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paterson-blue · 3 years

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Shadow of the Sea: Chapter 1

Summary: Kylo is used to being alone. It's how he's survived this long, in the cold ocean depths. He can take care of himself. Other creatures--other merfolk--are dangerous; he has the scars to prove it. Humans, however, are the worst of all. But one day, Kylo finds he has no other choice but to turn to one for help. The human he meets is nothing like he expects, and all he knows is he wants more. Is he willing to pay the price?

Word Count: 4,394

Warnings: fem!AFAB!reader, plot set up, kylo ren needs a hug confirmed, non-graphic descriptions of violence & bodily harm, brief mentions of blood & wounds, very vague medical descriptions lol, minor character death (happens off screen), oh but there's also one that happens on screen but it's brief, big time ocean nostalgia from your dear author— let me know if I need to add anything else!

A/N: Thank you @paper-n-ashes for beta reading! Icon behavior tbh.

Prefer AO3? I gotcha!

Kylo prided himself on his independence—his ferocity, his ability to fight his way out of every corner. His body was scarred and battle-hardened, but that didn’t matter. It was proof he was a survivor, and it’s not like he had anyone around him to care about his appearance. Most creatures he saw took one look at his massive form and ran.

He was intimidating, all muscle, his fins torn from previous fights. While his skin was pale, his scales were an onyx color; it made blending into the ocean depths easier. He couldn’t understand why merfolk’s standard of beauty was a brightly colored tail; didn’t it make camouflaging more difficult?

He guessed most merfolk didn’t care about that. They lived in large groups, colorful and cheerful and busy amongst other plant and animal life. Not many delved into the cold, murky areas Kylo had made his home. But he’d been there as long as he could remember, and there was no sense in changing things. He wouldn’t be welcome in the warmer waters anyway. They didn’t want him, and he didn’t want them.

So he kept away, and no one dared bother him. Those that did quickly learned not to. He had killed many creatures, and while it was all in defense, his reputation still preceded him. After all, he’d once fought one of the most dangerous predators the ocean knew, and he’d won.

He’d killed a human, after they’d captured him in their net. He’d overpowered them easily, yanked them from their boat into the water; he hadn’t even flinched when their little fishing knife plunged into his side. He’d watched with a furious gaze as the air left their lungs, their pathetic struggling eventually ceasing. Then he’d calmly cut himself loose from the netting. The knife wound had scarred over, but it was just one more to add to his collection.

Yes, Kylo prided himself on his abilities. He had no fear, no weakness; he never ran from a fight.

He was running now.

He’d been foolish. He should have realized why his normal hunting grounds had been so devoid of fish for the past few days—he should have seen the signs, should have been more careful. But hunger makes you desperate; makes you stupid. He hadn’t been paying attention, too focused on the singular fish he’d found.

It seemed to happen all at once. A sudden blow to his head that left him reeling, pain shooting through his skull as he whips himself around in attempts to find his attacker. A searing burn in his side the exact moment he feels a sharp pinch at the back of his neck. His head starts to spin with confusion, the scent of his own blood in the water.

He spots a figure out of the corner of his eye, and his heart leaps into his throat. It was a human, and they had some sort of weapon pointed right at him.

Kylo doesn’t think—he just bolts. They don’t seem to follow him at first, and he doesn’t understand why until he starts to feel the first symptoms of whatever they’ve injected him with. It makes him dizzy, makes his vision start to blur as a sickening metallic taste fills his mouth.

No, he thinks. I won’t let them do this.

He pulls strength from deep within and pushes himself to swim faster, farther. He hears a muffled shout from behind, and oh, they’re pursuing him now.

He swims frantically, skirting around rocks and through kelp forests, desperately trying to lose them even though he thinks he might hear the dull thrum of a boat motor over the thudding of blood in his ears. Kriff, he was so tired. It would be so easy to let the human magic overtake him, to sink to the ocean floor.

Was this death? A dreamless sleep that crept over your senses until you had no choice but to succumb to it? Kylo doesn’t want to die, not like this. Not where they can get to him, at least.

He doesn’t know where he’s going, doesn’t even know where he is until he catches a quick glimpse of a familiar rock formation. His mind is in shambles, drugged and panicked, lacking oxygen as his gills burn with the strain of his labored breathing.

A cove. Not too far from here. Too shallow for a boat, too rocky for humans. A cave to shelter in. Go, swim, fast, now, now, go.

The voice in his head doesn’t feel like his own—it’s frantic, urgent, thoughtless. Usually he was so composed, controlled. The threat of death had turned him into nothing more than an animal; he’s never felt so small.

He ducks and weaves as he swims towards the hidden cove, trying to convince himself he’s doing it on purpose and not just fading in and out of consciousness. If he can just stay awake a little longer, if he can just make it to that kriffing cave, he can die with dignity. Alone and cold, drugged and bleeding, but away from the humans trying to hurt him.

Kylo nearly loses his speed when he breeches the shallow waters of the cove, his mind wanting to shut down now that he’s made it. He forces himself to keep going despite his nausea and lightheadedness. His lungs are screaming, muscles aching; he scrapes his tail against the rocky outcroppings as he searches frantically for the mouth of the underwater cave.

It’s here, it’s here. I know it’s here, I’ve seen it, I mapped it. Where is it?!

His hands snag against an opening, just barely big enough for him to squeeze through, and he darts into it. It’s a tight fit, and for a brief second Kylo is terrified he’ll get stuck and pass out from whatever the humans hit him with—he’ll die, trapped, never to be found.

But then, quick as a flash, he’s through to the other side. The small tunnel opens up into a larger cavern, protected from the elements and decorated with several pools of varying depths. He’d explored it once, curious, thinking it would be a nice place to hide. It was a little too close to humanity for his comfort, but then again he’d never seen this area very populated. He’d figured he’d keep it in the back of his mind for later.

Turns out later was now.

Kylo pulls himself to the edge of the main and deepest pool, looking around urgently through spotty vision. There was a pool in the corner, half hidden by rocks—it looked shallow, but just deep enough to be submerged. Exhaling fast, he hauls himself up and out of the water, coughing and choking as his body tries to adjust from using his gills to his mouth and nose to breathe. It was never an easy transition, and he hated doing it, but right now it was what he needed.

He growls to himself as he pulls his heavy body along the rough stone cave floor, his normally nimble tail a dead weight. If he wasn’t about to faint, he thinks he’d be a bit more graceful. By the time he rolls unceremoniously into the shallow pool, his palms are all scraped up and bleeding. He doesn’t care; barely feels the sting. He’s not really feeling much of anything at this point, head spinning out of control.

Laying like this on his back, head propped up against the ledge of the pool, Kylo gazes up at the jagged rock ceiling. His lungs crackle as he heaves in breaths, heart still pounding loudly. It’s hard to hear anything else, and he wonders again if his attackers are closing in on him. Does it even matter? His dying mind questions. He doesn’t have an opportunity to think of a retort before his body finally breaks, and he succumbs to the drug induced sleep.

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You wake to the familiar sounds of distant crashing waves, whistling wind, and calls of seagulls. After years on the island, the noise was a comfort.

You’d grown up here, in this same cottage by the sea--been raised fishing, hunting for mussels, searching through tide pools. You and your siblings would bike into town to sell your wares at the local market before heading down to the pier to watch the boats come and go. It was a simple life, sometimes a little isolated, but it was good nonetheless. You loved the island and the ocean, and held great respect for them both. If you honor them, they will honor you--at least, that’s what your mother always said.

Your siblings grew up and moved to the mainland, but still you stayed. Got yourself a little apartment in town above the local grocery, worked at the marina as a clerk, and visited your parents on the weekends. When your mother passed, your father followed just weeks later—a broken heart, everyone said. Suddenly, your beloved little slice of heaven—of home—belonged to you.

So you moved back into the cottage you grew up in, a place haunted by the ghosts of memories and the sounds of the sea. If you’re being honest with yourself, you wouldn’t trade it for the world, no matter how many times you pretend to entertain your siblings’ urging to rent the place out. Think of all the money you’d make. It’s the perfect vacation spot.

Maybe so, but you don’t care. You don’t want strangers in your home—not those tourists who come to fawn over the village, who eat up the landscape with cameras without really seeing it, who gawk at the fishermen, who laugh at the prices at the market. They would probably call your cottage quaint and cute. You could picture them tittering over your family photos on the mantle, over the door frame where heights had been marked over the years.

Tourists, who both long for and pity an isolated life on the ocean. Oh, they have it so easy here, away from the stress of the city. Oh, could you imagine living this way, barely scraping by?

No, you didn’t want them in your home, a place so sacred. You didn’t care what money you were missing out on—you got by fine with your pay from the marina, and picking up shifts at the local cafe. You loved your cottage—savored every creaky floorboard, every leaky windowsill. The drip of the bathroom faucet, the howl of the sea wind through the chimney—these were the sounds of familiarity, of safety. No one would appreciate them like you did.

Twisting around in bed, you turn your gaze towards the open window that was letting in a fresh, salty breeze. It was early, the light still dim and grey, the air a little chilly. It makes you want to curl back up under your covers, catch a couple more hours of shut-eye. It was your day off, after all; you could afford to sleep in.

Except.

You sigh, scrubbing your hands over your face as you remember what your yesterday brain had planned. You’d told yourself you’d get up in order to gather mussels at low tide. There were plenty of tide pools around, especially in the caved area of the cove. It was your family’s little secret—the hidden grotto was all but invisible from the outside. The only reason you even knew about it was because your brother had been too adventurous for his own good as a child, always getting into places he shouldn’t.

Mussels, clams, seaweed, probably fish in the deeper tide pools—maybe some sea urchin you could sell at the market. Your stomach growls.

Well, that’s that.

Groaning, you haul yourself up and out of bed, wincing at the cold hardwood on your bare feet. You bounce on your toes, shivering, goosebumps appearing on your skin as you pad over to close the window. Despite growing up here, you were always surprised at the temperature. You stubbornly let in the breeze at night, all bundled up under your covers, pretending when you woke it would be nice and warm.

But nope, not here; even in the dead of summer the mornings were chilly. Sometimes you dreamed that you lived on one of those big, luxurious, heated beaches—hot sun and white sand as far as the eye could see, no craggy cliffs or rocky shores. Eh. You probably wouldn’t like it much anyway, too used to your own environment.

Glancing at the clock, you quickly throw on some warm clothes, half-assing your regular morning routine before grabbing your tide-pool hunting essentials: a flashlight, knee-high waders, a large bucket, and your trusty fishing knife. You take a deep breath at the front door, bracing yourself for the chill. Just think of the feast you’ll have later. And you can reward yourself with a hot bath and long nap.

It’s not too long a distance from the cottage to the rocky shoreline, and while the low tide has revealed the tempting sand leading towards the rolling waves, you head towards the jagged outcropping to the left. Years of following the same path means it doesn’t take you long at all to find the hidden entrance and carefully make your way into the cavern.

In the middle of a sunny day, light shone in through various cracks in the ceiling, glinting off the water and creating flickering reflections against the stone walls. Sometimes you came here just to think, or to take a dip in the largest pool. The water was always warmer here, protected from the full power of the currents by the rock face.

Now, however, it was dark—only the dimmest bit of grey morning light trickled in. You flick on the flashlight, humming softly to yourself. The melody echoes off the stone walls, and you set your bucket down at the closest tide pool, readying yourself to hunker down and get to work. The beam of the light scans the various pools as you turn to get your knife from its holder, and something catches your eye. It’s not much, and honestly if you weren’t so familiar with the cave you probably wouldn’t have noticed the dark shape in the far corner pool.

At first, you do a double take, eyes sweeping over the little red-tinged puddles on the floor. Blood. You grip your knife, mind racing with possibilities. Was there someone in here with you? Surely not. No one ever came out here. Swallowing hard, you take a couple steps towards the corner, torch in one hand and knife in the other. As you get closer, your gaze tracks the diluted blood trail into the pool, and at first all you notice is the black scales and fins of a fish. The grip on your knife loosens just a little, the fear of a possible threat fading.

It's a big animal, you can tell that even as you make your way over, and you wonder idly how it got in. You knew, logically, that the cave connected to the ocean somehow, but you can't imagine the tide being so high for a fish as large as this one to find its way into the back corner. You’re focused on this conundrum as you round the ledge that’s been shielding the animal from your full view--so much so that it takes you more than a couple moments for your mind to compute just what it's seeing.

The tail is thick and muscular, decorated in obsidian scales that lead to delicate looking fins at the bottom. There were smaller, fan looking fins on the sides of the tail--they were all ripped up, as if they had been torn in previous fights. Your brain clocks all of this in seconds but doesn’t dwell, because it’s focused on the top half of the animal--creature--merman.

Merman. A fucking merman.

The ebony scales at the waist fade seamlessly into pale skin and lean muscle, revealing a long, firm torso. If you weren’t so aware of the tail, you might--might--think he could pass for human. Well, except for the webbed fingers and razor-sharp nails adorning each of his hands. He’s half submerged in the water of the pool, dark hair covering part of his face so you can’t see it.

You stand there, frozen, staring, not quite knowing what to do. You weren’t… scared; weren’t even very surprised aside from the initial shock of seeing him. You’d grown up hearing stories, traditions, tales—it was more than folklore here on the island. Some of the elders believed in merfolk more than ghosts, more than aliens, more than god.

Mr. Mackenzie told tales of mermaids luring in his shipmates as prey, drowning them. You always thought they were just stories designed to scare children away from dangerous tides—and maybe they were. But other accounts, you weren’t so sure of.

It was the wonder on Ms. Fraser’s face when she recounted the long-ago memory of swimming along sandbars with a girl who could breathe underwater. It was the quiet reverence of Mr. McDougall’s voice when he whispered about removing an old fish hook from a merman’s tail. It was the tears in Mrs. Buchanan’s eyes when she insisted merfolk rescued her husband from a fishing boat wreck.

You believed them. You always had, even if you’d done it silently, bashfully. You knew those who still made offerings to the ocean and to the beings that dwelled within the depths. Your island community believed in things not seen, but passed down through generations of storytelling. It was your history, kept alive despite first hand encounters becoming few and far between.

Except, here it was—your own little slice of history, right in front of you. If you took a couple more steps, you could reach out and touch it.

Is he breathing?

The little voice in your head brings you back down to your body, and a sudden fear overtakes you. You can’t let him die—if he was even still alive to begin with. You glance nervously at the pinkish trail of blood leading to the pool; the sight makes you reach some sort of resolve.

Hyper-aware of the claws on his hands, you kneel down beside him, hesitating only briefly before you settle your hand on his large bicep. He doesn’t stir, and your stomach twists unpleasantly. Your hand slides down to his wrist, and while you can admit you aren’t an expert on merfolk anatomy, surely you’ll be able to feel a pulse from the spidery blue veins under his pale skin.

Relief washes over you in a wave when you do, indeed, find a pulse—slow, but strong. Okay, not dead then. Still, he doesn’t move, so you take it upon yourself to move his damp hair out of his face, curling it behind his prominent ears.

He’s handsome.

You feel yourself flush, immediately chastising yourself for the thought. This was—best case scenario—a complete stranger who was wounded and in possible danger. Worst case scenario… you didn’t want to think about. Needless to say, it was no time to be thinking about his level of attractiveness.

You force yourself back into action, cupping his head as you hold your hand under his nose. His breathing is steady, and you gently lay his head back where it rested on the rock ledge. Your fingertips brush against something, and you frown as you realize he has a lump on the back of his skull—as if he’s been hit. You can only hope it hasn’t done too serious damage; it wasn’t like you could really take him to the hospital.

Your attention moves down his body, and you make yourself bypass the gills in his neck in order to properly gauge his wounds. Minor cuts and scrapes littered his skin; from the number of scars decorating his form, you figure these aren’t a big deal, no matter how nasty they look. Not compared to the gash on his side, at least.

You wince when you see it, the delicate flesh torn open and ragged. The cut makes you think it’s from some man-made weapon, and you shake your head in disbelief. Who would want to harm a merman? Around here, it would be blasphemous to do such a thing.

Blood no longer seeps from the wound; you hope that’s a good sign—and that the salt water has somewhat cleaned the area. You think it may have needed stitches, but you’re no doctor with the ability to do such a procedure. If you're being honest with yourself, it’s probably far too late for stitches anyway. The wound would be another nasty scar, likely similar to the one marring his face, but the area isn’t red with infection. That’s a good sign, right?

You sigh, feeling helpless. You want to do something for the creature. There’s only one thing you can really think of. Chewing on your bottom lip, you study his face again. He still seems unresponsive, and you can only hope he stays that way a little longer.

The short trek back up to your home feels the longest it’s ever been, and your legs and lungs are burning by the time you rush through the front door, having run the entire way. You heave in breaths as you pack some supplies into a bag. It wasn’t much, but you should be able to use the waterproof gauze and antibiotic ointment to dress the nasty-looking scrapes on his hands and chest.

