#it's etcetera (SHOCK) (LIGHTNING) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jinmukangwrites · 5 years

Text

Battle

Prompt. I took some liberties with the prompt again. Not exactly as requested but I do deliver the Warrior whump. I took a little bit of initiative with Warrior’s backstory, so I hope you all don’t mind. I haven’t actually finished the game yet, so if I get some things wrong then oh well. If it seems this story cuts off a little quickly it’s because it’s 6.3k words and I really didn’t want it to enter multi-chapter territory.

Summary: Stories of war are only ever told by the survivors, though the survivors are not always the brave and strong. They are just the lucky.

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of injury, slight PTSD, minor and vaguely described flashbacks to trauma, angst.

-o-o-o-o-

"So then Tetra said: I bet you can't beat me at the obstacle course," Wind says, walking along besides Hyrule who seems to be content humming along to whatever the youngest is spewing on about. "I, of course, take her up on her challenge but little did we know a pirate ship of monsters were sneaking up behind us."

Warrior smiles at the story, and how Wind practically shows what's happening with his dramatic arm waving and voices. He's glad that at least one member of their party is willing to chat up a storm about their adventures. Sky would also sometimes tell stories, but none are as creatively told and you can always tell he's holding back about one or two details that make the story almost fall flat. Wind though? The kid's been through some crazy stuff, stuff that he's one hundred percent ready and raring to regail to anyone who's listening.

Or in Hyrule's case, just pretending to listen. Wind has been going on for what's probably two hours, so Warrior can understand Hyrule closing up into his own head and drifting off in his own head. To keep Wind happy, you really only need to say "yeah?", "Wow," and "hmm," periodically. Sometimes, if Wind's looking down and starting to suspect you're not listening, all you must do is say "gee, Wind, that's crazy!" and the kid will smile like the sun and plow on about how it was crazy, almost as crazy as that one time I etcetera etcetera.

Warrior doesn't mind the chatter right now though, not even Legend seems to be annoyed. It's been a long and very uneventful day and periodically tuning in to the stories being told helps pass the time, especially since sometimes Wild or Four or one of the others will share a rare experience of their own. Even Time will sometimes get a wistful smile on his face and say something that either enchants the entire group or has them hushing with somberness.

It's relaxing. It almost makes Warrior feel normal, like these people around him aren't all incarnations of the same spirit. Like none of them have seen war, and death, and betrayal.

Days like this has Warrior feeling like he's his own person, like he's spent his entire life wondering a friendly forest with a group of boys who have each lived their own lives with hardships and happiness.

Of course, days like this do have to end.

Warrior can tell the moment something is off about the clearing they've just walked into by the way Wild's shoulders stiffen ever so slightly and how Time's single eye narrows ever so slightly. Legend places his hand on his sword, eyebrows together, when he notices the actions of two most paranoid members of the group. Twilight is staring so intently around the clearing that Warrior can almost imagine his nose sniffing and ears twitching like a wild animal.

Hyrule and Wind don't seem to notice the odd atmosphere of the rest of the group. Sky gives the rest of them a shaky nod and runs forward to place his hand on Hyrule's shoulder, startling the boy out of whatever thoughts he was in instead of paying attention to their surroundings nor the child besides him.

Wind cuts off in the middle of his story about how he and Tetra were racing when monsters sailed up to them in a makeshift pirate ship that was in reality a couple of bokoblins who figured out the delicate art of grabbing a couple logs and winding vine around them a couple of times. Warrior is almost curious to hear the rest of the story, because Wind's stories never end on an anticlimactic like that, but silence falls over the nine heroes as each try to figure out what's wrong.

Because, just like Wind and his stories never being anticlimactic, Wild and Time's hunches are never wrong.

The clearing is wide and as close to flat as a clearing can get. Green grass and wildflowers dot the space, a bush of red berries pop up here and there. It looks relatively innocent, not a single place for an ambush to hide less they were in the tree line. In the center of the clearing though, is what Wild has his eyes trained on. A small cluster of seemingly innocent minerals that are colored black as night and shine like glass in the light of the high noon sun sit there. It almost reminds Warrior of those gem deposits back in Wild's era. But they're not in Wild's era.

They're in Time's.

"What are we looking for," Legend asks, breaking the heavy silence, though not recklessly. His voice is barely above a growl.

Time looks down at Wild, his lips turned downwards in a frown, but Wild ignores them and, without warning, steps into the clearing, resulting in the entire group sucking in a nervous breath.

Wild gives the group a look that screams stay there before he stalks further into the clearing, his steps are light and silent. A dim light flashes as he brings out his slate and taps the screen a few times so the sword on his back is suddenly replaced by a giant hammer of some kind that looks like it was made to break mountains. Wild transfers the weapon to his hands and Warrior is almost shocked his skinny teenager arms can hold the weapon up. He's sure that one swing of that beast can definitely dent Time's armor. One practiced swing can probably do more than dent Time's armor.

Warrior feels a little bad thinking about how badly a weapon can harm Time, but his armor is freakishly strong.

Wild stalks through the grass, reminding Warrior almost of a doe; a creature of grace roaming the fields, but ready to retreat at a moment's notice. He can see the way Wild's shoulders tense and relax with every step he takes towards the center of the clearing.

Twilight shifts besides Warrior, his hand gripping the sword on his back, white knuckled, as Hyrule makes some sort of whine at the back of his throat, eyes wide and darting between every tree like he's expecting an army to burst through the greenery and cut down their chef.

But they stand still, they stay behind because they all know that Wild works best in silence, works best when there's no interruptions to distract him when he's searching for something. Too many times has Wild sent someone back to camp, angry because of being thrown off from his normal patterns of hunting and gathering. Wild is a very social creature, quiet as his voice may be, but when interacting with his name sake, he'd much rather prefer some silence.

Finally, Wild creeps up towards the obsidian, glass like material in the center of the clearing. They're formed like giant balls, buried halfway in the earth and each a different size from the others. Wild stalks up towards the biggest boulder and ever so slowly places his hand on it, which must be smooth as a polished river stone.

Nothing happens. Four releases a breath, though Twilight tenses more, and Warrior is almost afraid he'll snap like a bow string.

Wild tilts his head, curiosity rolling off him in waves, and then full on smacks the stone like he's expecting something to happen.

Nothing happens.

Warrior smiles a bit when Wild's small "huh…" reaches his ears.

They watch as Wild jumps upward, wrapping his hands and arms around the smooth onyx stone and using his limbs to climb to the top like a monkey. He jumps a few times on the stone. Shrugs, and jumps back down. Almost all tension is gone from his body.

He jogs back to the group and Warrior notices Twilight release a breath of relief so powerful it could probably power the sails of Wind's ship.

"Nothing," Wild says, sighing as if he sorta hoped something would happen.

"Are you sure?" Time asks.

Wild turns and glares at the black stones. Yup. He definitely sorta hoped something would happen. That's Wild for you. "If what I thought was there, it would have come up by now."

"It would have come up by now," Twilight repeats dryly and a smile spreads on Sky's lips; he, like the rest of the group, probably already knowing what will happen next.

Wild has the audacity to look confused and Warrior can't hold back his snicker as Twilight snacks the back of Wild's head.

"//Are you kidding me, cub?!"

As the inevitable scolding begins, Legend speaks up. "So, what now, old man?"

Time looks towards Legend, hums, and glances back at the clearing, a troubled look gleaming in his eye.

"We can just go around," Hyrule suggests but Warrior instantly knows that won't work before Time even turns it down. The trees are thick here, they've only come this far because of the trails paved by rabbits and other creatures of the forest. If they tried to go off trail, they're more likely to get stuck or lost than they are to reach the other side of the clearing.

"We'll go through," Time finally says, though worry makes his features noticeably sharper.

"Are you sure?" Twilight asks through a grunt. He has Wild in a headlock, as if he's about to give a noogie, and Wild's squirming.

Time nods. "Stick together, men. We'll go around the border, don't walk straight through. Keep your eyes on the trees."

And with that, Twilight releases Wild from his headlock and the group moves forward as one, shoulder to shoulder. The moment Warrior steps into the clearing, he can feel the tension in the air become static… electrical. He'd be almost afraid lightning would strike yet there's no clouds in the sky to provide for one.

All goes well until they get halfway through.

The ground suddenly lurches beneath them, like a carpet being yanked from below. Warrior just manages to catch himself but Legend, who was mid-step, fell backwards roughly onto his ass. Wind surges forward and grasps onto Sky's sailcloth to steady himself while Four just manages to grasp onto a tree. The rest spread their feet to steady themselves, but the earth gives a final lurch and something explodes upwards besides them.

"Well shit," Wild mumbles.

Warrior spins around and, if he were a man of lesser position and training, his jaw might have dropped open in shock. However, he wasn't a man of lesser, he was a man who instantly grabbed for his sword and shield, holding them out in front of him within seconds.

He’s seen big monsters before. In his first battle he’s ran into a fire breathing King Dodongo. Though, it doesn’t matter how many times you’ve ran into goliaths, they’ll always make you feel small.

The creature is black as night, jagged like a rupee. With every movement it takes, sun glitters off it's smooth, crystal like structures like a mirror. It's arms are literally boulders, as wide as a horse and as long as a tree. It seems to flex its arms, testing them out, as it stomps on the ground, it's thankfully stubby legs forming. Yet, even with the small, stunted legs the force of every step it takes the ground shakes from the sheer mass of its main body, which must be the size of a small house.

"Talos!" Wild yells, and then chaos begins.

The creature roars, if that can be called roaring. It's more like a wail of a blustery wind, deep and low that it could almost be mistaken as a powerful voice, yet the creature does not have any visible mouth.

And Warrior is pretty sure it's completely made of that obsidian rock. No lungs to scream with.

They rush to the side as the Talos throws one arm back as if preparing to throw a ball, and in a way it did. The bottom, heavy chunk of it's arm flies off its joint and launches towards the heroes like a meteor. Thankfully, they were all out of the way by the time it reached them, but the trees behind them stood no chance.

Warrior spared a glance at the wreckage of that one blow and his mouth goes slightly drier. It seems there's a new pathway in the forest, though this one is wide and angry like a scar in the earth and not paved by fluffy rabbits and scavenging dear.

He can't help but think back to Time's armor and how it might as well be cotton.

"Good thing this beast only has two arms," Warrior says, a nervous quiver in his voice that he just manages to cover.

Wild gives him an unimpressed look as the Talos smashes it's nubbed arm into the ground, creating another quake in the ground below them, and pulls its arm back up to reveal more ammo.

Warrior shrugs. "I could only have hoped," he says and Wild rolls his eyes.

"Weak spots?" Legend suddenly calls out, his fire rod clutched in his hands. Warrior highly doubts that fire could be this creature’s weakness, but Warrior knows just as well that fire rods pack a punch greater than most weapons. The sword in Warrior's hands right now all of a sudden feels very brittle and flimsy.

"Crystal on its back!" Wild shouts over the rumbling earth as the Talos takes another step. "Blunt force weapons work best! If you don't have one, stay out of the way!"

And then he runs forward, club swinging.

One might call Wild a bit blunt himself, but he's always like this when it comes to his monsters. He knows how to deal with them, he has a system. A system that must be followed.

And when the situation is switched, when they're fighting someone else's boss monsters, he stays silent and listens and does as he's told.

Wild may not remember much, but Warrior knows enough to recognize the traits of a good soldier.

Warrior is a good soldier himself.

Warrior drops his sword and pulls out his own fire rod and charges forward, Legend on his heels. Time chases after, his enormous, unbreakable sword held more likes bat than a blade, and Warrior can't help but to think back to the battles he's fought in. The ground rumbled back them too, but instead of being caused by a giant rock monster it was from the pounding of soldiers feet and the enemy armies standing against them.

This is Warrior's element. The chaos, the shaking, the yelling. He's always been better at fighting when fighting was the only thing to do.

Wild's already on top of the creature, having climbed up after the Talos had tried to sit on him. He's swinging his heavy club so hard that his entire body follows the motion, yet instead of throwing him off balance he rolls with it, making each blore more powerful than the last. There's a spike of pure black stone sticking out from the monsters back, just as Wild has said, red crystals glittering and pushing through the solid material like beauty marks.

As a heavy swing from Wild's club knocks off a chunk of gem, Warrior thinks it's more like a pimple than a beauty mark.

The Talos has enough and makes a sudden and violent shift to the side, knocking Wild off like he's no more of a threat than a particularly stubborn flea. Warrior swings his fire rod, a burst of fire cascading out like a shooting star and exploding along the monsters back with such a great force the ground quakes with the stumbles that follow. Legend doesn't give the creature to recover before he too is blasting fire, stopping only when a metal hook shoots out from Time's hook shot, dragging him upwards and forward at a stomach churning speed.

Time uses that speed to smash the top chunk of it's weak spot, rolling harshly yet gracefully on the ground as the Talos howls like a tornado, throwing a boulder arm out in pure rage. It disconnects and hurdles through the air, just managing to miss Legend. The wind following boulders force is enough to make Warrior step back and brace himself. Legend is knocked over, his hat flying off.

