.”

“Now don’t be so uncouth, or else I will be the talk of every party and club for the coming weeks about the questionable company I keep,” Catherine Ashbury shakes her head stubbornly, dark locks bouncing defiantly as she links their arms and tugs Ava away from the window. They walk down the long parlour slowly, close enough to the guests that they feel like they’re part of the occasion, and yet far away for their conversation to remain private.

“You’re already the talk of London, Lady Ashbury,” Ava retaliates, almost suavely wrapping her jest in a cloak of concern. “Thirty years you have been here, and thirty years you haven’t aged a day.”

“Some of us are just lucky in that regard, aren’t we?” the hostess grins at Ava. “Unlike these poor ladies here... Or even your private detective. They’re young now, but they’ll whither away soon like roses in the winter. Such a waste. Just like this whole operation has been, if you pardon my frankness. I understand her protection was part of the deal the Agency made with the Police Commissioner, but such a waste of resources this endeavour has been! Our top agents, wasted on the protection of one human. I’ve always appreciated your practical thinking, so I know you must feel the same way as I do. And to be stuck in it for two whole years...! Well, I’m sure you will be relieved to learn the rumours I’ve been hearing lately.”

Ava awakens from her listless silence when Catherine Ashbury ceases to prate about the question of mortality and baits her into enquiring more about the mysterious little sentence she dropped at the end of her speech. She schools her features into an emotionless mask even as her heart begins to fill with uncertainty and fear, painfully aware of Ashbury’s almost predatory gaze fixed on her at all times. “Do they have to do anything with our mission?”

“Would you be intrigued if I said yes?” Catherine asks, red lips curving into a satisfied smile when she notices her quickening pulse. “Alright then. Mind you, these are only rumours, and you didn’t hear them from me... But it is said that the Agency wants to form permanent working units - much like your partnership with Nathaniel, only in teams of four and with greater autonomy than what is usually granted to field agents. I hear the top squad has already been assembled - and utilised. Here, in London. Isn’t it wonderful?”

“What could possibly be their objective here?” Ava frowns as they walk slowly, Ashbury leading the way to the small balcony facing a lush park of green fenced in by equally posh buildings as the one they’re in right now. “I haven’t been alerted of any major supernatural activity here, save for the rouge dark elf, of course.”

“Ah, there you go, spoiling the surprise,” Catherine sighs, finally giving up her maddening secrecy as she takes a deep breath, the crisp air chilling her lungs in the most effervescent way. Or is it the anticipation radiating off of her agent in waves as great as ocean tides? It is an exhilarating game, reading others, playing with words and watching the body betray the mind as it answers all questions so truthfully. She is only the temporary handler of the two agents, and has been that for two years straight now, but a sudden recognition manifests in her heart - as difficult and disagreeable and perfectly unpleasant Ava can be sometimes (the very opposite of her companion) she will miss her. She thinks her a remarkable entity, a true novelty among the cheap copies upon copies of women who thoughtlessly sacrifice their truest parts on the altar of hypocrisy and vanity, until no vestige remains of their original self. To know Ava is to face a lot of uncomfortable but all the more truthful feelings - one can decide to despise Ava for it, but the wise learn to look within.

Though Lady Ashbury may not look it, she is old. Older than Ava, and certainly older than youthful, handsome Nathaniel. And she feels old too, the debauchery of her long centuries and the dishonest little games that made up her life ageing her soul prematurely. But when Ava speaks...! When Ava speaks, her throat becomes the well, and her words truth, and she shames mankind in the most delicious way. Like that splendid painting by Jean-Léon Gérôme, La Vérité sortant du puits armée de son martinet pour châtier l’humanité. Truth Coming Out of Her Well to Shame Mankind. A painting she wishes she could procure for herself.

And Ava. A woman Catherine wishes she met when she was still herself.

But it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. The demise of the rogue dark elf is only part of the rumours circulating in the Agency about Ava’s involvement during her latest assignment. Or about Ava herself, and her career, for that matter.

“Speak plainly, Catherine,” Ava almost pleads, her diplomatic facade slipping up to reveal a shade of fear in the green of her eyes. Ashbury wishes nothing but to descend upon Ava’s connection to the private detective like a vulture until she realises the rumours have more truth to them than even those who maliciously spread it could imagine. She hasn’t a shred of doubt about Du Mortain’s feelings for the human woman now, her initial doubt obliterated by every sign in Ava’s body language as they stand so close to each other on the small balcony overlooking the beautiful Cornwall Gardens. Ava is a clever woman, capable on jobs, willing to take on risks no one else would dare. And more importantly, she is aware of her strengths too - and thus her self-aware nature marks her as superior to all the other humble little agents. She must know what Catherine is about to tell her - with the task forces forming, and the first such group striking in a place none other than London, she must know that it is only a matter of time before the rogue is dealt with. Before she’d be given an assignment and a position befitting someone of her talents.

