#i was like wait whos that and then almost immediately going - SEPHIE!!

[fanbynature]

Damien at PaxEast (ft Sephie)

[yuyunhoes]

SPECTRE ─── II. REAL OR NOT REAL?

summary: felix got to meet the rest of the heroes of District 9 but not everyone seems to be pleased to his presence. han gives someone an important mission which has something to do with the new rising hero in the district. meanwhile, a certain person meets a supposed to be time traveler who was not suppose to be in this world.

author's note: jeonghan's pronouns in this au are they/them and there's a reasoning behind it which will be explained in the later chapters. as you may have known i may or not dropped some easter eggs too early— they are somewhat important in the future chapters don't worry. likes and comments are very much appreciated ><

other note: i can't believe this is almost 11k words long lmao

word count: 10.9k

♯bysephi | AO3 | YAP WITH ME | SEPHI'S WORKS | MAIN MENU

TWO MONTHS AGO.

Seungcheol takes his suitcase with him the moment his meeting with the clients was over, immediately texting Stardust about their meet up and tour of the company when he went to the elevator, pressing the “G” button for ground floor. Fixing his tie as he puts down his suitcase he takes out his phone reading Felix’s reply on the messages on my way to the building, I had to help my mom with groceries the man types his message before taking back his device onto the pocket of his pants and immediately got out of the elevator when he hears the ‘ding’ sound by the time he reached the ground floor. Choi Seungcheol is a man of his words and he does not like when someone is ahead of him in time.

His feet were in a rush the moment he got in the train station, the heels of his shoes clicking the tiles, pressing the card on the machine and taking his bag close to his chest as the next train arrived just in time. He felt his phone vibrating onto his pocket as he got in the train, doors closing behind. I’m outside now, should I walk in or just wait for you? A sigh of frustration came out from his lips as he typed his reply on the chat. There is no way Choi Seungcheol would be late— especially for someone who will be the new competition to Ironfist. There stood the young man waiting outside of his workplace, wiping the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand, his blonde hair radiating the ray of the sun. “Good to know you didn’t walk inside,” says Seungcheol, sounding rather pleased that Felix did the right thing and that is to wait for him before he could do anything else.

“It’s not like I do not want to or make myself entertain myself when I get inside,” says Felix while raising his hands in the air.

“Whatever the case, we should get going,” Seungcheol motions the man to follow him behind as they go to the office of District 9. Felix was greeted by the woman at the front desk, giving him a visitor's pass and then followed Seungcheol once again. The man pressed the number ten on the elevator before the door could even close and suddenly a young man showed up, wearing a jumpsuit with a name written on the left chest. He held his toolbox close to him as his index finger pressed the "B" button which meant basement. Felix glances at the mechanic flashing a small smile from his lips to which the latter responded with a small salute. The elevator keeps on going to the high floors of the building which gives the mechanic some panic for some reason, his eyes didn’t dare to look at the transparent glass nor even at the floor. Felix and Seungcheol got out of the elevator the moment it had the “ding” sound when the doors opened, not having any idea of what would happen next to the mechanic.

There was a call from Changbin, a high skilled soldier outside of District 9, who is currently at District 9 sensing the fear and anxiety from the person on the other line, A smirk flashes from the War Devil as if he had seen this coming— it was written in the script all along so this isn't something new for him. He lets Changbin do the talk, letting the man say what he has to say at the other line “This is not cool! We are not cool!” War Devil laughed in response.

“What's fucking funny?! I almost got caught by the way,” Changbin rambles in anger.

“I believe you are in the location, no?” War Devil asks, completely changing the topic off guard.

“I am— don't change the topic here,” Changbin exclaims before shushing someone in the background.

“It was meant to happen that way. Want me to recall what happened next?” he teased, a sigh of frustration came out from Changbin's lips on the other line.

“I finally got in their lair, what's next?” There was a hum in response almost as if he was thinking of a new strategy to take on action. A soft knock on the door interrupts him for a moment, Vernon takes out a watch from his pocket as if to remind him of an agenda. He raised his hand for the latter to wait outside in which Vernon did as he was told. “Really? Fine, there's a young boy somewhere. Take him with you but not now," Changbin hangs up the call.

“I'm checking out my bishop, are you coming today?”

He moves the white bishop on the chessboard, landing on E6. A soft chuckle echoed in the room and instantly the black queen was moved vertically to take over the bishop earning a huff from him.  “Was this part of your vision?” Hyunjin teased as he jumped from the table and fixed his red hair, the latter hummed in response but there was still an annoyed look on his face. Hyunjin takes a look at himself in the mirror as he twirls his hand in the air creating red mists slipping between his fingers. “I'm staying… for now,” there was a small yet devilish smile on his face as he turned to look at him, the latter got goosebumps at the sight of his partner before walking away closing the door behind him.

“Who were you talking to?” Vernon asks.

“What are you talking about?”

“I heard you talking to someone when I walked out of the room,” Vernon shrugs his shoulders, his eyes keep looking at the door as if he is waiting for someone to come out. He taps Vernon by the arm, catching the attention immediately. There was a small chuckle heard to which Vernon finds it odd but shakes off the thought in his head. Once they stepped out of the building soldiers greeted the two although Vernon does not need the formalities. His eyes look at the man next to him “When Changbin comes back I want you to come with me. Have Seungkwan with you because the doctor is on a mission I heard,” he said.

“Should I get that guy too?” Vernon asks, flapping his hands on the side like small wings.

“Hmm now that you mentioned it, have him too.”

“Are you sure to let him out? You know what he is capable of,” Vernon says as if to remind him of something he must have forgotten. There was a small nod in response, Vernon became uneasy as soon as he got an answer. Vernon finds it odd that he immediately allows someone as Angel of Death to go outside and have to be exposed to the public. He isn’t judging his abilities or if he can survive in the war, the one thing he is worrying about is the fact that he is the Angel of Death himself. Everyone knows what he is capable of and for him to let the Angel of Death to be out in the public eye is something Vernon didn’t expect to hear.

He is wishing to the gods he won’t be the one to take him to the district. The last time he was with Angel of Death he almost met the gates of hell and Vernon does not wish to meet death for the second time. Besides, he has to keep his promise to his significant other and that is to stay alive no matter what happens— be it on a mission or guarding the hideout.

“He has a special mission, that is, if Changbin comes back with good news.”

“What are you trying to say?” Vernon asks in curiosity, pausing from his tracks, his heart beating out loud against his chest. There was a small yet devilish smile on the latter’s face to which Vernon finds it odd and weird.

“You will see very soon but for now we have to get going.”

“You’re getting hyped up, Han,” Vernon responds to which the latter stops from his tracks,  a small smirk on his face appears before talking back to Vernon.

“I always am.”

Felix takes deep breaths as his way to calm himself and be confident the moment he steps inside the room and meets the other members of District 9. Adjusting the costume he is wearing, his hand held tightly at the doorknob and widely opening his eyes met two heroes sitting in their seats looking comfortable yet, they didn’t acknowledge Felix’s presence as he walked in the room. Perhaps one of them did notice his presence but they aren’t sure how to approach him either way. “You must be that new hero,” the other one says his eyes fixated on the book he is reading in the palm of his hands. Felix nods in response with a smile plastered on his lips.  He was pointed to an empty seat next to them and Felix acknowledged the offer and thanked them.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself, newbie.”

“Stop it, Speedy,”

“I didn’t try to hurt him Dreamgirl,”

Felix clasps his hands together choosing not to join in the conversation— rather he would simply listen in on their talks and pretend to the two heroes who are sitting in front of him. The hero, Dreamgirl, gently taps his foot as if she is sending him a message that only he can know about. You shouldn’t be here, a voice spoke to him which surprises Felix but then again, he chose to play pretend. You shouldn’t be here, there says again and this time the voice is louder and Felix begins to understand who is talking to him. His blue eyes darted on Dreamgirl who was seemingly unsure if she would say something to him personally or just continue to mentally talk to him.

“That’s Dreamgirl, she doesn’t talk that much but she is okay,” another hero, whose name is Speedy, says, his eyes still fixated on the book he is reading. The woman looks at Felix with a sly smile on her lips with her hands clasped together, her long black hair almost covers her face as if she is trying to cover her face— as if she is hiding something from Felix. Perhaps Draeamgirl is too timid or shy to interact with others unless she is with someone she knows personally or she worked in the field for a certain period of time. Felix couldn’t judge her yet or maybe she does not want anyone to enter her life, that perhaps the heroine is used to having people judge her.

He tried to read what was on her mind in the hopes that he could get the answer why she had said those words. Did they have that feeling that Felix might take over their throne one day? Or perhaps the media portrayed him as someone who is a new threat to the league of heroes within District 9? Were they stunned to hear that he is better than the rest of them? Felix cleared his throat to ease the tension inside the room, Dreamgirl once again taps his foot. “Yours is a cool name.”

“That’s just a nickname, dumbass. Hero name is Speedrun,” the other hero says, in that moment Felix swore he almost laughed out loud.

“Still a cool name for me,” Felix clears his throat trying not to laugh in the room. He felt the heroine trying not to laugh with him as well.

The tension was interrupted when Speedrun closed the book with a loud sound, Dreamgirl almost jumped in her seat due to the loud sound. You shouldn’t be here, a voice speaks in his head once again, this time his eyes look at the heroine. “If they don’t show up on time I might as well leave the building,” Speedrun spoke out loud as if he is making an indirect message to the other heroes who are not here for the meeting. Speedrun stands up from his seat turning his gaze to look down at Felix “They should be ashamed for our newbie here,” he bluntly spoke.

Felix flashes a small smile on his lips as his response, to show off that he somehow agrees to what Speedrun has said.

The first time Seungcheol taught him about the ins and outs of District 9, passing down boxes containing folders about the information about the current heroes of the city district. Felix carefully reads them one by one not trying to ask questions towards his manager. There was an utter silence in the room especially between him and his manager, if there was a question it’s not relevant in the files placed on top of the table to which Seungcheol finds it odd but he keeps his cool off.

NAME: Wen Junhui

ALIAS: Speedrun

AGE: 29

ABILITIES: Capable of moving at such fast speed more than a human can do. He is also capable of running at short busts and at an infinite amount of time than any human can do.

There were a lot of highlighted words and phrases in the file about the hero but he couldn’t care less about the rest of the information. HIs mind starts repeating the name over and over again, doing the same thing to the other files he reads later on. “Give me the next file,” Felix would then receive the second file in his hands, 

NAME: Kim Ji-soo

ALIAS: Dreamgirl

AGE: 31

ABILITIES: She has the ability to control and manipulate someone’s dreams and thoughts with her mind, making it into reality as she wishes. She is also capable of creating delusions and hallucinations.

Felix puts down the file on the side after seeing much more highlighted words about her profile to which he finds it rather annoying but since it is due to the privacy and safety reasons— although he finds it rather suspicious that her file has more redacted information but again, he couldn’t care less.

NAME: Lee Know

ALIAS: Gun Devil

AGE: 35

ABILITIES: He is capable of manipulating metals and weapons. He is considered as the military's weapon for war against the enemies. He is rated as rank 2 superhero, Ironfist making it to rank 1.

Now there is a suspicion from Felix the more he reads the files the more information he is not getting, only the basic information given to him. He turns to look at Seungcheol who also looks back at him in confusion though no words come out from either of the two. What is even the purpose of reading the files if the information is kept from him? Though he does not wish for any of the heroes to be close to him or be close to them, the amount of highlighted words that are redacted seems to be a bit suspicious, especially when reading the third file. “You okay? Is there anything you want to ask?” Seungcheol asked in concern, fingers pointing at the folder Felix is currently holding.

“Nothing… I need to be alone for a bit,” says Felix flashing a small yet forced smile on his face.

Seungcheol took that hint and with that he left the room, closing the door behind him. Felix is now on his own with a box of folders containing the profiles of the heroes in DIstrict 9. There was a hint of hesitation from Felix as his eyes looked at the folders as if he was unsure if he could go on reading the rest of the profile or take a day off.

In the end, he finished reading Gun Devil’s profile, shaking his thoughts on further investigating his information.

In the laboratory located at the bottom floor of the building, there stood Changbin wiping the sweat on his forehead as he figured out the code. His two companions, Seungmin and Mingyu, were on the lookout in case someone walked in on their plan. “Are you done?” Seungmin asks, getting agitated as he glances over the soldier with a huff from his lips. He pushes Changbin to the side so he can break the code instead “You could have said you need help,” says Seungmin taking a small device from the pocket of his pants and tries to connect it to the door lock, taking a deep breath before pressing a button at the side of the device, numerous amount of code came out of the screen. Mingyu keeps on looking out for employees who might catch them in the act, constantly reminding them to hurry up, to which Seungmin finds it annoying that he had to hear it at least five times.

After a few tries he got the right code and with that, the three of them got inside the small chamber the moment Mingyu noticed five guards coming their way. Lights begin to flicker as the door closes behind them, machines turning on as they walk in the hallway looking at every room through one way mirrors. Most of the rooms are empty, just a few pieces of furniture and clothes scattered around. Mingyu takes out his gun from the holster instructing Seugmin to get behind him, Changbin leading the way.

“Hey, did Han mention anything about this? About us coming into this chamber?” Seungmin asks, tapping Changbin by the shoulder.

“I don’t know, he doesn’t say anything about us entering the chamber,” Changbin answers, shaking his head lightly.