Thankfully, the boulder runs into the forest again with a mighty crash. Warrior doesn't waste time looking at the damage. Damage is supposed to be suffered and mourned in the aftermath. Right now, the fallen trees, the scarred land, the animals caught in the crossfire do not matter.

The wounded and fallen soldiers do not matter. Don't look. Ignore the wetness on the grass that isn't water. Ignore the bodies. Ignore the fallen weapons. Ignore it all. There's a monster in front of you and it's your job to take it down, and if you fall then you don't matter either. You don't matter. You're a pawn. A soldier. Someone to be replaced over and over and over again until the enemy is overwhelmed. The only thing special about you is that glowing triangle pattern on the back of your hand.

But that can easily be replaced too.

An arrow whizzes overhead. Warrior recognizes the make of it. Simple, long, thin, feathery, and sharp, a bomb tied around it with thin twine. Twilight's arrow, a weapon that packs quite a punch. Evidence of that is yet another chunk that is blasted from the weak crystal. The impurity.

"You almost have it!" Sky yells from behind.

"Just another hit!" Wild agrees.

"Give me an opening!" Legend screams.

It's white noise. Like the crickets at night. Familiar. It shouldn't be familiar.

It's after Legend delivers a final blow that Warrior is reminded that the survivors of war do not survive because they're skilled.

It's because they're lucky.

He's seen cowards, half trained souls, live through many of battles. He's seen the best fall within the first minutes of war.

The Talos gives a hollow howl, something so bone chilling and angry that it sends a wave of shivers over the clearing, and with it the Talos swings an arm one final time.

A final time that was heading straight towards Legend.

He barely even had time to blink. Hardly time to react. Yet he does. Legends luck doesn't have to run out today.

Warrior will spend his instead.

His body lurches forward before he even realizes it, palms open, arms pushing forward. He can feel Legend tense beneath his fingers, but Warrior shoved him, doesn't let him stand his ground.

Everything goes white and he hears more than feels the snapping. The world stretches and morphs like a child playing with pond scum. One second he's standing, watching their opponent fall and the next the sky is all he can see. All he knows. His chest jolts without his permission, muscles contracting and tensing, his brain going on autopilot to try and get him to breathe.

He's not breathing.

He can't breathe.

And with that realization, the pain settles in like an unwanted friend.

The only time he remembers being in comparable pain was back at his era's castle, when the wars first began. Before he and Impa set out across the land to find out why the monsters all banded together suddenly to fight. To find Zelda. Even though she was there the entire time. He met a man near the end of that battle, or well, a dragon.

Link, at that time, was still wet behind the ears. He was just a mere soldier who may have been at the top of his class but was in no way prepared to come out of a fight with a man... a monster like Volga unscathed.

They say the first arrow always hurts the most. It's the same with third degree burns.

Link was just lucky that he was still aware of his body by the time he finally managed to chase Volga off. His skin was screaming, charred. A spot on his side was aching with a fierce intensity that had him gasping. He was just able to grasp at some red potions and heal the worst of it, but he will never forget the black, scabbing skin on his hands where his sword had grown so hot it melted the skin of his hands.

He still has scars.

But now? Now he can't even find his hands. His head's ringing and it feels as if his blood was replaced with acid. This time, he tries to work with his body to suck in air, but something as sharp as a knife stops him, choking him. Something gurgles in his mouth and it's amazing how strong the taste of iron is when everything else is fading into the pool of agony he's floating in.

Something cuts through the ringing. A voice. Very close but very… far. He tries to blink, tries to look towards the shadows kneeling before him one by one but his body doesn't seem to want to listen.

"Shit---- still alive-"

"Quick---- potion--"

“--not--- breathing---!”

"--- fairy----"

"Stay--- us, Warrior----"

His eyes slide closed and even though he cannot suck in air, his body shudders with a sudden fit of coughs. The voices above him get more frantic, more scared. But he's hardly aware enough to react to it. The black creeps in from the corners of his vision before his eyelids close against his will.

The blackness spreads, swallowing everything. Even the pain.

-o-o-o-o-

"-omplete and utter asshole."

Warrior grunts with discomfort as awareness comes to him. His entire being feels sore, tight, like it's not quite his. He recognizes the feeling, he's felt it many times. The thing about red potions and their healing abilities is that they work best on bumps and bruises. Shattered bones, torn muscles, shredded skin, missing limbs, it doesn't quite make everything perfect again. Sure, with enough strong doses, it can regrow limbs, it can stitch together skin, it can recreate a functioning body.

But, those bits you lost are never yours again. What you're given is something new. Something created by magic and science mixed together in a small vial of crimson pigmented liquid that tastes of ass and smells even worse.

Yes, yes Warrior is familiar of the feeling of new skin, new bones, as he's sure the entirety of his group are too.

Just, he's never felt it all over his body quite like this before. He can feel it to his core, to his very skull.

That doesn't bode well.

He blinks, wincing at light assaulting his irises, though he easily gets used to it. The evening sun is not that bright.

He's laid on the ground, his body wrapped tightly in a mess of blankets and fur pelts, so much so that he can hardly move. Not that he wants to move. There's no pain, but his limbs feel heavy and a pressure building up behind his eyelids is already trying to lull him back to sleep.

But there's a body besides him, and it's mumbling to itself.

He lets his heavy eyes slide over to where Legend is crouched next to his nest. He's sitting so his knees are to his chin, a single arm wrapped around his shins and the other wrapped tightly in white bandages and secured to his chest. Legend isn't looking at Warrior, his face turned towards the campfire, though there is evidence of pain in his expression. The tightness in the brow, the downturn of lips, jaw popping where teeth are grinding. He looks about ready to throw a fit, if a fit wouldn't cause him pain towards where Warrior suspects is his arm.

"Fucking- could have died. I'll kill him-" Legend cuts himself with a hiss when his arm jostled and he glares at the campfire where the back of Wild faces them. The smell of something bitter sweet fills the air. "Wild better hurry up with that hearty soup or I swear-" his eyes flicker to Warrior and he freezes, mouth opening slightly, "-you're awake!"

"He's awake?!"

Deciding the jig is up, Warrior slowly raises him out of his cocoon of blankets; just in time for Wind to launch himself into Warrior's lap, arms wrapping tightly around his waist. Warrior grunts at the force of the hug but still curls slightly into the awkwardly positioned embrace, his arms wrapping around Wind’s head.

A hand falls on his shoulder and it's Time looking down at him with an unreadable expression. The rest all gather around a varying distances and expressions that makes something in Warrior's chest and stomach jump. Wild has set what he was boiling off from the fire and onto the ground, letting it steam as he too gathered.

"Okay…" Warrior says slowly, "what happened?"

"He doesn't remember," Legend hisses, standing up from his crouched position, anger sharpening his already sharp features. The other hero winces when his arm his jostled by his own movements, and flinches violently when Sky tries to put a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. "Of fucking course-"

And then the group is left watching Legend storm out of camp, shoulders hunched, dust puffing upwards from each forceful stomp he takes.

Twilight, ever the worried mother hen, goes to chase after him, but Hyrule grabs Twilight's sleeve, shaking his head before he leaves the group. No one argues Hyrule's decision to comfort Legend. The two have a strange connection the others are still trying to understand. Trying to figure out.

Awkward silence fills the group. Even Wind notices it, shuffling backwards off from Warrior and sitting on his legs and knees, worrying his bottom lip. The others are all glancing back and forth between each other, as if they're trying to decide who's gonna talk first.

Finally, Four rolls his eyes. "What do you remember?"

Thank Hylia for the hero of the Four Sword. Ever brash and straight to the point. "I- uh…"

What does he last remember? Walking, for the most part. A vague memory of walking. But the group is always doing that. They're always walking. Always traveling. Always moving somewhere for the sake of going somewhere. If he tells him the last thing he remembers is traveling through a forest with Wind's endless chatter in his ear, no one will be able to discern if that was an hour ago, or a week ago.

That's an all-the-time sort of thing to say.

His eyebrows bring themselves together as he tries to think. What were they doing? What was Wind talking about? Where were they heading? Who's era were they in?

What hurt him so bad he can feel the after effects of a red potion in every fiber of his being?

And then, it hits him. It knocks the breath out of his gut, almost like how he wasn't quick enough to catch a goat ramming at his stomach when Twilight was trying to teach them how to wrangle them a few weeks back.

"Shit."

"There it is," Sky says helpfully, though his face is sad and worried.

"I messed up," Warrior says, flopping backwards and bringing a hand over his eyes.

He really messed up.

He doesn't regret it. He really, really doesn't regret it. It's a miracle he survived but a voice at the back of his head tells him that Legend might not have, judging by the bandages on his arm he was scraped even though Warrior did his best to push him out of the way. He can't help but think about those white bandages, how they would look all over Legend's body. Limbs broken and twisted and bones crushed like grains in a grinder.

Bodies so still, joints jutting out in wrong directions, bits of faces missing, blood staining clothes, smeared across armor, swords left in hearts, contents of stomachs on the forest floor-

No, no he doesn't regret it at all.

But he supposes he can understand Legends… reaction too.

Like he mentioned, Hyrule and Legend have a strange connection that no one can really understand. One they don't really talk about and when asked about it they both give Time a sad look and brush it off.

But they talk to each other a lot. Whether it's about whatever Time has to do about their bond, or if it's about something different they know more about each other than Twilight probably knows about Wild.

Which is saying something.

But, Warrior has had opportunities to gain some very hard earned trust from Legend. Opportunities found on quiet nights after long days. Opportunities spoken with soft, reverent voices after nightmares or particularly taxing battles.

If there's one thing Warrior knows for sure about Legend, it's that Legend has lost a lot of people. He doesn't know the names, or the why, or the who, or the stories, just that Legend used to know people. Used to love people. But they left him, or he left them, and it's left him with slight issues with abandonment.

Dying for Legend would almost be like bragging to Time about having two eyes, or complaining to Wild about having a new scar, or killing a bird in front of Sky, or tearing up one of Wind's sister's notes, or telling Hyrule he's not good enough, or yelling at Four for not being trusting enough, or telling Warrior that surviving war isn't all that bad-

You just… don't do it.

Legend would rather die than let anyone die for him. And Warrior knows this.

But at the same time, Warrior would rather do the same. And it was Warrior at the time who had a chance to do something about it.

Damn, he's gonna have to work twice as hard to earn back Legend's trust.

"How come his arm's still injured?" Warrior asks, his voice cracking against his will.

Wild bites his lip and heads back to the stew, setting it back over the fire and stirring it and Time sighs. "We used all of our available supplies on… you. It was a miracle you were even alive to…"

"Legend insisted he could handle a shattered arm," Four continues, folding his arms across his chest. Sky nods in agreement and Wind scoffs.

"Wild's making a soup or something for him," Wind says.

Wild snorts over the soup. "Hearty radish stew… I found a few of them a little into the forest. They help quicken healing, but they taste wretched. I don't have the ingredients to help with the taste, but all of us can use some."

It's then that Warrior realizes that they're still in the clearing where the Talos fight commenced, judging by the cracked remains of obsidian rock surrounding them. Legend took off towards one of the pathways carved by the giant, heavy projectiles (Warrior tries not to make a joke about relating to those shattered remains of the trees, he'll probably joke about it tomorrow but at the moment the joke tastes about as good as Hyrule's meat stew) and is probably sulking on a toppled over trunk, Hyrule sitting next trying to decide how to comfort the reclusive hero.

Hyrule was always the more affectionate and physical of the two, but he's the more hesitant.

"I'm going to talk to him," Warrior announces, standing up before anyone could stop him. Time makes an upfronted grunt but only moves towards Warrior when he stumbles a bit, the blood rushing from his head and blackening his vision for a few dizzy seconds. "I'm fine-" he says finally when he notices Time's hand still on his shoulder. "Stood up too fast."

"You sure?" Sky asks.

"Yeah. Fine as rain."

It takes a second for Warrior's legs to feel enough like his own for him to take confident steps. He almost trips while stepping over the first overturned branch and Wild almost jumps over the campfire to come to his rescue, but he steadies himself and flashes a confident grin towards the group, waving his hand like the incident was as bothersome as a keese.

As he walks down, he tries to ignore the carnage of the forest, the overturned trees and the shattered wood. Or, well, he tries to focus on it to ignore what it reminds him of. Of bombs erupting, of monsters towering higher than houses, of bursts of magic so powerful chunks of the land is destroyed and gone forever, of crawling through the remains to find wounded and dead from both sides who met their fate from the uncontrollable force that is destruction-

He finally catches sight of Legend sitting on a log. A giant, still rock as dark as the dimming sky above them sits a few passes further. Hyrule has situated himself next to Legend and his hand is placed on his shoulder, fingers loose and arm awkwardly jolting outwards like he's afraid Legend will lash out. Legend won't lash out, Warrior can tell by the way he's curled forward, good arm leaning on his thigh, resting his chin and mouth into the palm of his hand.

Hyrule is the first and only one to turn back at Warrior's appearance. His eyes widen slightly and he let's go of Legend's shoulder like he's been burned. Legend doesn't react, just leans forward a little more like he's trying to let Warrior know that he’s ignoring him.

"I got this," Warrior says, and Hyrule studies him for a second like he doesn't quite believe it. Warrior doesn't quite believe it himself, but eventually Hyrule nods, says a quick goodbye, and retreats back towards the clearing.