And here she stands, this brilliant woman in all her glory, terrified of a promotion that would have put a smile on her stern face two years ago.

“As I said, you didn’t hear this from me,” Lady Ashbury resigns, a little sullen at being robbed of her smug pleasure all of a sudden. “But I know for a fact that your current assignment is drawing to a swift conclusion as we speak. And rumour has it, you are destined for greater things once it is over.”

“Greater things,” Ava echoes, her whole being feeling hollow. Around the detective, she forgot about the world, to be honest. And it seems like she is about to pay the price for her two years of blissful ignorance. She always knew the mission would end, and yet in a strange way she didn’t really believe it. It’s like how people know they are mortal, and yet feel so much entitlement to life that when death comes for them, they have the audacity to appear shocked.

Ava has no illusions. This is a goodbye, not an opportunity. Nate may think that bringing in the private detective is a reasonable step, but Ava will do everything in her power to prevent her from learning who she is, what they are, what the last two years have been about. They were never right for each other. She was never right. And if she leaves now, maybe she can draw that conclusion too.

“My dear, everything you’ve done up to this point is in the past now. And it is best to leave a dead thing in the ground.” Catherine’s plummy honeyed words have an admonitory yet sad edge to them. It is a warning about the detective, and what clinging to her could mean to her career, with an undertone of genuine empathy uncharacteristic to Lady Ashbury. She inspects the woman to her right, a dark speck against the grey sky, and feels honest to god sympathy - and emotion she hasn’t felt in decades. Maybe it is good she will no longer be her handler, Ashbury thinks as she lights a cigarette. She felt too many real things ever since Ava came into her perfectly splendid and dull life, tearing apart the walls of hedonism and debauchery she’s built around herself. But that is a goodbye that can wait.

“Congratulations, Commanding Agent Du Mortain.”

Catherine watches Ava from the balcony still as she purposefully cuts across the Cornwall Gardens, stomping the prized lawn of the old Mr Thomas Broadwood Junior in the process as that sweet Nathaniel treads on her heels ever so loyally. They must be headed for Cromwell Road which will no doubt have available hansoms for them to hail. Not that they need them, but if they are going to Whitechapel, which she is certain of, they need to travel the old fashioned way for appearance’s sake.

The tea gown is too flimsy for her to stay outside for much longer, so she heads inside, cheer and conversation and the wonderfully lukewarm sensation that only pointless small talk can elicit wrapping her in a blanket of comfort instantly. And Lady Ashbury is finally home.

On the other side of London, a woman is losing the only home she’s ever had in centuries. How many lives can she save if she goes along with the Agency’s plans for her? Surely the detective isn’t worth all that. (She is. Her rationale may deny it, but she knows she is worth all that and more to her. And she ignores it anyway.)

Ava will go on loving her in every following decade, in every language she knows, with every breath she takes. She marries duty, and allows death to make a martyr of her lover left behind. Turn her into her very own memento mori.

And in the end, the agent isn’t completely mistaken - something will indeed claim the private detective’s very soul. But it will not be as serene as eternal sleep, as Ava keeps believing. No, it is not death that claims the detective after all.

Even though sometimes even she wishes it were that simple. That peaceful. That freeing.

But there is no rest for the wicked.

[bottmless-pitt]

Super Bloom Part 2

A/N: A lot of you guys seemed to like the first part and I don’t think I ever really intended on it being just a one-shot! Here’s part 2, let me know what you guys think and if you have any feedback! I would love to talk to you about Kylo, or any Adam character in general. Thanks!

Kylo Ren X Reader (Intergalactic Soulmate Au)

Summary: So Kylo Ren is your soulmate, but there is so much you don’t know about him yet.

Warnings: Still mostly Fluffy, a little angst if you look hard enough. Soulmate irrationality. Hopefully in the next installment we start to find smut!

    The soft sweet breeze that blew just for the blossoms in the temple lulled me into a calm, and eventually between the sound of Kylo’s heartbeat reverberating in his chest and the comforting lull in the conversation, I fell asleep. I was only awoken by the subtle movements of the man that lay beneath me. Refuting his movements from the comforting position I burrowed into his chest for comfort.

  “My apologies sweet girl,” His rich voice swept over my senses with the name that bubbled deep inside me, in places I’ve never before felt, “I can’t feel my arm anymore.” He muttered.

   “We can’t have that, now can we?” I teased, sitting up to get another look at him, “How would you be able to protect me with one arm?” I goaded at his ego, anticipating a remark back on his skill, or maybe a jest on his health. Neither prepared me for the sweet rush of red that flooded his cheeks at my remark.

  “We can’t,” He adjusted his position, “but I will always protect you.” He looked so intensely into my eyes and I could feel the truth in the statement. For the first time in my life, I felt absolutely safe, there was someone there for my well-being. For the first time. A small smile appeared on his face which brought me out of my thoughts, “what going on in your head sweet girl?” He tucked my hair back once again.