You hesitate for a moment before going into your bathroom and grabbing the waterproof pillow you had in the tub. Maybe it was silly, but you hated thinking about him lying on the hard ground for fuck knows how long. You almost grab some food for him—maybe the fish currently thawing in your fridge—but you decide not to. You weren’t sure what he ate, and there was no telling when he’d wake up anyway.

Your breathing has just settled back to normal by the time you’re jogging back to the cave, careful not to slip on any of the wet grass and rocks. The sun starts to peak out of the morning clouds, letting pale beams of light warm the grey morning. The cavern is illuminated slightly better when you enter; you find you can lay the flashlight at a distance and see just fine.

The merman is still asleep, and you feel a little relieved. You aren’t exactly sure what will happen when he wakes up—for all you know, you’ll return later in the day to find him gone. As it is, you plop down next to the pool he was in and get to work patching him up the best you can.

Taking the towel you brought with you, you dab at his scrapes, trying to dry them a little before applying the ointment and then carefully using the gauze to cover the wounds. His palms are so torn up that you wrap them completely, your brows knitted the entire time. It must hurt, but still, he doesn’t stir.

Finally, you’re left with the gash in his side. You debate with yourself as to whether you should cover it or not—if you even can. The front of his torso was out of the water with the way he was laying, but that could change at any second, and any real pressure on his body would cause him to sink into the pool.

Your urge to help him wins out in the end, and you decide you’ll try to bandage it to protect it from any further irritation, despite knowing water would seep in regardless. You lean forward, extra careful not to lose your balance as you pat at his pale skin with the towel once more. It’s an awkward angle and slow work, you trying your best to be gentle with him.

You add as much ointment as you dare to the bandaging, not wanting to put too much onto an open wound, before fixing the gauze to his torso with some waterproof medical tape. There. Sure, it wasn’t going to work a miracle but at this point you weren’t sure what else to do.

He’ll be okay, you tell yourself. He’ll be okay.

You take a moment to watch the rise and fall of his chest, reassured by the movement. Your gaze again drifts to his tail in fascination—you hope that, maybe, you’ll come back later and he’ll be awake. Maybe he’ll be friendly, maybe the two of you can talk. It’s illogical, you know. This wasn’t some fairytale, this was real life. You honestly just hoped he didn’t try to rip you to shreds on sight.

It’s with this thought in mind that you shift away from him, telling yourself you can’t sit and watch him all day. You have several other pools to collect mussels from, breakfast to cook, chores to do. You’ve done enough, and you have to trust that his body will do the rest—you refuse to entertain the idea that he might not make it.

Sighing, you pull yourself further away, but then remember the pillow you’d brought along. You grab it quickly before shuffling back towards him. He’s got a large lump of seaweed shoved haphazardly under his head in what you assume was a desperate attempt to soften the rock face underneath.

His damp hair is surprisingly soft when you gently lift his head to clear the ground of debris. You can’t help but run your fingers through it gently, brushing it behind his ears, almost trying to soothe his subconscious. You settle the small foam pillow in place, and slowly let his head and neck rest against it. You hope it makes some sort of difference, though you know it might be a childish thought.

Your task finished, you force yourself away from him once more, even though you suddenly ache to continue touching him. Picking up your things, you continue on your mission of prying mussels from each tidepool. You move slower and quieter than you normally would, shooting the merman furtive glances every few seconds.

By the time you’re finished with the last pool, you can’t find an excuse to linger any longer. He was as safe as he was going to be. The only thing left to do now was wait. You spare your new charge one last lingering look, then grab your things and head back to the house.

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#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x fem!reader #kylo ren x afab!reader #kylo ren #kylo ren fic #merman!kylo #merman au #multi chapter #tori writes #feedback always welcome & appreciated!

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anthemxix · 3 years

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whumpay day 29: lies / terrible truth

request from @gintrinsic: I would LOVE for you to write something in the LU verse for the “lies” category…. Mostly because I stumbled across that ShadowEvil!Twilight picture a couple weeks ago and I’ve been excited about it ever since lol.

what i ended up writing doesn't really correspond to it, but for context, i believe you were referencing this gorgeous art by @lemonlurkrr, yeah? <3 <3

this will be the last whumpay prompt i'll have time to write, although i do have one last thing to share, so stay tuned for that~ thank you to everyone who's stuck with me, and special thanks to the folks who gave me requests! we're wrapping this challenge up with a bang...

warnings: major character death

Loosening their chokeholds, the shadows uncoiled from around the throats and limbs and chests of the battered heroes scattered, prone, across the battlefield. Shadows slipped over the blood-spattered grass, dark tentacles retracting into a central point like a reverse starburst. Coalesced, they congealed and convulsed, slowly transitioning into something solid, something three-dimensional.

Wild gaped, arrested by the strange transformation, as he squatted at the side of the eldest hero. Blood dribbled over Wild’s eyebrow, filling in the grooves and divots of his scarred skin. His hands, previously pressed to a weeping wound on Time’s shoulder where his armor had been sundered, now inadvertently withdrew as he gazed, mesmerized, at the pulsing shadows.

He startled when something brushed his ankle, but looking down, he realized it was only Time’s fingers feebly hooking around him. Wild leaned over and reapplied pressure to the horrendous gash, watching with dismay as Time coughed up speckles of blood.

“Wild…”

“I’m here,” the Champion said, ducking down further, hoping to fall into Time’s line of sight. “Don’t speak.”

Time shook his head, dismissive, and tried to focus his half-lidded eye on Wild’s face. “Wild. Run.”

A jolt of icy lightning shot down Wild’s spine. “What? No, I ca—”

“Find Twilight,” Time murmured, “and run.”

“And leave all of you?” Wild whispered hoarsely. His eyes darted to the now-solidified shadows, sculpting themselves into a humanoid shape, and back down to Time, who met his gaze with a clear and stalwart, albeit pain-filled, expression.

“We can’t all die here.”

Said clinically, pragmatically, without emotion, the statement caused Wild to shudder.

Yet he knew Time was right. If he stayed, Wild would be fighting alone, for everyone else was sorely out-of-commission. If he stayed, he’d be killed, and Twilight would be the only survivor of their band of heroes. His mentor had disappeared a half hour prior to the fight, off to scout ahead, and had yet to return.

But…

“I can’t abandon you,” Wild said, voice shaking.

Time inhaled a wet, rattling breath. “Not abandoning. Surviving, to fight again.”

In the middle of the battlefield, ruby eyes with a dangerous glint blinked to life above a wicked, jagged grin. Dark Link took one step forward, and Wild, throat burning with withheld tears, made the most difficult decision of his life.

He ran.

Wild sprinted through the forest without grace or subtlety, slashing down branches that blocked his path, gripping his sword so tightly that his hands chafed. He dodged around trees and leapt over insubordinate roots. Dark Link was not pursuing him, he was sure. No, that creature was back there with his friends…

But he couldn’t think of that. Instead, he forced himself to concentrate on his mission: Find Twilight. Survive.

Repeating this mantra to himself—find Twilight, survive; find Twilight, survive; survive; survive; survive—he wondered how the hell he was supposed to track down his mentor in the middle of an uncharted forest.

Then he abruptly burst into a clearing and slammed directly into the person in question.

Wild bounced off the Ordonian, who seemed unaffected by the impact, and crashed hard onto his backside. Dazed, he blinked for a moment, marveling at what surely was divine intervention, before scrambling upright and latching onto Twilight’s arms.

“Twi!” he gasped. “We have to go!”

“Go?” Twilight asked. He sounded odd, faraway and quiet, but Wild didn’t have time to dwell on that.

“Yes! I’ll explain later. We just have to get out of here.”

He released Twilight’s arms and began to dash forward again, only to be yanked backwards by his hair. Yipping in pain, Wild felt a spike of panic—had Dark Link chased him after all?—but when he was thrown back to the ground, he saw no shadowy, menacing figures, no piercing ruby eyes.

The only other person in the clearing was Twilight.

“Twi?” Wild barked, wiping at a renewed trickle of blood from his forehead as he tottered to his feet. “What the hell?”

“Wild…” Twilight sighed, raked a hand through his hair. His face morphed from unfeeling to sorrowful to resigned in a matter of seconds. “Why did you have to run?”

The Champion couldn’t restrain a strangled whimper and averted his eyes in shame. “I… Time told me to go… He told me to run because—”

“I don’t mean it like that,” Twilight interrupted. “I just wish, of anyone, it hadn’t been you. Even the Old Man would have been preferable. Hell, even the Sailor, young as he is.” His mouth twisted into a bitter imitation of a smile. “That makes me feel like a terrible person, but I think it’s too late for remorse.”

Dark Link and his mass destruction were nearly forgotten as Wild struggled to comprehend the bizarre situation unfolding in front of him. He felt as if he and Twilight were having different conversations. “What…? What are you talking about? You’re not making any sense, Twi.”

Twilight retained the humorless smile, and Wild felt another icy jolt. Something was very wrong. Instinctively, he stepped a pace back.

“I wish I could explain this, Cub.” He paused, frowning. “No, I… I shouldn’t call you that anymore.”

Nervousness gnawed on Wild’s gut. In his left hand, his sword dangled limply, and he re-tightened his hold on it, willing his voice to stay steady and firm. “What are you talking about, Twilight?”

“I meant it, you know.” Twilight finally looked away, stared wistfully off into the trees. “I… I loved you. But it doesn’t matter now.”

Loved. Past tense.

“He did something to you, didn’t he?” Wild accused, raising his sword and shifting into a defensive stance. “Dark Link. He’s done something to you.”

His mentor smiled mournfully as he drew his own sword. “…Let’s get this over with.”

The quiet declaration seemed out-of-place juxtaposed with Twilight’s formidable strength, which he threw into every thrust and slash. Wild dodged and parried, refusing to attack. Their blades clashed between them, momentarily locked in a stalemate.

“Come on, Twilight,” entreated Wild. “You don’t want to do this. He’s done something to you. This isn’t you.”

A modicum of sympathy flickered in Twilight’s otherwise steely eyes, but Wild’s plea, it appeared, was insufficient, as his brother pulled back and went for a low strike.

Twilight was strong, but Wild was quick. He managed to block every blow, even as their impressive force sent seismic waves through his bones.

Deciding at last that he needed to go on the offensive, Wild lashed out at his first opportunity—but mid-swing, his arm froze, muscles seizing up. Startled, he glanced down at his disobedient limb.

Coiled snake-like around Wild’s arm, trapping it in place, was a shadow.

Wild snapped his head around so quickly that his hair whiplashed his face. He expected to see Dark Link looming behind him, bloodlusty grin glimmering, but there was no one. Another shadow wound like ivy around Wild’s other arm, curled around his legs to immobilize him.

When he turned back to Twilight, Wild felt his heart stumble to a halt. The shadowy tentacles stretched from Twilight’s own shadow. Wild swore the man’s eyes glinted red for a second.

“Twi?” Wild choked. Tears slicked his cheeks. His mentor, his brother, approached him slowly, lifting his sword. “Wh-what are you—? What are you—?”

“I really did love you, Wild,” Twilight said. “That was genuine.”

“Th-then why? Why are you doing this?”

The shadows dragged Wild to his knees, collaring him and pulling his head down so he was looking at Twilight’s boots. He felt a cold blade graze the back of his neck, scoring its target.

“I’ll make this quick,” Twilight promised softly. Then, in a pained whisper, maybe not meant for Wild to hear: “Goodbye, Cub.”

“Wait—”

Twilight’s sword fell with such speed and intensity that in his final moments, Wild felt no pain, save for his broken heart.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu #lu wild #wild #lu twilight #twilight #fanfiction #fanfic #whumpay2021 #my writing #death

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remmushound · 3 years

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Curse of the clan, part 25! @scentedcandlecryptid @hoshisoul

The wings of the great falcon guided her travel through the Hidden City air. Her flight feathers harnessed the wind to carry her higher and higher toward the artificial sky. Only a handful of times in her life had she felt the chill of the true surface wind tickling her feathers; down here, the wind was warm and constant. No shifts in balance, no unexpected crossing. Just steady, generated wind to lift the flight-gifted yokai through the designated fly-zones.

The Frog Lands was a place that very few yokai ever visited. The majority of yokai that used the flight paths and the water trains to the marshy swamplands were teachers or parents giving lessons to their children warning them about the dangers of the swamp. Only the most toxic yokai were able to exist in the lands without wasting away to bones and dust. To all those who weren’t indigenous, the fog that patrolled the marsh was a cruel and unforgiving creature, somewhere between yokai and mist, and it hated outsiders. From the moment she was able to fly, Koya’s mother had warned her to never fly too low or the mist would claim her. It felt wrong to forsake her mother's warning.

The mask over her beak and nostrils would protect her, she knew. At least for the short excursion she had to take into the swamp; any longer than ten minutes and even the mask wouldn’t be able to protect her. She wondered if that strange turtle yokai could even still be alive after nearly two weeks alone in the mist that took away all earthly sensations. Turtles could go such a long time without eating, but without drinking? That was a whole other story. She hoped that he was lucky, and that she could find him to correct the grave mistake. If anyone could spot the exile, it would be her.

The wind carried her directly above the only town in the marsh. With a final deep breath of her oxygen converter, she dove low enough to the fog to give a powerful flap of her wings. At first contact, fog started to creep in on her and try to drag her down, but upon being met with the underwind of her wings, the fog dispersed and revealed the town. Laser-focused, her eyes scanned the docks, bouncing from frog to frog to frog until she found the outcast she was looking for. He was floating aimlessly in the water, looking up at her without truly looking.

“There you are.” Koya rumbled. She flew down low and locked her talons around Raphael, lifting him out of the boggy water. The swamp reached out and tried to grab her by the ankles, but her wings were stronger and she yanked herself free and back into the air.

***

Raphael gave a low, rumbling groan as he opened his eyes and found nothing under his feet. His groan turned to a shout when he realized he was in the air, and then it fell back to a groan as nausea and intense thirst crashed down on him like a tidal wave of desperation. What happened? How did he get up here, and where had the swamp and that weird frog gone? The last thing he remembered was being in that water and almost being dragged under, but now he felt sick enough that it was almost concerning! Where was the medic Leonardo when Raphael needed him?!

Raphael looked up at the one that was holding him, and he recognized her quickly.

“What happened?” Raphael’s throat felt like a cheese grater had slid down it. “Where are you taking me?”

“You’re awake.” Koya breathed a sound of relief. “Good. I was beginning to think you’d been in the fog too long.”

“The fog…?” Raphael rasped, then groaned once more, “Ugh… I’m so thirsty…”

“The King changed his mind.” Koya told him, “He wants to talk to you again.”

Raphael wished he could enjoy the news, but right now all he wanted to do was puke and then drink so he could puke some more. He certainly didn't want to see that mist ever again.

***

Raphael was dropped without warning. He landed hard and immediately fell to his plastron as his exhausted legs gave out on him. His body wanted more than anything to shut down and force him into deep slumber to retain what little energy remained in the mutant's body, but Raphael refused to listen to it. He was so close to getting the blessing, he couldn’t give up now!

He felt a tiny paw cup his chin and force him to look up. He recognized the civet yokai, Suevette, as she brought a cup of… something to Raphael’s lips and started to tilt it.

“Drink.” She ordered.

The mystery liquid smelled strange, like a mix of berries and something peculiarly fishy rolled into one white concoxion. Raphael didn't have the energy to fight against it. He winced as the alarmingly bitter substance rolled into his mouth, tasting nothing like it smelled and being too thick to be comfortable to swallow. He started to cough and tried to pull away, but the civet held him there and forced him to drink every last drop of viscous bitterness. Then she finally let him go and Raphael immediately sat up, coughing and spitting and trying to get the taste out of his mouth as it claimed all of his senses.

The taste still refused to leave him. Raphael clung tightly to his throat as his stomach felt uncomfortably full. But he was sitting up, he finally realized, and the numbness of his body was slowly returning to his control. The smog of his mind and sluggishness of his body was washed away. When he could finally focus on something other than the sharpening senses, the first thing he saw was the komodo dragon that had caused him so much harm.

Raphael gave a shout and started to crawl away, expecting the dragon to pursue him in another unbalanced fight. The dragon didn't move to follow. The Komodo wasn’t even on his feet! He was knelt down in front of a tiny, calico nekomata who was whispering softly into his ear.

“Tang Shen?” Raphael breathed softly.

The cat dragged a delicate paw over the dragon terror’s arm, kissing his head and pressing her nose to it in a soothing pressure. She was far smaller than the dragon, far older, yet the dragon kneeled before her like she was a queen. The queen cat placed a gentle finger under the dragon's chin to lift him up to look at her, whispering a soft dismissal to the beast. Only once he was dismissed did he dare to stand, towering over the nekomata and lumbering over to Raphael. Raphael gave a low whine and raised an arm to protect his head.