Legends back is still towards Warrior and it takes a few heartbeats for Warrior to work up the courage to approach. He releases a breath be hadn't known he was holding when he finally sits down next to Legend and Legend doesn't scream at him to get lost. He's at an arm's distance and Legend is slightly leaning away despite how the arm he's using to cradle his chin should make it so he leans towards Warrior. It hurts to see Legend purposely trying to distance himself, though Warrior supposes he slightly deserves it.

"I remembered what happened. I'm sorry," Warrior says and Legend doesn't react besides his eyes narrowing slightly. Warrior continues. "I know I scared you. I'm sorry for that. I'm not sorry for doing it though. I'd do it again."

"You shouldn't," Legend replies softly, voice barely above a whisper. "Not for me."

Warrior studies the other hero for a few seconds before he sighs. Legend is as closed off as the first time Warrior caught him after a nightmare. He's not going to get anything out of him besides tense, vague answers.

Back at square one.

"I've lost people too," Warrior says, faces flashing behind his eyelids. Smiles without names. Names without smiles. "And I can't help but feel it's my fault. Cia… she was obsessed with-" with us, our spirit, our lives spanning across time and space "-with… me. Who… I am. She was willing to revive Ganondorf to get to me. She succeed in reviving Ganondorf to get to me. All that… anger and war… all that death and destruction… I can't help but feel like I'm to blame for all of that. The people who were hurt. The people who fell."

World's colliding. Enemies from another time. Friends from another time. Warrior has never told Time about his interactions with his younger self. He's never told Legend that he's met Ravio before. Doesn't tell Sky about Ghirahim. Twilight about Midna. Wind about Medli. Doesn't say how close he became with some of them. How Warrior felt like he was losing bits and pieces of himself to watch them go. To watch Lana go. To watch them all go. Fight. All because of him.

"I've lost too many to just stand aside and let my best friend die," Warrior says, his voice breaking.

Legend's gaze slides over to him, and Warrior feels a surge of hope when he sees the wet glistening in the depths of his eyes. "I watched you die," Legend says, his voice so very quiet, "you… you weren't breathing. Four had a fairy… b-but-"

Warrior remains still as Legend angrily wipes under his eye.

"You're full of shit," Legend says through a deep, gasping breath. "Don't ever fucking do that again."

Both fall silent and Warrior can't bring himself to do much more than smile sadly. Warrior can't promise something like that. Legend knows Warrior can't promise anything like that.

They pass the next hour sitting next to each other, the stars slowly showing their faces like shy fireflies. The moon glides overhead and the crickets begin to sing around them.

The silence doesn't break, both lost in their own heads or wondering what the other is thinking about. It remains that way until their names are called. Warrior gives Legend a small smile and Legend returns one hesitantly before they both stand, Legends moves slowly as to not harm his already injured arm.

They walk up, a companionable silence between them and Warrior can breathe knowing he hasn't shattered the trust between him and Legend. It's still there, it just retreated a little. It will take awhile to work back up to where it was, and he doesn't want to think about what will happen if something like this were to happen again.

It won’t happen again if Warrior can help it. Though he won’t stop it if worse comes to worse.

Instead, he sits next to Legend near the campfire with a bowl of steaming, red liquid in his hands. Twilight is gone, though Wolfie is here and curled up next to Warrior and Legends feet, whining miserably as Wild sets a steaming bowl of soup next to him.

Warrior can understand when he takes a sip of the liquid.

Wretched, is a bit of an understatement.

It seems not all of Wild's concoctions are delicious beyond compare.

Not even Hyrule complements the food that night. Even Time winces every time he brings the spoon to his lips, but the chatter Wind starts up again is light and the food is warm. A bit of color returns to Legend’s face.

Everything will be alright.

#linked universe #hero of warriors #hero of legend #hero of hyrule #hero of the wind #hero of the wild #hero of the sky #hero of the four sword #hero of time #hero of twilight #jin writes #fanfic #fanfiction #prompt request

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drjackandmissjo · 4 years

Text

Roses are Red, Tattoos are Forever

Chapter 1 --- Next Chapter

Feysand Masterlist

Pigtails and Liliums

They have two shops, one next to the other. They're friends. She disappeared and now she's back. He tries his hardest. The only thing that gets a reaction from her isn't the one he planned

Florist and Tattoo Artist Au, Modern Day

“Excuse me, sir?” a little girl with missing front teeth and pigtails asked him as he was cutting the leaves off a long Lilium.

He gave her his brightest smile and, after having put the tools down on the counter, leaned over towards her. “Yes, sweetie. What can I do for you?”

The little girl began to look nervous and turned her little head towards her mother, who motioned for her to go on with her question. The girl couldn’t have been older than seven and, after taking a big breath in, she said:"Do you have to put the drawings on every morning by yourself or does your mom help you?”.

Rhys was shocked for a couple of seconds, but promptly replied:"My mommy helps me every morning before I leave for work. But, if you want and if your mom agrees, there is a little shop next door that can give you a drawing for your skin that can last for a week or two! And your mom doesn't have to help, there are some that you can put on your own."

The little girl’s smile grew so wide and bright it might’ve outshone the Sun itself. The mother mouthed a little ‘thank you’ laughing a little at his response.

He nodded his reply and went back to his work. He gave the flowers to her after he was done as the little girl kept on asking:"Can I get one of those for one week? Pretty please."

Rhys did not hear the mother’s affirmative nor negative response as she said it while getting out of his shop, but he imagined it must’ve been affirmative, based on the girl’s reaction.

He went back to work, smiling to himself.

***

An hour later, it was time to close the shop and call it a day.

What a wonderful day it had been!

He had an appointment with the others for dinner at Amren’s house, and he knew perfectly how much she hated when he showed up late, so he turned the sign at the door and went on to finish his chores. He had exactly 20 minutes to complete his paperwork and head out, so he moved as quickly as he could. Or at least he wanted to.

When he had arrived halfway to his desk, he heard a small knock on the glass door.

“We’re closed, I’m sorry.”, he yelled without looking.

“Did you just send a freaking seven years old into my tattoo parlour?”, yelled back the person on the other side.

Rhys didn’t turn around, but simply smiled and took some steps backwards, until his back hit the glass door. “I did it one hour ago, not ‘just’, and I sent her to get a temporary one with the roses that you hand draw and that usually last a week, just as those into the Polaretti.”

“I know and I proposed one of those, but she saw my arm and choose a full sleeve. I gave her a henna one. Will wash down in a month or so.”

Now he turned around to open the locked door, letting the girl in.

Feyre wasn’t particularly remarkable: golden brown hair, piercing blue-greyish eyes that usually threw daggers and glared at everyone and threatened everyone from her 5’6 glory. A tattoo adorned her whole left arm, a full sleeve made of intricate waves and vines and thorns that went from the top of her shoulder to the tip of her fingers, leaving only her palm empty of ink. On the back of her hand, there was a little spot not covered by those thorns and those vines, but by a VFD's style eye. His idea. It came out off a bet, like many things in their friendship.

He did not like that word.

When Feyre walked past him to walk into his shop, she left a trace of vanilla and blueberries in her wake, probably from her shampoo or perfume.

He was intoxicated.

“It’s the third kid that you specifically send me to get a temporary tattoo.”

“Do you blame me for making you work a little bit more?”

She sat on his counter and pouted. “I blame me you for the looks the parents give me after the job’s done.”

“I’m sorry they’re causing you trouble. They look very convinced when they leave from here.”

She threw her hands in the air:"As they are when they come in! But, as soon as my work's finished, they whine about how the kid will get sick of it, how their classmates will react, how their other parent friends will react, etcetera etcetera etcetera.”

He nodded respectfully. They set into a comfortable silence and, while he worked, Feyre read one on the handwritten labels next to some petunias, explaining the meaning of the flower, the history, its origin and even a synopsis about Harry Potter’s aunt.

“I’m sorry again if I have to cut this lovely visit short, but I gotta be at Amren’s, and you know how she gets when someone’s not punctual.”

She nodded solemnly, fully aware of the of the little one’s wrath.

“Besides”, he continued even though the topic pained him, “don’t you have to be home soon? It’s a miracle Tamlin lets you out of the house to go to work even. Without anyone to check on you regularly even!”

She scolded, but didn’t comment, shutting the conversation down.

Shady? Maybe. True? Yes. Bitter? Totally.

He had been in love with that woman since day one, but didn’t have the guts to ask her out. They started as friends, then besties and then, when he finally found his courage, Tamlin came into the picture.

The blond-haired lawyer asked her out the same day he had planned to, just one hour earlier. Feyre then came to his place, as they had planned, to a Disney movie night and ice cream, and told him everything. Rhys couldn't believe his luck, but as long as she was happy, he wouldn’t have said anything.

And he didn’t. Things started out perfectly for them, but Tamlin rushed into it head first, arguably forcing her into moving in together at his place, which was very much better than hers. ‘Arguably forcing her’ because, even though she denied, he gave her no choice. Small comments here and there about her living situations, bigger comments about how he would’ve appreciated to have her around 24/7 and three weeks later, she had given up her apartment.

"You'll save money like this, since you don't have to pay rent anymore.", he said.

And then:"I don't see why you choose that as a living profession. It isn’t proper for a lady to work in a tattoo shop”.

Later:"You know you can stop working, right? My salary is high enough and, besides, the house could use someone to pay attention to it."

That sentence came one month earlier. Feyre didn’t show up at her little shop for almost four weeks after that, not even texting Rhys or letting anyone of their shared friends knowing if she was alive. Rhys had to even call her bigger sister, Nesta, that didn’t exactly appreciate him very much, nor his brother Cassian for the matter.

Moral of the story: nobody knew where Feyre was for three weeks and four days. Three days earlier, when Rhys went to work, the little tattoo parlour next to his florist shop was open. He rushed in, relief written all over his features, but she was with a client already, so he decided to swing by later. She was constantly with clients whenever he showed up to check up on her.

It pained him, how she looked: pale, almost invisible. Her collarbones were showing more than usual, the bags under her eyes more prominent than ever.

The worst thing was a simple one, though. A month or so, after she had started dating Tamlin, she stopped drawing.

She did her job, still perfectly. Only with less passion.

She used to draw the tattoos by hand on a piece of paper before transferring them to the skin, to make them more personal for the buyer. She made the most complicated details with her pencil and pens and the results were breathtaking.

After moving in with him, she started using her laptop, searching for the tattoos online or using pre-drawn models. She still focused and did what she was paid to, but each time with less energy. Until she stopped at all.

Now she was back, empty as a shell. And still didn’t hand draw anything.

Until now. It struck him as a lightning.

“Feyre, you gave that girl a Henna, isn’t it?”

She smiled, timid and small, but it was a smile nonetheless. “She couldn’t stop talking about how pretty was the tattoo on you and how pretty was mine and how she wanted one up her arm and I couldn’t just make a sticker one.”

“You free-handily draw that?”. Rhys was hoping so hard. He prayed every deity he knew.

Feyre looked down at the point of her shoes. She was shutting him down again.

He couldn’t let it happen. “Fey, what happened? You stopped coming to work, stopped talking and texting. And now you come back, looking like a ghost. And a little girl shows up and you gave her a free handily henna. It’s the first drawing you’ve done in months. What happened?”

“She reminded me of you.”, she said, still looking down. “She reminded me of you and I... I just wanted to. I left him. A week ago. I just couldn’t stay there any longer. He was obsessive and jealous and I felt like I was dying. We argued about how maniacally he was acting and he snapped. So I packed all my things and left in the middle of the night, as he was sleeping. He came looking for me the next day and I was scared. I told him to get the hell out of my life or else I would've gone to the police and fucked up his perfect lawyering career.”

For once in his life Rhys didn’t know what to say. He simply stared at her as she was looking at the floor.

“Who kept Lucien?” his voice said before his brain could even register.

Feyre’s head bubbled up quickly, her eyes open wider in disbelief.

“I mean, he’s like a puppy. A red furred puppy. So, usually, when two people split up, one keeps the dog.”

“Lucien is a grown man and can make his own choices.”, she replied stubbornly.

"I take that as ‘at first he chose The Tool and now he's turning around towards me'”

She smiled. “Indeed”

Rhys’ heart was about to explode. He was about to tell her everything, how he felt truly.

But he didn't. Instead, what he said was simply:"I gotta go at Amren's. There is a seat reserved for you, you know."

Feyre looked at him, truly looked at him for once and he thought she could stare at his soul.

“Smile again” he whispered. She did, broad and without restraint.

“You’re exquisite”, he breathed.

She was brilliant, broken and healing at the same time. She needed time and he would’ve given her all the time in the world.

Feyre looked at the clock on the wall. “If we leave now, we can arrive at Amren’s in time, hell even beat Az in the race there!”

That was enough for now.

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fafulous · 6 years

Text

New Orleans’ Auror (TOxHP) Chapter 13

Co-Author: @sweetpea-cc

Chapter 1 | Chapter 12

"I invite you all in but, link your hands together. Now."

A clear, cut instruction was laid out by Willow, seeing their unruly behavior at her doorstep. She wasn't surprised though, Elijah was ought to spill some kind of beans to his brother about his visit to her home.