  I hesitated to tell him my feelings, not wanting to show how inexperienced I was in the world of romance, or even just vulnerability. The only problem being him, his soft, expressive eyes make me want to spill my darkest secrets. They make me want to be better for him, to soften the exterior that had calloused from my loneliness. Divulge all of the melodic thoughts that danced in my brain while I locked myself away in the library, or all of the dark intruders late at night after everyone was asleep, or the private profound paradoxes that meddled into my consciousness. He was the other piece of my soul that found me in the vast galaxy, there should be no secrets, nor would there be.

  “I have been alone for all my life,” I confessed to him, he looked surprised, yet pleased, “I have spent every year in the company of others, but been completely alone, and now?” I placed both my hands on his cheeks, cradling his face. His eyes shut, comfort washing over his features as I spoke, “Now I am whole, and I have never felt safer in my life.”

  His eyes crept open, blinking back a mystery that lurked, “I would never let anything happen to you.” He connected our lips tentatively. I pushed back, allowing for the passion to tickle into our bones with every fervent push forward. His hands roamed once more and one landed in my hair, which locked us together, the other made its home on my back. The heat between us grew, his tongue prodding at my lip, which startled me. He pulled away again with a smirk, knowing my experience couldn’t allow me to go farther right now, at least not in the sacred grove that is.

  “I wish we could lay beneath these trees forever,” He murmured softly below the wind, “But you wanted to change before dinner, and I have to finish my duties here.” He sat us up slowly, not to startle our senses by disrupting our blood flow. I sighed and wrapped my arms around his torso in protest.

  “I thought you were in charge of everything, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want.” I pointed out in hopes he would let us lay under the sweet billowing trees for just a while longer. He merely chuckled at my thinly veiled attempts to stay.

  “The only way to stay the supreme leader of the galaxy is by respecting the other planets when they’re complying.” He explained to me, and I only pouted, knowing he was right. “I can only use force and fear for so long before the galaxy sours.”

  “Are you a benevolent leader?” I asked coyly.

  “No,” he answered immediately, “Benevolence is for fools.” He explained, retreating into his shell somewhat. His features hardened and his eyes glazed to the past, his past, once more. I retreated, like him, away from the subject in hopes I didn’t make him too uncomfortable with the question.

  I would like to know the man my soul has wound itself around a million times over, but simply that may lie waiting for the sake of our trust. I trust that he would not hurt me, I trust his ability of self-control that he has shown me, and I trust our souls to communicate that may not be visible to those around us. There is a storm brewing in this man’s chest, a dark windy cyclone circling his heart and I am now at the very center of it. Yet, I wish to be nowhere else than right here with him.

  “Let us go then,” I said after some time still spent lounging in the light of our connection. “You’re right, I need to make myself presentable.” I groaned, not wanting to delve into the wide world of appropriate fashion. Some women studied the arts of fashion and exciting dress wear. I have spent most of my life in dresses for my sisters, and the other portion dressed like my father. There was the only security that I would not worry about what Kylo expects me to wear, as I am dressed casually today. I only hope he doesn’t expect me to own long lavish garments that took hours to construct in a distant galaxy. I am a woman of simple means.

  “You would look presentable in anything sweet girl,” He murmured comfortingly, “For you, set the tone of every room you enter.” His words washed over me like a light warm blanket fresh from the sun. He knew exactly the worries that troubled my head and how to quell them. But I couldn’t relish in it for too long as Kylo wrapped his arms tightly around me to bring us both to standing.

  Once I was on the ground, with my footing even and back to normal I gazed up at him. The sun shone from behind him and the trees, which he was slightly crouched under because of his towering height. His eyes searched for mine and when they met, he smiled lightly, allowing for his cheeks to wrinkle up endearingly. His face had such a capacity for pain for anguish, but also the bright burn of happiness. I smiled in return, reaching up to him to kiss the smile off his face. He allowed it, returning it even, with no hesitation or remorse.

  Only then did he take my hand in his, guiding me from the sacred grove and into the temple once again. We were met with the sight of his six brooding guards, standing stock still ready at any moment to take down a threat. There were also two elders sitting on the far side of the room in meditation, calmly awaiting what I can only imagine was divine intervention. I had never been one for meditation, nor one for the stillness of the mind. I allowed the free flow of thoughts to come and go as the pleased ripping through my mind at imaginary lightspeed.

  “Vicrul, Cardo,” Kylo commanded in ease of menacing power over his men, “Accompany her to her home.” He ordered once the two guards stood before him. He took a step closer, “If anything is to happen to her, it will be on your heads.” He instructed with the precision of a thousand knives slicing through the air and into their target. “Return her here before sundown for the feast.”