He felt rough hands reach into his belt and remove his tonfa. He gasped and tried to grab them back, the memory of his old tonfa being broken by the power of The Shredder rushing into him. The dragon wasn’t too amused with Raphael’s attempted resistance.

“Do you want my blessing or not?” The komodo dragon rumbled.

Raphael’s eyes went wide. “Y-you’re King?”

King Komodo gave a low purr and nodded. When Raphael said nothing else against him, the Komodo dragon started to whisper soft praises over the dual weapons.

“Has your clan a motto?” King Komodo asked.

“Er— yes! It’s Anatawa Hitorijanai.”

King Komodo ran a claw across the right tonfa and left the saying carved into the wood. On the left tonfa, his claws were slower, more precise.

“You fought with great vigor and survived me and the fog, so for your strength and perseverance, I give you three blessings. I give you oni, the name of the great spiked beast.”

“Fancy~” Raphael whistled, looking down at his spikes.

“I give you Onii, for the love you show for your family, big brother. And your final blessing will be joushi. For passion.”

Raphael beamed ear to ear as he was presented with the freshly-carved tonfa. “Getting blessed like a boss— wooooooaaaahh….”

When the tonfa met his hands, Raphael shuttered and shivered. His mind flashed with images of his family— every time he had protected and cared for and loved them. In his heart he felt a great fiery pride that forced him to sit a little straighter, a little taller. It was like he was on top of the world, leading his family toward the glorious tomorrow. In his belly, he felt a pure power bubbling; rage, stored and contained, ready to be harnessed at a moment's notice to protect his home and his family.

King gave an approving growl. “The tonfa have accepted you…”

Raphael hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath. When he finally sucked in a new one, the heat that built up inside him flowed down to settle at the base of his spine, pulsating like a second heartbeat.

“Why?” Was all Raphael was able to ask.

King closed his eyes. His voice darkened slightly as a stern, sincere power radiated from him. “When I was a hatchling, I was abandoned at the front door of a small orphanage. The only orphanage in the West side of the city. The only sanctuary for creatures like me who would have otherwise ended up dead or on the streets. Growing up, the orphan house was plagued with threats and violent attacks, but the lovely orphan maid kept us safe. My mother…”

Tang Shen approached. She brushed up against King Komodo before she came to Raphael with a gentle smile.

“You protected her while she was returning home.” The dragon rumbled. “So it’s only fair that I return the favor, and help return you home.”

#two down!#Mikey’s next~

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justimagineitblog · 4 years

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“I Can’t Lose You” Tyler Rake Fan Fiction - Chapter 2

A/N: Alright so here is chapter two everyone! Lot’s of tension and bickering and banter in this one - but also some pretty raw and tender moments towards the end as Tyler and Kate start to realise their feelingsssssss.... i hope you enjoy! :)))))))))))

I stop in my tracks immediately, the sharp pain jolting all through my rib cage like being stabbed over and over again with every step that I take. I curl over at the waist, my hands clutching at my side as if that’s going to do anything at all.

We’ve been jogging through a heavily wooded forest area, where I’ve been desperately trying to keep up with him. But he is a giant man, and as I watch him running I realise he has to be over 6ft, at least. Whatever his height is, all I know is that one of his strides equals about 3 of mine. It also really doesn’t help that each time my feet hit the ground, a sharp pain shoots up through my ribs.

I hear foot steps coming back my way, followed by Tyler’s irritated voice.

“You need to keep up”

“I would if you didn’t break one of my goddamn ribs”

“I didn’t break your ribs, trust me. But I can if you wan’t, then at least you’ll actually have something to complain about”

I glare up at him through the disheveled hair that has fallen in my face. I don’t even bother fighting back, as that would take energy I really do not have right now. The pain is clouding my wits, I can barely think.

Maybe it was the fact that I didn’t have anything to say back, or the fact that I cannot stand up straight without gasping in pain, but something alerts him that maybe I’m not over exaggerating about this. Because suddenly he’s kneeling down in front of me, telling me he needs to take a look.

“Let me have a look then” he nods, his face bored as though he’s just trying to get this over and done with to appease me. His hand reaches for my torso but I swat him away immediately.

“Don’t touch it” I hiss

He sighs “Look we need to hurry, just sit down so I can check it”

I reach out for the tree trunk beside me, grimacing as I lower myself to the floor in defeat.

“I’m just gonna look okay, I’m not gonna touch it” he reassures me as slowly takes the hem of my shirt in his hands and glides it upwards.

I watch his face change as my torso becomes exposed, his eyes falling over my ribs. He looks slightly taken aback at the sight, hanging his head.

“Ah fuck” he breathes, and I begin to panic.

“Is it broken or not?” I demand.

“No,” he shakes his head as he takes one last look at my ribs before carefully pulling down my top “But it’s starting to bruise… bad”

I watch his face closely. His once underwhelmed expression is now riddled with concern and guilt. On top of that, he looks angry, but not with me this time. No. this time he looks angry with himself. The air feels heavy around us now, and I feel like I’m looking at a whole different person. For the past hour that I’ve known this man he has been nothing but unforgivingly brutal. He has had no time for sympathy, and the only look I’ve seen on his face majority of the time is rage. My brain ticks at one hundred miles an hour as I try to comprehend how the man who killed a room full of people is now kneeling in front of me so sheepish and small.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise how hard I-“ he begins to apologise, his voice and face coated and dripping with shame. I almost can’t believe that the word sorry is coming out of his mouth. But suddenly a voice from his ear piece cuts in.

“Tyler somethings wrong, hold your position”

His eyes dart back to mine nervously.

“There’s someone else in those woods. About 100 meters out. They’re closing in on your position”

I can physically see Tyler’s stomach drop as the reality of the words set in. He immediately springs into action, holding out his hands to try help me up of the ground. As I stand up, the pain tears down my side. The only thing stopping me from crying out in pain is the fear of whoever is closing in on us. I might be in severe pain, pain that I don’t think I’ve ever felt before, but I’m not stupid. If we stay here now, we will die. Tyler will die. I don’t know this man. But I am not costing him his life. I can’t.

“Can you walk-“

“I’m fine” I lie, through clenched teeth. He hesitates, knowing that I’m blatantly lying as he stares down at me.

“Tyler, run” I growl. Taking my hand in his, we both take of in a sprint, back tracking the way we came in. We’re going back to the car. Abandoning all efforts to stay quiet, we crash through the bushes and leaves. This isn’t about stealth, this is about survival. The threat of someone who wants us dead biting at our heels, I have no choice but to keep up with him or we both die. I momentarily forget about the pain in my side that I’m sure is only being made worse by the countless tree branches that I’m crashing into as we run. But Tyler is the one taking the brunt of the tree branches and leaves that whip at us as he leads ahead, clearing the way. But everything almost seems to move out of his way as the brute strength and force of his body demolishes any obstacles in our path.

All noise seems to have droned out as my only focus is running with everything I have in me. That is, until the sound of a sharp, whizzing bullet flies directly above us. It misses us, but lodges directly into a the tree trunk that is only a couple of centimetres above our heads.

A heavy weight pulls me down to the ground, and I realise Tyler has dragged me down behind a large boulder for coverage. Both of us pant heavily, trying to retrieve what little breath we can. I stay crouched down behind the rock as Tyler fires a few rounds in the direction of our pursuer faster than the blink of an eye. Then, he turns back to me, desperately fumbling with his vest until he pulls of a grenades.

“When I throw this, run” he tells me firmly, as he rips the pin from the bomb. It feels like slow motion as his long arms peg the detonating bomb over the boulder and away from us.

I can barely hear him screaming at me to run as the sound of the explosive fills the air around us. We both scramble, fighting to get up of the ground and hit the ground running in an immediate sprint.

I’m not even sure if I’m running in the right direction, all I know is that I’m moving with every last fibre of my being. I keep my head low, my arms raise overhead in some kind of bid to protect myself from the bullets that are speeding through the air past us. My only indication to whether Tyler is still even with me is the sound of his crashing foot steps as he runs behind me. Suddenly there is a break in the wooded area we’ve been charging through, and we enter the clearing where the car is sitting.

“GO, GO! GET IN THE CAR” Tyler’s voice booms from behind me as I speed towards the passengers side. As I rip the door open and thrust myself into the car, I look back to see Tyler guarding me. Once I’m in he fires a few final bullets and suddenly he’s bursting into the drivers side.

Before I can even gather myself, Tyler’s foot hits the acceleration and the car lurches forward so ferociously it almost leaps of the ground. The back end of the car drifts, swerving left and right as the wheels spin out beneath it, before it suddenly kicks into gear and we take of flying straight ahead.

Without warning, we burst into streets that are filled and bustling with civilians. I can hear their screams they all fly out of our way. People are everywhere, and I can hear Tyler shouting for the countless people on motorbikes to move as we narrowly miss every single one of them. Boxes of fruits and products fall victim to us on our path of destruction as the car ploughs straight through them.

I’m so busy desperately trying not to smack my head on the roof of the car it swerves and bounces that I have no time to prepare myself when Tyler suddenly begins shouting countless profanities. I look up ahead to see the end of the road being blocked of by three police vehicles. Tyler slams on the breaks, the car halting so abruptly that only a miracle that my hands on the dashboard stop me from flying through the front windscreen. Without even a second of hesitation, Tyler shoves the gear stick into reverse with such haste that I half expect it to rip clean off.

“They’re police!” I exclaim as we speed backwards, away from them “Tyler stop they’re police!”

“No they’re not” he shouts over the now wailing sirens of the police vehicles that are surging after us. I furrow my brows at him as he spins the car around until we’re out of reverse, before taking off again.

I turn in my seat, looking back at the police in panic. I thought I could trust Tyler. Why the hell is he driving us away from them. I narrow my eyes, and suddenly see that those men aren’t officers at all. They’re dressed in black clothing; and it doesn’t take me long to realise that they’re have hijacked those police cars.

Chaos ensues as two of the cars spin out of control, colliding with food stalls and innocent by standers. The same voice from before bursts over Tyler’s radio speaker. The woman’s voice shouts directions to Tyler, telling him to turn right at the bridge. When I turn back in my seat, I’m met with a giant metal gate that we are only getting closer and closer to. With no sign of Tyler slowing down, I brace myself for impact, unable to stop myself from letting out a scream as we smash through it. I stare ahead in shock, mouth wide open as I realise we just smashed right through those metal gates, and are still alive. I look over at Tyler in shock to see that he looks completely unbothered by the fact that we could have just died. This guy is a goddamn maniac.

Suddenly one of the hijacked police vehicles rams straight into the back of our car, sending both Tyler and I lurching forward. We both look back in panic over our shoulders to see the man who was pursuing is in the woods, is now manically driving behind the wheel of that car.

“FUCK!” Tyler shouts, making a sharp turn to try and throw him off, but it doesn’t work. This only helps him gain in on us, as he begins to creep up towards the passenger side.

The sound of smashing glass bursts into the air and I look over to see that Tyler’s window has been shot and broken. Shards of glass cover us both, as the man fires of a few more rounds in our direction.

I see Tyler desperately fumble for the gun on his vest, but the second he takes his hands of the wheel we almost spin out. This man is going to fucking kill us if we don’t do something.

“Give me your gun” I feel myself shout suddenly, as I reach for his vest.

He shoves my hand away, before turning the car down into another street.

“I SAID GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING GUN” Using all my might I reach over and snatch the pistol from his belt. All in one movement I turn in my seat and angle myself out of the window slightly.

“GET BACK IN THE FUCKING CAR!” I hear Tyler scream at me, but I’m not listening. My eyes are locked on the driver behind us. The second he see’s me, he aims his gun at me, but I beat him to it.

Squeezing the pistol, I send a bullet flying straight for his head. As it smashes through the front wind screen it narrowly misses him, but the shock still distracts him and his wheels screech as he loses control of the car. This gives us a small advantage and a small window of time to get away from him. I feel a hand on my vest as Tyler tugs me, yanking me back into the car. He speeds up, putting his foot to the floor. I watch as the man behind us struggles to regain control of his car, fighting with the steering wheel until it finally spins out and he collides with the side of a building.

Tyler suddenly makes a sharp right turn, pulling us into a virtually empty back street.

“Out!” he shouts as we both scramble with great urgency and anxiety. He grabs my arm and we take off running up the stairs of the apartment buildings next to us. We rush up the stairs in leaps and bounds, constantly checking over our shoulders but there is no sign of anyone following us.

Just when I begin letting the smallest inch of my guard down, and attempt to catch my breath, it is quickly whisked away again by Tyler shoving me up against the wall.

“What the fuck do you think you were doing back there huh?” He growls in my face, pinning my shoulders back against the wall. This is a vast change from the worried Tyler back in the woods. The Tyler who looked guilty for causing that giant bruise on my ribs. Right now, with the look on his face, he looks like he couldn’t care less if he did it again.

I grab at his chest, trying to push him away, but of course I can’t. He doesn’t even budge.

“That little stunt you pulled back there could have gotten us both killed”

“But it didn’t! We’re here aren’t we!” I challenge him, my eyebrows raised. He shakes his head at me in bewilderment.

“Don’t EVER do that again? Do you hear me? If I fucking lose you I-” He catches himself before he finishes his words. I stare up at him, heart racing for what he was about to say. For what he stopped himself from saying.

“If you lose me what huh?” I stare up at him “Why the fuck do you care what happens to me?”

His chest rising and falling heavily as he looks down at me, our faces only inches apart. Our eyes locked on each other, I watch his internal battle. For a moment I see the smallest, fleeting hint of weakness. Of softness. Why is he looking at me like that? But it doesn’t last long.

“I need my fucking pay out. Try anything like that again and I’ll kill you myself”

But his voice sounds unsure. Like he doesn’t believe his own words. With that he gives me one final shove before stalking away from me to the other side of the room. I’m unable to take my eyes of him as I try to swallow and comprehend whatever just happened between us.

Just when I thought he showed me a moment of tenderness, of care, back in the woods. His normal disgust and hatred for me is back again. My supposed ‘rescuer’, who couldn’t hate me more.

He turns away from my slightly, busying himself with reloading his gun. As he does, my eyes fall over his arm - more specifically the blood that is covering one of them.

“Tyler you’re bleeding” I blurt out. It’s not a lot, but enough to show through his sleeve. Enough to do damage if left unattended.

He follows my gaze, looking down at his arm where blood is soaking through.

“Yeah a bullet will do that to you” I replies nonchalantly.

Thinking that he has been hit with a bullet I rush over to him, but he waves his hands, dismissing me.

“Relax, it just grazed me”

“You still need to cover it” I urge, completely baffled at how little he cares about this.

“Why the hell do you care?”

“Well I wouldn’t want you to miss your fucking pay out now would I” I scoff, watching as he rips the bottom of his shirt with ease until he has a long strip of fabric in his hands.

I expect him to fire back an insult, but to my surprise, he smirks. The tension easing a little, I also find the corner of my mouth curling up into a smile.

“Since you’re so worried, tie this around my arm” he raises his brows, holding out the fabric for me to create a tourniquet.

I snatch it from him, as he holds his wounded arm out to me. I try to ignore his eyes staring at me, trying to intimidate me as I wrap the shred of t-shirt around his arm. I also try to ignore the realisation that’s dawning on me at just how huge his arms are. They’re practically bulging out of his shirt. Making a knot, I pull tight. Tighter than I probably had to, but he deserves it for being such an asshole.

He clenches his jaw, grimacing in pain when I do so.

“Watch it” he warns me, but I shrug at his comment acting clueless.

“Come on, it’s just a graze, right?”

He stares down at me, his lips slightly parted to speak but no words following their lead. I know he see’s me as just a money grab. Some rich guys daughter who he needs to return home for a big case of cash in exchange. But that doesn’t mean he gets to treat me like an idiot.

I stare back up at him defiantly, not wavering under the firm grip that his eyes have on me. Then, if I’m not mistaken, his eyes flicker down to my lips. He quickly pulls them away from my mouth and back up ti my eyes, so fast that if I had of blinked I would have missed in entirely. But I didn’t miss it. I saw it.

I don’t have more than a few milliseconds to begin trying to understand what the hell that means when gun fire sprays the building we’re in. Immediately Tyler springs into action. The Tyler that was bantering with me just moments ago is gone, as the switch flips in him and he jumps straight into his stone cold soldier mode.

We both crouch down below the windows of the room as he grabs my hand and leads me out of the room. Once we are away from the windows we both stand, he lets go of my hand, replacing it with his gun. Standing protectively in front of me, we stalk through the abandoned apartment building, snaking through each room until he finds one with no windows.

He turns back to me, hand on the small of my back as he guides me into the room. Once we’re inside, he stands me against the wall - gently this time - and raises a finger to his mouth, signalling to stay quiet. I feel my ears prick as footsteps begin to approach from outside the room.