"You can come in Elijah since you've already come in before,"

He gave a small nod, and walked past Willow, not missing out on the scent of his cologne.

She held out her palm to Kol, grasping it firmly and reciprocated a warm smile especially back to him. Without any further ado, she pulled the three ancient vampires into her house.

The three Mikaelsons, just like Elijah, had a look of fascination once they entered her house. They looked around, scanning her surroundings in every direction that existed. It was new to them, especially to Kol, who rubbed his hands in excitement and awe at her house.

Elijah stood near the archway to the living room finding it impolite to walk into the silenced conversation of the three humans who sat there without their host. All of them followed Willow where the two gentlemen and a lady sat opposite to the mantle.

Willow cleared her throat, grabbing their attention of guests as they turned around and looked at their other fellow immortal guests.

"Minister, Harry, Hermione, meet the Mikaelsons."

The look on Harry and Hermione's face was similar to her reaction of knowing their plain existence. Hermione's mouth was opened in shock, exchanging looks with Harry, who held a wide grin to his face as he saw the four siblings standing together. Kingsley on the other hand, calm as he always was, had a small smile on his face.

Like every other person Willow knew, the Mikaelsons' eyes lingered to the lightning-shaped scar that was studded on Harry's forehead. He noticed it too but didn't bother reacting to it, he was evidently immune to it.

"They don't look- you know- as scary as they're meant to be," remarked Harry.

"Harry!" exclaimed Hermione as she hit Harry's shoulder forcefully, emitting a loud Ow from Harry's mouth.

Kol and Rebekah exchanged a smirk, while Elijah smiled to himself remembering the exact statement said by Willow to Klaus at the night of the party.

Willow held the small of Elijah's back, surprising him pleasantly as she gestured him to sit down in one of her couches that overflowed her living room elegantly. The others followed suit, except for Klaus.

"What kind of folly is this?" asked scornful Klaus, looking at Willow who kept on a warm look on her face.

"You all walk into my house and ask me what folly this is?" Klaus stared at her, thinking for a possible comeback but before he could even do so, Willow gestured him to take a seat with a very convincing stern look, and he did with some persuasion from his siblings.

"Willow, your house is bloody brilliant," whispered Kol as Willow was the last one to take a seat, right beside Kol. Willow smiled in response, her eyes sliding towards Elijah, who sat right opposite her with Klaus and Rebekah. His jaw was clenched, staring at Kol evidently.

After his prolonged silence, Kingsley finally spoke up. "I wouldn't normally say this, but it's nice having vampires in a conversation,"

"Yes yes, we quite understand that. The Mikaelsons do have that charm. Perhaps I would love to intervene in your pointless meeting-"

"You do realize Mr. Mikaelson that the whole point of this conversation is for your benefit, your well being and most importantly your safety," interrupted Harry, crossing one leg over the other.

"My safety?-" He failed miserably from restraining his fit of laughter.

"For the love of god Nik! Let them speak!" glared Rebekah.

"Thank you Missus Mikaelson," greeted Kingsley to which Rebekah sat right up from the respect she received, "Now, as I was telling Willow here all this while, it does appear as though there is an unconventional trace of our world's magic here."

"If I may intervene minister," interrupted Hermione, "it doesn't appear as though it's a problem to me. In fact, its common to have witches and some of our magic roaming freely here and there"

"You don't get it, Mrs. Granger, you see. I had a nice small visit to our dear friends at MACUSA, and they've made themselves very clear as to one fact: none of them live in New Orleans'. Why they even said they would dare not step into this devious city."

Harry wrinkled his eyebrows, "And that would be because-"

They were interrupted by a snide cough of laughter from Klaus.

"Surely love, you don't need any one of us to state the obvious,"

"Niklaus if you please," raised Elijah voice "Willow. What is exactly this MACUSA you speak of all the time?"

"Oh, um. MACUSA is a magical body that takes care of the wizarding population, like us here, exclusively for The United States. Now since this is not my territory, my presence here is sort of complicating the already prevalent issues."

"What do you mean?" asked Kol.

"You see, I work for The Ministry of Magic in Britain, so my presence here when my world's magic is unconventionally prominent is causing a stir of worry for me."

"And no one is worried from this magical body you speak of?" asked Elijah curiously.

Kingsley eyed at him and nodded at his quick-witted thinking with a hint of a smirk.

"But you still haven't mentioned what is actually bothering you, Scar. You are worried about what?"

Willow took a seconds pause to answer Harry, quickly exchanging a glance at Elijah remembering her conversation at their greenhouse.

"Well, I think someone from our world is targeting the Mikaelson family."

"Nowhere am I surprised from hearing that statement," scoffed Rebekah, "darling, we are known for being the golden target."

"But Missus Mikaelson, I can weirdly tell you that, it is not anyone from the American Wizarding World."

"How can you be so sure about that statistic?" asked Kol.

"No one from the American Wizarding world would dare test their stupidity among these supreme beasts of powers. Their minister even specifically stated to me that no matter what happens, none of their wizards would dare step into the town of New Orleans. To be more specific, they are forbidden from entering and intervening with the affairs of the hometown of ancient vampires and witches.

"Upon stating the happenings Scarlett mentioned to us, she gave us an open invitation for us to take any sort of action since they quoted 'it was for the betterment of Wizarding society'"

The three of them let out a scowl, not liking Kingsley's statement. "That's really awful. Why on Earth would they-"

"Love," interrupted Klaus sitting on the edge of his seat, "do you realize who we are? Heads will roll if anyone dares mess with us, especially me,"

Hermione's curiosity was growing. "And you have no one to question you?"

"Why the bloody hell will someone question me? Maybe some childish prodding from my elder brother here and there, jabbing about how family is the greatest good ever and etcetera. But not to address why you're actually here, let's address my ordeal."

The four of them looked at each other, Kinglsey spoke first.

"Speak."

"A well known French quarter witch tipped me off with a small word that there is a new witch in town who is after my lineage." His glance slowly turned towards Willow. "I failed miserably to understand when he mentioned that someone would be after my lineage as if that makes any sense."

"And you're telling me this because..."

"There's only one new witch in town I know of. You must be knowing her. Short, has beautiful hair and carries a hideous wooden stick in her arms."

Willow stared in disbelief at the hybrid, having an urge to stun him with her wand. Her death stare caught everyone's attention, which made Kol grasp her hand slowly in comfort. Although her gaze didn't falter looking ahead at Klaus, someone else's gaze was getting heated upon her palms on his brother's.

"Your insanity has grown over you, Niklaus," argued Kol, "You have the petty decency to forget what she has done for our family."

Willow's heart felt a tinge of warmth from his statement, her stare slowly receding. She felt even better when Elijah and Rebekah nodded their head slightly.

"We've had our fair share of disorderly relationships with witches for the past thousand years but I can assure you that Willow is not one of them," said Rebekah as she shot Willow a stunning shot of a smile.

"So what you're trying to say is that the person who is a possible threat to our family, who is right in front of us, doesn't bother you three a bit?" Klaus sneered, his voice level slowly increasing.

"He?" Hermione interrupted

"Excuse me?"

"You just said he."

Klaus let out his trademark scoffing laughter at the blonde woman. "I don't recall saying he, love."

"No, not that. Your previous statement about a witch?"

"Well, I'll be wrong if I failed to communicate the gender wouldn't I?" Klaus raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

"No no no," she shook her head, "you literally just said that you know a French Quarter witch."

"I did, didn't I?"

"Why? What's the matter?" Intervened Elijah, realizing his brother's agitation shooting off the charts.

"Well, it's obvious." She gave a look at the four vampires, clueless as they ever can be. "Either he doesn't know what he is saying or- Gosh Willow, one fine lot of acquaintances you've made."

"Now now, things are different here Hermione," Willow stretching out her arms as a sign of peace, surprisingly seeing Klaus feign a laugh, "What she's trying to say is that in our world, the term witches are specifically used for the female race. However, for the male population, we refer to them as wizards."

"The last time I heard the word wizard was in the 11th century. Interesting." Kol hummed to himself, looking at Harry and Kingsley.

"And you're stating this trivia to me because?" asked Klaus, raising an eyebrow.

"I am asking to get your facts right Mr. Mikaelson," huffed Hermione.

"Do yourself a favor to diminish your paranoia and your particular brand of sass, and ask this wizard friend of yours, whether it's a witch or wizard who is after you. At least have the sense to get accurate facts right before a confrontation," snarked Harry, not standing the false accusations being thrown at her friend.

Klaus was silent for a few moments looking at Willow who raised her eyebrows with confidence, as the rest of the guests looked back and forth at Willow and Klaus, the tension choking them. The siblings wondered how these fellow witches and wizards still sat there alive, knowing their brother's usual behavior.

Elijah, on the other hand, all this while saw how she effortlessly, though a bit strained on her part, was able to hold onto Klaus by the reins.

"Alright then. You may be even telling the truth love, but I need to ask you one last question.

"How does Marcel Gerard have our Papa Tunde's blade?"

"Papa who?" Asked Kinglsey, while rest of the Mikaelsons pierced a death glare at their brother.

"Niklaus this is getting out of hand," hissed Elijah pointing a finger at him, "we agreed not to talk about it with her involved."

"Oh we must-"

"No, we will not allow this. It's off the table brother." Kol's voice grew serious for the first time on her visit and laid back as soon as he noticed the worried looks on Willow's and her friends.

Before Willow could even question about the blade, Elijah tried to intervene, keen on changing the topic. Fortunately for the eldest vampire, Harry intervened.

"With all due respect, is he always this paranoid?" Klaus shot a sardonic grin at the lightning-scarred man.

"Oh yes, that's a default setting," replied Rebekah, winking happily at Hermione who seemed to be staring at her.

"So Luna's rumors do sound factual" whispered Hermione to Harry but little did she forget that the room was filled with creatures bestowed with the power of super hearing.

"Well that's interesting," grinned Klaus again, "what kind of rumors love?"

"Mrs. Granger, did you actually think that you will get away with whispering when the room is crowded with vampires?" Asked Kinglsey, as Hermione shot a nervous glance at everyone.

Willow and Kol exchanged a fit of a giggle, as he went on to say, "Spill the tea love. We love the rumors we hear about ourselves."

Sitting in the middle Rebekah noticed how Elijah's fist was turning a little bit white from the subtle clenching of his fist. She followed her brother's gaze, only to see it fall on the short witch sitting next to their youngest brother.

"Oh well um," Hermione stuttered, "it's actually insane to be true."

"Go on 'mione, you'd be surprised to hear if it's actually true or not," winked Willow.

"Oh well alright. Luna mentioned a bizarre fact that Klaus Mikaelson," she didn't dare meet his eyes, "had a daughter with a werewolf woman of sorts."

Willow's eyes were widely opened, slightly shocked for the fact that she knew the partial truth, the whole werewolf mom being a total surprise for her. She noticed how the rest of the Mikaelsons were exchanging smiling looks, not expecting such naivety from them, except for one. Elijah seemed to straighten up his posture with discomfort.

"We even heard," Harry interrupted, "that she's a special witch too. I mean it's too much to be true really."

"Oh you will be surprised if I tell you how much of it is actually true," stated Klaus making Hermione gasp.

"So it's true then, y- you have a-"

"Yes, I have a daughter arising from an accidental one night stand I had with a woman who was, unfortunately, my elder brother's love interest."

She didn't need to know who the elder brother was as her eyes automatically landed on Elijah who sat right opposite her. Somehow, Elijah met her gaze abashedly but then looked at Willow with eagerness. She wondered if he heard her heart beating faster, knowing that he was in love with another woman. That werewolf woman must be lucky, she wondered. But she also wondered why she was so bothered about this man who just walked into her life a few weeks back.

"And speaking of her," Klaus got up from his seat, "I need to drop my daughter off in her mother's place. My brother, unfortunately, has not made it easy for us to live under a roof."

"Nik-"

Rebekah was cut short with him rushingly walking out of the house, making the rest of them stand up awkwardly.

Willow turned to Kol, "I think you should check up on your brother. I may have the amazing talent of talking the wrong matters at the wrong moments."

"Yeah, Nik is surprisingly sensitive when it comes to Hope. So," he turned around to the wizards and Hermione, "it was lovely meeting you all."

Kol rushed back along with Rebekah, leaving behind Elijah who eagerly glanced at Willow.

"That was wickedly awkward wasn't it?"

Willow looked at Harry, right after glancing at Elijah who probably had decided to lurk in her living room, near the bookshelves.

"They're vampires with heightened senses. What did you expect?"

"Well Scar, I think we should be going too," said Harry embracing in a hug, "I hope you do well here. Remember what we told you all this while. Our priority is you being safe, and after what you went through-"

"It really is okay, although" Willow crossed her arms, feigning a look of sadness, "I really am upset that none of you are writing letters back to me."

"We will," comforted Hermione holding Willow's palms in hers, "tell us what is happening here. I'm ready to kick some arses if required."

"I'm afraid Mrs.Granger that would be an Auror's job, but we will be pleased. Now if you all must, it is time."

Elijah couldn't help himself but peak at the three witches jointly holding a ruddy, old boot. He couldn't quite understand why they kept holding random objects, but even before he could complete the thought he saw them being sucked into the boot, disappearing like one of Willow's trademark tricks.