  With his last instruction directed at the guards, he swiftly turned to me. His hands at my shoulders endearingly as he took in the sight of me once more. “Go get ready, and bring your things for an overnight stay on my ship.” He all but asked. “I would like to begin acquainting you with my lifestyle.” His hands tilting my head up to make it easier for him to kiss me again. Once that moment had passed, however, it was back to the chaos of the market streets accompanied by the two other strangers protecting me.

  I learned very quickly that they were not talkative people. They were silent killers, intimidating in every sense of the word, and never in my life had a walk from the center of town been so quick. People moved away and stared, most of them knowing me my whole life, horrified for what the possible consequences I had created for myself. But no one dared to stop us or ask if I was alright, and if they did, I do not doubt that the two guards would slaughter them onsite per Kylo’s request.

  So, with my head held high, I diligently swept the streets towards the home I had lived in all my life.

  Once I arrived, Cardo and Vicrul of which I did not yet know the difference, murmured between themselves. The guard that carried the thick blaster attached to his left arm remained outside the door, and the other, the one from before with the long-curved blade, stayed by my side as I walked through the threshold.

  My mother, who sat sewing in our sitting area shot up anxiously at the sound of approaching footsteps. Her small plump frame was somewhat relieved to see me but it was short-lived when she saw the guard tailing me from behind. She abandoned her small sewing project and wiped her hand on her small apron, anxiously pushing away her fizzed-out hair.

  “Oh Hatchlette,” she sighed out as she rushed to give me a big hug, “Your father and I have been worried sick all day.” She swayed me side to side, fending off an onslaught of tears. There was a gruff noise from behind me, the guard was not amused. “Are you alright?” she held my face in her hands looking for signs of distress.

  “No, mama.” I said bashfully, “I’m perfectly safe and healthy.” I reassured her moving into the sitting room farther, the guard shadowing me as I moved deeper into my home. “Where’s father?”

  My mother only sighed as she moved into the kitchen to fill up a kettle with water, beginning to make tea for the guard in our presence. I found it quite endearing, the thought of a big brooding lethal guard like this having tea with my mother. “He is in the back, tending to the garden.” My mother said somberly, as my father only weeds the gardens when he is under great stress. I can’t even imagine what he has been thinking about as I lounge in bliss with Kylo. A rush of guilt began to eat at my heart from the inside out at the thought of making my father worry.

  “I should let him know I’m alright but,” I turned to the guard behind me, “you should probably stay in here.” I felt bad for telling him what to do, but I don’t think my father would be more reassured by the brooding presence of Kylo’s men. My mother returned to the room looking between myself and the man shadowing me. “While I speak with father, do you still have Sennica’s nice dress?” I asked, knowing well Sennica had left it for me once I found my soulmate. It was the of the few dresses Anya was never allowed to touch. It was made for Sennica but now it was just mine, and for the first time in years the dusty thing would have its use.

  “Of course, Hatchlette,” she spoke confidently with her endearment slipping off the tongue easily as it had since I was a child, “Go tend to your father, I’ll make tea for our guest.” Ever the host my mother moved to the kitchen once more to make tea for the guard to have him comfortable. I moved outside, half expecting the shadow to continue his protection there, but surprised when I saw him politely sitting in a chair near the middle of the room. I knew Kylo would have probably been angry for his new relaxation, but it was something I appreciated, as I knew this would be the most peaceful route.

  I opened the door that leads me outside, and as soon as I had stepped out, I could hear the frustrated sounds of my father weeding in the garden. He was too entranced to notice my newfound presence, only focused on the task he adopted to ease his mind.

  “If you’re not careful, you’ll pull up the entire garden.” At the sound of my teasing, he shot his gaze to me, ceasing his activity immediately. He stood rushing to pull me into a hug, similarly to my mother only a few minutes earlier.

  “Oh, my little bud,” He comforted himself with my presence and his hands tremored as the hug faded, “I’m so sorry.” At his apology I stilled, becoming unnerved.

  “What could you have to be sorry about father?” I asked plainly, as I had no foreseeable cause of his guilt. I found my soulmate, I have been having a wonderful day, it’s been incredible.

  “I should have never let you go with that awful man,” His hands gripped at my arms tightly, and I became uncomfortable under his gaze. I moved away from him allowing the metaphoric and physical distance to grow heavy, “I cannot imagine the horrors you have witnessed.” He assumed so much, so much about the man who possessed a tenderness that I had never seen displayed on this planet. No soul had existed as deep and as wide as Kylo’s soul, and it was mine to keep, mine to protect.

  “No, don’t say that,” I defended against his accusations, “I have had the most wonderful day father.” The light in my chest returned as I recounted the tender kisses and soft words exchanged under the sway of the blossoms overhead. “Please, don’t say that,” I begged softly for his approval.