Tyler hides right out of sight in the door way, and I hold my breath, praying that he doesn’t get hurt. If something happens to him, not only am I a goner, but I will never be able to live with the fact that he died saving me. I can’t. The footsteps get louder and louder and I feel the anxiety in my stomach clawing its way up into my chest.

Suddenly, Tyler strikes forward, and the man hunting us down is flung against the wall. In a series of movements that happen entirely to fast for me to even comprehend, Tyler knocks the gun out of his hand and pins him against the wall so ferociously I can hear the mans bones cracking against the concrete. A knife appears in Tyler’s hands seemingly out of no where, and before my eyes I watch him plunge the blade into the man’s neck. He delivers three more fatal blows, slicing the bloody knife across the mans jugular vein over and over again.

And then, it’s over seemingly before it even began. The man falls to the ground, landing at my feet, with blood gushing from the wounds in his neck. Dead.

I pull my eyes away from the dead body at my feet to look at Tyler, but there’s nothing much to see. He’s already moved on, completely dismissing the life that he just took like it was nothing. He signals for me to follow behind him in the hall way, and when I take to long he grabs my vest and forces me behind him. Staying so close to his back I may as well be attached to him, we take a few slow, quiet steps forward. But that’s only as far as we get before two more men come flying towards us from around the corner.

I stumble backwards as Tyler attacks the first man, taking only seconds to kill him with a fatal shot through the chest. When the second assailant approaches, Tyler combats him with his fists. It only takes one punch to disorientates the man, who stumbles backwards giving Tyler enough to aim his gun. I watch with my mouth open so wide in shock it my jaw may as well have touched the floor as Tyler fires a bullet straight through the man’s head.

Two bullets. He has killed two men with only two bullets in what feels like a matter of moments. Now that I’m learning how lethal Tyler really is, witnessing it with my own eyes, my mind flashes back to the room full of dead men that Tyler had mowed through to rescue me earlier today. Now that I’m seeing what he’s truly capable off, that doesn’t seem that far fetched. In fact, it seems like it would have been a breeze to him.

The sound of Tyler shouting my name rips me abruptly from my shock induced flashback. He lunges forward, scooping me up with one arm and planting me firmly behind him. It’s only once I’m being shielded by his giant stature that I see what he was yelling about. Another attacker had been coming up behind me with a gun, and I was second away from being just as dead as the men around us. But Tyler had stopped that. He had thrown himself in front of me, literally putting himself in the line of fire to protect me like it was nothing. Like it was a reflex. Muscle memory.

As Tyler wrestles with the man who almost killed me, movement to our left catches my attention. Realising another man is running towards me at full speed, I spin on my heels and begin sprinting. As I burst through apartment after apartment, I can hear the man hot on my heels. I have no plan. No where to hide. Just every atom in my body screaming at me to run. Until, I meet a dead end. As I burst into the room and head for the door that will take me out to the balcony that wraps around the entire apartment complex, I shake at the handle desperately, just to discover that it is locked.

Back pedalling as I fast as I can, I turn to run out of the room, but instead I smash straight into the body of the man chasing me.

“No, no, no” I begin to beg, each cry for mercy louder than the other as I try to back away from him. But I have no where to escape. With one blow he punches me, delivering a blow to my cheek so hard I can feel it swell almost immediately. As I stumble, clutching at my face, he wastes no time wrapping his arms around me, wrangling me to stay still and comply as he begins to drag me away.

All I can do is scream. When I do, the first and only thing that comes out of my mouth is Tyler’s name. It’s all I can say. Its the only thing that comes to my mind. Over and over again I scream, calling out his name. Begging, praying that he can hear me. That he will find me.

My arms and legs lash out maniacally, desperate to cling on to anything that will stop this man from taking me. Stop him from taking me back to my kidnappers. Stop him from taking me to my death. But something else stops him. One single gun shot bursts into air. Not only do I hear it, but I feel it. I feel it fly so close to my face that I can feel it’s hotness on my cheek. But it doesn’t hit me. Instead, my attacker suddenly goes limp. His once suffocating grip on me going completely loose. As he falls, he takes me to the ground with me. We hit the floor with a thud, and the only reason I know I’m not the one whose dead is the fact that I can feel my goddamn ribs pounding even worse than before.

I look up to find Tyler standing in the doorway, his gun pointed at us. As soon as he knows the man is dead he drops his gun to the floor immediately, running over to me. I don’t know what it is, desperation maybe. Complete and utter fear. The fact that he had thought I was about to die. But for some reason when Tyler runs over to me, he scoops me up in his arms and holds me so tightly for a few moments that I can’t breathe. But I don’t care. As I’m enveloped in his arms, I’ve never felt more safe in my life. The sensation is overwhelming I feel like my heavy panting is about to turn into even heavier sobs.

“You’re okay, you’re okay I’ve got you” He chant’s over and over again in my ear, breathing heavily. For the next few moments we forget everything, clinging onto one another desperately. To scared to let go.

He lets go momentarily, but only to move his hands to my face, holding it firmly.

“Are you hurt?” He panics as he scans me up and down, desperation on his face. When his eyes fall over the mark on my face from where I was punched he curses under his breath.

“I’m okay, I’m okay” I nod and he exhales harshly in giant sigh of relief.

“You scared the shit out of me, yeah. Don’t ever scare me like that again” He tells me firmly as he can, but I can hear the poorly hidden shakiness in his voice.

As we stare at each other intensely, I see something I haven’t seen on Tyler’s face yet. Fear. He looks completely terrified. But not just terrified of anything… terrified of losing me… Everything he was saying before, about how he just need’s me for the pay check has gone out the window. No. In this moment, he couldn’t care less about his pay check, and there’s no hiding it. Right now, all he cares about is that I’m alive and safe, and in his arms.

TAGLIST

@hp-hogwartsexpress

@s-v-e-l-t-e

@chickensarentcheap

@alievans007

@gazzan-a

@farihafangirls

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windstormwielding · 3 years

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「 ...Hatchling. 」

“...haven’t heard your gruff old voice in some time.” Kōtarō’s posture straightened when he heard his blade address him. For an instant, it felt like the old shack that made for his childhood home and present surroundings blinked out, and he found himself pulled back into the sea of clouds that made for his inner world.

It was only for an instant, but the sight stuck with the Lieutenant all the same: the sky above him there wasn’t a clear, sunny blue. Clouds, ones at his feet and ones on high, were a charged black, threatening to burst with lightning and roar thunder at any given moment, and moving overhead and below with speed.

「 11 years will have passed soon. 」

“...yeah.” Now that was a comment from his projected instinct Kōta felt he could have done without, leaning back against the old wall and letting out a huff that came out more tired than he intended. It was one thing that he already trained himself ragged, with newer, deeper scars torn into the earth and cliffside alike outside proving as such, but while he would’ve appreciated hearing the often silent Hai’iro Ranmaru speak, it was another to be casually reminded of the looming anniversary of the Great Soul King Protection War.

Reiō, he always hated that name for it. They were more fighting for their own lives, their survival as a collective, than that of a faceless, nameless lynchpin. While Kōtarō found it easier to process those events in the decade-plus since, remembrance still stung. Fear and helplessness unlike anything he felt. Losing too many relationships in one fell swoop than can ever be counted. The death of the one man he respected and looked up to most, whom he only wanted to make proud one more time before his untimely demise. Oh how distraught he had been, in repressing the resulting despair as much as he could and sinking himself into his work, into bettering himself in case-

「 Why? 」

“W-why what?”

「 Why do you remain grounded? 」

“Ranmaru, we’ve been at it here since morning,” the windstorm wielder pointed out, even going so far as to jab a thumb toward the sunset-hued sky outside for his mentally aboding partner. It was rare that he had an entire day to himself, and of course he spent it dedicating in refining his skills and abilities with nigh bullheaded obsession, but he intended on returning to the Seireitei once he recovered enough of his strength. “We can get back into it later in the week, can’t we?”

「 That is not what I meant. 」

Oh here we go with the cryptic gotchas. Returning his thumb so that he may drag his hand, palm and digits, down his face, Kōta paused before he opted to take the bait: “So if it’s not me taking a break, then what?”

「 Why are you not honest? 」

“Wh- Excuse me?!” Maybe it was the exhaustion talking when his own voice rose, but those words still touched on a nerve. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

「 You first chose to carry this burden in the name of a man who has not walked among you, not for the last 11 years. 」

“Okay, don’t you dare bring Captain Ukitake into this.” His tone turned as sharp as steel at the comment, and his reiatsu threatened to flare in turn. It was not long after Aizen’s arrest that Kōta made such a pledge to his late commander, to be of better use to him and the 13th in the future, but it was the absolute last thing he wished to recall.

Still, as bitter as he felt, he knew Hai’iro Ranmaru was correct.

“Shit.” How cruelly that memory aged, from an ignorant and hopeful 4th Seat who saw not the storm on the horizon. Hell, none of them saw it coming. The shinigami in question felt his back ease against the wall he sat against, all while mulling over bygone times.

「 So what reason do you have to still seek such power now? 」

The answer to that is obvious, no?

“Rukia... She’s going to need me to back her up. I have a whole Division to look after now as Captain Kuchiki’s right hand. The newest Captain and Lieutenant pair. All eyes of the Gotei 13 will be on us. I can’t afford to slack off just yet.

“...I’ll need to be at my best.”

And for his answer, all he received was a dismissive scoff from the elder voice in his mind.

「 You lie to yourself. 」

“Lying to myself?” Here Kōtarō thought he was being forthright, yet his blade’s accusation came with a gale creaking the wood of the hut from the outside, as though wind itself was objecting to his questioning.

「 You pursue power because you are afraid. 」

The claim spurned the Lieutenant into trying to deny it, but however he tried to raise his voice, any attempt at a sentence died almost as soon as it left his throat. What could he say to convince his own id otherwise? Not five minutes ago, his thoughts still lingered on a conflict over a decade past; Hai’iro Ranmaru naturally would have thought it too.

“Well don’t you have me all figured out, jī-chan,” he finally answered, letting a defeated smile sit on his countenance.

「 There is no shame in such an act. 」

“In what, pursuing power out of fear?”

「 In figuring you out. 」

A snort broke from the swordsman at the bluntly delivered remark, and with it, so did the tension between himself and the spirit of his weapon.

“Pfeh. That too, then.”

With that, the pair allowed silence to reign between themselves. The clouds hanging high over Kusajishi seemed to rumble, ready to dispense with rainwater it had built up for several days of aridity with the coming summer season.

It only took moments for the first droplets to fall, pelting the roof little by little until a full shower began in earnest. A satisfied sigh left the soul reaper as he closed his eyes and focused on his other senses, taking in the soothing sound of rainfall and the building smell of petrichor from the outdoors.

Ranmaru’s presence, meanwhile, still lingered in his mindscape, seeming to enjoy the outside weather along with his wielder.

“...it’s been fun, though.”

「 Fun? 」

“Hm.” Kōta nodded to themselves as he sought to piece his thoughts together, while reflecting on more recent history for a change. “Over the last several years. All those techniques and manoeuvres? I wasn’t capable of half of that before we started training so seriously.”

「 Getting stronger... brings you pleasure? 」

“If you want to put it so starkly, then sure, I guess.” A low chuckle broke from Ryōhei younger before he continued. “It also means I understand you—and us—better in the long run, doesn’t it? I’d call it fun.”

「 Hm... I suppose it does, hatchling. 」

“I don’t know, I just... I want to keep flying. Higher, and higher still, until I can’t see the earth at my feet anymore.” He didn’t realize he started waxing poetic, but he remembered that wish well from when he was a little young soul: a great yearning to stand above any and every trouble on the earth, and equally untethered to the forces of gravity – freedom unlike anything he’s ever known. “That’s... just how it always felt like to me, I guess.”

「 Yet you ground yourself. Fear has locked you within a gilded cage, all while the clouds above call for you to ascend to their heights. 」

“Is that right?”

「 Of course. I am the wind at your back, the air in your lungs, and the sword by your side. I know when fear takes hold of you, even should you attempt to deny it. 」

“...it’s not like I’m afraid of death or anything. Kinda grown numb to that sort of thing after this many years on the job and all,” Kōtarō opined, feeling that a shinigami in his position would not last long in their duties if they weren’t used to putting their life on the line. Ranmaru hummed in affirmation in turn, wishing to hear his wielder speak his mind more. Anxiously, the man rested his hand on the back of his weary neck as he went on. “It’s just... back then, with the Quincy...?”

For a moment, he fell quiet.

“...they fucking steamrolled us. Slain us by the thousands. Hardly took them any effort, at that.”

As for the words he did not say aloud, though his zanpakutō understood as though they were spoken? None of us should have survived the war, least of all me. We got off lucky.

However, it was more than just fear. More than just helplessness. Hopelessness. Despair. Desperation.

「 ...so what do you intend to do, the next time your world threatens to fall around you? 」

There was one more feeling that took root in his soul, though buried within the chaos of the last day.

Memories of his own last stand proved... hazy, given he would only remember waking up in the 4th Division barracks after the dust settled at last. But, Kōta did remember the Seireitei, though ruined, returning in front of his eyes after days spent skulking, fleeing, hiding, and fighting within the city of shadows.

Then lights fell from the heavens, by the dozens, and from their descent rose those... things.

「 The next time providence itself chooses to become your enemy? 」

Squawking, shrieking, swearing vengeance in the name of their perfect, almighty god-king. Threatening to raze the one relief he found in his home materializing before him to ashes, after he thought it truly lost forever. After he finally had a moment to breathe—let alone recollect himself—when he reunited with those who still remained from the 13th. After they already took Captain Ukitake from them.

It was coming back to him, albeit in pieces, that those bird-beasts were so. Fucking. LOUD. Like a sickening cacophony of dissonant trumpets gleefully tearing into whatever peace of mind he still held on to, blaring into his ears lest he turned deaf.

The spark of hope he felt that that some of the normalcy he loved could return at all, only for someone to dare rip it away from him again, ignited something else.

「 The next time someone dares to stand in the way of your peace? 」

WRATH.

He stopped caring about power gaps.

He stopped compromising on what best approach there was to take.

He stopped worrying about whether he and his own would live to see tomorrow.

All he wanted was to see those Quincy bird things dead. Rally whoever among his men could still fight, and order the remaining ones to safety.

So, he brandished Hai’iro Ranmaru.

He saw Kira Izuru, a man who inexplicably stood while half his own torso was missing, going in as the vanguard against those lording, sanctimonious monstrosities.

Thus, Kōta summoned his cavalry.

Charged like a roaring typhoon, with a great fury he had not shown again since.

Fought until he could stand no longer, having slain one beast after the next with only red in his eyes.

The wrath he felt in those memories of the past simmered under his own skin in the present.

「 The Ryōhei Kōtarō I saw that last day, who did not let such fears hold him down... 」

Kōtarō was not alone in the cabin anymore. Not there one moment, there the next he blinked. It was enough to jolt life back into the shinigami, but he showed no fear before the intruder, for there stood the one same hermit he saw countless times within his inner world, now far and away—or a mere five steps away?—from the cloud sea it inhabited.

The same priestly kimono, with the same yuigesa. The same hauchiwa fan at his hip, with black feathers from the same black wings folded at its back.

Although, it was not the familiar face of a wise old bird Kōtarō would see. No, that mask fell away when Hai’iro Ranmaru made himself corporeal.

“...would break free from his cage, by tempering that same rage worthy of my power.”

Even his voice had changed with his younger, more human-like appearance, sounding smoother than Kōtarō had ever recalled hearing, almost melodious in his chiding. Next to one another, one could swear they looked like twins. The swordsman himself would have realized it as well, had he not sat there on the floor of his childhood home, looking shellshocked.

It did not immediately sink in that, at long last, his zanpakutō spirit materialized before him.

“If you can confirm to me you are worthy?”

It did not yet click that, indeed, he proved to possess the aptitude for Bankai after all.

“If you can show me you can rise above that fear?”

It did not come to mind that his years of training have finally, against all the odds, paid off.

“If you can prove that by besting the hells of yesteryear once again?”

No, above all else...

“Then I will gladly bend the knee to you...”

...what really stood out to the soul reaper was...

“...so that, as my master, you may soar to-”

“What the fu—YOU WERE YOUNG THIS WHOLE TIME?!”

“THAT IS WHAT YOU CHOOSE TO FOCUS ON?!”

#{ a badge of honour ☁ verse ☁ }#{ cut for length }#{ listen to the rhythm of the falling rain ☁ playlist ☁ }#{ ooc: I think after a year+ back on here it's okay to start moving one of his own personal plot points along- }#{ and after three days on this that's... 2250 words lmfao- }#{ the back and forth dialog was fun to write though-! }#{ honestly I felt super inspired by Ducky's drabbles so I couldn't help myself- =u=;a }

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crazycephalopoda · 4 years

Text

Grief

My father died February 11th, 2021. That, in and of itself, is a weird sentence for me to write. To acknowledge. To me, the reality of this situation that I find myself in has not quite sunk in. I feel it in waves, rocking me like a boat beating against a storm. There are times when the boat has a leak and I scramble on deck to patch it together, desperately holding my hands over the holes while water rushes in. There are times where other boats come near to try and salvage my wreckage, but the captain goes down with their own ship and whatnot. I have always been one for bad metaphors. Amidst all of this, there are times of calm and quiet waters as well, where the ocean seems endless and empty. My father is dead. He is gone. He will not come back.