Both of them stood awkwardly in the living room, looking at each other like children do right after they commit any mistake.

Willow, on one hand, was unknowingly low on knowing about Elijah's love interest. He, on the other hand, was extremely disgruntled about the way in which Willow found out.

She took slow, small steps towards Elijah, who went on to scan the archaic books on her shelf, and finally took one old, rattled book out.

"All this while of confiding our lives and not a breath was uttered about your partner?"

"Willow, I didn't mean to-"

"Of course not," she said biting the insides of her cheek, "my stupidity really. I should have guessed."

There was a pause of silence as Elijah scanned the front cover of the book, which was titled Quidditch Through The Ages.

"So, she is Hope's mother?" Willow asked tilting her head cheekily.

He nodded slightly, still fascinated by the cover in front of him.

"Well, she is really lucky to have you."

It was too late to take back what she had said, her heart beating fast realizing what she had said out loud.

All this while contemplating whether to look into the contents of the book or at the generous woman before him, he decided on the latter. Her words were almost echoed in his ears, looking at her while he kept back the book where it was originally placed before.

He heaved a sigh, smiling bitterly to himself. "I really do appreciate you think that, but if I were to pop your thought, we're no longer together."

"Oh goodness. I- I didn't know."

"Well let's not talk about that shall we?" he asked, his chocolate eyes trying to hide the lovesick pain. She nodded in return, feeling sorry for him. His face was almost wilting; she must have meant a lot to him she wondered.

"But," Elijah managing from confiding his emotion through his face, "have you considered my offer?"

"What offer?" She asked with a surprised look.

"To explore this beautiful city to take your mind off? With me?"

"Oh, that? I never really thought about it yesterday. But now after all this, I'm definitely considering it," smiled Willow, coyly holding her hands at the back of her.

"Then so be it," Elijah buttoned up his loosened suit and made his way to the door, "we're going tonight."

"Wait, what?" Willow was hopping behind Elijah, trying to analyse what he said and then suddenly stopped and turned, making Willow awkwardly butt into his chest. He instinctively held on to her hips, not wanting her to fall from this small collision.

Willow looked up to him, reading all the beautiful features on his face. He too did the same, realizing his arms were on her sleek body.

"I'll be at your doorstep at eight. You will not regret this."

Elijah let go of her and opened the door to leave. He turned to take one small glance at her and looked like he was about to say something but in vain. The sound of the door closing made her realize the events that took place just a minute back.

She could feel butterflies in her stomach and may have squealed lightly internally, feeling like a teenager all over again. But like any other normal adult, including her fellow witch and wizard friends, she never was really the fun outgoing witch.

But for tonight, she knew it was going to be a different night, with a different man altogether. Who would have thought that her holiday would come down to her going on a date with a thousand-year-old striking vampire? Could she dare call it a date?

"Lucy? Iris?"

With a crack, Lucy came in front of her the same time when Iris flew over to her shoulder to begin her ear nibbling.

"Don't even take the inconvenience Willow Scarlett for I have already picked out the perfect outfit for tonight."

Chapter 14

Taglist: @poemfreak306 @sweetpea-cc @ranger-treaty @spunky-89 @kickasskittie23 @kpoplover1306xdepressedgirl315 @theroyalbrownbarbie @shanty-lol @bluetink2002 @henrietteoaks @literally-anythin @leximarie66 @naomi02hook @evyiione @heythereelejah @wolf-lover-bookdragon @mschellehitt @sassyandclassyx

A/N: Sorry for the really late update, I know it's an awful excuse, but I had some depressive weeks sucking me in into gloom. So here I am with a new part.

Keep reading, I promise, things are going to get serious next chapter! :D

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dugtrax · 4 years

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LANSANESE // TOTAL ANJINK // DR013 // 2020 // CC BY-NC LISENCE

The debut album of Lansanese (Lahn-sahn-ess-ay) presents 10 songs of uncompromising noise rock, with lyrics in mixed Indonesian and English, addressing Indonesian social issues of sexuality, drugs, treatment of animals, and violence. Rather than assuming an overtly political stance on any of these issues, the band chooses these subjects as springboards for stories and concepts to chaotically develop into a visceral experience of distortion and rhythm. Lansanese is an international (Javanese/American) collaboration of noise musicians. The band formed when the members, performing with their respective solo projects, met at the Jogja Noise Bombing Festival 2017. Lansanese derived their name from an offhand encounter with a coffee shop menu. In Old Javanese language, Lansanese means “the others,” “everything else,” or “etcetera.” Lansanese has toured extensively throughout Indonesia, performing at DIY shows and festivals, shocking audiences with their onstage antics and their chaotic approach to music-making. Their first single, “Everyone Is Gay” was named by Whiteboard Journal as one of the “Best Experimental Tracks of 2018” in Indonesia. Recommended for fans of Lightning Bolt, Brainbombs, Big Black, Les Rallizes, Denudes, Half Japanese, Senyawa, Arrington de Dionyso (Old Time Relijun, Malaikat Dan Singa), etc. // Jika merunut sejarah, 2020 adalah tahun paling suram, dalam kurun waktu 102 tahun terakhir. Per Oktober 2020, sudah ada 1,1 juta orang yang meninggal di seluruh dunia karena pandemi Covid-19. Belum lagi di Indonesia pemerintahnya baru saja mensahkan undang-undang yang makin menyengsarakan rakyat kecil dan kian permudah izin korporasi untuk merusak alam. Beda orang, beda pula cara untuk menyikapi keadaan yang susah seperti saat ini. Ada yang dengan cara melawan. Ada yang dengan cara meratapi. Ada juga dengan cara menertawakannya. Ya, hidup terkadang seperti cerita komedi. Bukankah cara terbaik untuk merespon komedi adalah dengan tertawa? Butuh soundtrack untuk itu? Mungkin album Total Anjink dari LANSANESE adalah jawabannya; band noise-rock / experimental-rock / grunge asal Amerika Serikat - Yogyakarta. Band ini mengangkat tema keseharian hidup rakyat jelata, yang dituangkan dalam lirik-lirik 'Kitsch'. Hey, bagaimana kamu bisa tidak tertawa dengan band yang menulis lagu dengan judul "Aku Hanya Mau Mas Wawan", "Mencari Bapak Warung Obat Pria", "Bagong-bagongan", "Sahur", "Cuangcipit", & "Info Badung". Jadi, sudahkah anda tertawa hari ini? [Dede - Wasted Rockers]

Recorded 2017-2020 at Melody Studio in Yogyakarta, Java, Indonesia and at home in Los Angeles, California and Alice, Texas. Track 5 recorded and mixed at Rockness Music Bali. Mixing: Cordey Lopez Mastering: James Plotkin Artwork by Alam Rafif Guitar Vocal: Cordey Lopez Bass Guitar: Hendra Adytiawan Drums: Gilang Damar Setiadi Noise: Sean Stellfox Vocals Track 4 by Handoyo Purwowijoyo Noise Track 5 by Mahamboro Thanks to Chaos Non Musica Bali, Jogja Noise Club, Rully and Wukir, Tesaran, Remon Red, Acit Holiday, Jason Ogawa, Liesel Burisch, Rockness Music Bali, Warung Babi B Genyol, Mas Wawan, Mom and Dad.

YOU ARE FREE TO DOWNLOAD AND DISTRIBUTE IT ONLY FOR NON-COMMERCIAL USE. THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORTING TO OPEN-SHARING CULTURE MOVEMENT.

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meltingalphabet · 7 years

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Death is only for the living

“Your dead grandmother doesn’t give a shit that she’s dead. You do.” Chasey told me when I came back to school after the funeral.

That was when I decided I did not like the new girl.

While the other girls and teachers showered me with flowers and cards, Chasey sat at the back of the room, her eyebrow arched. The pretentious smirk that I later would recognize to be her trademark mocking me. I hated her.

Chasey was an odd person. It’s a weird thing to say, but she was kind of what you’d expect from someone whose name is most often associated with a pornstar. She showed up one day, our school uniform altered into her own interpretation of couture. There was the green plaid skirt and white button up top we were all wearing, but her skirt was littered with safety pins and her right breast was covered with band pins I recognized from movies about drug-riddled anarchist teens. Her shirt was unbuttoned almost to the point of scandal and her long black hair was tied into a messy knot at the top of her head. She had rings in her nostril and septum, a bar in her eyebrow, and her ears were filled with studs, hoops, and barbells. Her eyelids were heavy with thick black liner and dark purple shadow, her thin lips painted a deep matte red. Her black messenger bag was covered in patches of devils, horned creatures, and bones, the largest of which was the skeleton of siamese twins conjoined at the head.

Her darks eyes surveyed the room and landed on the empty desk beside me. My stomach twisted as she approached, her dark confidence intimidating. She sat down and looked at me. I blushed as I realized I had been staring. Chasey winked and I looked away quickly, my cheeks burning.

From that moment forward, no matter how much I tried to avoid her, Chasey would appear everywhere. I was the president of the Philosophy club and she was our newest member. I was one of the editors for the school newspaper and she became one of our photographers. She would eat lunch at the table next to me and my friends. She’d show up at parties and raise an eyebrow at me, smirking as if she had something on me. As if she knew something about me no one else knew.

My 15th birthday was in the summer. I invited everyone from my class to a pool party at my place. Unsurprisingly, Chasey was there. While everyone else played pool games and lounged around, Chasey stood in the corner talking to my father as he grilled hot dogs and hamburgers. We all sported colorful bikinis while Chasey wore ripped up jeans and a black band shirt. It had a skeleton wearing a pope costume, it’s tongue shooting from its mouth as it wildly brandished a cross. I watched her nod as my father excitedly told her about his new film project. Her eyes locked on mine and she smirked, one eyebrow raised. I looked away, engrossing myself once again in our game of volleyball.

As night came, most girls went home but a few stayed. We watched a movie and did our nails, talked about boys and school and how Ms. Kazer really needed a good fuck. Chasey was there, sitting in the corner. I watched her sip her soda and pop a cheese curl in her mouth. She winked at me and I blushed.

My best friend Rachel seemed to notice as she looked in the direction I had been staring. She gave Chasey a smile, her voice soaked in false nicety, “What about you Chasey? I bet a girl like you gets lots of dick.”

The others erupted in laughter. Chasey smiled cooly in response, unirritated by the attention.

“Dick isn’t really my thing.” She said nonchalantly.

The giggling stopped abruptly and the room grew silent with discomfort.

“I’m going to go to bed.” I said abruptly, standing so suddenly the remotes sitting on my lap fell to the floor. Everyone stared at me.

“What?” Rachel asked, “but it’s still early.”

“Yeah, I know.” I sighed, “I just… I’m beat. You guys can crash here or in one of the guest rooms.” They looked at me silently, waiting for more, so I added, “I got a lot of sun today.” As if that explained it.

Rachel shrugged and put in another DVD as I quickly walked to my room.

I was reading in bed when my door opened about an hour later. Chasey stuck her head in, “so you’re still awake.” I shrugged, resting the book on the nightstand. “Can I come in?” she asked, pushing the door fully open and entering before I could reply. She was wearing nothing but a pair of dark blue underwear and the t-shirt she had been in earlier.

I sat there in silence as Chasey walked around my room examining everything on the walls and furniture with intense concentration. The silence between us would be periodically interrupted with a question, “who’s that?” She’d ask pointing to a photo.

“My uncle.”

She picked up a small trophy - my third place award for the Junior Bass Fishing Tournament I was in when I was seven. She turned, a huge smile on her face as she angled it towards me.

I blushed and pulled the blanket around me. “I-I used to be really into fishing.”

She snorted. “That’s adorable.”

A lightning bolt of heat shot through my stomach. My body felt like it was burning from the inside out.

Chasey stopped at my bookcase. “Oh shit!” She exclaimed, pulling out one of my board games. She turned and presented a Ouija board.

“Oh, I was also really into ghosts and stuff when I was a kid.” I tried to sink further into my bed without success.

“So there was a younger version of yourself that was super into demons and fishing?” She asked.

I shrugged.

“That’s amazing.” She sat down on the carpeted floor and lifted the box, allowing the bottom to fall with a loud sucking noise. She took out the board. “Holy shit, real wood!” She examined it, her nose barely an inch away from the black intricate designs around the edges. “Man, this is fucking fancy!” She looked up and raised her eyebrow. “Aren’t you going to join me?” She asked, that damn eyebrow luring me towards her.

I swallowed and slid out from under the covers, very self conscious of my baggy pink pajama pants. I groaned internally as I remembered that they were even covered in little hearts. I wished I had been wearing something more mature, something sexier. I sat across from her, the board between us. Without a word, we both placed our fingers lightly on the planchet.

Chasey straightened her back and shifted her shoulders. She cleared her throat and, in an airy voice, said “we call on you, spirits of old and new. Tell us your secrets.” She swayed side to side as she hummed a static tone, as if meditating.

I watched, mesmerized, and then she stopped, her eyes shoot opened as the planchet slid easily over the wooden surface, stopping at the hello carefully printed in the bottom left hand corner.

We locked eyes, my heart thumping in my chest. Chasey smiled wickedly at me.