  “You don’t know, little bud, I have kept the darkness from you for so long.” He persisted moving towards me once again, trying and failing to have me see his views. He didn’t need to understand why my soul was made for Kylo, why we belonged side by side, but he could never make me change my mind.  “There is so much you do not know, about him, the empires, the wars!” he emphasized.

  “Then let me learn it from him!” I interrupted, no longer allowing him to decide for me. “I have been chosen for him, father! For this life, I will live at his side.” I began to retreat inside, not wanting to indulge him in more fruitless arguments, “I chose that willingly now, and no one else can make that choice for me.” I hoped that would help him, I hoped he wouldn’t hate me, or judge me, or think I was just some stupid girl following him blindly. I am not blinded by love, but love has allowed me to remove my blinders. I can see him truly for more than just what he shows others. I don’t know why he has been chosen for me yet but I am thankful. My father’s disappointment would break my heart, but Kylo’s absence would crush my soul. I reached the door back inside and turned back to look at my father, “Do not make me choose between my family and my soul.” Then I went inside and left my father to think of his words with the weeds pulled from the garden.

  Inside the house, I found my mother laying out the dress I had requested while speaking with the guard, that was sat, quite prettily, in a seat drinking tea. I would have to applaud Kylo on the manners instilled in this man. It was not expected of him to entertain my mother in the way he has. 

  “Hatchlette?” My mother called out for me when she heard the door shut, “Is that you?”

  “Yes Mama, it’s me,” I spoke softly, walking into the room and focusing on the dress she had hanging near the small staircase. It was a cream color with blue vines of flowers on it. There was soft lace on some of the edges and it made me feel soft, dainty. I can still remember when my mother brought it home for Sennica to wear to meet Patrik’s family. It was such a good luck charm that she hadn’t the heart to take it with her when she left. She saw the way my eyes widened like the moon and sparkled like the stars when I saw it. She knew that if anyone would do the dress it’s justice it was me, and for the first time since leaving her body it would be put to use again.

  “Sennica will be thrilled.” My mother came from behind me and spoke soothingly. Her chin rested easily on my shoulder, looking over at the dress. “Shall we braid some of the wildflowers in your hair?” She offered, knowing I used to ask for it on every special occasion I could find as a child. “I think it would be a nice homage to your home as you leave it behind.” She said without making me feel guilty. She knew this was the natural way of my life, the way it’s meant to be. Yet, she couldn’t find it in herself to be anything but kind, to be anything but her true self.

  “Yes, yes we should,” I confirmed, turning to face her once again. She suddenly looked much wiser than her years before her as she took in my features with pride, “What are you doing Mama?”

  “I’m admiring my work,” its an old joke she had made maybe a thousand times, and yet she managed a chuckled from both of us, “We will miss you when you are gone, but you have always been too large for this tiny planet.” Her encouraging words quelled the fire of fear and doubt that my father had lit outside. I knew at that moment that I needed to blaze ahead, no doubts, no fears, only love and light. There is beauty in the new chapter, there is love, there is respect. With that, I climbed the stairs to a bedroom I had lived in my whole life. A room once home to three, then only two, down to one, and soon it will be empty. It will be ready to start anew, as I am.

  My mother and I had to work diligently to get me ready, having squandered most of my day with Kylo, the sunset was fast approaching. The braids my mother made had small bits of white and blue wildflowers, that matched the dress, woven into it for effect. She helped me gather some things to stay with Kylo for the night, and she even smeared some colored creams of her own on my face to fix some of my blemishes.

  When fighting against the time was nearly up, and my appearance much more graceful than before, I could hardly recognize myself. I was beautiful, and I could hardly wait for Kylo to see me like this, finally presentable for the man I wanted. As I descended the stairwell with my mother the living room was tense, as my father sat opposite the guard that had now abandoned the teacup in place for his blade. My mother only sighed and I made my way towards the side of the room with the exit.

  “Wait!” My father called out, “No goodbyes?” He asked solemnly and for some reason, it sparked an irritable fire in me.

   “I will see you tomorrow, I am only gone for the night.” I snapped back, harsher than I intended. “I only hope this time will help you see things from my point of view,” I suggested at the man, stubborn like myself, sitting across the room. The guard now stationed to my right began to move me out the door.

  “I could only suggest the same for you little bud.” My father bit back, always one to get the last word. It only spurred me further out the door, where the second guard stood watch. The satchel I carried was taken from me by the one stationed outside, to alleviate the stress put on my shoulders. I wondered if that was part of the training, or if he had been trying to suck up to Kylo through me. It didn’t matter, because I was glad to have them flank me on either side, intimidating the masses out of the way of us. The walk was just as fast, if not faster, than the one earlier in the evening.

  Once we made it to the temple, the large doors opened and the smell of the feast lingered on each of our senses. The men diligently helped me up the small steps as I adjusted to the small heel on my shoes that had slowed my pace. I would have to notify Kylo of their dedication to not only my comfort but my wellbeing. I hoped they were handsomely compensated for their troubles.