I check my Facebook messenger and look at his icon to see if he is there or not. He is not. He will not be ever again. I feel a lump forming in my throat. I scroll through the messages we have shared for the past several years and question every conversation. Did I contact him enough? Why didn’t I respond to that one message he sent? Was I too short with him? Did he know that I loved him? I look back and analyze every photo he was in. Why did I make that face? Why didn’t I take more photos with him? Did he know that I loved him? Why didn’t I show that I loved him more? Why didn’t I? Why didn’t I? Why didn’t I?

Attempting to live my life normally is a joke, and a bad one at that. Everything reminds me of him and the memories we made while growing up. I had malt o meal for breakfast. I cried. He loved malt o meal, with a large amount of sugar and a small amount of milk. Just enough that it was “liquid but not runny” like he said. I remember just two weeks ago when he had eaten only one bite of malt o meal and turned it away due to being nauseous. I thoughtlessly plopped the spoon in my mouth. We all laughed at the realization that he had just had chemo and we were not supposed to swap bodily fluids due to the poisonous chemicals. It was not funny. It was. God, I hate malt o meal. Why did he like this stuff?

--------------------------------------------------------

When my eyes are closed, I see the same scenes playing out in my head that have resided there for the past several weeks. They plague my sleep and leave me restless. He had always had a cheery and rounded face, but those final weeks his eyes sunk in between mountains of cheekbones and gaunt skin. His mouth hangs open like he cannot get enough oxygen for all the air in the room. Maybe he wants to speak. But he doesn’t. He is silent at the end, except when in pain. His eyes are also open, halfway and drooping. His eyes are open, and he is searching but he is not seeing me. At one point, when he could still speak, he mutters about bugs crawling on the walls and a girl on the ceiling. We joke about how scary that sounds to make it less uncomfortable. Could he see us there, beside him?

Curly hair was his best feature, he always said. People from all over complimented him on his natural hair all the time. We had a hairdresser once who fawned over it. He acted embarrassed but I think he liked the attention. Those same locks of hair now lay disheveled and unkempt around him like a halo. My mother sprays them with water and tries to keep them clean. I was glad, at least, the one chemo treatment had not stolen that from him. We cut a lock of hair to keep. It is the only thing of his person that will not face or be burned when he is cremated. What would he think of that?

My mother and I are caregiver to him, and we drain fluid from his chest as it builds up to an unbearable amount. At first it is an alien procedure to me, with a series of steps and protocols and cleaning routines. Put on two sets of gloves, touching only the wrist. Clean the cap with an alcohol swab. Make sure the clamp is fastened before you attach the bag below. Don’t drain too much or his blood pressure will drop, and you will kill him even faster than the cancer. After a few times, it is normal and just another thing we do to help him. Towards the end, it is tinged red. So is his urine. So is everything else. He stirs at one point in his confusion and tells me “I’ve leaked, I see red everywhere”. There was none, he was hallucinating. At least that time. Is he in pain?

Our fingers intertwine periodically when I sit beside him. When he was still conscious, he would occasionally reach out for whoever was closest. This was the smallest of comforts we could offer him. He always liked to sleep with his arms above his head, but the atrophied muscles would not allow this for him. We moved him into position like a broken marionette throughout the day. His hands are placed on his chest after he passed. They were so yellow, cold, and frail. There was no strength left in his ragged fingers. I held one of his hands in mine and I took a photo. The yellow skin glares at me like the sun and I squint, suddenly nauseous. I change the photo to black and white. As I stare at that photo now, it seems morbid to me but at the time gave me something to keep of him. What will it be like to never touch him again?

The sounds amplify the hell I experience. After his first round of chemo, he was awake and aware of us for two days. During that time, we made mostly small talk. He was quiet and introspective. At one point, I sat across from him and worked on readings assigned from my graduate school classes. He broke the silence to say he was proud of me. I told him that I was sad he would not see me graduate. He was the reason, after all, I had pursued this path. This is the only time I saw him cry in front of me. We held each other and I listened to his heartbeat in his chest while he told me that regardless of his death, he would be there for me. I realize now that I never asked him things like what his favorite color was, which tv shows he liked now, what hobbies he wished he had done when he had the time. As he is in and out of sleep, my mother and sister tell him “it’s okay, you don’t have to fight, let go”. I cannot speak these words. I do not want to. On his last day, I had exhausted myself to the point I needed to rest. My head had barely hit the pillow before I hear a sound across the vast distance of the house that raised the hairs on my arm. It’s someone in pain. I rush back to his bedside as his head turns this way and that. His mouth now opens only to say “help” in a strangled, garbled voice. He is soothed with morphine until his whimpering subsides. That was the last thing he spoke to us. I never really said “goodbye” to him. Was there more I should have said?

For weeks I sat beside his bed at night and watched over him while the hum of his breathing machine aligned with the nervous fluttering of my heart. His gasping breaths... In for a few seconds, quickly out, then held for an eternity, then in again. Every pause between his breathing caused me to hold my air in my throat. Every pause could have been the last one, but it wasn’t. Until it was. My mother calls out to us, after he expressed pain, and we gather around his bedside. My sister, my mother, my grandmother, and me. My mother holds his hands and weeps. His breathing is different, not the beat I have grown accustomed to. It is quick, jagged, and quiet. At some point, it stops. There is an eerie silence, followed by the sounds a body releases shortly after death. It startles me, and an undeniable signal of the horrible event that has just unfolded in front of us. I can’t believe it. I reach over to his throat to feel a pulse. There isn’t one. I dry heave into the trash can nearby before I break the silence with a loud scream. As I browse Facebook now, I wonder how I can hear him again. Are there videos of him speaking? Why didn’t I record any videos of him speaking? Is his voicemail still on his phone? I am scared to call it. Why am I scared to call it?

--------------------------------------------------------

Reliving these events, the weight now completely crushes my chest. It caves in my ribcage, plows through my heart, and drops me somewhere against the cold of the floor below. I am paralyzed in this position, barely breathing. I am scared. If I am too loud, if I cry, if I talk, I am acknowledging this new reality I am forced to live in. I don’t want to live it. I don’t want to be a part of it. I reject this world, body and soul. I am scared. Frantically, my mind races to those who are still present. I have not spent enough time with them. I have not said all the things I wanted, asked them what their favorite color is, or recorded enough photos and videos. When will I lose someone else? How will I lose them? I am scared. My breath begins to catch in my chest, and I feel the room shrink around me. I will never hear him again. I will never see him again. I will never touch him again. I will never play Fallout (which he loved) with him or watch Alien Covenant (which he hated) with him again. I will never be able to fall into his arms and cry about something stressing me out again. I will never hear him tell me he is proud of me again. I will never see him smile after he tells a bad joke again. My father is dead. How do I grieve this loss?

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fallenrepublick · 4 years

Note

Can I request a Feral fix-it fic where the reader is a nightsister that is secretly sympathetic and empathetic for the nightbrothers, and after she overhears Asajj's plan to use Feral as the pawn to test Savage's loyalty, she decides to flee and save him? Something like she uses the last of her magick to create a false clone of Feral that is left behind and killed by Savage instead. She knew she wouldn't be strong enough to save Savage, but she could save Feral, and luckily they aren't pursued.

Heck yeah fix-it fics! This one was soooo long, but I did what I could for you. Enjoy!

Warnings: None :)

As someone who was given such a high-stakes position in the clan on Dathomir, you wondered why exactly it was that the likes of Asajj Ventress was allowed to return to the Night Sisters without question, and begin calling for the services of your family to her personal revenge. It was tacky, tasteless to say the least. Aware of her past and unfortunate circumstances as you were, you had a difficult time grasping the concept of her sudden superiority. Serve and protect your family was what you had been taught, yet, as far as you knew, she had done virtually nothing in return for the rest of you. In fact, you were beginning to suspect that her recklessness and unchecked anger would result in all of your deaths.

Mother Talzin, on the other hand, was more than happy to provide the woman with anything she might require to exact her vengeance on the Sith lord Tyrannus. That included a Night Brother servant. To that end, Talzin had instructed Ventress to travel to the Night Brother clan in search of her victim, and to return him to her.

The Night Brothers were separated from the Sisters for reasons that, silently, you still did not understand. The way it was explained to you, they were savages, capable of only combat and breeding, but not much else. However, that answer didn’t sit well with you, and upon further investigation against the will of your sisters, you had ventured out alone one day in search of the truth. What you had found there was enough to confirm your suspicions. Talzin had either lied to you, or was, herself, misguided in her understanding. The Brothers you had come into contact with were… normal. As a Night Sister, of course, they treated you with respect, yet they held an air of certainty about them as they spoke to you that convinced you almost at once of their civilized manner of thinking.

Back in those days, you were younger and more naive, yes, but you had not ceased your contact with the clan, having made a few friends of your own, namely the brothers Savage and Feral. Attached practically at the hip, the two had been inseparable since your first encounter, as seeing one meant with complete certainty that the other was not far off. Feral was meeker, though by no means weak. His mannerisms pointed to him as the voice of reason, a sort of calm before the storm that was his sibling. Savage was the strength of the operation, fiercely protective of his younger brother and skilled in combat to boot. Though, you mainly took to asking them questions about their lives in the clan and interests, wishing to turn your thoughts and theirs away from the pastime that so many of your sisters believed to be their only personality traits.

Those two were who you worried for the most as Ventress set off to recruit one of the members of the brotherhood. Their individuality and strong connection to each other would set them as prime targets for the abandoned apprentice, a fate possibly worse than death in the tests she would submit them to.

You took off after her, taking great care not to be seen, red clothing helping you blend in to the rust-colored planet surface. Much of the planet looked the same to you, and as you had eventually found beauty within a few of the inhabitants, the monotony of the world had begun to look increasingly dull in your eyes, a certain disenchantment occurring within your opinion of your home and own family, especially after Ventress’s return had led the whole clan to kowtow to her every whim.

Your arrival at the village was not filled with the sounds of your name or the gladness that you were usually met with by the brothers who had grown quite accustomed to your presence. You had come silently, carefully, and still, the whole clan was preoccupied by Ventress, her cold steely voice sending shivers down the spines of the weakest links in the chain. From atop a building, you could see the men,lined up in rows for her to walk through and judge like an emperor looking for a suitor. Finally, you found Feral, with Savage in the row behind, keeping a watchful eye.

She would not leave without one. The games began, each level deadlier than the last. Through it all, Savage stood beside Feral, instructing him on where to move so that he would survive. You flinched at every close call that happened, your anticipation for the worst taking hold of your nerves.

What a pathetic concept.

The final level came, the floors raising, a maze entrapping those below, and a deadly pathway for those above. And thus, your worst fears were realized. The last contestants remaining were those you had never wanted playing in the first place. You knew what would happen. They would be separated, one going off with Asajj, and the other remaining here. And by careful consideration, you knew which was which.

You climbed down as the platforms lowered, Savage already being practically dragged away by the witch woman, Feral was meanwhile held back by other members of the clan. It took all you could not to just blow her up where she sat, the speeder going up in violent green flames. But if you were caught here, everyone would be doomed.

You prepared yourself to speak to Feral, to explain to him that you would be there for the two of them, if even for this small period of time. But as you came up behind him, he was being taken away, flanked on each side by one of his clan members, your opportunity was lost, while your concern only grew.

“Wait, where are they taking him?” you asked one of the Night Brothers, a similar color to that of your friends. “It was Savage that was to be taken, not him.”

The male sighed, defeat souring the words from his mouth. “The two were close. Horribly so. The woman saw that as a weakness in Savage, and now, after he’s been given new abilities by The Mother, he will be tested.”

Tested. The word hung in the air like heavy fog as you watched Feral be taken to wait for his execution at the hands of the one he trusted most. Deliberation followed. Save him and leave Savage. Save Savage and leave Feral. Could Savage even be saved at this point? The answer was unclear, circumstances being as they were. Could Feral be saved? Yes. That was all you needed.

You rounded the back, your heart pounding in your chest for fear of what might happen if you were too late. Luckily, they were still within your reach and your approach gave them pause in their tracks.

“I have to speak with him,” you said, waving the two guards away.

They hesitated, looking between each other. “Our orders were to deliver him to Mother Talzin as soon as-”

“I know what your orders were,” you hissed, your threatening tone enough to make them back up. “But now you’re being ordered to walk. away.”

Dropping Feral, they headed off, looking over their shoulder and whispering amongst themselves. Feral was on his knees, rubbing his wrists and looking down meekly. Once the guards were safely out of view, he looked up, worry and fear distorting the brown tinted tattoos, more disconnected in pattern and function than his elder brother’s.

“What are you doing?” he half-whispered as you knelt down in front of him. “If anyone found out what you were doing…” He trailed off, unsure of what the punishment for disobeying orders in this extremely specific situation would be.

“I realize what would happen, but I’m here and I can help you.” You put your hand over his, pulling him up with you to stand. “We don’t have the time for this conversation. We have to leave. Now.” When you tried to pull him with you, he pulled back his hand.

“They’ll find us. We’ll never be able to escape,” he insisted, planting his feet firmly as he could.

A sigh escaped your lips, your brow forming a tight line above your eyes as you considered your options. It was possible to disappear, though at that point you would run the risk of being chased and the probability of failure was, unfortunately, high. If only there were some way to trick the system.

Bringing your hands together, green smoke flowed silently from the cracks between your palms, and their separation emitted a soft glow that released a denser fog. Congealing, the mist formed a body, kneeling in the position that Feral was in moments ago, matching his appearances to the most minute detail.

Feral was visibly taken aback, gripping your arm in shock. “How did you-”

“We haven’t much time.” You tugged him set again, and as his stubbornness had faltered, he was pulled behind you, balance offset by the sudden motion. “They’ll return for you in a moment, and when they do, we can’t be nearby.”

As he followed you, he kept looking back at the double, which remained relatively motionless where you had left it. “It looks so… real,” he muttered as he followed you.

“As it should. I used the remainder of my arsenal to make it. I’ll have to regenerate my strength if I want to do anything useful.” You cleared platforms up to the top of the valley with Feral following close behind.

“We can’t be made invisible or… hidden?” His voice wavered, apparently relying on your abilities to comfort his nerves.

You shook your head, the strain of the climbing and running causing you to begin to heave. “We’re going to have to deal with that part ourselves.”

Eventually, you were confident in the distance you had cleared, and you paused, holding your knees with your hands and shutting your eyes, trying to will your heart rate back to a manageable position.

He turned back, the emptiness of the space behind a comforting sight to his anxiety. “Savage,” he remembered, straightening himself and looking hurriedly at you. “We have to help Savage. He’ll be there soon and if we hurry, I’m sure we could-”

“No.” You shook your head once you had calmed yourself. “We don’t have time, and if we try, you know, deep down, that we would get caught.”

“B-But we can’t just leave him there, he’ll b-be…” he stammered.

You walked up to him, putting your hands on his shoulders, peering at him with a kind gaze. “We have to go. But I swear to you, you will see him again. You will not be apart for long.”

#darth maul #savage opress #feral #fix-it

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aubergineanathema · 4 years

Text

By a hair’s breadth

Part 1 - The ruin in the clearing: Preface Part 2 - Whispers in darkness Part 3 - Käsdorf and Wulvosburg Part 4 - Secrets behind stone walls Part 5 - Wind chimes and wildflowers Part 6 - Beneath the hillock Part 7 - Evidence of a struggle Part 8 - Murder of crows Part 9 - A play in the distance

------

Part 10.

He did not know how long he had been running. His labored breath and waning strength only told him that he was running out of time. How much farther he could reasonably go, and any indication he was even going in the right direction was woefully unknown to him.

Lost. He was lost.

Wet branches scraped across his arms and face as he careened deeper and deeper into the unknown darkness of the forest. The road had been too open. He knew that was how the specter had taken Bertrand away so easily, and so he had run back into the inscrutable thicket, hoping against hope that might buy him time. Time for what? He did not know.

But he would try. For Bertrand, and for the others he had lost.

The forest was not his to run through. He did so, but only in desperation. The forest seemed to enclose itself around him, muffling all of the sounds from before, and only impressing upon him his isolation. He felt alone, as though maybe the fiend had stopped pursuing him, but with the rain and wind and thunder, along with his haggard breath and trampling footsteps, it was impossible to even hope to hear if that fiend still stalked him.

Where could even deign to be safe from a beast the likes of which he had seen? Ripping the throat of one, decapitating another, and spiriting yet another away entirely.