“You’re fucking with me.” I said incredulously.

Chasey rocked back in laughter. “Oh my god, your face!” She squealed. Embarrassment and anger grew inside of me. I stood, awkwardly, and sat on my bed. “Oh, Emma! I’m sorry! You were just so into it!” Chasey stood and hopped onto the bed with me.

Heat rushed through my abdomen as she scooted towards me, smiling. I was suddenly aware of a fresh scent I couldn’t identify filling my nostrils and sending a slight shiver down my spine.

“You love that shit, don’t you?” I asked.

Chasey smirked, “what do you mean?”

“All that dark shit. Voodoo, seances, summonings, demons.” I waved my hand around my head, nonverbally indicating the etcetera.

Chasey laughed and leaned against the wall, stretching her legs out in front of her. “I guess you could say that.” She looked at me, her face fallen, filled with a sudden and intense interest. I waited for her to say something, to do something.

“What?” I asked.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Uh, I guess so? Do I have to answer?”

She laughed, then grew serious again. “Emma.” She said, leaning closer. My heart quickened.

“Yeah?”

“How do you want to die?”

I scrunched up my nose, “w-what?”

“How do you want to die?” She asked again, no hint of a joke or even a smile on her face.

“Uh… I don’t know.” I answered with a shrug.

She leaned back, thoughtfully examining my face. “You never think about your death?”

“No, I have… I just… I dunno…” She waited, watching me expectantly. “I guess I want to die peacefully in my sleep.” The edge of her lip lowered in disappointment, the skin between her eyebrows tightening. “Isn’t that what everyone wants?” I added.

“That’s not how I want to go.” Chasey said, her voice low and filled with sincerity.

“How do you want to die?” I asked quietly.

Her eyes glazed as she looked at a spot above my head. She seemed suddenly distant, removed. “I want to die in a slasher film.”

I waited for additional details, but she was silent, her eyes still absently locked on the wall. “Like, on the set?” I asked.

She looked back at me, her eyes sharpening back into focus. “No, no. I mean, I want to be chased through the woods by a serial killer. A butcherer of men.”

I pulled away, suddenly aware of how close her face was to mine, and rested my back against the firm headboard. Chasey took this as an invitation to adjust her sitting position as well, crossing her legs in front of her as she turned to face me. She settled and I tried to ignore that her knees were now resting against mine. She leaned in, her face filled with urgency.

“Dying is the last thing you will ever do. Why would you want to die in your sleep? I want to be aware of my death. I don’t want to be numb to it, in shock like if you freeze or drown. I want to be in the moment for as long as possible. If I’m being chased by a crazed lunatic, my adrenaline will be heightened, I will be more focused than I have ever been in my life. Each second will stretch into hours. There I will remain for an eternity, trapped in my own demise. I will be in the moment, no longer existing outside of it. My thoughts won’t be in the past, the life I’ve led, my regrets and unfulfilled wishes. I’ll be there and nowhere else. Running. Surviving until I am nothing but a memory, my mind and thoughts vanished forever. I will be no more. But, before that, I will be aware of my death in a way most people will never be aware of anything in their entire lives. I will be forced to savor every last second of the last moments of my life.” Chasey stopped, she was breathing hard at this point, her face only inches from mine.

I swallowed and stared at her, unsure of what to say.

And then, she closed the space between our lips. My mind went blank. Her lips were so soft, her scent so delicious. She opened her lips slightly, pushing mine apart, and her tongue gently coaxed mine to join. Her mouth never leaving mine, she pushed me down into the bed, one hand at the base of my skull, the other on my shoulder. She dropped her body onto mine, her breasts pressing into my much smaller ones. I was jarringly aware of my inexperience, my small chest, my slight stomach rolls, and then she kissed harder and all those thoughts dissipated as I lost myself in the moment.

I awoke, my head resting on Chasey’s naked chest. I let my head rise and fall with her breath. The sun shone through the thin crack of my closed curtains, illuminating my bedroom wall in front of me. A wall so familiar to me it contrasted sharply against the new body beneath mine, unknown yet with a weight of intimacy that warmed my body from my spine outward. I sighed, forcing myself to remain still. I didn’t want to wake her. I didn’t want her to leave. I wanted this moment to last forever.

But of course, every moment has to end.

My bedroom door opened behind me and I sat bolt upright, covering my exposed breasts. Rachel stood in the doorway, her face frozen in shock. Chasey groaned and shifted beside me. She noticed Rachel and lifted herself onto her arm, blinking groggily.

“Morning, Rach” Chasey said, her voice thick with sleep.

Rachel was staring at Chasey, unable to move her eyes away from her nudity. Finally, her eyes moved to mine. We stared at each other. I couldn’t breath. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t react.

“I have to go home.” Rachel said, her voice flat. She stepped back, closing the door behind her. I sat there, my body trembling. Chasey straightened, watching me with concern, but I couldn’t look at her. Shame poured from the top of my head down, filling my heart and stomach with a disgusting sourness like yellow bile. Chasey rested her hand on my back.

“Are you ok, Emma?” She asked, her voice so innocent, so unaffected by what just occurred. I forced my face to turn towards her, to meet her eyes. Chasey leaned in and kissed my lips lightly.

I flew from the bed and ran to my dresser, grabbing a bra, shirts and jeans falling to the floor beside me in my haste.

Chasey stood from the bed. “Emma?” She asked, her voice sounded afraid. Something I had never heard before. I whipped around, holding loose clothing close to my chest. Hot angry tears filling my eyes.

“Get out!” I said, shaking with rage.

“Emma.” Chasey said, her expression one of hurt.

“Out!” I cried, pointing to the door with my free hand.

She picked up her shirt and panties from the floor and left, her head hung in defeat.

Months passed and I saw Chasey less and less. Rachel never told anyone about what she saw, and we never discussed it. But I made sure to distance myself as much as possible from Chasey, and she seemed to get the message. When school started up again she quit the newspaper and never showed up to another meeting of the Philosophy club.

Yet, when I did see her, when I’d pass her in the hall or watch her give a presentation in class, my body would ache for her. I’d fall asleep at night thinking of her soft kisses. Thinking about how she tasted, how her body felt on top of mine, my hands running across her skin.

I wanted to take back rejecting her. I wish I hadn’t kicked her out of my room, that I hadn’t cared what Rachel saw. I wish I had turned back towards her and pulled her body to mine, falling back asleep with her warmth in my arms.

One morning I saw her as I was walking to the restroom during class. She was at her locker, scavenging the mess inside for something. I walked to her, standing above the open locker, listening to her mumble in frustration. My heart melting in my chest as she swore at a misplaced tampon floating around textbooks and loose papers.

“There you are!” She exclaimed, pulling it to her chest and shutting the door with a metallic clang. She jumped as she noticed me beside her. Her cheeks paled at the sight of me.

“Hey, Chasey.” I said, giving her a small smile.

Chasey narrowed her eyes and stood, turning on her heel with a loud “Hmph!” I watched her walk down the hall, her steps heavy and with purpose. My heart stung with the pain I knew I caused her, the pain I now felt.

A few days later I wrote Chasey an apology note and slipped it into her locker through the slats in the door, asking her to text me so we could chat about it. About us. Chasey never texted. I left a few more notes and even tried texting her, but I never got a response.

Until one day when I opened my locker and a black card fell out onto the dusty linoleum floor. I picked it up. My name was written in red ink on the front in Chasey’s handwriting. My heart fluttered and I shoved my books into my locker so my hands would be free to peel it open.

It was an invitation. Her birthday was October 22nd, a fact I hadn’t known previously, and she was hosting a Halloween themed party. This was it. This was my chance. I squealed in delight to the concern of my neighbors. I bit my lip, trying to keep my excitement under control. My smile stretched wide despite my efforts, a ting of copper touching my tongue as my tooth cut into the soft delicate flesh of my lip.

The address on the invitation took us to an old warped house far from the neat and uniform subdivisions me and my friends live in. My dad eyed the disheveled slate roof and drooping porch of the one story home with concern.

“Who is this friend again?” He asked.

“Chasey. You met her at my birthday! She was the only one who talked to you.” I said, exacerbated with repeating myself.

“Oh, the little goth girl!” He said. “Yeah, yeah, I remember. She was…” He eyed the house again, “nice.”

I rolled my eyes. “Dad, stop being a snob.”

“I’m not being a snob. I know not everyone has the money we do, I just didn’t expect her home to be so... “ He searched for the word, “rundown.”

I made a noise of disgust and opened the door to leave.

“Hey, hey!” He said, and I turned and gave him a quick hug. “Love you, kiddo! I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.”

I gave him a peck on the cheek, “thanks, dad!” and shot from the seat.

“Be good!” He yelled, the car door cutting him off as it slammed shut. I pulled at the short skirt of my crushed velvet dress. It had taken me forever to pick a costume. I wanted something mature and sexy, without being too slutty. I decided to go as a witch. My deep purple dress was fitted, but not too tight, with a low neckline that complimented the large metal cross that hung around my neck. I wore the strapless bra I had bought for my cousin’s wedding the year before, the stiff tight padded cups giving me undeserved cleavage. To complete the ensemble, I wore a black pointed hat and carried an old wooden broom I had found in the attic.

My dad’s car idled in the rocky driveway as I walked to the front door, my heart hammering in my chest. I lifted my hand to knock but it swung open before I could, revealing Chasey dressed as Drew Barrymore from Scream. Her eyes drifted to my cleavage and she looked up at me smiling wickedly, her eyebrow arched. I felt warm, my breath taken away by the familiar expression I hadn’t seen in months.

“Come on in.” Chasey said with a small nod. I turned and gave my dad a final wave. I stepped inside and heard the heavy vehicle slowly pull away. The house was dark, illuminated only by that candles that covered every surface.

“Jesus.” I said, leaning my broom against the wall, “you’re gonna burn your house down.”

“This isn’t my house.” Chasey replied jeeringly.

“It’s not?” I asked.

Chasey laughed, “of course not! You really think I live in a shithole like this? No, I live in a nice little suburban McMansion, just like you. But I wanted someplace special for my birthday.”

Chasey walked through a doorway and I followed her into the kitchen. She grabbed a tallboy from the counter and passed it to me. “Drink up.”

I pulled the tab, piercing the thin metal with a sharp hiss. “Where is everyone else?” I asked, looking around.

“Oh, the guest of honor should be here soon.” Chasey said, looking at her watch.

“Aren’t you the guest of honor?”

Chasey looked up at me and stuck her tongue out flirtatiously. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to hug her, bring her close to me, press my body into hers and kiss her. But instead I brought the warm beer to my mouth and drank. I felt uncomfortable with her. I still longed for her. As she walked in front of me back to the living room, I had to resist the urge to reach out and touch her. She sat on the couch and I sat beside her, giving ample space between us. Forcing myself not to lean towards her. To smell her. To lose myself in her.

We sat there is stiff silence until she turned to me, quite abruptly, her eyes peering into mine with a surprising softness. I could see a genuine earnestness beneath the cool pool of her irises.

“Thank you.” She said.

“For what?”

“For coming.”

“Of course. Thanks for inviting me.” I hesitated. “I-I was worried you never wanted to see me again.” The air shimmered in the sea of flames surrounding us, a dull heat radiating from the candles, emphasizing the heat growing in my body.

Chasey leaned in and kissed me. It was as soft and sweet as I remembered. I pushed my mouth into hers, relishing the warmth as I placed my hand on her thigh. I parted my lips, preparing to deepen the kiss when a loud knock echoed into the stiff silent air of the room. She tore away, looking towards the door. Another knock, this one heavy and insistent.

Chasey turned to me, her eyes wide. “Run.”

“Huh?” I asked as Chasey jumped up from the couch, pulling my arm and leading me quickly back into the kitchen. My beer fell from my startled grasp, a wet stain growing on the carpet behind us. “Chasey, what the fuck?” I asked, trying to fight against her.

“Run!” She commanded.

A loud bang and crack made me look back in time to see the head of an axe being pulled from the split wood of the front door. My broom fell with the force, landing onto a wall of candles.

“What the fuck!” I cried. Chasey pulled again at my arm and this time my body obeyed without resistance. Loud cracks followed us as we ran across the kitchen to the back door, which Chasey threw open. She pulled me into the cool night air as I heard a final crack behind us, followed by heavy deliberate footsteps.

Chasey and I were running across the yard now, running towards a line of trees. I looked over my shoulder and saw the large shadowy figure of a man fill the open doorway we had just left, an axe hanging from his hand. I turned forward, quickening my pace.

“What the fuck! What the fuck!” I screamed as we burrowed deeper into the woods. I stumbled on a tree root and Chasey pulled me to her.

“We have to keep going!” She insisted as she started running again, her hand tight around my own.

“Chasey, what did you do?” Tears were beginning to flow down my cheeks. My entire body felt cold, not by the air but by fear. Instead of answering she pulled harder, pounding her feet against the cold autumn ground, my body following blindly. My breath was starting to catch in my throat with the effort of running. My gasps for air harshly mixing with fear, combining as well as water and oil, creating a battle of will in my lungs. I tried to scream and cough at the same time but instead sputtered out gibbered sobs.