  The guard’s dedication mattered until the sight of the guest of honor came into view. He was faced away from me, speaking with an elder about an old portrait that hung in the large room where the feast was held. He was pensive, stiff, commanding, everything about him sent a shiver up my spine. He had kept his helmet removed out of respect for the temple. He only turned when the sound of the door shutting behind us reverberated throughout the room.

   When Kylo did turn, his eyes landed on me first, all trepidation and anger from my father’s actions, or my own insecurities melted away. His brown eyes softened, his normally pouted lips upturned in glee, his hands immediately unclenched from his side. All conversations he had ceased, as the guards and elders found entertainment with one another and Kylo moved towards me. His hand outstretched reaching for mine, as he asked the silent question, Will you come with me?

  And there is no hesitation as I lay my hand in his palm. I met his gaze head-on and answered the unasked question the only way I knew possible, Yes.

[hotheadhero]

Reconcile

“Perhaps you should go to the Goddess Tower and seek her council. Oh, don’t look at me like that! Yes, rumors abound about that place, but it’s also the most private place connected to your goddess here.”

Even as he stands before the entrance of the Goddess Tower with Celica’s advice still fresh on his mind, he can’t bring himself to climb those storied steps and seek divine counsel. For everyone else the tower represents joy, bears witness to fateful promises that will last a lifetime. He has nothing of the sort to make tonight; it would be something like heresy to climb up now. And so he remains at the foot of it, blankly staring up at its peak trying to listen for something he’s never sought out in his life before... and finding, to some distress, nothing at all.

Now, as ever, it would seem he has to muddle through things on his own.

For one normally so hyper, he stands almost statuesque, hand frozen in midair mere inches from the gilded knob. Minutes pass, hours,��eons, before he heaves a sigh and, clenching fingers once into a fist, turns away. Exactly what he’d hoped to find here, he doesn’t know... It was stupid of him to even try. Perhaps he’d be better served hunting Linhardt down and apologizing tomorrow. It’s getting late, anyway. Neither of them should be up much longer; and coupling his friend’s general distaste for balls with his own epic (and public) outburst midway through one, chances were just as high the mage had already fled and turned in.

But of course, the goddess still loves her games and whiles. As he trudges back down the short flight of stairs across the cathedral bridge towards his dorm room, who should he find along the way but the very person he wanted most and could least avoid. He looks up precisely when Linhardt does. Their eyes meet. His composure breaks.

Seeing Linhardt again after what feels like ages tears a fresh hole into his psyche. He finds now that all he’s done tonight is delude himself, slap band-aids over his wounds without really assessing their depth. He’s never had any aptitude for healing his physical wounds; whatever made Caspar think he could handle his emotional ones any better? He’s run away from his problems as he always has, never confronting them unless forced; and how it shows when the matter involves someone he can’t run away from, his dear best friend, his fellow student and other half on this same goddess-forsaken campus! The injury is still there, fresh as if he’d torn it now rather than hours prior. It suffocates him, chokes out his power for speech. But speak he must! for he feels the weight of those incredulous accusing eyes on his, near withers under that ocean-ice gaze. Linhardt’s stare is almost frightening when not at their usual half-mast; it pins him like a vampire to the stake. How dare you renounce everything we had? those eyes demand. How dare you go and pretend as if all of this is normal?

“Linhardt, I—”

A wave of emotion crashes over him and drags him under with those two words, as if he’s opened a dam without first seeing how much water it held back. His perfectly rehearsed apology dies in his mouth. He wants to flee but finds himself rooted to drown under the weight of all their past memories. Acceptance. Laughter. Harmless exasperation at Linhardt’s many capricious antics; countless adventures with the other boy in tow. Innumerable times escaping Gilead’s wrath or even Lord Hevring’s. All underscored by an unshakable faith that no matter what he did, Linhardt would always have his back just as Caspar did his. Because they were best friends, brothers from another mother, and they’d never have to fight it out. Because theirs was an unbreakable bond… Up until the moment Linhardt broke it, and everything burned.

(Or was it he who had broken it from the start, and thus he who deserved all the blame? For hadn’t it been Linhardt who’d always had faith in him when even his brother and father did not? Who’d always helped him get back on his feet every time a fight or argument knocked him down? Who’d convinced him he had any shot at any of this when the whole of Enbarr seemed to believe otherwise?)

And he’s my friend besides. He would never lie to me without good reason… Right?

Words fail him as they never do; and Caspar is the first to divert his gaze. His eyes writhe with equal parts anger, guilt, and sorrow. He isn’t blind to the damage he’s done tonight, not at all. He simply doesn’t know how best to make amends.

I can’t deal with this right now.

Then when?

At least you still have the ability to talk to him now. Don’t make the same mistakes I did.