Or, almost entirely.

Even if he was alone here in this forest, he was still in danger. A sitting duck for that fiend should he return, or any other who might seek to snatch him up as a prize: be it wolf, or bear, or specter.

He panted hard, with no end in sight. And as the rain fell and chilled him, and his limbs grew numb with the effort and the exposure, lightning struck again as an ominous warning, and the only source of light in this dark place.

And then, there it was.

At that moment, Gunther could see his surroundings for an instant. There was a mad fluttering of wings above him, and what sounded almost like laughing, high above him.

He wondered, would at least be quick? Let it take off his head in an instant while he screamed one last time for his life--for his soul?

A palpable dread washed over him as he realized that he would not get even a pauper’s grave in some slum’s crowded cemetery. No one left alive even knew he existed, or where he was. And so too his friends, would never get the decency. In fact, he tried to remember the last time he had even been within the walls of a church, let alone had made confession, or taken communion--and could not recall it in recent memory. Not since he had been traveling with Bernard, anyway. And even before, he had never had more than a few coins to rub together, let alone enough to pay any tithes. It was always something other people did. Those who had had the luxury, or perhaps simply those with better sense than him.

When he had been very small, he did remember the poor brothers in brown rags. They would travel through the cities on a circuit, preaching and chanting and begging for food. They had even shared their food with him, and the other young children of the street on occasion.

Blessed are the poor. They had always said.

Was that true?

Or, as the great fearmongers had claimed from every street corner each time plague swept through the city, or war threatened, did only Hell await every man and woman who did not repent, and confess to them, and flagellate themselves in front of the tombs of long-dead martyrs?

He had never really understood how it was supposed to work. No one had ever bothered to teach him. And now he was out of time.

Suddenly, there was a loud fluttering across his right ear, and a sharp sting of pain as a talon sliced at his cheek.

“Christ--” He gasped and could hardly gather enough breath to even say the words. He found he could not remember a single prayer. “Please--have mercy on me. I know I’ve sinned--but please--oh please--”

And then the toe of his foot caught uneven ground. For a moment he felt weightless, before the ground surged to meet him.

A life of fighting and fleeing and beatings on the city streets had taught him well enough to make himself small. His legs came up and his arms covered his head as he tumbled across the stony ground for what seemed like too long to not encounter a tree or be caught in brambles. He skittered unhindered like a rock across water, until he finally slowed to a stop. His body still shook with the impact. He was winded and dazed, and easy prey.

He whimpered as his frozen bruising limbs stretched around him like cracking glass, certain that each moment now was his last one.

Instead, he heard an inhuman roar.

Gunther forced his eyes to open, and forced his throbbing body to sit up, confused and disoriented.

He found himself sitting not on the dirt floor of the forest, but hard stone. Around him he could see the faint outlines of stone walls, or at least, what was left of some of them. A crumbling wall lay in front of him in a gravelly pile. That had been his trajectory into this place. Lucky, because as rough as his fall had been, it had been better than colliding head on with the stone wall not three paces to his left. Above him, he saw no canopy, but only the quickly moving clouds, and even the outline of the moon beyond them. And out in the darkness of the clearing, a swarm of crows circled, but, perplexingly, did not attack.

Not feeling able to stand just then, Gunther crawled over to the crumbling wall, putting the stone slab between himself and the creature outside. After a moment, it was only pure confusion that drove him to look out at the creature again. Because, in spite of the roaring Gunther could still hear, and the clear line of sight, he still lived and breathed. As he watched them, the crows began again to coalesce into a single form, only a few feet away from him outside the structure. They swirled together and he saw again the pale mask-like face appear and then change still further. Its mouth still open in a shout, the face became more recognizably human, until Gunther was staring not at a monster but at what looked like a young man. He finished his devilish scream, and began instead to laugh.

This man wore a dark brown tunic and pants, and there was nothing that might have signaled to Gunther that he was not a human traveler. His face was angular, but not particularly pale, and nor was it particularly gaunt or menacing. There was even a little color in his cheeks, flushed from the chase. He had bright blue eyes and long blond hair, pulled into a knot at the back of his head. Only a few strands of hair were allowed to fall around his face in ringlets. And as his laughing finally subsided, Gunther could see two rows of remarkably straight, white, teeth, with canines just perhaps a little longer than they should be.

“How irritating! It is so tedious to hold those forms for conversing.” The man said loudly, clearly speaking to Gunther in his hiding place. “Suitable for the slaughter, fair enough, but do you have any idea how hard it is to use a crow’s mouth to speak?”

When the stranger spoke to Gunther, he ducked behind the wall again, too terrified to think of doing anything else.

The stranger grimaced with disdain and began to pace back and forth. “Oh, come now. I know exactly where you are. You fool yourself by pretending I don’t.”

Gunther slowly poked his head out again. The young man, appearing quite beautiful now, stood with an air of confidence. It was the air of a nobleman, and the clothing too. Gunther had seen enough of them these past few months to know. He could only stare mutely at this creature.

“You’ve evaded me by a hair’s breadth, you know.” He raised his hand in the air, seeming to wave it back and forth at no one. Nothing like the claw-talons from before, these hands were pale and smooth, and the nails were long, but well-manicured. “Some men have the Devil’s luck.”

Gunther stayed silent, and the creature seemed annoyed by the silence, so he continued. “Places like this,” He motioned towards the ruin, “are protected by a tenacious sort of magic, although based on the look on your face you have no idea what I’m talking about. The Devil’s luck indeed. Most humans can’t even sense the ancient barriers. I think Christians call it, hallowed ground?”

The nobleman eyed Gunther with a grimace as the young man took another floundering look about the place he had stumbled into. In the dim moonlight he saw an altar pushed off to the side, and remnants of a few old wooden benches strewn about.

“You c-can’t come in here?” Gunther’s exhausted voice crackled out the question.

“It’s insulting, really, that the power of these decaying things persists here. Barring me from spaces in my own territory.” The nobleman growled, and punched at the air as though an invisible force truly did obstruct him. “I could destroy them, desecrate them with a little ingenuity, no doubt. But under normal circumstances why would I bother exerting the effort?”

Gunther did not know how to answer the question. He just shook his head in disbelief at the continued ridiculousness of the situation. This beast that now looked like a man, that had just murdered his friends and chased him through the forest, was speaking to him now as plainly and as civilly as a bemused gossip.

“Not that it matters anyway. You will have to leave from there eventually. Mortals are so dependent on food and water, and the like.” He sighed and waved a dismissive hand. “And as soon as you do, I’ll be waiting.” He smiled his wide, perfect smile, and Gunther felt nauseous.

More than that however, he felt a rising anger. “You killed my friends!” He shouted at the creature. “How could you? Why would you--and what--” He felt a sob catch in his throat as he realized the words he had spoken out loud. He shook as the emotion threatened to break upon him.

His friends were dead. And the thing in front of him was the cause.

“Well aren’t you curious?” The nobleman smirked, as though enjoying the display. “I thought I was pretty clear about why, actually. Those rabbits were not yours to hunt. But between you and me, I think I can be honest with you that I really enjoy the sport of it. Humans are just rabbits to me.”

“You’re a monster!” Gunther shouted back.

“I’m no more a monster than the wolf or the lion, little rabbit. Humans till a few fields and build a few castles and forget so quickly that they’re still just prey. ”

“I’ll kill you!”

“I encourage you to try!” The nobleman took a step back and smiled widely, beckoning Gunther to run at him.

Gunther thought about standing up and using the strange barrier the creature mentioned to his advantage. He had a dagger still on his belt. If he aimed right, he thought he might be able to wound the creature. But his body was still trembling all over, and he knew he did not have the strength.

He lowered his head and sat in a deflated heap, not having any fight left.

“How disappointing.” The creature suddenly seemed very bored. “It’s no fun if you give up--”

He paused mid-taunt to look at the sky, then turned his head to look sharply behind him into the wood. Gunther raised his weary head to see what might have been happening, but he saw nothing of note in either of the directions the creature was looking.

“Damn it!” He cursed angrily, and the bottom hems of his clothing began to explode outward with the silhouettes of crows once more. “It’s always something.

“Your luck will run out, little rabbit.” He spat at the ground in front of him, into the sacred ground of the hallowed circle. The spot where the liquid landed began to sizzle and fizz, blackening the grass there. “And when it does, I will come for you. I will smell out your blood wherever you might hide and claim what’s mine!”

His eyes flashed red as his body distorted, seeming to disintegrate into the crows about him. And then he was gone. And Gunther was again alone in the forest.

***

The rain had stopped, and the clearing was a little lighter now, as the clouds began to dissipate to allow the moonlight to shine through. Gunther did not know how long he stared at the spot where the fiend had been. But he did know when his teeth began to chatter that he needed to move.

If he didn’t, the wet and the cold would surely kill him before daylight.

He stayed within the ruin itself, too afraid to stray too far from the invisible circle that had apparently saved his life. He knew that it didn’t matter that the fiend had departed. He could return at any instant. Perhaps it was even waiting in the darkness now, lying in wait for him to try to make a run for it.

Waiting to strike.

So he stayed. He forced his tired, bruising body to move about the small square space, surveying the area. In the darkness, he was able to make out that one of the walls had partially collapsed, and that large parts of the roof had fallen in and was slowly rotting away. Even so, a large enough portion of the roof remained for him to find what he had been searching for. Littering the floor of the ruin were old leaves and twigs. With unsteady fingers, he collected up the driest of the detritus, those pieces which had been sheltered from the rain by the roof, and gathered them up into a pile.

He struggled to find enough dry tinder, and so he searched around a cracked altar off to the side of the chamber. Looking in crevices where leaves might get caught. Placed upon the top of the surface of the altar, he saw in the moonlight a small, unassuming amulet. He stared at it’s simple intricacy. Made of wood and polished stones of various colors, it was covered in markings he did not recognize.

As he stared, there was a sudden surge of noise. His heart nearly stopped as he could think only of the fiend returning and the flapping of crow wings. And as he whirled about flapping wings he did indeed hear--and shrill squeaking.

Bats.

Gunther cowered as they flew above him, flying in from somewhere else and piling into the rafters above him, loud and agitated that he was in their home. He stared at them for a long moment, and then allowed himself to breathe. Better to share spare with harmless beasts than risk an encounter with a demon, he supposed, as he continued to gather up stray dry leaves.

Finally, he collapsed beside the small pile he had carefully crafted. Every movement was difficult and painful. Exhausted as he was, he knew that he needed to finish his task before he dared to rest. He needed the warmth of a fire to dry his wet clothes and warm his sore bones. From his pouch, still on his belt, he retrieved a small simple metal tinderbox. Within was some charcloth, a hard flint stone, and an iron band--a flint steel Bertrand had given him.

As sorrow threatened to intrude, he forced it away, and focused on making his weary fingers grip the tools. Again and again he struck the stone to the iron, trying to strike off the tiny sparks onto the delicately shredded and charred linen from his tinderbox. He was usually pretty adept at starting fires, but he could not feel his fingertips after everything that had happened this night.

“Please, please oh--please...” He trembled all the more and just as he began to fear he would get no fire from his tinder after all, a small spark caught onto the fabric. Almost crying with joy, he breathed upon it, teeth still chattering, with as much care as he could manage, and soon he had a small blaze.

He sat stunned by the fire for awhile, until at long last he felt able to let his guard down a little. As he warmed his fingers and toes, he listened to the crackling flames and the wind in the leaves, and heard the soft chittering of bats in the rafters. He peeled off his jacket to attempt to dry it, and to get his frigid skin closer to the open flame--almost close enough to sear off his hair. And as his body warmed, he had hoped he would feel better, but he didn’t. Not inside. He was still stuck in this clearing and that monster has still vowed to stalk him. His friends were still dead.

Gunther sobbed quietly for a time, but was so exhausted that he could, in spite of everything, feel himself beginning to have difficulty staying awake. He had begun to believe he was truly safe here, at least for the night, and so he allowed himself to doze until he realized something.

He could no longer hear the bats chittering above him.

Opening his eyes warily, he glanced up into the rafters, and saw that there were no bats there at all.

In their place, he saw the rather indistinct, black-clad form perched upon the rotting beam of wood. The edges of it seemed to shimmer in and out of existence like the fluttering of a bat’s wings. At its center, a pale, human-like face with gray-blue eyes peered down at him. Scraggly dirty hair hung down across these features, obscuring only slightly.

And curved inside a small and solemn mouth, were the edges of sharp white teeth.

And fangs.

------ This has been Part 10. For more, see my Fiction Updates ------

If you like this or my other original work, please feel free to share with your friends (with credit of course). I would really like feedback, so don’t be shy to talk to me about it!

This part is thematically linked to Part 1, if the reader desires a refresher!

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 4 years

Note

“it’s okay to cry in front of me, you know. you don’t have to carry this alone.” and/or “stop trying to push yourself! you can’t do this on your own!” for starker

I’ll Give Into Yours

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Mature (M) Notes: I tried to fit them both in, but “stop trying to push yourself! you can’t do this on your own! ended up being what I snuck in there. Thank you so very much for the prompt! Summary:

Peter is a strong independent superhero that doesn’t need a team. That’s what he thought, at least - until he met Tony Stark.

do the thing, send in all the prompts

Peter’s first impression of Tony Stark wasn’t the greatest.

The first two minutes of their initial interaction were terrible – in fact, Peter would have slapped him if the stupid helmet wasn’t covering his pretty face. Peter didn’t appreciate the way he barged in and took control of a situation that Peter was plenty equipped to handle. How Tony Stark realized he was Spider-Man was beyond him, but he wasn’t letting anyone get in his way or tell him what to do.

After a solid year of stopping small crimes around Queens and Brooklyn, Peter felt qualified – he probably wasn’t Avenger level, but he understood what criminals were like and could navigate his way through apprehending a thief and cutting off a person he was pursuing. When Iron Man met him at the end of the ally he’d been swinging through, perp in hand, Peter almost didn’t stop – his momentum would’ve sent them both flying to the ground.

“Hey – I almost had him!” Peter exclaimed, his voice petulant. He yanked the small-time thief out of Tony’s grip and went about webbing him to the side of the building. Peter shot a couple extra strands of the web-fluid for good measure. The thought to keep going played across his mind for a second before he was being scooped up, his feet leaving the group. Iron Man had him in a tight grip until they landed on the roof of Starker Tower a few miles away.

“This is kidnapping. Put me down!” By then, Peter felt like an unruly child, his feet kicking in a desperate attempt to dislodge the hands holding him. Superhuman strength had nothing on modern technology. When his feet touched down on the roof, Peter made a quick move to put a bit of distance between them. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you can’t just – do that!”

Peter wanted to pull off the mask and air out the warm skin on his face – he was so worked up, all of his nerve endings were thrumming with adrenaline, the epinephrine in his system making him flushed. He kept his fingers on his web shooters instead. The rough estimation of how much time he’d have to move was two seconds – but he didn’t know how fast the Iron Man suit actually was. Staying on his toes, Peter waited to hear what Tony had to say. There wasn’t any point in running away, the needless pursuit would end with him being caught again, anyway.

“I’ve had Jarvis monitoring your movements for the past few weeks. For someone trying desperately to keep up with a secret identity, changing in the middle of an alleyway is not your best choice.” The helmet pulled back to reveal a perfectly symmetrical face covered in a finely sculpted goatee and messily long brown hair. There was a bit of gray collecting at the temples, but Peter tried hard not to notice.

Lashing out instead, Peter yanked off the mask, the slightest sneer on his face. “Sounds like you’re just an old perv using your impressive technology to be creepy.” Despite wanting it to come off meanly, Peter couldn’t stop the chuckle from slipping from his lips.

It was an absurd thought and sounded even more so coming out of his mouth. “That was just as stupid as it sounded. Sorry. What I meant to say was why are you watching me? I haven’t stepped on your toes, or anything.”

And he hadn’t – he went out of his way to stay low profile and only get mixed up with stuff he knew he could handle. He shuddered to think about Toomes and that fiasco – the whole situation was one he couldn’t just step away from. At the time, there’d been too much personal attachment to let it go. Even that hadn’t caught Tony Stark’s attention.

“Nick Fury took an interest in you after your altercation with Adrian Toomes. It took a little bit of leg work to narrow down the search, but Jarvis finally found something. There is only one Del Mar’s pagoda in all of Queens, New York.” Peter watched as Tony walked out of the Iron Man suit while he spoke, his hands crossing over his chest when he eventually settled in front of him.

Peter let himself take in the older man now that he could see all of him. He wasn’t nearly as tall as he figured he might be. His smaller stature made the bulk of his muscle stand out a little more, instead.

There was obvious knowledge sitting behind eyes that were dark in the late hour, but probably beautifully rich in color. The cat t-shirt pulled across the glowing arc reactor was almost enough to break his resolve; Tony Stark was the ultimate contradiction.