“Maybe you didn’t ask him about it,” Mingyu said sarcastically, clicking his tongue.

“Thanks for the compliment,” Changbin replies, containing his anger to Mingyu.

Seungmin sees something in the last room at the right side of the chamber as if someone is watching them in silence, his feet immediately walking up to the location with Mingyu and Changbin following him behind as they call his name. The brunette speeds up his pace  in hopes of catching the person in act but what he sees is a door slightly opened and a teen perhaps around his age sitting on the carpet with his legs crossed, hands clasped together on his lap and his head hung low. “What was that? Stay close to me,” Changbin yanks Seungmin’s shoulder, punching his chest in anger,

Mingyu turns his gaze at the teen inside the room sitting on the carpet floor with his head hung low, he points the gun towards the teen getting ready in case he attacks them. Changbin and Seungmin’s gaze turn to look where Mimgyu is looking, nudging each other as if they’re picking who is going to make a move. “Is this part of the vision?” Seungmin whispers, making sure that the teen does not hear him asking, Changbin isn’t sure of his answer. In all honesty, Changbin forgot about the whole ordeal— he did remember a few of them but he isn’t too sure either whether it is true.

“Do you think he opened the door?” Seungmin whispers again, eyes motioning to the teen still sitting on the carpet floor not making any move.

“Why are you asking me?!” Changbin exclaims as he punches his chest again.

Their conversation was interrupted when the teen looked up to them with his dead eyes, his lips forming a thin line as if he had given up or perhaps in his own perspective he had no will to go on further to live. “You alright there kid?’ Changbin nervously asks as he walks a bit closer to him, Seungmin following behind with his hands tugging at the hem of his shirt. Mingyu glances at the door every now and then in case someone tries to enter the chamber. “Did they trap you here?” Changbin asks again and the teen points out behind them  with his index finger, dead eyes now looking at the distance. The three of them turn around to see a group of guards walking outside with their guns in their hands as their lips talk to one another and responding to their walkie talkies.

There was no slightest hint of taking action from the latter; rather, he walks up to Seungmin aligning the tip of his index finger to his and before can say or react a sudden shift in the surroundings occurs as if they’re being dragged to another place in a matter of seconds. They were outside the city of District 9— in short, they were back to square one once again, Changbin took out his radio to make contact with the others for them to be picked up from where they were, Seungmin looked behind his back at the tallest building located at the centre of the city. There was a sense of longing from him as if he had lost something or there is a missing puzzle piece that they failed to solve. The teen was noticed by the guards who entered the chamber, pulling him out before he got strapped in the stretcher, letting out screams that he wished he could have said it sooner. The entire area was filled with nothing but screams and doors shutting once he was brought in the operating room.

Part of Seungmin knows he had to do something and back in the chamber of the laboratory, that same person in that room is waiting for something to happen to him.

That night, a soldier came into the room telling that they were needed in the meeting conference to which he nodded in response. They pick up the brown comb from the bedside table and tie neatly their shoulder length hair in a ponytail. Their dead eyes look into the dusty mirror hanging on the wall adjusting the clothes and spreading the white wings behind his back, taking one last look before hiding the wings again on their back turning it into a tattoo forged on his skin. They step out of the room closing the door behind them, the timid young man bows down as they walk in the small hallway not wanting to entertain anyone at the moment.

They had kept their mouths shut as if they had sealed them in order to be quiet. Hands having a tight grip at the end of their sleeves, whispering shut up in their head over and over again almost like a prayer. When he stepped out of his home there stood the familiar soldier he knew. “You good?” asks Vernon, holding his gun tightly in his hands, standing firmly as they walk past him.

“What happened?” Their voice is so weak that Vernon thought they were mumbling under their breath.

“Han wants you in the meeting, he didn't say much,” Vernon answers, shrugging his shoulders.

“Not that but the boy. I sensed a cry for help, what happened?” There was worry and concern in the tone of their voice. Vernon only looks at them.

“I see you didn't know… it's alright,” Vernon hums in response having no idea what they are talking about but that is besides the point. They walk to the tallest building Vernon not letting go of his sight from them, it was almost as if his life depended on it. “I heard you got a new name. I can call you by what you prefer to be called,” Vernon changes the topic as they make their way to the stairs, he walks up behind. The latter nods his head slowly in response as if they are  not unsure whether to answer the question or not.

“There’s no need to tell me now, it’s not like I am rushing you for that. Tell me when you’re okay with it,” Vernon put up a thumbs up to which the latter didn’t pay much attention, not being bothered— they are not used to this kind of treatment from the society where they are at. The last time kindness was given to them the price was greed, anger and betrayal.

They made it to the conference room Vernon opened the door for him. There was a whisper of “thank you” to which Vernon acknowledged it despite the slight awkward tension between them. They do not know what had happened during Changbin’s mission but when their eyes noticed familiar faces in the room there was a hint of both trouble and unsettling feeling that something caught them up. Vernon raises his hand so Han gets him to notice their presence in the room to which it was a success. “The Angel of Death, have a seat here,” Han spoke up loud enough that they paused from what they were doing and turned around. They shiver at the name he mentioned, as if they don’t want to hear it. Han points to an empty chair next to the doctor, Wonwoo who gives him a sly smile.

The Angel of Death did as they were told to do so, his eyes avoided everyone’s gazes trying not to say anything as of now, the meeting had resumed to the topic. “Back at what I was saying— Han. How are you so sure it's that same person you had in your vision?” one of them, Seungkwan if they remember it right, had spoken out with his brows furrowed together. Their lips form a thin line trying not to say anything— for now, a soft tap on the shoulder caught them off guard “You must be confused right now, am I wrong?” Wonwoo says with a gentle voice and a sly smile on his lips.

“It's alright to be confused, that is one of human emotions. We, humans tend to be confused a lot of time,” Wonwoo adds, still having the sly smile on his lips, the Angel of Death finds it odd though everyone is used to this side of the doctor. Wonwoo, to their perspective, is the kind of revolutionary who is a jack of all trades. The person who has tricks and magic upon his sleeves to surprise everyone, his smile is just his charming demeanour so no one can suspect him. The Angel of Death knows the doctor can never die— it was in his prediction that his life can never be killed by anyone or anything. The punishment he has to endure for the rest of his life.

There was quite a bit of banter in the meeting but they couldn't care less. “Are you even a human?” they quietly said, trying not to make him offended— though it is in the first place.

Outside of the building they noticed a red haired guy leaning against the wall with a cigarette between his lips, exhaling the grey cigarette from his lips. They became a bit worried not because of someone’s presence outside but because of how unoccupied people were in the room not knowing there was someone outside of the building— he was floating peacefully in the air since the meeting was held in a high floor of the building, they guessed that this person is probably listening to their talks. They tried to speak but his lips couldn’t form a sound or word to get their attention towards him, there was nothing they could do other than wait for them to notice the person outside.

The red haired guy’s gaze turns to him giving a cold stare, his cigarette on his lips noticing the smoke coming out of it. It gave them a fright the moment they had each other’s gazes as if that person wanted them to be dead on sight. Then they noticed the red haired guy placed his finger on his lips, shushing them— more likely preventing them from seeking help from anyone in the room. Perhaps this is what the Angel of Death feels the moment they see that red haired guy floating outside of the building, a strong scent of death and vengeance lingering around him. A smile appears on his lips, scaring them to their soul.

Wonwoo noticed the sudden tense from the Angel of Death as if they had seen something terrible, he gently tapped their hand catching them off guard turning their gaze to him. There was a sense of relief that someone noticed them and they could finally get help. The doctor gently smiles at them “You look stressed, is everything okay?” their lips form a thin line quite unsure how to answer him— if this can give satisfaction to Wonwoo or not, if whatever they say can make Wonwoo believe in them or not. The banter between Han and the rest were getting a bit tense but he is curious more on what the Angel of Death is looking outside so Wonwoo takes a look at the direction where they were staring at, sadly he didn’t see or notice anything suspicious. He stood up from his seat telling them to stay with the others before walking towards the window.

His hands gently open the window peeking his head out to check if there is anything or anyone, even looking down the building to see in case he caught something— or maybe someone. A part of him senses a life wandering around them as if it’s watching them from afar. Seungkwan and Soonyoung noticed the doctor looking outside the window with his head peeking out. “What is going on Wonwoo? What are you doing?” Seungkwan said out loud, surprising everyone including Wonwoo who accidentally bumped his head on the window, Han diverted his attention to the doctor.

“Is everything alright there, doc?” Han asks, raising his eyebrow in concern, as if he is getting annoyed that he is being interrupted in the middle of an important discussion.

Wonwoo looks at everyone in the room with a devilish and sly smile appearing on his lips, scaring everyone, mostly him, His eyes look outside the window and there he was, the same red haired guy with a cigarette placed between his lips, his red hair is messy and all over the place. The Angel of Death becomes uncomfortable at the sight of the red haired guy sensing death all over him. Seungkwanm Soonyoung and Vernon noticed they became tense and nervous all of a sudden as the gazes all went to the Angel of Death. “You alright?” Vernon’s voice caught him off guard, his shoulders stopped getting tense, hands stopped from shaking as his lips let out a shaky breath.

“Hmm…” it was the only thing Angel of Death could say apart from shaky breaths he's letting out from his lips. He was quite unsure whether to tell the truth or not, part of him thinks it’s just his ability playing tricks on him for the reason that the souls are taunting and scaring him off.  Those souls he had taken from the land of the living after experiencing death in their lives coming back and forth to taunt him, scare him, remind him of what he had taken from them. Perhaps he is just one of the souls trying to taunt him by simply showing right in front of his eyes.

They begins to pray that this meeting would be over so they can close their eyes and forget about what happened.

The Angel of Death stayed behind despite their prayers that they wish for this night to be over— it was more like Han tells them to stay behind after everyone begins to leave the room. They don't know the reason why they had to stay behind but the Angel of Death obliged to do as he was told. He vowed not to interfere in any conflicts or issues created by human society the moment he was reborn as the Angel of Death many years ago. Their lips were forced not to object with anything that humans are supposed to do— even if things are about to end badly for the sake of their lives. “I apologise for the sudden call. It must have surprised you, yes?” a nod from the Angel of Death made Han chuckle, the latter got a bit confused but nevertheless they didn’t say anything else. As what had said earlier, they chose not to interfere, obeying their orders without creating any conflict is way better than objecting their morals and values.

“Don’t worry we won’t be exiling you— I’m here to ask something, a favour rather.”

“What’s a favour?” they asked, tilting his head to the side showing the sudden interest in learning more about the human language.

“It’s something I ask to get something in return.”

“Okay…” Angel of Death almost mumbles his response as if he isn't sure whether to take it seriously or ignore this conversation.

“Don't worry it won't cost someone’s life and death! I just need you to do something for me.”

The Angel of Death felt the sudden breeze brushing against their skin, running up to the crook of their neck as if someone or something wanted to get his attention. Sensing the feeling of death within the room they try to control their urges and emotions not to break themself. Stay still, the voice of an old friend tells them once when they almost took someone's soul after getting into a huge argument. They smelled the scent of calmness, peace yet there was a hint of confusion and anger. It was calm before the storm.

Han Jisung, a young soldier who possesses the ability of a War Devil, possesses such emotions like these but never the urge or sense of anger— he was different as well as his soul. His eyes were searching for peace as if it was something so valuable that he had lost in his hands. 

Whose soul was it that craves hunger of anger?

“I need you to look at this,” Han takes out a photo from one of the drawers on his table, sliding the photo towards him. A blonde young man is shown in the photograph wearing a scarf around his neck,  a black and white sweater, black jeans and Chukka boots. He has his light brown overcoat over his arm and his sling bag was on his right shoulder. The camera had a good view on what he looked like and the Angel Of Death had sudden interest in the person in the picture. They felt a sudden pull towards him as soon as their eyes looked at the face in the photograph— it was almost as if they had known them somewhere from some time ago.

Their eyes stared longer at the guy in the picture, lips softly calling out for a name they had longed to hear and say. “Pandora”. Perhaps the gods were too kind for them or because Han was too focused on asking the Angel of Death a favour.

“I need you to look for him… but,”

“... but what?”

“I’m taking you out to the city—  to be with people.”

There was a long pause— no, it was rather an awkward pause from Han. Judging by the facial expression the Angel of Death is not pleased with the favour. The years they had stayed in the revolution and spying for their favour, they are still not very pleased with humans. They had been with a group of people who had helped them in the past and somehow kept them alive and hidden away from the public ( reasons behind these actions are best unknown to them ) yet their feelings towards them will never be reciprocated no matter how they tried to look at their intent and purpose.

Putting their trust in humanity had them witnessed what it feels like when kindness is taken advantage of by people around you.

“There’s no need to be pressured! You still have time to think about it. When you think it is the time to go, tell me,” there was an assurance in Han’s voice yet he couldn’t trust the man behind the revolution— or rather the man who continued the revolution against the district. The Angel of Death didn’t dare to look at him and hesitated to answer. The glimpse of the blonde man in the picture gives them the gut feeling in their chest, this heavy feeling they thought perished centuries ago after the first war.

“It seems that you have seen a ghost— perhaps a ghost came after you.”

“N-Nothing… I felt dizzy, that's all.”

“You okay? It’s rare for someone like you to feel something like getting a headache or dizziness.”