(It is Lloyd’s words that finally rouse him to action, his spiritual older brother with the wise haggard eyes. He can’t allow himself to go the way of Linus, to see Linhardt or himself part ways forever without ever learning the truth.)

“… Why?” he manages at last. It’s a loaded question, far weightier than its one syllable deserves. Why did you lie to me? Why did you break our promise?

Why did you go and leave me behind?

Narrow fingers clench tighter in his palms ‘til they blanche. It's a pain and atonement far too small, he thinks. Pathetic, something hisses inside. Seething with thoughts unvoiced, you dig your own grave even deeper. Did you ever think you deserved such a friend? Dare you think you deserve any at all, after what you yourself did to your best and first most faithful friend?

“I don’t understand.” Not you, not myself. He addresses the air, not his friend’s face; his words drag forth from him, quiet and ragged for what he fears he’s about to hear. ”I thought you wanted me to stay away from you. Grow up, since I haven’t with you always close by. Isn’t that why you left the Eagles for the Deer? Because I’ve done something seriously wrong?”

How it hurts to admit that aloud; but that’s the only thing that can explain all this. Why else would Linhardt dodge his questions and accuse him like that when all he’d done was listen to what he thought he wanted? Ten long years they’ve been friends; he’d thought by now he knew Linhardt’s mind like the back of his hand. Clearly he was in the wrong—and if he’d been wrong about that, what else had he been wrong about? Had he ever really known Linhardt at all?

“I…” Caspar sighs. Head unmoving, his eyes flick up towards the other’s face; but this position makes the back of his eyes ache and so he forces himself to properly meet the mage’s eyes. ”I still don’t think you gave me an honest answer back there, so tell me now. Obviously you didn’t leave the ball early like all the other ones back in Enbarr, so why are you here? Come to tell me off? Go on; I can take it.” Yet his gaze slips sideways again. ”It’s probably nothing I haven’t heard before.”

Oh, but can he? His own words conjure up all manner of past demons – just as they had with Celica, but worse. A formless beast, bearing at times his brother’s face, at others his father’s, appears in his mind’s eye, sinister, venomous. Spiteful. Even Linhardt’s face appears there once, he thinks; and that possibility terrifies him. Julian was right, you know, it whispered, words sinking into his mind like the poisoned claws sinking deep to his bones. You weak, stupid, reckless, irrational cunt. Unworthy of the peerage, let alone of your family’s coveted title. You will never make anything of yourself other than an abject mess. To convince yourself otherwise is the highest of follies. Desist, now. Everyone will be happier with you out of the way.

“If everything you’ve ever done for me was from some misguided sense of pity, then stop. I’m not worth it. Maybe I’ve never been. Not like you.” (Goddess damn it, his hands are shaking; but he can bear it all; he must!) “Just tell it to me straight whether you want me to leave or stay, because whatever we’re not telling each other definitely isn’t helping.”

Honestly, even contemplating the possibility that he could lose his decade-long friend, could already have lost him with his own foolishness, pains him terribly, but maybe things would be better that way. Even if the closure he so desires is spit in his face like his brother’s slander (and Linhardt would be justified in such after what he’s starting to think was an unjustified rant), surely it will be enough to let him move on. Caspar’s sure he can bounce back; he always has… But it will be a damn sight harder without his old friend at his side.

(He’s still not looking at him. He’s too afraid to see what's surely there.)

@linhcrdt

[mslizardo1-blog]

Clinch

Holiday of August 2002. As a child, I was centered on the idea of our tradition (as I take my parent's example) which is to hold the family whatever odds it may take even you are only fixed. By every Sunday school I had attended it becomes my goal. I will be a perfect mother to my kids and wife to my future husband and even many says, “their lives sucks because of the extended family they have” I will make sure that I am with connection to my big extended family. Declared.

By chance, I was to stay at auntie's place which I would not deny I like the most. Imagine: The huge place fully furnished on the right corner of a subdivision compound facing the large rice field which I cannot see in the city; the two refrigerators full of fruits, chocolates and milk with this note “you can have all of those as long as you can finish what you open”; above all, the huge bathtub which has its own huge cabinet full of milk, soap of different color, and paper sticker that was for the skin hairs as I described it. So, I remembered myself bathing in the huge tub with jelly like liquid soap scented with vanilla, milk (which is quiet unfair because of the tiny amount poured), and my favorite green soldiers stolen from my Brother Rafael’s battalion. I was dumbfounded every time I take a bath there because it is friendly to my eyes not compared to how mama bathes me. I always cried because of soreness as the soap being pressed to my face with the line “you are so lazy bathing and fond of playing”. My hands were crinkled as I raised it from the water. It has been a while but I don’t like to stop. Just in time as auntie was on sight.

“You must dry yourself now. It's late. Besides, I will go somewhere” she stated with a smile on her face.

“It won't take long swear” I plead.