Shaking his head of the thought, Peter forced himself to focus on the hardened look being thrown his way. “We could use someone with your skill and smarts, Peter Parker.” Tony seemed to admit it reluctantly – his feet shifting a little as he spoke down towards them.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Peter mumbled, his hand coming up to run his fingers through sweaty locks sticking to his forehead. “And you thought this was the best way to approach me? I thought you were a genius.” He shook his head and walked back towards Tony; their heights much similar now that Peter was a little closer. “I’m not interested, anyway. Working alone has been going just fine for me so far.”

At the very last second, Peter stuck a hand out, his fingers gripping Tony’s shoulder. “Try something else next time, Mr. Stark. Something a little less stalker-y, maybe.” He didn’t stick around to see what Tony had to say, he simply jumped off the edge of the roof and started to swing back towards his studio apartment.

The thought of seeing Tony Stark again brought a smile to his face. It might be fun to see just how long he could hold out.

----

The very next morning, Peter woke up to a loud knock on the door. Glancing at his phone, he realized just how long he’d been asleep and popped up and off his bed. Not bothering with a shirt, Peter walked to the door and pulled it open. Tony must have been about to knock again; his fist was raised, and a surprised look flashed across his face.

“This is only slightly less creepy,” Peter said in greeting, a grin settling on his lips. “Do you want to come in?” He opened the door wider, giving Tony a better look at his shirtless chest and the front part of his apartment.

With a flash of satisfaction, Peter watched Tony’s eyes trail shamelessly down his tightly muscled chest and abs. Tony looked up at him after a moment, only the slightest bit of flush spreading across his cheeks. “Jarvis is very thorough,” he answered, his hands settling into the pockets of his dark blue jeans as he took the smallest step into the apartment. Peter shut the door before Tony spoke again. “I thought I’d try again, anyway.”

Peter threw him an amused look and walked further into his apartment. It didn’t take super-hearing to know that Tony was following him. The prickling of his skin told him Tony was still looking at him closely, those hazel eyes roaming over him in an attempt to categorize and calculate – Peter recognized the look on the older man’s face; it was one that graced his own all the time.

He went about putting coffee into the French press – the kettle already on the stove on its way to boiling. Pulling down two cups from the cabinet right above the sink, Peter let them rest on the counter and turned back towards Tony. “What are you trying to do? Recruit me?” It seemed like a simple question, but the look the man shot him was loaded, multi-faceted if he was reading it right.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. I thought I was trying to get you to at least listen to the pitch Cap’s been practicing for the last couple of weeks. Then I met you – and here I am. Not as Iron Man, but Tony Stark, instead.” He shrugged then, a crease between his eyes forming as he looked at Peter curiously.

“Your suit is awful. I respect the fact that you want to stay low key and work by yourself – but at least let me equip you with something that’ll help you be a better version of your one man team.” Suddenly emboldened, Tony pulled out his StarkPhone, thumbs flying over it. With a quick tap to his glasses that more than likely housed Jarvis within them, Tony was pulling a multi-dimensional design up from the phone he set on the counter. “I drew up some specs last night.”

Whatever Peter thought he knew about the illustrious Tony Stark flew out the window that morning. With wide eyes, he watched the tech genius explain the new nanotech he hoped to outfit both himself and Peter with. The suit was decked out with multiple weapon capabilities and a brand-new quick trigger web shooter. In theory, it was absolutely spectacular. In theory, at least.

“So, what’s the catch?” Peter asked point blank, his eyes wide from all the fancy shit Tony presented to him. He wanted to believe that Tony Stark had the best of intentions, but he’d learned pretty quickly in his life that looks could be deceiving. Good shit didn’t just happened because it could.

Tony looked taken aback for a second – his head tilting. A proud look washed over his face, the slight frown he’d been trying to disguise slipping seamlessly into a smirk – one Peter could imagine Tony donning often. “You’re clever. I like that. Always ask that question.” Tony tapped at his glasses again, the details of the cool suit disappearing. “My AI is the base that all the functions are built upon. Her name is KAREN. I’ll have access to her – so if you think that’s a catch, well –“

His hands spread in a nonchalant gesture, but Peter knew better. There was a quirk in Tony’s brow and his eyes were following every one of his moves. At the end of the day, Peter not accepting would only penalize himself – there wasn’t any way to avoid things with Tony Stark, not when he was looking at him like some sort of science experiment. One person keeping track of him was a lot different than giving up his freedom and joining a team that, as far as he could see, did more harm than good at the end of the day.

“It is, but it’s one that I can overlook. You knew bringing this new suit my way would make it impossible for me to say no to you. I’ve been wearing pool goggles for the past year – the basic model of this suit would be twenty steps above what I’ve been using.” Shaking his head in an attempt to look more in control than he felt, Peter stuck a hand out between them, his fingers wiggling. “I’m in. When do we start?”

The answer was immediately – Tony took his hand for a brief shake, then started talking a mile a minute. Before Peter even realized what happened, his chest was covered in a shirt and they were walking down the stairs of his apartment building. A black Audi was parked against the curb, the doors opening when Tony was within range.

Peter tried not to marvel at the car as Tony programmed their destination – his mouth opened wide when he pressed the ‘start route’ button and the car started to drive all on its own. Tony turned in the driver’s seat and looked at Peter as they drove from Queens to Manhattan, the idea of it enough to distract him from the words coming out of the older man’s mouth. The meager engineering program he could afford at NYU did not give him access to anything like it – Peter felt a little star struck.

That feeling didn’t go away, either. Stepping foot into Tony’s personal lab, Peter felt himself stiffen in his pants a little – his eyes were sweeping from one side of the room to the other without restraint. He let out a gasp when he saw the expansive computer system; it probably cost more than his entire college degree would. “Holy shit,” Peter gasped out, eyes wide.

Hearing Tony’s hearty laugh brought Peter’s attention back to the man himself – the smile on his face hitting him like a blow to the gut. Less than 12 hours ago, he wanted to smack Tony in the face and now – now he wanted to tuck his head into the crease of his neck and see what the skin there smelt like. Being 20 did nothing for the raging hormones that so frequently tried to rule his actions. Balling his hands into fists, Peter walked further into the lab and followed Tony through the tour he gave him.

----

For the first few days, working in the lab with Tony was odd. When they stepped through the doors, it was all business. Tony started to talk to Jarvis without hesitation, the AI allowing him to use his hands to manipulate the plans they’d been working with. He dragged Peter into the conversation the second he could – they easily got caught up in the flow of their joint interest and the work that needed to be put in to be successful.

As they made progress, Peter found himself getting excited throughout the day, his thoughts turning to the lab whenever he wasn’t focused on something that had to be done. Not only was it fun to work on a suit that would be customized to his specific needs, it was a blast spending time with Tony, too. When they weren’t talking about saving the world or patrolling, they were discussing movies and books they liked – Tony was well read and knew pop culture almost as well as Peter did.

A couple of months into their work, Peter walked into the lab to a beaming Tony – his glasses were in his hands and he looked wide awake. At that point in their working relationship, Peter recognized that to be Tony’s achievement face. His heart started to race – today just might be the day.

“Pete – you’re finally here. It’s done. All that’s left is for you to try it out,” Tony practically yelled across the room. Lacking patience, he closed the space between them, his hand grabbing Peter’s.

Between the still present tingling in his hand and the perfectly snug fit of the suit, Peter’s head was reeling. He tapped the button on his chest and grinned when the nanotech crawled back towards the housing unit. Letting out an excited laugh, Peter stopped in front of Tony, his face pulled into a wide grin. “I can’t wait to see what KAREN has to offer. You didn’t need to add fifty different kinds of web shooting functions, but I’m so glad you did.”

Without thought, Peter was wrapping his arms around Tony’s shoulders and pulling him close. “Thanks – for this.” He tucked his face into Tony’s neck, his nose pressing against the skin there. Peter sucked in a deep breath, the smell of metal and oil, coffee, and oakmoss hit him – the punch of it sent tingles rushing down his spine. Keeping his hands right where they were, Peter let himself stay close until Tony reciprocated – just the smallest taste of those hands on him was already too much.

Stepping back, Peter dropped his eyes, his cheeks on fire. “It’s great, Tony. I think I’m going to go and try it out.” He didn’t look up as he walked past him, Peter scared that if he did, he might not leave the room with any of his dignity left. His lips tingled, the ache of wanting to kiss Tony senseless addling his brains.

He didn’t look over his shoulder as he stepped into the elevator.

Leaving the building before the sun went down was different – it’d been weeks since Peter went out on patrol before the darkness was settled around him. Sucking in a deep breath, Peter hit the housing unit and let the suit spread across his limbs – he figured there wasn’t a time that this specific moment wouldn’t take his breath away.

For the next few weeks, Peter enjoyed getting to know his suit. Every now and again, he’d stop in to see Tony for a few minute – the man would ask him about his patrols and the classes he was taking, but Peter didn’t let it get any further. His thoughts from the night he got his suit crept back every single time he looked Tony in the eye. There wasn’t any going back – he realized that after the first week of trying to avoid him at all costs.

They were inevitably tied together – no matter how much Peter tried to deny it.

Of course, he still didn’t want Tony or the Avenger’s infringing on his crime stopping business. They were big time and he wanted to stay on the ground floor. Despite Tony constantly trying to talk him into at least touring the Avenger’s compound, Peter stood firm. There hadn’t been anything big in a long time and he knew for a fact that he could handle his shit.

At least, he thought he could. Peter didn’t take into account the fact that Adrian Toomes was an otherwise upstanding citizen – good behavior existed for family men like him. Word of Toomes’s return came a little bit too late.

KAREN alerted him of a big government facility break in and he took off. It didn’t cross his mind, the fact that Toomes made his living off of modified weapons usually stolen from dealers and Army agencies alike.

By the time Peter realized he’d been set up, he was in way too deep without any chance of backing up or running away. Tapping into the comms, Peter called out to KAREN desperately. “I need you to get me Tony. Can you patch me through?” A sigh of relief left his lips when Tony’s face lit up his screen.

“Pete? Are you okay? Your vitals are through the roof!” Tony looked confused and on the very edge of being scared.

Biting down on his lip, Peter swung quickly to the other side of the building as a sharp blast shot past his shoulder. “I followed Toomes – he got out of prison and immediately started the old business back up. He was expecting me.” Peter rushed the words out – his eyes bulging when another shot came his way. “Get KAREN to give you my location. I need help, Tony.”

Unable to concentrate on two things at once, Peter clicked out of the conversation and enabled KAREN to take control of his web shooter settings. Her aim was much better than his own. As long as he could find a way to keep them in the building without getting killed, everything would be just fine.

Tony’s arrival was marked by one of the Iron Fleet swooping in through the window at the far side of the building. The small rockets it fired off were enough to distract the men on the ground. Peter took advantage of it by swinging across the room and meeting Tony by the window. He’d finished the nanotech on his own suit – his flight looked smooth, the light nanotech allowing him to move almost gracefully.

“Thank fuck you’re here!” Peter balanced on the window as Tony hovered by him. “There’s six of them, and more than half have some sort of alien weapon.”

It took them a couple of minutes to take down everyone but Toomes – he left out of the side of the building after blasting it to pieces when Tony first arrived. Peter watched Tony juggle the options before staying put – there were too many dangerous weapons littering the floor to just up and leave. He heard Tony talking over his comms to JARVIS, the request for back-up making Peter immediately balk.

Most of the men were unconscious and if they weren’t, they were wrapped in so much webbing that even Peter would struggle to get out of the bindings. Tapping his chest, Peter let the nanotech slip from his head, his face coming into view. “Tony, I – “ he didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, but he didn’t want to owe anyone or be owned by anything, either.

Tony followed his lead, the face shield moving so Peter could see the swell of bright brown eyes – he looked angry, but also worried; the mix of emotions written clearly across his face. “Stop trying to push yourself! You can’t do this on your own!” Tony surprised them both, his eyebrows rising into his hairline as the words left his mouth. “This is serious, Pete. I can’t – I mean. There’s no way I can stand back and watch you risk your life. We’ll help. No strings attached.”

Peter tried not to take those words to heart – he figured the second Captain America and Bruce Banner walked in, he’d be one step closer to signing his life’s work away. Instead, they were efficient in the clean-up process – they spoke to him directly and took the needed details to hunt Toomes down.

After another 24-hours of tracking and fighting more alien weapons than any of them wanted to be around, Toomes was in SHIELD custody. Peter found himself being watched by Nick Fury, but the man never approached. Whatever pull Tony had over them seemed to work – Peter didn’t feel any sort of pressure from anyone.

When Peter was done giving a few statements and running over the mission debrief with Steve for the second time, they let him walk right out the door. Of course, Tony followed him, his feeble excuse of wanting to ride back to the city together something Peter could easily forgive. They didn’t talk the entire way, both men lost in their own thoughts.

He didn’t see Tony again for a couple of weeks – Peter pulled him into a hug when they got back from the compound and left without a backwards glance. He wouldn’t be able to pull away if he let himself look too hard at the person who seemed to get him in a way that didn’t quite make sense. His resolve lasted all of 12 days before he was putting on the suit and swinging over to Stark Tower.

JARVIS let him into the elevator when he landed on the roof and took him to the floor Tony’s lab was on. Peter wondered how long that’d been the case without him really noticing it.

Tony was leaned over his work bench fiddling with the homing device for his own suit. He turned the stool he was kneeling on to face Peter when the elevators opened – a soft smile on his face. “Spider-Man himself,” Tony said – his eyes roamed over Peter, the look making his skin prickle. “What do I owe the pleasure?”

Peter walked further into the lab; his feet way more confident than the rest of him. Not stopping until he was right in front of Tony, Peter let himself smile, his eyes softening. “I think you were right. I can’t do this on my own.” He let his fingers trail through the longer hair on the top of his head, nerves pumping through him.

Tony got up from the stool, the move narrowing the distance between them. “Yeah? What does that mean, exactly?”

Reaching out, Peter wrapped his arms around Tony’s shoulders – a soft sigh leaving his lips when the older man responded accordingly. Warm fingers on the small of his back pushing slightly made the space between them nonexistent. “It means that I’m willing to expand my team a little. Interested?” Peter tilted his head, his eyes slipping shut.

The initial press of their lips together sent a shock through Peter’s system – his hands moving to press Tony more tightly against him. Panted out breath against his cheeks had him pulling back, his own lungs on fire – they’d kissed each other breathless. Grinning, Peter tilted his forehead against Tony’s.

“I don’t think I’d mind being an Avenger, either.”

#starker #ironspider #bobbie writes #nonnie #anonymous

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homogrimoire-archive · 4 years

Text

The Remnant Branches

CH. 5 - Ash Qrow

Qrow ventures into the world where day and night are at a standstill. There, he gets stuck with a bunch of kids, and a book or two.

AO3 Link

You can kill two birds with one stone. But if those two birds are the same bird, are you really killing two birds?

Qrow flew right into a large rock that was hurled from below. With a caw, he flew away with it. It hurt like hell, but honestly, he was used to such inconveniences.

“Kainé! You hit that poor bird!” berated a child’s voice.

“What? It’s not my fault the damn thing came out of nowhere.” a woman said as she tore through a shadowy monster.

As Qrow recovered, he looked down below. There were four people: two young adults, and two children. There were also two floating books, one white, and the other red. The two children fought together, while the male teen and the white book fought together. The woman, whose clothing could hardly count as clothing, fought with the red book. He thought of joining in the fight to help them out, but they were taking care of the monsters, shades, he remembered, as if it were having a picnic. Not only that, they all used magic. He was happy to have found what he was looking for on his first day.

Qrow spent the rest of that first day scouting the surrounding area. Nearby, was a small village, a seaside town, a small desert civilization, a run down factory, a forest, and a village built into a cliff side. In the distance, he could see dilapidated buildings, an abandoned city in ruins. He knew that whatever happened to this world was unimaginable. He knew that if Salem won, Remnant could very well end up like that part of the world.

The first place he visited was the tavern of the village the four stayed in. His first order of business was to find out preliminary information on them. Bars were one of the best places to get info. Alcohol flowed, and information flowed with it. However, bars in small places could be either hit or miss with information. The people in such bars would either be too tight-lipped, wanting to keep their community’s secrets, or all too eager to share the latest gossip. He was all too happy to find this bar a hit. Great information, with even greater alcohol. He decided then that post-apocalyptic alcohol was the best.

“You mean you haven’t heard of them!? They’re like, only the strongest people in the world!”

“I’ve seen Grimoire Weiss and Nier take on an army of shades all alone! I wish I was as awesome as they were.”

“Kainé is soooo cool. She and Rubrum took down a shade the size of three building in five minutes flat. She even saved me from this giant shade and helped me up. I haven't washed my hand since she touched it.”

“Emil and Halua are soo adorable! And so strong too! Don’t let their looks fool you though. I heard that they took on Weiss, Nier, Kainé, and Rubrum on in a spar, and won.”