“You think so…”

The Angel of Death almost chokes in their throat as if they were caught in the act by Han himself, they had forgotten ( well… almost ) about their adjustments in human society. Rather, they easily adjusted themself to the society regardless of their wishes not to blend in with humans. “I need to think about it,” disclosing the conversation right off the bat having to excuse themself from Han with their hand snatching the photo from the table and heads back to his room, not even bothered to say goodbye to the latter.

They can finally get out of this place but then where would they go? Where will they stay?

It would seem to be impossible for them to get out of the cycle because the moment he gets into District 9, people within the district will begin to notice their existence— deja vu all over again. The Angel of Death is tired of dealing with the ordeal for so long.

The only thing that's keeping them together is the guy in the photograph. Their eyes looked once more at the photograph as if they had seen him from somewhere— the second time they said this by the way. 

Maybe this is the good time to let this chance of theirs to come to life— to get out of human society.

His eyes were fixated on the paintings that were each hanging on the wall with a piece of note placed at the bottom of the paintings, descriptions about the painting are written. The desire to see his own painting hanging on the wall as if it is a hall of fame made his heart skip a beat— he is a man with pride and desire inside of him. “Like what you see?” a female voice speaks out making him almost jump in surprise, a charming woman standing a few inches away from him. Dreamgirl, he recalls the name from the files he had read. “It's from a charity we had to attend a year ago,” she tells him as she walks to his side, her hands clasp behind her back. Her lips form a small yet forceful smile as her eyes stare at the painting, it was almost as if someone forced her to come out and talk to the new hero of the district.

She was simple— simply elegant per say. Even the way she dresses makes her elegant— in her white nightgown and white sleeping shoes. Her tired eyes look at the frame longer before turning her head towards him, her lips form a thin line. There were dark bags under her eyes showing signs that she hasn't slept well lately. “I meant the painting right here,” her hand points to the painting in front of them to which Felix hums in response— jealousy begins to play his emotions.

“That was brave of you there— I mean during the meeting. You sounded confident back there.”

“Are you talking to me?”

“Who else talked back to the one and only god of District 9 today? Am I wrong to say it was you?”

Felix clears his throat, starting to feel the awkward tension between him and the heroine. He wanted to boast his ability, for that is his reason but because of jealousy and pride playing tricks with his emotions, Felix didn't stop himself from talking back to him. From Ironfist. The fear of being the last hero in the group makes him sick to the core, he always dreams of becoming on top of everyone. Wanting to look down on everyone as their mouth calls his name like a prayer and he is their saint. Dreamgirl looks back to the painting but she is now dead serious, her facial expression changes as if someone had switched her off. “You know…” her voice cracks just as if she does not want to say anything more but her conscience tells her otherwise.

“.... you don't belong here.”

Felix was startled to the sudden comment from the woman. How he wished the woman would snap her thoughts as she says that whatever she said is just a bunch of silly jokes she secretly made up to scare him— Felix was wrong about her. Her dead eyes gaze at him along with an earnest tone of voice daring him for a challenge inside the building. Felix stood there astounded on the confidence she got— it was more of the audacity of her to call him out and say he does not belong here. How dare she call me nothing ( though it is indirect )? He thought to himself clenching his hands into fists in anger, tension arose within the atmosphere, his green eyes glow ready to let go of his power against her. Paintings, vases began to shake lightly as the lights flicker Dreamgirl felt the sudden change of aura within him though she got immediately tensed, her composure remains still as ever.

A burst of laughter was heard within the entire floor which snapped Felix’s thoughts back to reality. Hearing the vases break in the back and they both look in the same direction, Felix looks as stunned as Dreamgirl but he tries his best to remain calm like how the other hero does. He wanted to look composed as ever though that kind of made him spooked, Dreamgirl must have noticed it too he thought to himself. “You’re no fun to joke around, rookie,” says Dreamgirl with a flashing smile across her lips, pretty obvious she forced herself to smile. Her hands were behind her back, slowly taking out a small device attached inside the sleeves of her dress.

“But you should be careful. Keep your friends close but your enemies closer,” she warns him, her smile still visible to her lips as if she is teasing him once again. Felix just nods his head in response before excusing himself and going back to his room. He felt eyes are on him watching his every move. The black haired woman breathed a short sigh of relief ( she isn’t sure if it’s a right word to say the least ) as soon as Felix disappeared by the time the elevator closes its doors, hearing the ‘ding’ sound indicating the elevator will go up.

Felix knew what she meant by that warning she blurted out. It was obvious enough the moment he had stepped foot at their discussion She looks back at the painting of Ironfist with his head held up high, having pride in his eyes. The details of the crowd looking up at him as if he was an idol— he definitely an idol, a saint rather than people worshipping in their moments of despair.

With one soft sigh from her lips, Dreamgirl turns her heels making her way back to her room.

There he was again, in an empty room with no way to get out of this place. Sounds of footsteps running across the room can be heard to which he began to follow— it's an endless chase but Felix didn't care. Laughter then echoes in the room as if it is trying to taunt him — Felix becomes rather annoyed to say the least — his voice yells back in response. The laughter became louder and coming closer towards Felix before a voice spoke, “This isn't funny you know,” he became agitated by the minute, his feet started running again as the voices of laughter became louder. When the last door appears at the corner of the room Felix then opens it and he is then taken to another room— more of a laboratory rather. Lights at the ceiling began flickering as if it noticed someone had accessed the area.

In every room there's a one sided mirror but there is one in particular that he could hear someone crying out for help— moreover someone begging for help. “Hey! Show yourself!” he screamed as he ran towards the source of the noise opening one of the doors, his body jolted up from the bed catching his breath as if someone had tried to suffocate him while sleeping. The moment Felix wakes up from the nightmare is when everything in his place crashes down— all of his belongings including glass windows shattering into pieces as if someone had thrown a hard object to break it. A knock on the door gave him a yelp hearing the familiar voice of one of the managers. “Is everything okay? I heard something breaking,” Joshua’s concerned voice made him snap back to reality, Felix lied by saying everything is okay and that he had been doing some exercises which caused some crashing that Joshua heard.

There’s a moment of silence from the other side for a few minutes before hearing the sound of heels walking away from his room, having the thought that Felix convinced Joshua with his lie and this gave him the sense of satisfaction.

He had hoped that the same nightmare he had from his childhood would just turn into a fainted memory from his mind as he grew up, getting to know what is real and not.

Fingertips touched the handle of the comb gently brushing their hair that went up to their shoulders, The breeze of air swung in and out making the curtains that were hanging on the wall dance gracefully. They then ties their hair in a half bun, a few hairpins pressed on the sides of his hair trying to hide some bangs. There was a small smile of satisfaction formed on their lips exhibiting the sense of contentment. They tries not to dwell or at least think of any worry in their mind the moment they had agreed upon a deal to which the Han talked to them weeks prior. “It is okay….you are okay,” they whisper under their breath taking one last look in the mirror before grabbing their belongings that they had prepared the night before, 

There stood Vernon who was waiting patiently outside of their room, playing with a hunting knife in his hand to kill time. “Can we go? You have everything with you?” Vernon asks to which the Angel of Death nod in response, showing the bag hanging on their shoulder. The two then walk to the main headquarters where the other rebels are waiting for them. The Angel of Death sees familiar faces— one of which was a young rebel whom he wants to be called San. The Angel of Death knew he isn’t from the outskirts of the desert nor he was raised to be a rebel from childhood but they couldn’t bring himself to ask about his whereabouts or what humans call a place as hometown, a place where an individual was born and raised from childhood up to the present time.

They saw the soldier smiling at him to which they reluctantly smiled back, bowing their head before going back to Vernon. “Can’t believe you had to say yes to this one, you’re sure you can handle it?” another soldier asks, the brunette one rather wearing a soldier jacket, green shirt, dusty jeans and boots spoke to them. He didn’t sound annoyed nor was he acting like one towards them. They had seen this another familiar face on some occasions and this is one of those occasions the Angel of Death is talking about. They didn’t dare to ask the name nor was they eager to ask about that matter. “Han didn’t pressure you into this, didn’t he?” a third soldier commented— if the Angel of Death could remember, the name is Choi Beomgyu— they call themself a genius for remembering his name despite the fact that they rarely interact aside from “hi” and “hello” whenever they bump into each other.

The Angel of Death shook their head in response, saying short phrases that made them listen to their short but definitive explanation. San happily made his way towards the Angel of Death asking permission if he can get closer to which the latter said yes, completely unbothered by the whole gist, “It’s been a while Angel! I forgot to send you my letter after my mission” says San with an apologetic look on his face, as if he thought the Angel of Death is mad about the letter he is supposed to send. Angel of Death assured San that it’s not a big deal but rather it should be them that needs to apologise to San because they had forgotten about the letters,

“You didn’t die… you never die,” they commented, pointing to where his heart is. San looks at his chest having no idea what they are talking about.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get my soul this time. I’m too strong to die just yet,” San mutters, flashing a teasing smile on his face. The Angel of Death pouts in annoyance, rolling their eyes.

“I’m really strong! I can’t die just yet,” San insisted, swearing on his words to which the Angel of Death found it rather amusing. For someone like San to swear while having to put up a gentle smile on his face, “I will get your soul one day,” he utters under his breath. As much as they want to be dismayed at not getting San’s soul, it is a written fact that he cannot die, just yet. He is a human after all— a mere human with great physical physique and as his greatest advantage as a rebel.

Though his heart and desires does not possess such abilities.

Their conversation is then interrupted when Vernon calls him out, nodding his head towards the door signalling it’s time to go. He notices the sudden excitement from San as he encourages the other rebels to get ready, the Angel of Death then follows San as they exit the building getting looks from the other rebels and soldiers. It spread like a flash, the news about the Angel of Death having the permission to leave the premises for a mission. A warm touch on the hand caught him off guard, Angel of Death looks up hoping it's still the same soldier but rather another soldier he hasn't seen in a while either. “You didn’t die either too,” they thought, which made the latter chuckle in response, trying not to laugh at the sudden tease. Slightly shoving him away. “At least a good hello will make me a bit happy,” Choi Beomgyu pouts as he extends his arms, expecting a hug from the latter.

“As much as I want to hear you talk it’s time to go,” Vernon says before letting out a deep sigh from his lips, nodding his head towards the exit.

“Okay calm down loverboy!” Beomgyu commented, now following Vernon while telling the Angel of Death to ignore the looks he gets from other people.

The car ride becomes totally silent— mostly likely due to the fact that Angel of Death doesn’t start out a conversation with everyone despite knowing most of them. There were familiar faces— asides from San, Vernon and Beomgyu that is — to which he had recognized ( how does his brain do this? To be honest, the Angel of Death does not know ) during the car ride. “How’s the district by the way, loverboy?” one of which, Seungmin asks abruptly, turning his head to look at the back, chewing the bubblegum in his mouth as he waits for Vernon to comment. The brunette haired guy shrugs his shoulders almost as if he doesn’t know how to begin, Vernon, who has had enough stress and problems to deal with during his stay inside District 9 had to take a deep sigh of frustration. It took Angel of Death a couple of seconds to sink in what Vernon had gone through during his stay in the district as part of his mission.

A shout from Choi Yeonjun, who happens to be the driver of the vehicle, indicates the go signal to open the gates to which a rebel did what he was told to do so. The sound of the gates open was then a moment of realisation hits everyone— especially for Angel of Death who had just sinked in the reality that they are finally coming out of the zone. The Angel of Death couldn’t feel human emotions unlike a mere mortal should have though there is a part of them that gets the feeling of what humans call as nausea, the palms of their two hands began to produce sweat. Yeonjun then drives away from the zone having one last look at their base not knowing whether to have a farewell at the place he had lived for so long after the first war broke out. There were a few rebels watching them as they drove further away, noticing the kids waving their hands goodbye at them knowing that the old tale about men going outside to beat the bad guys and coming back the next day.

San had a heartbreaking smile on his lips getting the feeling of sorrow and bitterness knowing the tales of the children that were told are just a part of distraction for them not to get emotional trauma and deal with the grief. This was the same tactic his parents had to tell him during his childhood as they moved from one place to another, as a young child there was little to knowledge on why they had to move out so soon. For him, it has to do with his parents’ work and the workplace where they are assigned, “We’re going to a better place,” his mother would reassure him every time he tries to ask why they have moved to another place.

Even now that he has left the district— his hometown, San moves from city to city, from one zone to another, from one group to another. He is already grown up with the ability to think of what's right and wrong, what to do and not to do. “Better place… huh,” San utters under his breath in disbelief, having to believe in his parents’ lies the moment he steps foot on this land. San feels sorry for the children who have to witness this whole ordeal, wanting for this war to be over so they won't have to wonder why there were big trucks of big “supplies” wrapped in cloths and people don't get too happy or excited about it.

“Are we there yet?”

San turned to look at the Angel of Death who now focused on looking outside of the car with the window open. “We’re not even halfway there yet. We have to go through The Dump first,” Yeonjun explains while adjusting the front mirror and adjusting the grip on the steering wheel, having a short glance at San as if he panicked for a split second after mentioning the route they will be taking along the way. There was no tension nor San reacted badly towards Yeonjun, the Angel of Death observed what was about to happen. They had heard about the place from the other rebels but not much of a deep information was given aside from the fact that it used to be a part of an infamous city outside District 9.