“Come on, it’s just up here.” I looked to see her dragging me to an old dilapidated shed. Chasey dropped my arm as she thrust the door open. She pushed me inside as she looked over her shoulder. Satisfied, she followed me, closing the door behind her.

I stood there shaking as she examined the old rotten tools along the wall. She grabbed a hammer and quickly weighed it in her hand.

“What are you doing!? What is going on!?” I demanded, trying to catch my breath with large deep gulps of air.

She inhaled deeply before calmly looking at me and answering, ”I told you, this is how I want to go.”

”At 16!?!” I placed my hand on my chest, feeling my heart pounding against my ribcage as I took another sharp inhale of breath.

”I’m ready.” She replied, her voice eerily steady.

“You’re insane!” I cried.

“Keep it down! Do you want him to find us?”

I looked to a small window set in the wall, too dirty to see through. “Who-who is he?” My breath was starting to become more manageable as the tears began to dry. Instinct rushed through my blood, taking over my fear with a determination I didn’t recognize. I swallowed and steadied myself, sniffing back the snot that dripped from my nostril and looking at Chasey.

“His name is Jack. I found him on… on a site.”

”Jesus fucking Christ!” I pulled my phone out of my pocket and clicked on the picture of my dad on the homescreen. “This is so fucked up. Even for you.” I snap, glaring incredulously at Chasey’s back as she peered through the window, hammer in hand.

The ringing in my ear stopped and the phone clicked, “Emma?”

“Dad! Dad! You need to come quick! There’s a guy and he has an axe!” I whispered into the phone, my words toppling out over each other, losing all sense and direction. I could hear his muffled and confused voice on the other end.

“What are you doing!” Chasey screamed as she grabbed my phone and threw it to the ground. I lunged for it as the hammer she held landed with a crunch that made my stomach heave violently. She turned, ”I thought you loved me!” She growled as she grabbed me by the hair.

My head throbbed with the pressure. ”That doesn’t mean I want to die for you!”

Chasey brought her face to mine, “that’s exactly what it means.” She said, spittle hitting my face.

”Fuck. You.” I spat back, shoving her away from me and into the shed door. My hair tore from my scalp with a painful rip. Chasey cried out as her shoulder bounced against the door with a loud shudder that echoed through the woods. I grabbed my destroyed phone, angry tears in my eyes, but it was useless, its shattered screen permanently black.

”Well, it’s too late now.” Chasey said as she watched, her hand rubbing her sore shoulder.

I looked up, my breathing clipped with pure hatred. A snarl escaped from my throat. It was a noise I didn’t recognize. One of anger, of betrayal, of bloodlust. “No.” I said as I straightened. “It’s not.” I threw my arm around her neck as I kicked the thin shed door open.

“Ow, what are you doing?” Chasey demanded, twisting desperately in my grasp. I gripped tighter. The shadowy figure of a large man stepped towards us, his features dark. The woods were barely illuminated by the stars above the dense treetops, but I could tell he was hungry. Hungry to feel our bodies break beneath him. Hungry for the sounds of bones cracking, blood gurgling, our childish screams swallowed by pain and desperation and death. Chasey screamed, feebly trying to push herself away from me. I moved to her ear, “isn’t this what you wanted?” I asked, my lips brushing against her skin. “Isn’t this what you fucking wanted?” I asked louder as Jack approached us. Chasey screamed, kicking and hitting me wildly. I threw her onto the forest floor, slamming my foot as hard as possible into her lower back. An anguished scream emitted from her.

“Happy birthday, bitch.”

Chasey tried to scramble away, her hands dragging through dead leaves, loose dirt, and bugs. I watched as Jack’s arms rose above his head and fell. The head of the axe shone in an nonexistent light, as if it were illuminated by some holy source, separate from the reality around us. The axe swung downwards, taking what felt like hours to land with a bloody thunk as it dug itself into Chasey’s leg.

Her screams followed me as I jogged back to the house. The windows glowed orange with the fire growing inside. In only a few minutes I was on the road, my head buzzing, an inferno behind me. I bent forward, resting my hands on my knees as I vomited the little bit of bud light I had drank less than an hour beforehand. Two headlights approached me and I squinted up into them. The car stopped and a figure stepped out.

“Emma?” My father’s voice, filled with shock and concern, shrouded me like an old blanket. I ran to him, falling into his arms as I started sobbing uncontrollably. I looked up at his kind face, illuminated from one side by the cool white of his car’s headlights, and from the other by the burning house. He looked like god and the devil, joined as one. An angel of mercy. A demon of hate. I collapsed as the image faded into black.

The police asked me a lot of questions. I told them it was Chasey’s birthday party. That the weird girl at school didn’t have any friends. That she invited me and I went to be nice That a man came and chased us with an axe. That I lost Chasey. That I didn’t know what happened to her. That I called my dad. That I dropped my phone in the woods. That I didn’t know how I had gotten away. That I had just ran.

They told me the man who attacked us was named Jack Fagerman. I nodded as their words turned into shapeless droning in my ear.

I should’ve been killed. I realize now that it would’ve made no difference. The girl I was when I showed up that night is dead. She will never exist again. Now I am a something new. Something shapeless. A confused lost soul that travels aimlessly. No longer a child but not a woman. A thing filled with trauma from a night I will never forget. A night that will never be washed from my mind. A night that has forever marked me.

Chasey was right, death is only for the living. Yet, I have come so close to death that my life will never be blemish free again. It is stained with the dark rust red of death and decay. I have not only lost my innocence, but any semblance of humanity.

The police still haven’t caught Jack Fagerman, yet I know where to find him. The police never even asked that. They listened to me recite the final girls’ epilogue, then closed my file and hid it in the back of an evidence box to grow dusty. They had no expectation that a sheltered teenager would know anything of real value.

I’m going back. I’m going to find Jack and finish what we started.

Death is only for the living, and I am still alive.

For now.

#nosleep #horrorstory #scary #scarystory #@writing #horrorwriting

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howtohero · 7 years

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#046 Losing Your Powers

Having extraordinary abilities, or, as they are colloquially known “superpowers” (and that’s only because “extraordinarilyabledheroes” sounded too clunky,) is an immense privilege and shouldn’t be taken lightly or, heaven forbid, for granted. Many superheroes grow so accustomed to having powers that they would struggle to get through menial day to day tasks should they ever lose them. Many superheroes don’t even pause to consider the fact that they might someday be without their powers. This is stupid. People lose their powers all the time. You need to be prepared for that possibility.

Superheroes can lose their powers in a number of different ways: Curses from witches, not properly reading the terms and agreements manual on your powers and accidentally violating one of the terms and/or agreements, emotional trauma, reliving your origin event in reverse (like falling out of a vat of toxic waste or shooting a magic lightning bolt from your body), you didn’t fully think through the possible ramifications of a monkey paw wish, a different kind of magic lightning, someone wiped your memories and made you forget how to use your powers, etcetera etcetera (I could literally do this forever {an unexpected side effect from an anti-depressant pill} see.) So the odds are pretty high that at some point in your superhero career you’ll, at least temporarily, lose your powers.

Now, fear not (y’all best not be fearing), losing your powers doesn’t mean you have to give up your exciting superhero lifestyle. There are plenty of superheroes who don’t have powers. Most of them die horrible horrible deaths (have you ever been eaten by a dragon without having superpowers? Neither have I. It’s probably the worst!) but some of them don’t! Some of them live very long lives! Doing backflips across rooftops and roundhouse kicking bank robbers, living that non-powered hero dream. You can have that too, but only if you make the proper preparations while you still have your powers. Ask one of your non-powered hero friends to give you hand to hand combat training. Practice doing things like long distance running or rock climbing without the use of your powers. This way should you ever eat an expired candy bar and lose your ability to control the winds of the Earth you can fall back on the boxing lessons you took and still kick evil butt!

Even if you don’t decide to continue being a superhero, which hey, if you were looking for an excuse to retire here it is, you might find yourself having difficulty going about your regular day to day life without the use of your powers. For many heroes using their powers becomes second nature to them. They use them all the time. Even when they’re not “working” (read: beating criminals in alleyways). So it might come as a sort of culture shock when they can no longer heat up leftovers with their eye beams or skip the morning commute by teleporting to work (or to near work, gotta keep that secret identity intact). So to prepare for this I recommend setting aside some portion of your week for doing things without powers. This way you’ll be operating with some sort of net instead of plunging into the powerless life all at once. Take the train to work once a week. Move at normal speeds for at least one hour out of the day. Buy a microwave and figure out all the settings. All so when you inevitably lose your powers after you happened to step on a crack causing your mother to break her back and, in a fit of rage, curse you so that you lose your powers, you won’t be stuck up the metaphorical creek.

Losing use of your powers doesn’t only affect you though. If word gets out that a city’s defender has been essentially neutered you can be sure that supervillains and other do-badders will flood into the city. Supervillains love it when there are no superpowered people around the stop them. It’s like their favorite thing. On some level they like it even more than actual crime, which you would think is their favorite thing to do. Sure some villains like having some sort of challenge, but the vast majority would totally prefer it if nobody got in their way. So you can’t publicize the fact that you have no powers! No press conferences! Don’t release a blues album called “Hey So I Lost My Super Strength Because I Thought it Was a Good Idea to Gamble It Away to the Literal Devil,” don’t put out an ad in the classifieds that reads “seeking a new hero to defend my city because I, like a fool, lost my powers, like I literally misplaced them. I don’t know where they are. Somebody please help me,” don’t even post about it on Facebook! There are a lot of supervillains on Facebook! You need to keep that on the down low. This may even mean putting on your costume and pretending you still have powers for a bit until you can discreetly find someone else to protect your town. This is when you’ll have to get clever; use holograms, strategically placed wind cannons and speakers, maybe even some of that evil super-tech you keep confiscating from the bad guys. Anything you can get your hands on to trick the evil element of your city into thinking that you’re still in full possession of all of your abilities. If you manage to pull this off successfully and consistently until you either get your powers back or find some other superhero to take over then you can make a viral video announcing that you lost your powers. As a sweet bonus you can totally hold the fact that you tricked all your enemies over their heads for the rest of their lives. It’s always fun to lord things over the heads of supervillains. At least until they get super pissy and commit a bunch of murders as a result. It’s a bit of a tightrope walk.

Even if you never lose your powers (lucky for you none of your enemies ever got their hands on a genie, you’d be surprised how many heroes lose their powers like that,) it’s still a good idea to learn how to fight crime or just live your life without them. Superpowers are extremely fickle. You can never be sure that you’ll have them forever.

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velocitario-blog · 7 years

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Adrenaline: T.LO.T.S.A: Volume One: Let The Gates Open