“Sorry, I must be going” saying as she raps the towel to my body. “look it is already nine” pointing in the analog clock above the bathroom’s mirror that is adjacent to the head of the tub.

“Ok. But you told me I can go with you on my birthday right?” as I tried to insist myself.

“Yes, but not this September, count 3 more birthdays” she laugh at me as she gives me hope.

After a while the house was covered with silence when I decided to turn off the television set on aunt’s room.Auntie will be home as early as she could as promised..

I was enjoying the luxury that she is giving me. The attention that I specially get from her makes me feel special. I tried to fold again and again the clothing that was from Japan which was printed with Hello Kitty. And I am excited to show it to my father -my new pink radio cassette. I will give also the share of my siblings especially to my youngest sister. There was this emotion that I cannot explain and even quantify. The word I can compare it would be-I am happy.

As I was about to bed myself, a continuous knocks echoes on the house. IT GOT to be auntie. She’s back too soon as she promised.

Then, I run on the door to open it. I am never wrong about her. She keeps her word. As I open the door with a full smile, I was wrong it was not auntie. It is Kent our neighbor and indeed he is close to the family so I let him in.

“What can I do for you?”asking him as we both got inside.

"Hi, your auntie ask me a favor of getting some stuff in the kitchen and you must go to sleep.” he said.

So I do what he told me to. I am now in the room and decided not to keep the things that aunt gave me and let it stay on the long couch at the feet of the bed. I turn the lights off and settled on the bed. I am really grateful to have such a caring aunt who treat me as her own daughter. I already closed my eyes when hands touched me. Anxiously, I pulled myself yet it is not so alarming as I open my eyes-it is just Kent.

“You scared me” I tried to calm myself and throw a small laughter to ease myself. “do you need some----” I stopped by acknowledging a knife pointed on me.

“’don't dare to shout or else ill kill you” he stated as he sweats.

I started to cry when a noise came out of my mouth “mooommmm”.

“Make noise! So I can kill you and whoever you cared about. ”. Then I bit my lips to stop making any noise. He started to draw the knife even nearer to my neck. I can feel it on my skin. Then, he removed my pajamas. I cried even harder because even I was just in second gradeI knew where was this heading. I heard about it on news. On my mind;

I am shouting, pleading that someone can be there to help me. I thought about my parent and seek their presence. Where are they? They had promised to protect me- to be my guiding light but they’re not there…

As he do his intent. The darkness of the room was as dusk of what I’d felt. I can’t breathe. Then, he takes the life of his cigarette by marking my knees and even to one off my private parts. I can no longer feel my legs. I just look away. The physical pain doesn’t meet the emotional and mental pain that bothers me on the journey that he took to satisfy his desire. He was on senior years the brother of my playmate.

He moved and I cried.

He was stealing my dreams

… my whole being…

---- it was a nightmare that is rushed to the point of asking the God that I am serving… I am a born Christian, why me???

As the wounds heal, the scar was left for me to remember that I was a trash.

Nobody knows! Aside from my bunch of diary that has to be burn every New Years Eve as my made ritual. Why? Because I am afraid that ends on finding someone to blame. I started to hate myself, my parents with their feeding of fantasy. I hate fairy tale’s the happily ever after. The world is cruel…

I only dream to have a wonderful family a husband and kids yet that is impossible as the teenage life begins. Who would ever accept me? I am a shame on our family- to our tradition and a trash of the society. Sooner and sooner it became a delusion. Nightmares of my night.

So what is the purpose of serving the supernatural divine being? If the world is made to be ruining the life even it is not your choice? From then, I want to be normal…

2 Corinthians 10:5

Casting down imaginations and every high things

That exalteth itself against the knowledge

Of God, and bringing into captivity every

Thought to obedience of Christ.

Admit. I haven’t realized that all through out there is Someone I know who is crying with me every night of my nightmare and hugging me in my dark room and guiding me all my way. I was blinded by anger that I tend to neglect His plans for me.

One way of how He set me free is meeting a person who accidentally read my journal. That person cried and hug me (that was my first hug after the incident) “you are a loving person you just wanted to hide it. Many will accept you if you will let them understand you.” And followed by another person I met on a spiritual seminar who shares the same story as mine. She is confident and never shed tears upon sharing it. She had moved on.

God chose me to undergo this struggle because He knows I will sooner let go and be strong. He knows that if I and my sister will be given the choice to which it must happen, I will take it.

Now, I share to friends and youths the hug that they need and listen to their stories. Even it takes thirteen years before I finally let people know.

Soon after graduation on the time my parents would think I can live alone it will be their turn.

Ecclesiastes 3

To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.

The healing starts when you forgive yourself- caste away yourself pity, the change starts when you accept your destiny, and finally joy will reach you when you choose to let go…

[that was written 3 years ago.. Just wanted to share it. To answer your question, Yes that is a non fiction-memoir)

(i suck at grammar)