It is a place where everyone does enter easily but can never get out. It was almost as if something was attracting them the moment they set their foot on that place. San describes it as a place where you can either be controlled or to control. “Have you been there before?” Angel of Death once asked when he a night walk with San during his short stay in the rebel base, “I wouldn't be called a rebel if it wasn't for my crazy idea to leave my hometown.” The Angel of Death notices a silhouette standing on top of a cliff wearing a black cloak, sitting straight on the back seat their eyes meet instantly giving them a gut feeling. They couldn't hear anything other than the static noise, the Angel of Death then turned to the rebels but no words would come out from his lips. They knew they were discussing something but the sight of the silhouette made them know what was going on. Their gaze turned back at the same silhouette from afar, it was still there. The Angel of Death didn't know how or why he had to do it but the moment his hand touched the handle of the car door, they instantly spread their wings so wide and speeds its way towards the silhouette, not caring if the rebels began calling their name and Yeonjun turning the car to the side and now is chasing after them.

The Angel of Death is fast— fast indeed that Choi Yeonjun couldn't keep up with the speed despite the amount of times the other rebels tell him to do so. Yeonjun yells at them saying he's trying to speed up the chase but the Angel of Death is faster and even stopping them from chasing him. “Did they see another soul or what?” asks Vernon, now getting distressed at the new problem they're facing, the Angel of Death running away from their sight.

San takes out a binoculars from his bag having a quick view as to where the Angel of Death is heading to. Due to the strong current of the wind and now the sudden sandstorm chasing after them from behind, they— including San, couldn't track down the Angel of Death nor even locate where he is. With a crazy idea and intrusive thoughts running through his mind at the same time, San then takes his mask covering half of his face before jumping out of the car earning shouts from the other rebels as they call his name. “Get back here, Choi San!”

The young soldier doesn't look back and runs as fast as he can towards the Angel of Death despite not knowing his exact whereabouts.

There it is, the familiar silhouette that made the Angel of Death is so eager to get at all cost— perhaps the rumours were right, you can never get out of this place. As soon as they get closer to the silhouette the Angel of Death notices a bandage wrapped around the waist which makes them stop at the tracks, blood dripping from the side of the waist. The hood of the cloak was then removed and before they could know it, the person slipped himself on purpose from the edge of the cliff causing his body to fall on the ground. The Angel of Death tries to save him from the brink of death, extending their hand to reach the other.

A smirk came out of the person’s lips as if he had seen this coming, suddenly activating his ability noticing the sudden glow in his eyes to which the Angel of Death shriek in surprise but what made them even more stunned is the fact that before it could the ground the sound of a glass breaking were from behind creating a portal and was too late when they tried fly away. The Angel of Death was then taken to an unknown place where everything was reversed, the sky is at the bottom of the portal while the buildings are all on top, including the vehicles and people who seem to be oblivious and not spotting them arriving in their place. The Angel of Death tries to chase after the latter, extending their hand once again and the moment their hands touch they are then taken to another portal, hearing glasses shattering into pieces.

The next portal the Angel of Death was in they see a shattered glass on his side, the reflection looking back at them but there was something to notice— their reflection smirks at them as if to tease the Angel of Death or make insults towards them. Their gaze then goes back to the individual. I’m dying, the voice cracks, almost becoming more of a sob and this made the Angel of Death become concerned towards this individual. Spreading their wings even wider they get closer to this person finally removing the cloak, revealing a man with a faded bruise on his right cheek. His hair was all ruffled up in a mess, traces of dried blood are visible. “Your soul doesn't exist,” the Angel of Death said as he tried to touch the tip of his fingertips, that's because I’m dying. The man spoke as he took the initiative to take the Angel of Death by the hand, pulling him closer.

The minute their bodies were about to have an impact on the sky, another portal was made taking them to another location— or another dimension in other terms, hearing the bustling sound of vehicles moving around along with the noise of people speaking on multiple occasions as they looked at their gadgets. No one seems to notice their sudden presence in their world as they fall deeper, creating more and more portals as they go. The Angel of Death tried to connect their consciousness to the young man’s mind by giving them flashbacks of the events that had occurred in the past— rather from his past. The faces of people they had never met in another lifetime or even encountered their souls once in the afterlife.  The Angel Of Death wanted to push the individual away but if they did so, the Angel of Death wouldn’t be able to take his soul to the afterlife— even though he was never from this realm.

The Angel of Death is then taken to an abandoned warehouse located in the middle of nowhere. The sound of the birds chirping from outside, the golden ray of the sun reflecting on the window showing his shadow from behind. There were some old and used couches with notebooks, crumpled pieces of paper and pen. Torn fabrics hanging on some of the windows even in the couch, Two broken guitars placed neatly on each stand with wires not connected to the amplifiers. The sounds of people laughing, children laughing in the background as if nothing had happened or perhaps nothing has ever happened, yet. A gentle and warm smile appeared on the other person’s face, his eyes lit up like a golden sun but there was no joy.

“You made it,” he spoke, still having the same gentle smile on his face.

The Angel of Death walks closer to him but he later froze in shock the moment he heard a group of men knocking on a big old warehouse door, Hearing the name of a young man, the latter smiled in response as if he was happy to hear his name like a prayer in his ears.

Hongjoong! Hongjoong!

The cheerful voices calling out his name as if they knew he would be here first before them. The Angel of Death turns his head to look at the direction where the voices come from, “They arrived earlier than I expected. I need to cut this short,” Hongjoong spoke, changing his tone, noticing the silent gaze and thin line on his lips. “I don't know how you got into this place—” he then takes the Angel of Death’s hand intertwining with his, earning a gasp from the latter. A silver light begins to appear in their hands as if it's trying to escape from the grip wanting to be let out.

“— but you have to go. This is not a good place for you. Go, you don't belong here.”

“But neither are you! You're supposed to…”

“Die?”

“No…”

“I’m taking you back where you belong. The moment we separate from each other you will never remember this encounter. Not even this moment of meeting me face to face. Everything will be an illusion and a faded memory to you.”

Hongjoong’s hand covers their eyes almost as if he is trying to hide something, not wanting to be exposed. There is an eternal silence after that, everything was pitch black, there was no one but himself now.

“One can never tell I exist. For I am the beginning of the end.”

The moment Choi San sees the unconscious body on the ground he immediately lifts it in his arms and makes his way back to the team shouting at them on top of his lungs. They knew what it meant and with no time to lose Yeonjun drives to where San is, ordering the others to help San. “Let's get the hell out of here,” says San as he catches his breath after all the running, adding up the fact that he had to lift the Angel of Death in his arms.

Meanwhile, the young man— or rather he was named Hongjoong, immediately snapped his fingers, stopping the sandstorm from behind, showing a tall building located in the middle of a city built within the walls. A light appears from behind pointing towards him as if he is a missing person— perhaps he was in fact a missing person… just not from here. He turns around to look at the person standing at the highest floor of the building, having the smirk on his lips to intimate the other to which he had succeeded. The person on the same building got infuriated in return, making his eyes glow in anger and slam the cane he is holding. The sound of the cane hitting the ground was so loud that it even shook the whole nation in shambles.

It was then that the Children of Pandora were frightened and were told to go after what they were supposed to do, an order from their current ruler— the God of Justice, Seonghwa.

WHERE TO READ! ACT ONE — District 9 | I. STARDUST | III. OOPS, SORRY!

[shatteredsilverwing]

Different Stages of Life AU - First Sleepover Pt. 1.5

Since I have to split my First Sleepover fic up into two different posts (Thank you kindly, Tumblr~), I'm going to post the first part of it here, and the second part of it seperately... Part 1 can be found here!

Enjoy! Words and Characters in total: Words: 1,971 words Characters: 10,869 characters

DING DONG! There it was. That sound which made Sephiroth feel antsy the moment the sound reached his delicate ears. The doorbell. Well, actually, It wasn’t the doorbell itself that frightened him, but more the reason why it rang. Angel was supposed to visit him this weekend and moreover, she planned a sleepover at his place. No one has ever visited Sephiroth before, much less staying overnight. It was the very first time, so he was very jittery. His Mother’s encouragement, that he would play an excellent host to Angel, soothed his nerves a little. She also made sure to teach his son how to be a gentleman towards a lady and how to make sure that she felt comfortable and welcomed at all times.

DING DONG! The doorbell rang once more, and even though he stood right in front of the entrance door, Sephiroth still hasn’t moved an inch. He took a deep breath and reminded himself of one of the rules his Mother taught him: Never keep a lady waiting!

“Okay, Sephiroth…”, he mumbled to comfort himself, “You’ve got this…” With a shaking hand, he grabbed the door handle and, to his own surprise, accidentally flung the door open, almost crashing into Angel. “Hello, Sephy!”, Angel greeted him with a bright, enthusiastic smile, “If I had known that you were that excited to see me, I would’ve arrived earlier!” Sephiroth’s cheeks turned scarlet when he realised what she just said and immediately adjusted his posture. “Hello, Angel. "Please, come in.” He stepped aside to invite her into his home and Angel happily obliged. Even though she was carrying one of her favourite rucksacks on her back and another shoulder bag, she entered the house at an easy pace. After Sephiroth closed the door behind him, he seemed unsure on what to do next. Should he ask her if he should carry her belongings into the guest room upstairs? Should he offer her something to drink first? Just when he was about to ask her, they both heard soft-footed steps from across the kitchen. “Angel, it's good to see you! Have you arrived safely, my sweet child?” Mother Jenova hugged Angel together with her luggage into a tight embrace, almost squeezing her. But Angel didn’t seem to mind, as her smile got even wider and nodded eagerly in response.

“That’s good to hear! Sephiroth, be a dear and help Angel to carry her luggage upstairs into our guest room, alright?”

“Y-yes, Mother…”, he replied and couldn’t help but feel relieved that his Mother began to speak before he got the chance to do so. Otherwise, he probably would’ve stood there for a few seconds in awkward silence, making both of them feel uncomfortable. Angel stripped off her shoulder bag and carefully handed it over to him with a bashful smile. “I hope it’s not too heavy… I couldn’t decide which stuffed animal I should take with me…” When Sephiroth took it, he smiled at her reassuringly. “It’s not too heavy, don’t worry!” And thus, they both went upstairs with Sephiroth taking the lead. Angel was mesmerised by the size of the upper floor and didn’t know where to look first. With all the paintings, family photos and shelves filled to no end with books and sketches, the upper floor resembled a museum gallery more like. There was a lot to discover! “Who drew all of these paintings?”, she asked without averting her eyes from them. “My Mother”, he answered briefly as he headed to the door of the guest room. Angel was speechless with amazement while passing all the paintings and photos one after another, until one particular photo caught her eye. She came to a stop to take a closer look at it. In the photo, there’s Sephiroth’s Mother, Jenova, holding her beloved son within her arms when he was still a baby. If Angel would have to guess where this photo was taken, she would bet on a hospital. Probably shortly after Jenova gave birth to him. When she moved her eyes to the right side of the photo, she noticed something unusual about it. The photo was torn apart and the part that was ripped off was missing. She blinked a few times before she tilted her head in confusion, but before she could say or ask anything about it, Sephiroth already came running and pulled her away from it. “I’ll bring you to our guest room now. It’s on the opposite side of my room. Come on.” Usually, Angel would’ve scolded him for this rude gesture, but her guts told her to keep quiet and to have patience with him. There’s probably a good reason why he reacted like that, so she didn’t take it with a grain of salt. Instead, she tried to change the subject when they entered the guest room to lighten up the mood again. The room was painted in a delicate pink that matched perfectly with the carpeted floor and the pale pink curtains on each side of the window. The window reached down to the floor and had a good view on the landscape that stretched out to the horizon. The blankets and the pillows, who would have thought, were also covered with delicate pink sateen bed sheets. The bed itself looked very comfy and bouncy, Angel already planned on making use of that mattress… In the same corner where the door was, stood a wooden rocking chair that felt like it didn’t belong in this room. “I thought I was sleeping with you in a room together. A lot of children don’t have the luxury of having a guest room at home.” “I don’t like sharing my room with someone else. B-but…”, he hastily added while he turned around to face her, “that has nothing to do with you! I just… Never had a sleepover before…”

Sephiroth looked down, ashamed of his answer. He worried that Angel might get mad at him for his stupid reasoning and didn’t dare to look at her. But she wasn’t mad at him. In fact, she was more heartbroken to hear that Sephiroth never got to experience the joy of a sleepover. She knew that he hadn't had that many friends to begin with, or, none at all, rather. But this… She tenderly grabbed his other hand as well, giving them a loving squeeze. “Don’t worry, Sephy. If you don’t like it, then I can sleep here. I don’t mind.” After hearing her reassurance, he got his courage back to look at her, and when he saw her smiling gently at him, he blushed heavily and relief spread through his whole body. He even managed to return a slight smile. “Do you want to go down to the kitchen? My Mother is making some pancakes for us.” “Of course! But first, I want to see your room!” Though Sephiroth could have guessed it, he was taken aback by her demand to see his room first. It’s not like his room wasn’t clean and tidy all the time, he just didn’t find his room to be interesting in general. “Okay, but it’s nothing special, trust me.”

[To be continued]

[generallynerdy]

And when I am called to quit this life, my feet will not spurn the sod (Cody X Fay)

Summary: Cody is dying. He can feel it. For a second, when a gorgeous, terrifying woman stands above him, he thinks that he’s hallucinating in his final moments. But then, she’s healing him. Fay is too late to save any of his siblings, but she’ll do her best to save this one commander. In the process, she finds something made of darkness in the man’s head, shrieking at her touch. Could this be a lead on the Sith Lord she’s chasing?