Previously: The Final Approach! It started eight years ago, but our heroes are about to end this fight. Azura and Melkorios are pinned down in their base stationed in Thailand, and Wraith and Co. is pulling out all the stops to end the conflict. The devilish duo isn’t going down without a fight, however, as they’ve sent an army of AMX Super-Droids to bring the heroes down, but that’s not going to stop them! Unbeknownst to Wraith, Azura and Melkorios have secured the last two sacred arms – the Supercharged Gauntlets and the Enraged Cannon. The last time the group took on a sacred arm, they barely escaped alive – what will they do against two at the same time being controlled by the two most powerful Remnant Generals? Wraith and the gang have taken many heavy hits, and only the original duo remain to continue the push forward. Him and Jaden are steadfast and determined to end the war. But the Remnants have one more ace up their sleeve – if Wraith and Jaden want their victory, even if they defeat the duo, They’ll have to have a word with their boss… Character Select! Wraith – The Fearless Frost! Jaden – The Original Hero! Azura & Melkorios – Double the dastardly trouble! Who is the Chronomancer? The sleek metal tapping of our footsteps and clattering gear was all that surged through our minds. Quite frankly, it was all we could surge through our minds. This was IT. The end, period. Zilch. None. COKE Zero. Not a single thing to say afterwards. But as we approached the gate, a whole truckload of things hit my head. Could we take down Azura and Melkorios? What would happen if we did? What was Cinos talking about when he said “the big man is in the house”? But the biggest thing was this: If we did win, what would be next? This base was the last source of Shadow Chroma in the world, and we were about to trash it. Sure, our powers do have some level of practical use, but this powerful feeling of finality was ever so prominent. In a more comedic moment, I got so caught up in my thoughts that I ended up running right into the door. Jaden took notice. “Hey man, you feeling okay? I know this is it, but stay with me now.” I shook it off. Behind this door was Azura and Melkorios. I raised a hand to push it open. No need. Right as I was about to open the door, a massive crash blew the door right off its hinges, giving us just enough time to step aside and avoid being clobbered. But what came after was what surprised me more. The thing that blasted through the door was Azura and Melkorios themselves, beaten, battered and barely able to stand. In concern and shock, I ran over to them and examined the injuries. “Azura? Mel? You guys okay?” Azura got on his feet, holding his arm in pain. “Rrgh! Normally the last person I want to see, now the only person. Strange how this work out sometimes.” I noticed something on his hands – the Supercharged Gauntlets. “What happened? Who did this to you?” Melkorios, just getting up with a limp, answered my question. “Long story short, we weren’t very happy with our boss, and decided we were going to beat him down long enough to join you guys, but that kinda backfired.” Okay. Plan B. “Jaden, grab Mel. If these guys are being legit, they can’t even beat this boss guy with a Sacred Arm, so pretty good chance we won’t stand for long. We’re getting out of here.” “Make that TWO Sacred Arms.” Mel mentioned with a cough, holding up – the Enraged Cannon? “Dang. We’re getting out of here nonethele-” Before I could finish my sentence, another crash behind us caused me to whip around. The only thing I saw was the point of some blade before everything went white. … … … … … … … … Location: Somewhere in South Florida Date: April 25, 2017 In the eyes of: Wraith Doronto Everything was black. Where was I? I heard something faint. I tried to focus. It grew louder. “WRAITH! WAKE UP!!” I awoke with a slam on the table. Darn… fell asleep. It slowly came back to me. I was sitting at a mission briefing with my new colleagues. I should introduce myself. The name’s Wraith Doronto. I led a pretty normal 14-year-old life, up until three days back. Y’see, where I live there’s this stuff called Chroma. We don’t know where it came from, but it’s pretty wild. There’s eight types of Chroma – Fire, Armament, Earth, Lightning, Bionic, Psycho, Shadow, and my kind, Ice. Gathering up enough Chroma, which is a nearly unimaginable feat on its own, gives the collector control and mastery of whatever the Chroma is based off of. Fire Chroma gives you Pyrokenesis, Bionic makes you a master of machines, etcetera, etcetera. I was lucky. I was wandering about my first home in the snowy mountains of Maine, catching air on my toboggan when I stumbled upon a fresh batch of Ice Chroma. It took some getting used to. Okay, so when I first tried it out, sure I may or may not have accidentally created a snowball the size of a suburban house and flung it halfway to Sherbrook. Big deal. My new colleagues, the C.S.O. group (Chroma Special Operations) took notice rather quickly, and despite heavy scolding from parents, I was on the team. Their target: more masters of Chroma with the eventual goal of securing something called the Sacred Arms, which are supposedly some kind of weapons powered by Chroma users. And whaddaya know – the mission I was being briefed on was centered around a recent find involving a Chroma user. “Good. Now that you’re awake, here’s the mission. Our target is a female, 13 years of age with the name Sydney Kidot. Your job, Wraith, is to bring Sydney to our side. I don’t care if she’s still a teen, the last thing we want is someone going shadow. You’ll be going solo, but we’ve arranged transportation, and you’ll be there in due time.” I was excited, but keeping cool. This was my first mission, and I’m tasked with recruiting an all-powerful Chroma user? Talk about a good first day at work! … I just jinxed it, didn’t I? … … … … … A Few Hours Later Turns out my transportation was a ride in the cargo bay of an Apache Attack Heli. I was sitting on a bench next to a window, with an earpiece on for communication as I flipped through an issue of DuPont Registry clad in my favorite polyester tee. Hmm… Lamborghini Centenario… Acura NSX… Ferrari F12tdf… “Hey, Wraith, you copy?” The sudden static startled me, but I replied loud and clear. “Alright, we’re approaching our destination. Hope you’re not afraid of heights!” I put my magazine down in confusion. “Um… what makes you say that?” “Bombs Away!!” With that, there was a clank and a wailing siren. The cargo bay doors were opening – fast. I barely had time to react before the incoming wind snatched me off my feet. I frantically grabbed at anything I could, but it was a futile effort. I was now in free fall. “Pilot, you copy?” “Yeah, what’s up?” “WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU, YOU WON’T THAW OUT UNTIL NEXT JULY!!” The ground was a good three thousand feet away, so I had some time to kill. After using my cryokenesis to form two ice wings, one on both arms, I went into a swan dive to decrease my drag and speed up, hitting my terminal velocity of 193 MPH. Not too much time passed before something appeared on the ground. I squinted through the wind to see what it was, but I didn’t have time to identify it before I realized it was headed straight for me. A raging fireball blasted past me about three inches away from my head. More fireballs incoming. Using pinpoint precision, I dodged each oncoming projectile until I was about five hundred feet from the ground. I turned around in midair and flew opposite the direction of my target. With two-hundred fifty feet to spare, I pulled up and leveled out just above the ground, gliding at incredible speeds. With the source of the fireballs right in front of me, I dissolved the wings in favor of skates and skidded on the edges at a ninety-degree angle, slowing me to a stop adjacent my target. A redhead who was barely shorter than me and sporting sweatpants and a black sleeved tank top. I could tell she was the pyrokinetic I was looking for, mainly because her hair was on fire. She spoke. “Ugh, Dang it! How many times am I going to deal with you Chroma-wielding knuckleheads?!?” “Wait, whoa-whoa-whoa! I’m not here to fight you!” “Like heck you aren’t!” Flames spawned at her feet and she took a rushing position. This might not end well.

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galivantingg · 5 years

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Behind Those Eyes

Chapter 5

We ended up drawing straws. We didn't even bother including Oracle; the little cheat. I got one of the teens, which was fine really, except Waya got the other and used a Command on me. You can't trust anyone these days. After the meeting I booked it. I wasn't scheduled for patrol tonight and I've got homework to do. Leaving the cave I made sure no one was around before shifting. The team doesn't know my civilian form and I wanted to keep it that way. Walking back to the orphanage I took the time to look around.

The leaves were turning a hundred different shades of red, orange and yellow. I breathed deeply, taking in the smell of the coffee shop mixing with the bakery beside it. There weren't many people walking around, but every block or so I'd spot dogs playing in the leaves and their owners smiling fondly at them.

Reaching my destination, I opened the door to chaos. There's no place like home. As soon as little Mason spotted me I knew I wasn't going to get a moment of peace for the next few hours.

"Neth, Neth!" he exclaimed, a large smile overtaking his face and his arms waving around in excitement.

"Hey there little monkey," I said, reaching down to pick him up. "Were you good today for Mommy?" Mason had been at the orphanage for three years and started calling Helen, the woman who runs this place, his mom. We all decided it'd be best not to tell him that she's not his biological mother. She has raised him.

He nodded enthusiastically and launched into the thrilling tale of his day. I nodded along and laughed at his re-telling of who stole all the juice boxes at school, and carried him into the mess hall. Everyone else was there with the exception of Jason and Emmett, who were already asleep, and Helen, who was still in the kitchen. I put Mason down in his seat before heading into the kitchen. Nell and Noah were moving around the kitchen gathering plates, cutlery and cups like a well oiled machine. I grabbed the plates and the place mats before heading out to the mess hall again.

Minutes later the table was set and Helen, Nell, Noah and I were dishing out the food for all the younger kids. The conversation was dominated by the little one; who saw who at recess, who ate where at lunch, etcetera. Most of the kids go to the same elementary school, Helen drives them every morning. Nell, Noah and I all go to the same high school. When they first started I would spend as much time as possible with them until the made their own friends. Most of us have different last names, but the other kids still knew we come from the orphanage.

After dinner I was delegated to homework duty. We all sat in the living room with notebooks and folders scattered across couches and coffee tables. The little ones loved complaining about how much homework they had, until they noticed the pile of textbooks Noah carried in for us three. We all settled, surrounded by the sounds of pencil on paper, slight shifting in seats, and explanations murmured softly. In these small moments of silence, surrounded by people who knew what I had been through better than anyone else, I could almost pretend I was normal.

No superhero identity, no hidden past life. Just kids who would stand by me simply because we understand each other, I lived for these moments, and I continued with my superhero life so these moments could stay.

. . .

When the weekend came, it was time to recruit the teenagers. I grabbed my suit, the last of my mother that I owned; and like any normal teenager, jumped out of my window. Okay, less jumped and more climbed out and hoisted myself up onto the roof. Gracefully, obviously. Who can't climb out a 4th floor window and pull themselves up to the roof any other way?

Even after all these years I still couldn't quite believe it when my mom's old clothes and her favourite blanket also morphed with my body. If that lightning could give me another superpower, who says it couldn't also bind my DNA with cloth? Totally reasonable. For a minute I just paused. The sun wasn't even a quarter of the way up. The bakery was already open, but the windows in the coffee shop were dark. A few people could be seen walking energetic dogs and stifling yawns.

There was a light breeze, reminding us that winter isn't far off. Nobody had seen me yet. It was one of those rare moments where I was in my suit but I was still invisible. I closed my eyes and leaned back, drinking in the smells of fresh pastries and the clean cold smell of the air. Sometime later I pulled myself to my feet and started jumping across roofs. I tried to stay high up and out of sight until I reached the first house. Silently dropping down into an alleyway I glanced around before walking up to the house. I knocked and took a step back, running through what I was going to say for the fourth time. The door swung open to reveal a short middle aged woman.

"Hello," she said cautiously, eyeing my suit. Despite being called Chameleon, I did not blend into the background. I smiled.

"Mrs. Wins, right?" I asked. She nodded. I'm guessing you know who I am, and probably why I'm here. Could I come in?" She still looked wary, but reluctantly opened the door for me to enter. I closed and locked the door behind myself while she went to get who I was here for. Three years of recruiting and I still stood awkwardly in the foyer not knowing where to go. I heard soft talking up the stairs, followed by two pairs of feet padding down the staircase. I followed Mrs. Wins and her daughter into the living room. Mr. Wins was sitting on one of the couches, staring at his hands folded on his lap.

At the sound of us entering he looked up and got to his feet. "Pleased to meet you, Chameleon." He said, firmly shaking my hand.

"Likewise, Mr. Wins," I smiled at him. "I'm sure you all would just like to cut to the chase; is it alright if we sit?" I sat on the couch opposite the Wins, while Jay sat in an armchair facing the two couches. "I would like to start off by saying thank you for letting me enter your home," I said. "I know how difficult it is for parents to let us recruit their teenager. I'd also like to say that we try very hard to not recruit teenagers, one of the rules I myself helped establish. It's unfair to put so much responsibility on them, even if they have the power to help.

That being said," I paused, looking at all of them in the eyes, "we believe Jay can rise to the occasion. We have been watching her for a little while and are very impressed." I leaned back, "Do you have any questions?"

Jay remained silent, still processing everything, but the Wins launched into parent mode. "How long is Jay expected to fight for you?" Mrs. Wins asked. Something in her tone unnerved me so I chose my words carefully.

"Should Jay decide to join, she will be given a year long contract to the date. If in a year she decides she doesn't want to stay with us, her contract won't be renewed."

"Contract?" Mr. Wins asked. "What are the details of this contract."

"Unrestricted health care for her and her family, insurance on your home and vehicles should they be damaged in an attack, and Jay will be paid $10,000 a month plus bonuses for certain assignments. We alternate first respondents and patrols, and you'd get a bonus for fighting when you weren't scheduled to." The bonuses were also my idea, if we were putting our lives on the line when we weren't on duty we deserved compensation.

At this Jay seemed to snap out of her shock. "$10,000? That seems like a lot per month."

"Others say the same when they find out but you have to understand that you are expected to walk into a potentially hostile situation with only your partner. The police are bound by laws that prevent them from just charging in but those laws don't apply to us." The three of them were silent for a while after that, fully realising the weight of the responsibility.

"You mentioned a partner," Jay started.

"There are currently two members that do not have partners, because they've been in the Agency for so long. Every new initiate gets sponsored by a senior member and they get partnered with someone who has a minimum of one year of experience." The first time we recruited we paired newbies up together; that lasted less than a month.

Jay nodded, her eyes going out of focus as if her mind was travelling a mile a minute. Mrs. Wins spoke up at this point. "Jay, I know you are almost an adult but this time I would like to have a say in this." Jay nodded and her mom continued. "What guarantee do we have that Jay will remain safe?"

"Mrs. Wins, I look after all the recruits. I make sure they know how things work, where things are, and that their sponsors are teaching them properly. I promise that if she is in mortal danger I will dissolve her contract." They all looked directly at me at hearing this.

"You can do that?" Jay asked.

"I would do anything to protect any initiate, and should you join you'll see why I can make such promises."

"When do we have to make our decision?" Mr. Wins asked.

"We will need your decision today, and I would like to stay here while you make your decision. If Jay agrees, I would be taking her with me to get her first look at the Agency. Initiation Day is next week, and we'd like to tell and show her as much as possible before then." The cave was a big place, and newbies usually got very overwhelmed on their first visit. That's why we start a week early.

"Could you wait in the kitchen while my parents and I talk?" Jay said.

"Of course, take as long as you need." I stood from the couch and headed through the doorway on the left to the kitchen to wait; the bottom of my cape snapping behind me. Was it practical having a cape? No. Did I make the decision when I was much younger and it was too late to change it? Yes. I changed the style of the cape to work better with my wings, something else I decided on when I was younger that is too late to change. At least I look cool. I pulled out my phone to text Waya, letting him know what was going on.

Me: At the Wins. They're deciding right now. What's the address for the Budan's?

Waya: 15 Poplar Road. Met's on his way back with Jacob. I'll have him wait for you before the crash course.

Me: Copy. Thanks Waya.

Thirty minutes later I was joined in the kitchen by the Wins. "Good news," Jay said smiling. "My parents think I'm old enough to become the equivalent of a soldier."

#writeblr #new writeblr #writers on tumblr #original work #original writing #writing #story #supers #superheroes #super powers #powers #oc

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