Warnings: Blood and Injury, Major Character Injury, Burns, Fake Character Death, Fix-It of Sorts, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Near Death Experiences, Mentions of Rako Hardeen Arc, Vomiting Word Count: 2,115

Author’s Note: this is the first of many star wars one-shots that won’t leave my brain,,,please don’t convince me to make any of them into a series because I’m a weak bitch and I probably will. I didn’t know Fay existed until I read a few fics with her and now I’m in love whoops. Title is from The Optimist, a poem by J. W. Hammond. WOW this is a rarepair, I actually think it doesn’t have any other fics on AO3? Wow. What have I done.

Read the rest of the series on AO3

*

Cody is dying.

He can feel it as easily as hunger or exhaustion, despite the ringing in his head.

The explosion was massive and he was at the forefront of it. No, wait, that's not right. He was the furthest from it. Why was he far away? The memory is fuzzy.

He gasps, pained, wheezing, as he tries to move, tries to speak. Fire crackles around him, smoke and dust filling the air. His lungs burn with it and he's certain there has to be something impaling him because it hurts more than just a bruised lung. Why does he know what that feels like?

The men. He was leading the men away when the explosion happened. There were mines in the ground, he didn't realise-- oh Ka'ra, how many are dead? How many--?

He tries to sit up again and stops, falling back when he hears screaming. It takes him a long moment to realise that it's his voice, his screams.

"Peace."

Cody thinks he's hallucinating it, maybe imaging the voice of an angel in his final moments. *He must be, he decides when a woman appears above him, her dirty blonde-- almost brown, really-- hair falling over her shoulder to reveal a pair of slightly pointed ears. Her eyes are bright despite the frown on her face, almost eerily so.

Cody doesn't know why he's imagining some sort of Sephi woman come to take him away. He generally finds the men of the species more appealing.

"Keep breathing, Commander," she tells him, her voice light and airy, but determined in a familiar way. "You'll be able to do it without it hurting soon."

Cody coughs a little, trying to ignore the taste of blood in his mouth and the fact that it's dripping down the side of his face, too. He can barely get in any air, but he tries to speak regardless. She can't be his imagination. No, she would've called him Kote, not by his title.

"Who--?" he tries to say.

"Shh, keep your strength," she murmurs.

He can't see what she's doing, but with a jolt of movement, the pain in his chest becomes stronger and he screams again, almost against his will. The thing that was impaling him is gone-- she removed it.

Panic rises in him. He’s going to bleed out. He’s going to die right now, right here, in this mysterious woman’s arms.

“Breathe,” she warns again, firmly this time.

Cody wants to laugh, wants to tell her she sounds like General Kenobi with that heartbreaking last-minute, death-bed hope. He usually has nothing to hold onto, nothing but the people around him and he holds them fiercely. If this were him, he would refuse to accept that Cody is slipping away, not until his last breath.

What he fails to realise is that this woman isn’t denying his death because she doesn’t want it to happen; she’s denying it because she can and will prevent it.

He flinches as best he can when he feels her hands peel apart his armour. It’s burned into his blacks and when it pulls off his skin, he wants to scream again but makes a weak, wounded noise instead. Then, her hands on his bare chest, fingers pressed against his wounds.

“Buy me a-- a drink first,” he wheezes out, chest heaving.

Her laugh is a song, which is a stupid, cheesy thought that sounds like something out of Rex’s holofilms. Cody almost wants to bleed out just for thinking it.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re exactly like your Progenitor?” she asks dryly.

He snorts. “He was the rough draft. I--”

The gasp leaves his throat without his permission, a flaring heat stretching out from where her fingers meet his chest. It surrounds his entire body, cradling him in a gentle heat and almost numbing his pain.

When it reaches his head, however, a stab of pain goes through his skull. He writhes with the wave of intense pain, vision going fuzzy with tears.

“Stop, stop, stop--” he begs, sobbing.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes out, moving to rest her hand on his face. “It’s not me.”

Her fingers are cold against the heat she’s brought on, ice-cold as they dance across his skull, seeking out the source of his pain. They stop on a spot on the right side and press firmly there. When Cody gasps again, she stops as quickly as she started and the heat recedes from that place in an instant.

“Let any Sith in your head lately?” she asks.

He shakes his head viciously. “No, no-- why?”

“We’ll worry about that later. Take a deep breath.”

Attempting not to focus on that worrying tone, Cody does as she says, inhaling as deeply as he can, though it hurts. The moment he gets a good breath in, the warmth intensifies.

His eyes widen, terrified, but then it’s all gone; the warmth, the pain, the dizziness, the fuzzy vision-- everything. He flings himself up from the ground, hand flying up to his head. His fingers still come away bloody, but he can tell the wound is gone.

“How did you--?” he starts to ask her. He sees her robes and stops immediately. “I didn’t know Jedi could do that.”

She smiles. “Most can’t, I admit. It’s taken me a long time to learn. Anything still hurt?”

He pauses, assessing, before finally shaking his head. “Thank you. Did-- did anyone else--?” He hesitates to ask.

Watching her face fall is a punch to the gut. “No. I’m sorry, Commander, but you were the only one still breathing when I arrived.”

Cody shuts his eyes tightly, willing away the tears that threaten to break again.

So many siblings. So many gone, all but him. It always seems to end this way, he thinks bitterly.

“Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum,” he whispers.

He jumps when the woman places her hand on his, eyes opening. “Commander, I know you’re grieving and recuperating, but the Separatists will be all over this field soon. I have a request to make of you.”

Cody frowns. “General?”

“Ah, just Master,” she corrects, her smile a little sad-- something Cody has noticed with many Jedi when he calls them that. “Master Fay.”

“Marshal Commander Cody, of the 7th Sky Corps and the 212th Attack Battalion.”

Her smile widens. “Obi-Wan Kenobi. He’s lucky to have you.”

He glances at the ground, but only for a fraction of a second. “Thank you, sir, but I think it’s the other way around.” He pauses. “You said something about a request?”

“What I felt in your head...it was pure darkness,” Fay mutters.

She reaches forward again, the tips of her fingers on the very spot she’s speaking about. Cody finds himself leaning into the touch, reminded of the sharp difference between her skin and the heat that had come over him. He stops when she smiles a little at the movement, somewhat sheepish.

“Obi-Wan thinks I’m dead,” she says abruptly.

Cody blinks a few times. “Pardon?”

Fay sighs. “Myself and three other Masters faked our deaths so we could hunt the Sith Lord over Dooku. I think that they might have to do with whatever is in your head; it has the same darkness.”

He knows what she’s asking of him before she even finishes.

“You want me to come with you. If I disappear, they’ll assume I died in the explosion,” he works out.

Again, the smile that comes over her expression is sad. He’s clever, Fay thinks, like many of his siblings, but it doesn’t make her feel any better about the offer. She would never wish this fate on anyone, no matter the blood on their hands.

“I don’t want to take you from your family,” she admits, “but you may hold the key to finding the Sith Lord in your head, Commander.”

“I--” he pauses. “General Kenobi faked his death once. It felt-- It felt like the galaxy was ending. When he came back, I was...pissed. Couldn’t look at him for weeks. If I do the same thing, I don’t know if they’d forgive me.”

His thoughts drift to Rex. Rex would kick his ass for even thinking of pulling a Rako Hardeen.

And what about the other commanders? After Ponds...well, Cody doesn’t think they’d be able to lose anyone else.

But they could end the war. This is different from just catching a handful of bounty hunters trying to kill the Chancellor, this is saving the galaxy. What kind of soldier is Cody if he passes this up?

But what kind of soldier is he if he abandons his men?

(Good soldiers follow orders. Good soldiers follow orders.)

It’s not like he has much of a choice in this matter, though. He can’t exactly explain his miraculous survival of the explosion or the fact that he’s completely uninjured. What would he tell General Kenobi? That a long-dead Master healed him?

And how could he live knowing there was something dark in his head? Not ever finding out what it was?

“I’ll come with you,” he declares finally. “I need to know what this is. If it helps end the war, I have to.”

Master Fay grimaces. “You don’t have to do anything, Commander, if you don’t want--”

“I want to. I want to save my vode, sir. I can’t let this --” he gestures to the chaos around them, “--happen to any more of them.”

Fay lets out a deep breath. Cody is something. He and Obi-Wan must make quite a pair.

“Alright,” she says. “You’ll have to leave the armour; it stands out too much.”

He nods and takes her offered hand, standing with her. “I want to leave something for my brother, Rex. He won’t say a word, I trust him.”

“And I trust you, Commander,” she says with a smile. “I’ll contact the other Masters and give you a moment.”

“Sure, sir.” After a second, he clears his throat. “And, uh, Cody is fine.”

Fay hums. “Cody? You don’t have to call me sir. Just Fay. Or Master, if it physically hurts you to keep from using titles.”

Cody can’t help but laugh. “Thank you, Master. I’m glad we understand each other.”

*

Rex feels sick standing over the explosion site.

“Rexster? Rex?”

He snaps back into attention, finding a worried Ahsoka squinting at him. “Sir?” he asks, hoping it doesn’t come out as broken as he is.

Her grimace tells him that it does.

“We don’t know that he’s down there, Rex,” she says softly.

Rex swallows roughly. “Yeah.”

He’s trying to keep the hope, but it starts to fade with every step they take and every body they find. Not a single one of them made it out alive. He knows, logically, that Cody would have been at the front of the squad and the farthest from the explosion, but the damage is extensive.

“Sirs! Over here!” Jesse calls.

The sight of Cody’s armour, splattered with blood and reeking of burnt flesh, makes Rex gag. He has to rip off his helmet and duck away from the Generals, Ahsoka, and Jesse, retching.

When he returns, General Kenobi is kneeling beside the pile of displaced plastoid, grief etched on his face. He picks up a vambrace with shaking hands and lets out a weak breath. Ahsoka, meanwhile, sobs, letting General Skywalker pull her into his side.

Rex steels himself and moves toward them again, waving Jesse off when he gives him a concerned look. He kneels beside General Kenobi, who puts a hand on his shoulder.

He picks up Cody’s helmet, numb.

He can’t even find it in him to cry.

The Generals give him a long time there to think, to grieve. Jesse stays by his side, waiting and watching his six.

"Ni partayli, gar darasuum,” Rex says, finishing the remembrance. He holds Cody’s helmet in his hands, pressing his forehead against it in a Keldabe kiss. Despite himself, he chokes out; “Ni partayli, vod.”

He opens his eyes, meaning to pull the helmet away, and stops abruptly.

There’s something carved on the bottom of Cody’s visor, in Mando’a. Rex frowns. That’s a new addition, he’s pretty certain, at least since the last time he saw his brother.

It takes everything Rex has in him not to sob with relief when he translates it.

Cody is a stupid bastard and he loves his stupid bastard brother. He’s going to kill him.

Rako.

Fucking Rako.

“Wherever you are, I hope you know I’m gonna kick your ass when you get back,” Rex whispers to the helmet as if Cody is there with him. “And all the commanders are gonna help me.”

*

River’s Tags: @hahaboop & @mystoragehatesme

Masterlist

[catsafarithewriter]

Desperate Measures

A/N: Do you know how sometimes you get an idea that’s so stupid you immediately have to write it? Well, I saw THIS POST, and instantly latched on to the “The Fiance You Thought Was Lost at Sea” flavour and couldn’t resist. 

Human AU.

x

The date was going badly. 

Not covertly-ask-the-bartender-for-a-taxi bad, but definitely veering into climbing-out-the-bathroom-window territory. 

At least, it would have been if the windows were large enough. 

(They weren’t.)

(She’d tried.)

Haru hummed her way through another of her date’s monologues on the virtues of the different brands of modelling paint and subtly checked her phone. Still no reply from either of her housemates in the last thirty seconds. 

She wistfully looked over the pudding menu and tried to convince herself that the triple-fudge brownie was worth dragging the date out to a second course. 

She needed chocolate. Lots of it. 

She deserved it, really, she rationalised. As a prize for her patience. 

She made a noncommittal sound in the back of her throat as her date moved on to the various selections of glue and good god was she bored of toy planes.

She ate a little faster and dismissed the brownie. She’d come back for it another day. Even free pudding wasn’t worth this. 

“...and of course, there’s CA, which will bond between most dissimilar materials, including plastic to metal, but it can discolour some plastics...”

It wasn’t that she disliked model planes. Or tanks. Or trains. Or whatever her date made. (Truth be told, she’d forgotten within the span of dinner arriving.) It was more to the fact that it had been forty minutes and he hadn’t asked her for a single detail about her life. 

She had tried. But it turned out that derailing (all puns intended, she needed something to amuse her) a topic on scale model building was harder than it sounded. 

“...so personally I prefer an epoxy resin, even if it does take longer to dry. Of course, if you’re wielding plastic to plastic, then the obvious choice would be a solvent cement...”

Dear god, kill me now, Haru thought. 

And that was when Louise burst through the pub doors with a raucous bang and cried, “HARU, I’VE RETURNED!” at the top of her lungs. 

The bar went silent. Even Haru’s date trailed off on the merits of solvent cement. And it wasn’t just because of Louise’s dramatic entrance or her outburst, although either might have been enough. 

She was soaked.

Like, dumped-in-a-river soaked. 

Her usually perfect hair was plastered along the sides of her face, her clothes bedraggled, and what looked like a crab hung off her ear like a huge and ugly earring. 

“Haru?” Haru’s date asked. “Do you know that woman?”

“Uh,” Haru said. 

Louise cleared the pub in three easy steps - mostly because people swiftly got out of her way - and drew Haru into a bone-breaking hug. From this proximity, Haru could smell saltwater.

“Louise,” she wheezed. “What are you doing?”

“Saving you from your god-awful date,” Louise whispered, and released her. “Haru!” she boomed. “I know you’re in shock, but it’s me! I have returned! Your fiancée, lost at sea, but finally I have come back to you!”

Louise paused. 

It took Haru a moment longer to register that this was her cue. Luckily, everyone else seemed so perplexed by the turn of events that they didn’t notice her hesitation. She threw her arms around Louise and buried her head into her housemate’s shoulders to hide the hysterical laughter. 

“Louise!” she cried back, and she hoped people mistook her shaking voice for heartfelt emotion and not the physical restraint of hiccuping giggles. “It is you! I almost didn’t recognise you after all this time! How did you...? How did you survive the shipwreck?”

“Ah.” Louise leant back and Haru could see her mental gears frantically whirring. “It is a tale of drama and suspense and daring-do of epic proportions. It will live on in history as a tale through the ages. In song! In verse! Maybe in a little Broadway show.” She paused and reconsidered the rapt audience she had. “It is a story for another day!”

Haru’s date got uneasily to his feet, paler than Haru remembered him. “Uh, hi, should I be leaving or...?”

“Haru!” Louise bellowed. She was going to have no voice tomorrow at this rate. “Who is this man you’re with?”

“This is...” Good god, she’d forgotten his name. 

“Going,” he supplied. “Haru, it was... this was an experience, but I’m going to go now. It looks like you have a lot of catching up to do.” He paused. “I’ll pay on the way out.”

Haru was beginning to feel somewhat bad about her date, however boring he had been, but then Louise swept her off her feet in an overly dramatic lift and spun her through the air and Haru was too busy trying not to yelp/laugh to worry. 

As her feet touched back down, there was a shocked kind of applause from the onlookers. Again, Haru wasn’t given any time to process this before Louise grabbed her arm and hauled her out of the bar. She passed at least two bar patrons who were filming the whole incident. 

“Fiancée?” Haru managed to ask as they slipped back outside, as if that was the only question she had in her mind. 

“It sounded better than girlfriend. More dramatic.”

“You have a girlfriend,” Haru reminded her. 

“Yes, and she’s waiting for us in the car. There she is.” Louise gave a cheerful little wave at her mini, which currently contained her brother and her aforementioned girlfriend. 

Persephone was settled comfortably in the driver’s seat, while Louise’s brother and fellow housemate, Baron, was squashed into the back with his knees about his ears. 

Haru opened the passenger door and stared bemusedly at the occupants. “So what’s all this then?”

“What does it look like?” Persephone asked. “It’s a rescue mission. Now get inside before we attract any more attention. Louise, towel.”

Haru slid into the seat beside Baron while Louise ruefully dried herself off. “And who decided that posing as a fiancée lost at sea was the best way to get me out of a boring date?”

Persephone and Baron both pointed to Louise.

“Oh, come on. You can’t say that wasn’t fun,” Louise protested. 

“We did suggest alternatives,” Baron said. 

“Yes, but they were boring and no fun.” Louise twisted in her seat to look back at Haru. “We drew straws to see whose idea we’d go with.”

“And what were the other options?”

“Fire alarm,” Baron said.

“Isn’t that, like, illegal?”

“Only a little bit.”

“And only if you get caught,” Louise added. 

“Sephie?”

“Awkward third wheel,” Persephone said. 

“I’m not gonna lie, that’s kinda anticlimactic after the other two.”

“Never underestimate the power of an awkward third wheel. Cringey date stories, constant photos of my ninety cats, random facts on the mating rituals of bats, you name it. And even if it doesn’t end the date in thirty seconds, at least you’ll have an interesting conversation.”

“Your imagination never ceases to amaze me,” Louise said. 

“Oh, I do actually know about bat mating rituals. Blame late night nature documentaries.”

“I was referring to the cringey date stories.”

“Honey, I love you, but you once punched a guy on our anniversary.”

“He deserved it.”

“We nearly got arrested.”

“But we didn’t.”

“No. But we did get permanently banned from that bar.”

“The food wasn’t even that good there anyway.”

Haru leant over to Baron, although that didn’t take much in the confines of the mini. “Did you really suggest setting off the fire alarm to end my awkward date?”

“Toto proposed one of us pose as your child from the future and mutter about how you were late to meet your future spouse, if that puts my suggestion in a better light at all.”

“Toto was in on this too?”

“And Muta. He suggested posing as an FBI agent on the next table over.”

“Why?”

“I think his train of logic was that it would eventually freak your date out into leaving early--” 

“No, I mean why do either of them even know about this?”

“Ah. Yes, well we had to stop by their place to grab the final costume pieces. Toto still had a fake crab from the Little Mermaid school play he helped with.”

“Oh god. Is there anyone who doesn’t know about my terrible date?”

“I believe Hiromi is still ignorant to this.”

“Nope,” Louise said cheerfully. “I texted her for ideas and she’s the one who suggested the bucket of saltwater to add that extra briny effect.”

Haru cradled her head in her hands. “You’re all mad.”

“Hey,” Louise protested. “It got you out of the date, didn’t it?”

[tcrmommabear]

Merry Christmas Mommacomms!

Yours, @mommacomms, was very interesting to write. I went into it with a few ideas, and then immediately threw them all out the window for Haru... Well, I won’t spoil it.

I think I’m funny, Cat thinks I’m funny, so I’m going to the grave laughing. I really hope you enjoy this, and if its too ridiculous, you have full permission to roast me. But enjoy this first!!

But really, what IS with those cats conspiring in the corner?

“Okay,” Haru declared, bag dropping beside the door, “I’ll bite. What’s with the cats conspiring in the corner?”

The room went quiet upon her entrance, all eyes turning to look at her. She caught sight of Baron and watched his expression change from discomfort to almost a pure grimace. Ouch. Whatever was going on could not be good. And it most certainly wasn’t good for her if Baron looked at her that way.

“Miss Haru,” he began, but a cat’s hand stopped him, pressing against Baron’s chest as he made to move towards her.

“We are here on behalf of the Cat Kingdom,” the one holding Baron back responded, nodding towards the other two cats standing with them. All different patterns and eye colors, and all sharply dressed. Holding adorable, cat-sized briefcases.

“I’m being sued, aren’t I?” Haru joked, glancing between them all. Muta choked on air.

“You’re being sued by the Cat Kingdom,” the leader confirmed.

All pretenses of humor and ambivalent feelings dropped from Haru. Her joke was a reality, and her reality was a joke. Taking it well for someone being sued by cats.

“Of which,” Baron finally interjected, pushing past the cat lawyer blocking, “is a ridiculous thing to do. You have no reason to do this, especially to the victim on the King’s crimes.”

“I don’t want to fight you there, Sir Baron, but these are hard times, and these issues must be resolved to move forward,” one of the other cat lawyers responded. Baron glared at the three, standing in front of Haru with his arm extended out from his side. Shielding her like he’d done a million times befor.

“These matters are ridiculous and hold no water here in the Human realm,” Toto replied, hopping around on the railing of his perch.

The argument looked to be brewing again, which Haru realized was what she had walked into, though at a more level manner. She stepped forward and placed a hand on Baron’s shoulder, stopping everyone in their tracks as she took the limelight.

“Can someone please explain what exactly I am being sued over?” she begged.

The three cats shared a look, setting down their briefcases and opening in tandem. Each had their own packet of parchment, written in cats’ hieroglyphic language, and Haru did not feel good about the length of them all.

“First, destruction of property. This comes on behalf of the citizens on the Cat Kingdom, spearheaded by-”

“But the damages weren’t my fault!” Haru exclaimed. She glanced among the group, aware of all eyes on her. And no one backing her claim.

“Those charges are mostly upon me, Miss Haru,” Baron told her, having the decency to look sheepish, “but the Cat Kingdom has labeled you as an accomplice, and the influence. So they’re using me to blame you.”

“That’s ridiculous!”

Muta took that moment to chime in, thumping a hand on Haru’s back.

“That’s the Cat Kingdom. Just wait, kiddo, it gets worse.”

As Haru groaned, the second took their chance.

“Second, endangerment of person. This one is on behalf of the nobility in attendance to your engagement ball, spearheaded by the performer Lazlo, and his assistant, Juniper, funded and provided with eyewitness accounts and evidence by Ser Jonath-”

“The cat who laughed at the performers,” Haru realized numbly, distantly remembering his family being introduced to her before the festivities began. That’d been her one moment of calm, when they took Muta away to place by her seat, out of sight.

“Another ridiculous reason to blame Haru,” Baron spat, but she couldn’t really hold any of that same venom.

“Why aren’t these charges being placed against the King, instead?” Toto insisted, when Haru looked a little too faint. The third, and final, cat took this time to step forward.

“Which leads us directly into the third charge. This is less of a “oh I’m mad” type of deal, and more like a crime against the kingdom.”

Haru began shaking, glancing between the other three Bureau members. Their expressions weren’t happy either, but something in them told her she wasn’t going to be executed. Or tarred and furred.

But she was definitely in a world of trouble.

“What do you…?”

“Yoshioka Haru, otherwise known as Miss Haru, you are being charged with abandonment of royal duties.”

***

Haru liked to think she took the news rather well. She could have fainted! She could have decked the lawyer (Marcus, she later learned) with a nasty right! She could have pulled one of Baron’s emergency dramatic exit, otherwise known as a smoke bomb, to let herself escape.

Nope, Haru was reasonable, responsible, the cool head of the Cat Bureau. The brains, if you will.

They only had the one to share among them, but looks like it wasn’t her turn today.

Which is how she found herself storming the castle of the Cat Kingdom.

In all fairness, Lune was very informative and forthcoming. She just had a hard time letting him go from being pinned against the wall. He took it in stride, and Yuki only looked slightly annoyed. When the lawyers and Bureau managed to catch up, they found Haru sitting with a blanket and hot chocolate, the royal couple attempting to be soothing.

“Miss Haru?” Baron asked, creeping into her sight.

“Alright, it comes down to this,” she paused, gesturing at the chairs, “wait, sit down first.”

The Bureau took seats, no questions asked.

“First, did any of you know about that last one?” she asked.

“Not at all, Haru,” Toto replied, nodding a head at the lawyers who hovered in the background. “You interrupted as they got to that part.”

“Alright, that makes me feel better.”

“What’s to be done, Miss Haru?” Baron encouraged, hoping to get the train back on track.

“Right, sorry. So, destruction and endangerment, they want me to pay fees for it. However, since the King’s retirement, I was the temporary Queen, even though they hadn’t chosen me yet. So, the fees technically fell to the Royal family. Which is me. Which is what I abandoned despite not knowing I would become royalty. So, neglecting the Kingdom.”

“That’s… Absurd,” Toto whispered.

“That’s Cat Kingdom,” Haru and Muta intoned, sharing a brief laugh.

“So the fees fall on me as a person. Not as the Queen. If I become Queen, well, apparently there’s a “Royalty Damage” budget for stuff like this.”

There was a laugh from Lune.

“If you ever wondered why our guard was incompetant, that’s where their training funds went to.”

“I just thought that was Cats in general,” Toto mumbled.

“But if I become Queen,” Haru declared loudly, “I can’t leave. Not until Lune is married. But I also stand imprisonment if I don’t become Queen. Which means I can’t leave. So, lose-lose all around!”

“Is there anything we can do about this?” Baron asked, turning to face Lune. The Prince sighed, rubbing at his chin. He wasn’t happy with the answer he could give them.

“One thing, at least. Haru is interim because I fill the role of handler. Find a different interim leader, Haru could leave. The charges could completely voided by the leader, and we’re all a little happier at the end of the day. Except…”

“Except?” Baron pushed.

“Except… The only other option is…”

“His mother,” Yuki told them, stepping forward to place a hand on his shoulder.

“You have a mother?” Haru blurted. “Wait, I meant, you have a living mother still married to your father?”

“Yes and no. She can’t become the real Queen again, but she can make a good substitute.”

“Okay,” Haru said.

“Chicky? I don’t like that look in your eye,” Muta warned, sitting up straighter as Haru seemed to be tracing out a plan in the air.

“My mother disappeared years ago,” his warning was watery, but Lune did well to hide it.

“She also ran away with someone, didn’t she?” Yuki asked.

“That’s fine, that’s just two people we need to find,” Haru nodded to herself, standing up and beginning to leave the room.

“Haru?” Baron called after, grabbing her hand to stop her.

“What? So we’ve gotta find two runaways who could also possibly be dead. How hard can it be?”

***

She gave a little shake, her tail flicking as she shuddered through the chills.

“Darling?” her companion asked, gloved hand reaching out to touch her paw. She smiled, waving a hand to dismiss her worries.

“Just a draft, honey, I just felt cold for a second.”

“Alright,” she said, eyebrow raised. “Whatever you say, Sephie.”

[ryanmeft]

Wish List: Final Fantasy VII Remake

Rumors flying around suggest the first part of the FFVII Remake could see release in 2019 or 2020. This means it will be nearly 25 years on before we see it, and much to the chagrin of the truly obsessive sects of the original game’s fanbase, it is going to be a very different experience than the original was. Most people, however, seem to have embraced this necessity, and are ready for a fresh look at the world of FFVII.

As such, I decided to explore the things I think would be of most benefit to upgrade, alter or just plain change in the remake. This is strictly a list of good things I want, and that which you should want to since I am obviously always right. I didn’t include any “Don’t do this”s, because you can go to any forum if you want a long list of demands of what not to do.

WARNING: This post includes minor SPOILERS for Final Fantasy VII.

A More Thorough Open World

FFXV made strides toward taking the series off the linear path it has always been on, which was wise, seeing as FFXIII was roundly criticized even by supporters for being basically a straight-ahead path through the entire story. However, Square’s lack of experience with the genre was evident. Players were heavily limited as to where they could go at any one point, side quests were rarely engaging (though still a step up from XIII), and traversal was much more of a chore than it needed to be.

With clear dystopian inspirations ranging from Metropolis to Blade Runner mixed with more traditional fantasy settings, FFVII has always had one of the more intriguing worlds in a series where world-building was never a core tenet. The times being what they are, a remake will have to be less linear, and if Square is going to do it they should do it up right. The nature of the story means that you can’t just drop us in and let us go wherever we want immediately, but Square can work within the boundaries of the story to make the world feel more alive by modern standards. For instance, although being confined to Midgar for the first several hours is essential to the atmosphere the game sets, it would be great if we could opt to explore the entire city, rather than just the designated sectors. Once you’re out in the world, it would be a simple matter to make all the towns and “dungeons” accessible from the get-go, while simply holding the story beats over for when you’ve progressed that far.

Camaraderie

Some things in FFXV worked and some did not, but by far the best and most well-implemented idea the game had was the way your main party interacts with each other. FFVII has one of the most iconic casts in video games, but due to technical limitations, they never interacted outside of scripted scenes or FMVs. The remake should have everyone in your current party visible at all times, traversing the world with you, talking to each other, pointing out interesting or dangerous things in the environment, etc. Each character having something non-battle-related they were good at, like cooking or fishing, was one of the more popular aspects of XV and should be repeated in VII…and not just because I want to see Cloud burn the toast. Unlike XV, however, you should be able to take direct control of any party member at any time, because fans have waited a long time for this, and will want to step into everyone’s shoes directly. Make it feel like everyone is fully present, all the time, and not simply waiting for the plot to get around to them.

Change the Skill System

That’s right; I’m going there. The Materia system was a step forward for the genre at the time it released, but it is now in need of a serious overhaul, especially if the game goes the modern action-RPG direction it appears to be heading. Making each player unique in battle, rather than a mostly-interchangeable vessel for skills loaned from an item, is going to be essential, since most of us will want the different fighting styles of the characters to be highlighted in actual gameplay. The easiest way for this to happen is to move the limit break system to a tiered special skill set, similar to what the characters in FFXV used. Cloud’s Braver, for instance, is no longer visually impressive, and should probably be a standard skill he can activate and then recharge.

As for the Materia itself, some of the skills it imparted just won’t be useful in an action battle system, while some such as Toad won’t be feasible to recreate in a 3D engine. Streamline the existing spell and skill list, while adding a few nifty new ones for good measure. Tie the performance of different kinds of magic to a character’s aptitude and make them able to get better at it with use, which still lets anyone equip anything while encouraging unique styles for each character. And for Ramuh’s sake, make the summons cool again. Hell, make them like FFXII, temporarily able to replace your entire active party except for the summoner. That would be boss and stuff.

Make the Side Content Matter

Prior to FFXII, side content in the series was robust and complex, and while it could sometimes be more trouble than it was worth (I don’t know about you, but I don’t care if I catch all those butterflies), it was at least unique from what you spent the rest of the game doing. Stuff like Triple Triad and Chocobo Hot and Cold were both fun, and offered substantial rewards for sticking to them. Then it got replaced by “Go here, kill this monster, come back, get some gold and an item you don’t need.” It has been more or less that ever since. If we’re going back to FFVII, let’s go back as well to a time when heading off the beaten path not only led to discovering entirely optional parts of the world, but the pay off for that exploration felt worth it.

Make the Sub-Villains more Complex

Any hint of messing with FFVII’s pristine pinnacle of storytelling gets met with backlash from certain fans, but here’s the thing: as good as it is, it isn’t actually perfect. Notably, most every secondary villain, primarily the heads of the ShinRa corporation, are about as developed as a man in a black hat tying a woman to the train tracks. They’re cartoons, and all the depth in the secondary villain category comes from the Turks. If the game is going to work in the modern day and maintain the gritty, morally ambiguous world it originally affected, folks like Rufus, Scarlet and Heidegger are going to need to be more than cackling baddies. In fact, it couldn’t hurt to re-write most of their characters from the feet up.

Have the Story Make Sense

Again, FFVII’s story had more flaws than fans want to admit. Chief among these was an atrocious translation that will almost certainly not be an issue once the script is overhauled to work in a modern game, but it’s also true that without outside assistance, it was very, very hard to follow parts of the convoluted story, especially as it related to Cloud and Sephiroth. It seems clear from both the direction the game is taking and the reaction that it is built to appeal to those who never played the original, and making sure they aren’t scratching their heads trying to figure out what the hell old Sephie is talking about would go a long way towards that.

Make Vincent and Yuffie Essential

This one is pretty straight forward. Vincent, especially, actually has a huge role in the overall lore of FFVII, and having him be optional didn’t make a lot of sense to begin with. Plus, does anyone really want to do that stupid safe-cracking minigame again? If you do, I question the state of your sanity.

[nanenna]

The Sleeping Beauty

Fandom: Cat Returns Pairing: Louise/Persephone Words: 1.4k Raiting: G

Not a request, just a little one shot I felt like doing. Another experiment in minimalism, if you will. How much of this story makes sense with only little hints and tidbits? Hopefully it makes enough sense.

Louise stared up at the thick overgrowth covering the crumbling brick wall. The dark green foliage almost looked serene as it rustled in a gentle breeze, crimson roses nodded their heads in an almost friendly manner, but between the leaves she spotted long, nasty looking thorns. Only a fool would try climbing these walls.

Louise turned then, and began walking along the walls, being sure to keep a healthy distance between herself and the sharp thorns. It wasn’t long before she came to a massive, decorative, iron gate equally grown over with the thorny roses, even thicker than the walls. Louise stepped closer then, with thick leather gloves on she attempted to push the thorns aside to look through the gate. Her work only earned her a few wicked scratches to her hands. The machete didn’t fare much better, the iron of the gate quickly dulled the blade while it set Louise’s arm numb. Well, others had attempted a full frontal assault and had failed worse than her, if those bones among the rose’s roots were anything to go by.

She sheathed her blade and continued walking along the outer wall, keeping a close eye on it as she went. It was quite late in the day when she found her opening near the rear, a back entrance long forgotten about. The door itself was cracked and splintering with age, thorns choked up the space where part of the door had fallen off, yet part of the door still held. Louise pulled her machete back out and began hacking at the roses around the door, just enough to get at the space the latch used to be and wrench what’s left of the door open. It was a tight squeeze, and the thorns still tore at her ears and clothes, but she managed to make it through with only her dress as a casualty. Ah well, she hadn’t worn her favorite outfit for a reason.

Inside Louise found herself in an overgrown, unkempt garden. Vines trailed over weed covered paths while wilting bushes were choked with more thorny roses. In the corner lay what appeared to be a kitchen boy with a cocoon of thorns growing around him. Louise stepped closer to get a look at him through the roses, his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, an ear twitched, his tiny nose wrinkled for a moment before smoothing back out. Well, best to let sleeping kittens lie, Louise supposed.

Through the kitchen door and into the kitchen proper, a kitchen full of soundly sleeping kitchen staff covered in layers of dust. Most seemed to be clutching plates or bowls as they sat or lay sprawled out on the floor. To Louise’s relief the thorns weren’t inside at all, perhaps they just hadn’t made it this far yet. She carefully stepped around or over the kitchen staff as she made her way into the main area of the castle. This would be the hard part, rumors said she should go the highest room of the tallest tower, yet she had no idea how this castle was laid out or where the towers were or even if it had any towers. It’s not like it was easy to look at the blasted thing through the protective layer of thorns, but surely if there had been any towers they would have been visible even from the other side of the wall.

Louise took a deep, calming breath, then immediately sneezed. The dust in this place was atrocious, then again it’s not like there’s been anyone to look after it. Louise pulled out a handkerchief and held it to her face. No choice but to search the whole place, at least it was a small castle.

It was well past sunset when Louise found the living quarters, and within the largest, most ornate room she finally found what, or rather who, she was looking for. The room had a large, four poster bed complete with curtains. Closed curtains. Louise almost shut the door and moved onto the next room, but she decided to be completely thorough and went to pull the curtains open. Laying on the bed was a beautiful woman with dark gray fur wearing an ornate gown and a dainty tiara upon her head; her hands were folded neatly over her stomach with a single, perfect rose between them. Louise was struck by the strange woman’s beauty and took a moment to admire her.

The moment was ruined by another sneeze. One cannot hold a candle, a handkerchief, and pull back a curtain all at the same time. With a muffled curse Louise wiped at her nose and then angrily shoved the bed’s curtains open, which only made the air dustier and left Louise in a sneezing fit. Once she had calmed down, and also brushed the dust from her fur and clothes, she leaned in to give the woman a chaste kiss. Louise stood back and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

When several minutes had passed and nothing happened, Louise let out a strangled squeal of frustration and made several vague, sweeping gestures with her arms. Surely she didn’t come this far to be thwarted now! Several more deep breaths, this time with handkerchief firmly over her nose, and a few muttered curses later and Louise sat heavily on the edge of the bed, one foot on the floor while the other knee was up so she could properly face the woman. “Oh Sephie, what am I to do? I’ve missed you so.” A wayward tear slid down her cheek as she took hold of the woman’s shoulders and leaned in for a passionate kiss. This time when she sat back the woman moaned and shifted, her eyes fluttered as she tried to focus on Louise. “Sephie!” Louise cried happily before pulling the confused woman into a tight embrace.

“Louise? What… what happened? Where? How did I get to my rooms? What are you doing here? If Sylvester were to find you!”

“Don’t worry about that old codger, it’s been half a century since he banished you here. He’s long dead.”

“What?!”

“Ah, sorry, what a rude way to break the news to you. You fell to a sleep curse, what’s the last thing you remember?”

“I was in the garden, there was a strange rose and I felt I just had to pluck it and… am I wearing my tiara and shoes in bed? I’m not even in bed, I’m just on top of it!”

“I suppose whoever moved you here thought it was more storybook that way.” Louise giggled as she helped Sephie sit up and swing her feet over the edge of the bed.

“Well, I suppose it is more storybook that way, but it certainly is uncomfortable. My feet are positively pinched!” Sephie doffed the shoes with disdain and pulled off her tiara with equal disdain before dropping it on the bed. Then she looked down at her hands as she traced the embroidery of her gown. “Fifty years, you said?”

“Yes, I’m sorry I didn’t wake you sooner, but once Sylvester heard about the curse he decided to make my life even more difficult than he already was to keep me from waking you and running off with you like I promised.”

“I suppose you breaking my curse does make us rather official, no one would dare oppose a fairy tale after all. But Louise, how is… that is… Lune...”

“Alive and well, and about to become a grandfather.”

“How wonderful!” Sephie clapped her hands in delight. “Though I suppose that means I’m about to become a great grandmother.”

“And a lovely great grandmother you are.” Louise leaned in and gave Sephie a sweet kiss on the cheek. “Now, are you ready to run away with me like we promised all those years ago?”

“It only feels like a few weeks for me, but yes. Just let me change into something more practical for running away. Are we going to go visit Lune?”

“Of course, where do you think we’re running to? But it might be best to pack that gown and tiara to take with us, we must make a spectacular entrance when you finally get to meet your daughter-in-law and grandchildren. Oh, you’ll just love Yuki, and she’ll love you.”

“I certainly hope so. Thank you, Louise.” Sephie gave Louise a tender kiss, “I love you.”

“And I love you too.”

[catsafarithewriter]

“You’re my first choice. Always. Okay?” for either Louise/Sephie or Lune/Yuki?

A/N: Louise & Sephie it is! (I’m eternally weak for those two.) This went down a human AU rabbit hole, with Louise and Baron being not siblings, but engaged. This turned out rather bitty, and has some sad moments, but it ends happily, I promise!

x

They had been betrothed for as long as Louise could remember. Longer, even; the records stated that her parents had barely waited until her first birthday before agreeing to the union with the von Gikkingens.

A fine family, everyone was quick to assure her any time she expressed her doubts. True, normally a baron wouldn’t even be considered a suitable match for the daughter of a duke - as titles went, baroncy was about as far down you could go without falling off the nobility ladder entirely - but his line was a long-standing favourite of the royal family. If it wasn’t her, it would be some other high-ranking young lady to snatch him up.

Or so everyone kept reminding her. 

And she tried.

She really did try to love him the way a fiancee should. 

And, fair enough, he wasn’t a bad match. She could have had worse. He wasn’t unkind or cruel; he respected the fact that they’d both been thrown into this commitment with little - or no - say so, and was actually funny and considerate and intelligent. 

But there was still no spark. 

Louise was a realist. She knew that marrying for love was impractical; that betrothees often learnt to care for one another; that she was lucky in that at least he was only a few years her senior... but still...

He was a good companion. A childhood friend. A brother to her. She could imagine spending her life alongside him, but as his wife? As the woman of the household, mother of his children?

Her future stretched out before her, known and secure and dull; a path paved before she even took her first steps. Where was the excitement? The mystery? The chemistry? Where was the romance?

“We could always adopt,” Humbert says during a quiet moment of yet another royal ball, this one celebrating an engagement, one similarly built out of politics and logic. She doesn’t mind balls - they’re one of the few chances they’re able to escape the usually ever-present chaperones and really talk. 

“Pardon?” Her mind is on other things, in particular the sad eyes of their future queen-to-be. 

“Adoption,” he repeats. “Once we’re married, there’ll be expectations of an heir. If we time it right, no one has to be any the wiser. We retire to a country house for a year, return with a child, hope it takes after one of us.”

“We’ll have to time it well,” she says, but her mind is still on other things; the words come out almost automatic. “Bribe the right people to keep them from tattling...”

“I have people at my estate we can trust.”

She is silent for a moment. She watches the royal fiancee turn down another invitation to dance. “Is this what you really want?” she asks softly. “To spend the rest of our lives living a lie?”

“If you have any other ideas, I’m listening.”

She chews her bottom lip. “We could always refuse.”

There is a whole heartbeat before they both give a bark of laughter. It passes as quickly as it comes, but the humour persists in the corner of their lips. 

“Have you ever considered eloping?” she asks.

He gives a most ungentlemanly snort. She wonders who he’s been spending time around to pick up such a habit. Certainly not either of their parents. “I think that would somewhat defeat the objective.”

“Not together. With someone else.”

He doesn’t answer immediately, but there’s something sad in his silence. “I confess I have never felt such a way about someone.” He gazes across the ballroom, as if in search of that long sought-after connection, and then to her. “Have you?”

“Never enough to elope,” she answers. She doesn’t speak of how it’s a choice. That every lingering look and stray spark is haunted by the knowledge of the inevitable hardships that would follow up if she allowed herself to feel any such way. 

She doesn’t say any of this, but she suspects she doesn’t need to. Sometimes having a best friend for a fiance is a double-edged sword. 

He catches the way her gaze slides once more to the lonely royal fiancee, and gives a low chuckle. “Do you want an introduction?”

“She looks so sad.”

“She looks like she needs a friend.” He holds out his arm in the very model of a doting fiance. “Shall we?”

She takes the arm and allows herself to be led to the King’s table. The King, as usual, beams at the von Gikkingen presence and shoots what he probably thinks as a charming grin Louise’s way. She ignores the way her skin crawls. 

“Baron,” he croons, as if there’s only one baron worth knowing, “How wonderful to see you join us. And your lady.” He winks. Louise smiles thinly. “How’s it going, babe?”

The improper endearment - if endearment is indeed the right word - has long lost its sting after the many times she’s heard the King lavish it upon the ladies of court. She still dislikes it. 

The King continues, as if he’d never asked a question, and gestures broadly to the woman by his side. “I don’t believe you’ve had the pleasure of meeting my bride-to-be, have you?”

Humbert bows. “A pleasure to meet you, Your Highness.”

She tips her head graciously back, loose black curls falling about her face and Louise has to remind herself to breath. “The pleasure’s all mine, Baron von Gikkingen. I’ve heard tales of your family’s involvement in this kingdom. I can only hope you are also made of such stock.” Her eyes brush past Louise. “And this must be your wife, I presume.”

“Fiancee,” they correct simultaneously. 

“Ah,” the foreign princess says. There’s something knowing in that look that leaves Louise glad the King isn’t half as perceptive.

“In fact,” Humbert proceeds - Louise is sure he saw the look also, but has always had a talent for seeming unruffled - “that’s exactly what we’re here for. Since myself and my fiancee shall be in the palace frequently after our wedding, it seems sensible for the two ladies to get acquainted.”

Louise shoots Humbert a look. He ignores it. 

The King claps his hands. “An excellent idea.”

Neither ladies move, and Humbert leans in to Louise. “Now is when you ask Her Highness for a dance.”

Louise reddens, embarrassed more that Humbert had to prompt her, of all people, and holds out a hand to the foreign princess. “Your Highness,” she manages, “would you care to dance?”

x

“I’m sorry about my fiance,” Louise apologises as she draws the Princess out onto the dance floor. “He tends to think he’s helping by meddling.”

“Men are exceptionally good at that,” the Princess replies, and Louise wonders if there’s anyone she’s specifically thinking of. “And I know your... fiance’s name,” and the way she refers to Humbert makes Louise worry their platonic status is obvious, “but I believe he omitted yours, Lady...”

Belatedly, Louise realises both men forwent naming their brides. “Louise,” she says. “Louise DuBois. Princess...?”

“Persephone. Soon to be Queen.” And there’s the curl of her lip - almost imperceptible - as she says it. A trophy queen, and they both know it. 

“How soon?”

“The end of summer,” the Princess answers, and her eyes drift to the winter trees outside. “Planning a royal wedding takes time. And you?”

It takes Louise a moment to register she’s being questioned about her own wedding to Humbert. For a moment, a simpler moment, she had forgotten. “Midsummer. The wedding has been on the table for twenty years; our parents are content to wait a few more seasons.” Even if it had taken some persuasion to give them that much grace. 

“Betrothed?”

“Since we were children.”

A new song starts, and the Princess moves into place, stepping opposite Louise. She may have led the life of royalty, but she’s taller than Louise, her shoulders broad and her arms strong, and Louise’s heart stutters as the Princess gently takes her hand. The Princess’s eyes catch on the table where both their fiances watch. “From the stories I’ve heard, he sounds to be a good man.” Her gaze turns to Louise, questioning.

“Indeed,” Louise says automatically. “Any lady would be lucky to have him? And the King? What have you heard of him?”

The Princess’s lips twist into a wry smile. “Any princess would be lucky to have him,” she echoes. 

x

She sees the Princess frequently in the coming months - enough so that any gentleman-caller would have raised questions, but Louise goes unnoticed - and before the winter is out, the Princess is Persephone and no longer Your Highness. 

They become fast friends, bound by the shared fate of a chosen husband they hold no romantic interest in. 

“He’s like a brother to me,” she tells Persephone once. “I love him... but not in that way. Not in the way I’m meant to.”

They sit at opposite ends of the library window seat, a unread book open in each of their laps and the tresses of their dresses overlapping. Louise’s mind skitters each time their toes brush. 

Persephone runs a thumb absent-mindedly along the pages of her book. In the otherwise silent room, Louise can hear the rustle it makes. “And he feels the same way about you?”

“Yes.” She hesitates, unsure of how much to shed. “I don’t think he often feels that way about people anyway. At least we both know where we stand. If it comes to it, we can manage.” There are worse fates than an unwanted engagement to one’s best friend.

The rustle of pages continue, faster. Louise isn’t sure Persephone even knows she’s doing it. “And yourself?” the Princess asks. She’s not meeting Louise’s gaze, staring out into the royal gardens instead, and Louise can’t read the emotion. “Do you feel that way about people?”

“Yes.”

“Men?”

“Both. Either. Any.”

Persephone’s eyes flicker to Louise then, and the trepidation in them is not from the confession, Louise knows, but from the realities it brings; the truth they’ve both been hiding from is suddenly real and present and possible. 

“You?” Louise asks.

Persephone is back to watching the gardens. Her next words are so quiet, Louise almost misses them. “Just the ladies.” 

x

“Run away with me?”

The royal gardens are quiet, still cold even as spring takes hold, and Louise’s laugh bounces off the decorative hedges with abandon. They’re alone, the evening air drawing in, and they sit comfortably beneath a canopied archway. An ironworked seat is settled beneath its boughs, and Louise savours the warmth of her companion. In the privacy of the garden she allows herself to murmure, “I would love to.”

There’s no relieved sigh or excited gasp from Persephone, only the long breath of resignation. “But?” she prompts.

“Humbert.”

“He wants the marriage no more than you.”

Louise doesn’t answer immediately. She carefully puts her thoughts into order. “If I don’t marry him, his family will force him to wed some other lady.” She thinks of the lonely way he watches the world. “Someone who doesn’t know him the way I do, who will expect... more than he can give.”

Persephone is silent. Then, quietly, “I know how he feels.”

The truth of that hits Louise like a cannonball, and her mind switches off before it can remind her of the future laid out for Persephone. 

She takes Persephone’s hand and she doesn’t let go. “We have until the end of summer. We’ll find a way,” she promises.

x

Louise stands before the mirror in her wedding gown and tries to hide the tears. Her mother mistakes them for tears of joy and congratulates her daughter, once again, on a match Louise had no say in. 

“The prestige we’ll get - the family will finally gain the respect it deserves with this union,” Lady Elizabeth fusses, checking once more over the lacing. “Finally the DuBoises will join the von Gikkingens at the King’s side. You’ve done fantastically, my dear.” She pecks her daughter on the cheek; an action that immediately makes Louise want to rub the skin clear of the sensation. “We’re all so proud of you.”

Louise wonders if Humbert is receiving the same empty platitudes she is - the declarations of conditional love and pride from parents - and if he’s able to accept them with the same polite manner he wields like armour. 

As her mother leaves, Louise does scrub at her cheek. The provisional love lingers like a smear on her skin. Crawling. 

With a choking sound like a wounded animal, she reaches for the buttons along the dress’s spine and attempts to undo them. Two come off in her hand before familiar hands gently take over. 

“Rejoice,” Sephie says softly. Plainly. “You’re to be married tomorrow. The best day of your life.”

The gown falls from her and Louise is left shaking in the simple dress layered beneath. She falls back, sobbing as she leans into Sephie’s embrace. 

“I thought I could do this,” she manages in a hoarse whisper. “Give us another month to find the solution before your wedding. But to hear them all talk...” 

Sephie makes soothing noises and slowly, with the comfort of her hold, the panic subsides. Louise’s breathing returns under control, and she makes the decision without thinking. “Let’s do it,” she says. “Let’s run away together.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

“You’re not going to wish there were another choice-”

Louise’s hand snaps around Sephie’s wrist. “You’re my first choice,” she promises fervently, all fear gone with the knowledge of that simple, unshakable truth. “Always. Okay?”

The shock at Louise’s abrupt grip fades within heartbeats, and Sephie leans in, their foreheads touch in an achingly intimate gesture. “And you’re mine,” she whispers back. “Forever.”

x

There are multiple details to plan with elopement and Louise has considered none of them. Instead she stands in the starlit stables with a bag in one hand and her lover’s hand in the other and feels like she holds the world. 

Almost. 

“We should have told Humbert,” she says as she shifts the horses from their boxes. “He deserves to know.”

Sephie pulls a couple of saddles down from the wall. “And leave him an accessory to our elopement? The less he knows, the safer he’ll be.”

“He agrees.” 

Both women jolt. Leaning against the stable door is a tall, thin figure. “Evening, ladies. Going for an nighttime ride, are we?”

He steps into the lamplight, and Louise recognises the royal physician, Toto; a friend, but one under the payroll of the King. 

Sephie steps forward, suddenly no longer a giddy elopee, but the queen she was due to become. “Doctor, what are you doing here?”

“Both your fiances wanted me to keep an eye on the two of you.” There’s an amused glint in his eyes as he addresses the Princess. “With all the time you’ve spent on the von Gikkingen estate, the King was beginning to worry you were going to elope with the baron.”

“And Humbert?” Louise prompts.

“Like I said,” Toto repeats, “he wants me to keep an eye on you.” He brings another horse forward. “With all the adventure you’re due to have, he thinks you might be needing the best physician loyalty can buy.” He smiles then. “He figured you might be thinking about pulling a stunt like this, and he apologises that he can’t see you off in person, but ignorance is the best form of deniability.”

“Anything else?”

“He did ask me to pass along a message. I think the general gist of it was: Don’t worry about me, come back soon, and about time you did this.” 

“The general gist?”

“He used longer words, but the meaning’s the same.” 

“What about my fiance?” Sephie asks. “Your King. What about his orders?”

“My orders were to prevent you from eloping with the baron.” Toto inclines his head. “Since you are, indeed, not eloping with the baron, his orders are fulfilled.” 

“He’ll want your head.”

“He’ll have to catch me first.” Toto meets their gazes, and if there’s any deceit in them, Louise cannot see it. 

“Humbert will simply be wedded off to another lady,” Louise says. “He knows that, right?”

“He thinks the shame of being abandoned the night before his wedding will detour too many proposals in the immediate future and, beyond that, he’s thinking that a curse might work.” At Louise’s expression, Toto laughs. “Nothing major, just a transformation curse or something so he can enjoy some peace and quiet. Of course, if we come across any such spells in our travels...”

“We’ll know to keep an eye out.” Louise feels Sephie stand beside her, and she leans against her love’s warmth. “He knows I’m sorry, right?” she says quietly. “For leaving him like this. I love him, but...”

Toto holds up a hand. “He knows. And he understands.”

Sephie gently takes Louise’s hand in hers and places a kiss on her cheek. “We should go,” she says. “Before someone less understanding finds us.”

Louise exhales, and something unfurls within her. It feels like hope. 

“Yes,” she whispers. “Let’s go.”