“They’re gonna save the world! Once they find The Shadowlord, we’ll be free of the shades at last!”

Qrow was having a great time. Apparently, he had showed up after a rare performance from the village’s leaders. The bar was filled with laughter and chatter. While he was chatting away with some man, he heard a roar rise from the crowd.

“Oh man! Here comes the main event!” said the man.

Qrow saw that an arm wrestling contest was going on, and the champion was one of the village leaders, the one with the straight hair. She seemed more drunk than anyone else, and did not appear particularly strong. The first opponent was a woman, a dainty thing that went down easy. Next was a beefy man. He went down with only a smudge of struggle on the champion’s part. After him was an even beefier woman. She was defeated just as easily.

“Come on! One more opponent! Who else wants to face me? You!” She pointed right at Qrow. “You’re a new face! Get over here! Let’s see how you hold up against me!”

Qrow shrunk and tried to get out of the challenge, but, the crowd pushed him forward. He may have been drunk, but still knew that it was almost never a good idea to attract attention on a mission. However, there was no good way of getting out of it, so he went to his slaughter. She sized him up and smirked. Their hands interlocked, and the match began. Qrow put up a better fight than the others. He assumes it is because of his aura helping out. But, she unleashes a burst of strength that not only seals her victory, but breaks the table they were playing on. While Qrow picks himself up, the champion raises a leg onto her chair and relishes her victory.

“Popola! Popola!” the crowd chanted. Qrow knew that there was more to this woman than meets the eye. But, pursuing her would have been illogical. He had his lead on magic, and would focus on that.

It wasn’t his first loss at arm wrestling. That was with Tai. Summer ended up winning Team STRQ’s little tournament. It was a nice memory. But, a memory is all it ultimately all was. He spent the rest of that day gathering bits and pieces of information on the group, nursing the great beer out of his canteen.

The Shadowlord and the black book, Noir, had taken the Nier’s kid sister. The two children were siblings and had lived at the mansion. Kainé had lived at the Aerie, the place built into the cliffside. Grimoire Weiss, who insisted on being referred to by his full name, and Kainé did not get along. Rubrum and Nier don’t get along. Rumor has it that Nier and Kainé are dating. Nier’s weapon is named Beastcurse. None of the info he gathers pertains to the specifics of the magic they wield.

Qrow always found sleep difficult, and the eternal sun only made it harder. He wondered why Popola was so strong. Ozpin didn’t mention anything about the people having such strength. He rested alone in a tree at the top of a hill in the village, and was grateful that it at least wasn’t cold. However, he was filled with apprehension. The previous two days had gone well. Too well for someone like him. All he could do was wait for things to inevitably go south.

Qrow was awoken by the sound of a scream. He quickly jumped out of the tree, but landed on his foot wrong and fell on his face. He quickly gets up and scans the area with his sword in hand. He notices that a kid is in front of him, protecting a shade.

“Don’t hurt him! He’s a good shade!” the kid pleas. Behind the child, the shade is cowering. Qrow then realizes that the two were probably just playing, and he heard laughter, not screaming.

“Don’t worry kid. If he’s a good shade, then I won’t hurt him.” He reassures as he sheaths Harbinger.

“Alright...” the kid says warily as she lowers her arms. From behind, the small shade seems to relax as well. “What were you doing sleeping in a tree anyways? Birds sleep in trees. Are you part bird or something?” the kids says, suspicious of Qrow.

“Nope, not part bird or anything.” he quickly clarifies. He’s technically not lying.

“What’s your name then, mister?” the child asks.

“Qrow.” he answers nervously. The child looks at the shade, and the shade looks back at her. Qrow knows that they know something is up.

“Ok then, Mister ‘not a bird’ Qrow. Wanna play with us?” she innocently asks, as if she weren’t just suspicious of him.

“No. No thanks, I’m good.” He says as he begins to back away.

“Sure?” she says. The shade comes forth, saying something in its odd voice as it holds out a palm full of worms. “We were just digging for worms. Don't you think that’s fun?”

“That’s, that’s good for you. I’m not interested though. I really should get going.” he lightly laughs to counteract the heaviness around him. The worms do seem enticing. The shade mumbles something again, and holds out some shiny objects. Qrow begins to sweat.

“Or maybe we could play with these shiny toys? They’re sooo shiny.” she smiles as she tempts him as she holds one up to the sun, making it sparkle brilliantly. He almost can’t handle it. He can’t handle it. With a loud caw, he transforms in an instant, and flies away.

“HA! YOU WERE RIGHT!” he hears her shout as he makes his escape. “You were right! He was magic! That’s how he lasted that long against Popola! I knew you were right!” Turning his head to look back, he sees the two dancing with each other, sharing their small victory. It was heartwarming, even if it felt like he was just being interrogated by them. However, he wonders why his avian urges were so strong. He chalks it up to his bad luck.

Since he was already flying, he decides to see if he can find that group of kids. He sees them in the plains below. And they’re riding huge, wild boars. They’re all laughing and screaming in wild joy as they head towards the town in the cliff face. However, he notices that the demeanor in the woman seems tense. He remembers that she lived there, and might have some bad memories of the place. He’s glad she had her friends with her though.

As they entered the cavern, he flew overhead and took the time to scan the town. It seemed no different than when he first saw it, save for a small gathering of people on one of the large platforms. He imagines that’s where they’re heading, but he knows he could be wrong. He perched on a wire above the group of merchants and customers.

“There they are.” One person says.

“Ok, get ready. Act like we planned.” whispers another.

“Did you say something?” asks one of the merchants.

“Huh, oh, no. I just remembered something.”

“Ah, ok.”

That’s not suspicious at all. Qrow thought to himself. He kept himself alert. The guy with the white book finally entered the little market. He hopped up the wire to see if he could find where the others were, and found them waiting at the entrance. They appeared to be chatting with each other.

Down below, he heard the book and the guy making small talk with the people there, and buying a few things.

“Everyone? Every one? Every one? Everyoneeveryoneeveryoneeveryoneeveryone…” said a guard as his voice morphed into the sound of a shade. And in a puff of smoke, he and a few others transformed into shades.

“Crap, an ambush.” Nier said.

“So it seems.” Weiss commented.

From his vantage point, Qrow could see more shades gathering around the other parts of the village. He decided then that now was the time to help.

He flies to a bridge where more shades have gathered, and with the slash of his sword, he sends them flying back. A few fall off the bridge to whatever lies below, but more shades manifest to take their place.

“Forget how to actually kill a shade, old man?” berates the female teen as she slashes through slade after shade on the other side of the bridge.

“Hey! I’m not old!” Qrow answers back.

“Then start killing them properly, or leave, dumbass. Rubrum, play Cold Steel Coffin.”

“Ooh, nice choice.” The red book compliments as she opens up and flies through her pages. “Tear those blood bags to shreds!” From her pages flows a song in an unknown tongue.

Vlee sieh tah, Vlee sieh reeh, Vlee raun stee yah, Vlee yon ston reeh. Begins the powerful, almost terrifying song. Kainé tears through the shades with even greater ferocity than before, their blood devoured by the red book as the volume intensifies.

“Kickass!” she shouts as a shade is torn to shreds, as promised. Her movements become quicker and quicker, stronger and stronger, and before Qrow can take care of even five, she’s already taken care of the rest of the shades on that bridge. “Out of my way old timer!” she says as she rushes past him.

“Kainé! Hold on!” Qrow hears a boy shout.

“Yeah, hold up!” A girl also shouts.

“We’re sorry about her.” The girl says.

“She just really gets into it when Rubrum plays a cool song.” The boy says.

“So, what’s your name? I’m Halua, and this is my twin brother.” she introduces.

“Hello, I’m Emil. It’s nice to meet you.” he says with a slight bow.

“Qrow. Nice to meet you two. We should chat later though, huh?”

“Oh, you’re right. We really should. Hm, follow me Emil.” she says.

“Okay!” he replies as he takes her hand. They proceed to walk off the bridge, and onto the empty air as if it were solid ground.

Nobody bats an eye at the two, but Qrow. The sound of a shade screaming right in front of his face scares him, and he jumps off the bridge. He turns into a bird to fly back up, but rather than his wings, he is instead brought back up by some unknown force.

“Huh? A bird?” Halua questions.

“You can turn people into birds? That’s new. Do you think you can turn me into a parrot later? I always wanted to be a colorful parrot!” Emil exclaims happily.

“Nooo. Waaaait… Qrowwww… Crowwwww… Sorry mister, I’ll let you go now!” she shouts from the center of the canyon as she releases her magical grip on him. “Let’s get back to this. Tell me when it sounds right.” she tells Emil as they toy with a glyph.

“What the hell???” he wonders. It’s the second time that day a kid guessed his magical secret. What that said about the adults in Remnant wasn’t good. Then again, it wasn’t like magic was common in Remnant.

He shifts back into a human and gets back to taking care of shades. By now, the song echoed through The Aerie for all to hear and empower. Qrow had to admit that it did help with the fighting, as it paired well with his fighting style. Despite the toughness of their armor and tendency to block, he soon finds himself flying through shade after shade at a good pace.

Everynow and then, he takes a look at one of the kids to see how they’re holding up. The villagers at the tavern had evidently placed their praise well. Nier and Weiss work as an experienced duo, efficient, clean, and powerful. Kainé and Rubrum, all Kainé really, were a shade killing machine. They are brutal, swift, and deadly. While Kainé hacks, Rubrum dances to the beat of the song as best a book can. Then it seems as if the young twins then appear to have finished their task.

“There! That’s it” Emil says excitedly.

“Alright. Applying the buff!” she announces. With an otherworldly, fear-inducing glow surrounding her, she absorbs the glyph, and Qrow finds that Harbinger is glowing as well. Looking around, he sees that Nier and Kainé’s weapons are glowing as well. A quick slash of the scythe shows what the buff was: armor nullification. Harbinger went through the armor harming the shade underneath.

“Fuck yeah!” Kainé yells with joy.

“Will she ever learn to hold her tongue around them?” Weiss wondered.

“Fuck yeah!” Emil and Halua echo as they jump with joy.

“I think it might be a little late for that, boo─ Grimoire Weiss.” Qrow corrected before he could finish.

“Well, at least someone has the decency to respectfully use my full name. Who might you be anyways?” Weiss asks

“Qrow. It looked like you guys could use some help, so here I am.” He responds.

“That’s nice of you, but─” Nier begins before being cut off by Weiss.

“Shush! No buts! We’re taking all the help we can get. Bah! Teenagers!” Weiss says as he shakes his head, or that’s what it looks like he’s doing.

“Don’t worry Weissy, we’ll be good teenagers when we grow up!” Halua says earnestly as she and Emil join them.

“But I wanna be like Kainé! She’s awesome!” Emil argues.

“Sorry Weissy, nevermind.”

“Apologize not. This old book has given up hope long ago.” he says tiredly.

“Done!” They hear Kainé probably declare as she joins them.

“Another day of honest work is complete!” Rubrum chimes as the song fades out. Slowly, they all begin to notice the ominous, dark mist that vibrates all around The Aerie.

“Rubrum! This is why you have to be more careful with the songs!” Nier reprimands.

“Oh calm down you big baby.” she tells him without a care in the world. “Like I said last time, it’s nothing we won’t be able to handle.”

“Last time?” Qrow asks.

“We were relaxing on the beach, and she was playing Repose. We even didn’t notice the giant shade in the ship.”

“Hey, things ended up alright, didn’t they?” she defended herself.

“I broke an arm! The mailman almost died! Halua was tired out for a week!”

“Well your arm’s okay now, the mailman is still alive, and Halua recovered. What’s your point?” she told him. Nier growled in frustration as he covered his face.

“Lose later Nier, we have a new friend to make.” Kainé smiled cruelly.

Before them, in the center of The Aerie, a giant shade formed. It was unlike previous shades. Its size made it in a part of a very small class of shades. It was a perfect, dark sphere. Tendrils, or perhaps tails, slithered to and fro to reveal what seemed to be an eye in the center. Its roar could be felt as it traveled through the air, rattling their bones through their flesh.

“Emil! Halua!” Weiss shouted.

“On it!” they answered, and began to manipulate a new glyph.

“Until they’re done, we’ll practice the tried and true method of concussive maintenance.” Weiss continues.

“If it worked on a grimoire, what wouldn't it work on?” Rubrum added.

“Emil and Halua.” Kainé answered.

“Dare I ask again?” Qrow dared to ask.

“Does it look like we have the time?” Weiss responded. As the monster appeared to wind up for an attack.

“Nope.”

With such a monstrosity, Qrow expected it to whip its many tentacles at them, or attack with some kind of magical energy. He expected wrong. It unleashed some kind of gas, a sickly pale green color. They all had no chance to try to avoid it.

What are you even doing here? You’re just endangering those kids. Don’t you know that, idiot? Or maybe you want bad things to happen to them? Why stop there? Make everyone as miserable as you! Oh wait, you already do that, you pathetic excuse for a human.

“I do, don’t I? That’s all I ever do, bring everyone bad luck and make them miserable. Why am I still here? I─”

“I am just a freak. I shouldn’t be here, near anyone. A monster with a cursed body like mine shouldn’t even exist…”

“Why is a broken guy like me even here? I don’t want to be here in this terrible world. It would be easier if I were gone.”

“I need to be alone. I need to be alone. They can’t turn to stone that way. If I never look at them, if I’m never close to them, my cursed eyes can't petrify them.”

“I’m just a weapon. That’s all I was ever good for. I couldn’t even protect Emil. A weapon like me shouldn’t exist. I never wanted this. I never wanted to be this...”

“I─ I─ I─ Snap out of it! Quit saying those things! Snap out of it!” Qrow yelled to the children.

“Use a song!” Weiss shouted as he fended off the shades as best he could.

“I have to find a proper one, or be given one! You know how this works!” Rubrum frustratedly replied. “God shit fuck!” she cursed as more and more shades inched closer, and closer.

“Hey, Rubrum, find one for me!” Qrow requested. All he knew he could do was protect the kids. “Weiss, try to wake them!”

“Scanning…” Rubrum said as Qrow began to attack the shades. “Searching… Found one. Ooh! She’s a beauty!” The song starts calmly enough. It gets a simple rhythm going in him, then…

Pain! Is your reward for being near me. Fate! Won't be your friend when I’m around. Blame! Me for the tragedy that follow. Grave! The situation that surround. …

Unfortunately for the armored shades, Halua’s buff was still active. They were felled easily, feeding more and more blood to the red book. More and more blood, more and more song and power, it was intoxicating.

“Blood!” she giggles. “Blood blood blood blood, blood!” She spins and twirls in ecstacy. “Make this song the end of the shades!” Qrow was happy to oblige. A tendril accidentally pierces an ally, a shade trips and runs its sword through another.

“Misfortune wins again!” Qrow laughs as he ends another shade. “I’ll bring you down! I’ll bring you all down!” he announces to his enemies.

His misfortune finally targets him when he gets unlucky and the last shade pins his cape down, causing him to fall onto Halua, waking her in the process.

“Huh?! What!?” she says, confused, having been broken out of the trance..

“I need to be alone… So my eyes won’t hurt anyone… Alone…”

“What? Emil, no, don’t say that!” she tells her brother. She then turns to the giant shade with fury in her eyes. The air becomes heavy, and the last shade runs away in fear..

“Weiss, Rubrum, get them out of here.” she orders. An image of a skeletal beast flickers around her. “Mister, get Emil for me.” He obeys, and picks up the child.

“What about you?” he asks her.

“Just get Emil to safety.” she solemnly tells him as she summons a glyph in front of her. The shade strikes it, but screeches in pain as dangerous power cackled from it in defense.

“You better come back safe too, kid.” he tells her.

“I will. Rubrum? Can you play the song? I need to be able to hear it too.”

“Sure can do. I have more than enough blood for that. And remember Halua, we’ll be with you no matter what.”

“We are a family, after all” Weiss says. Halua smiles, and the beast appears for a split second once more.

“I know.” The song begins, calm and soft with its ethereal vocalization.

Kaun mon-no ruutra, Kaun oulvadei-gyaiya, Droh fee lai-narszes, Whoul sheeg-ma rae, Restivaun, Whoul vajei hli mehg jzu, Sii-kyathrae, Whestel-ou har thehgehy, Quin-deskuel, Shoul-yaneiyan …

Soon, the song becomes not just calm and soft, but powerful and imposing as well. From the safety at the top of the canyon, the song echoes below. Qrow can see the beast flickering in and out of reality more and more.

“Earthly Zenith of Modernity, The uncontrollable might of solitons, The spiritus that threatens to devour all, Avenge and atone in the name of all that is accursed! Number Six!” Halua yelled as she activated the glyph. “Deconstruct!” The beast appears from behind her, and consumes her with a bone-chilling cry.

“What is that?” Qrow asks in terror with his mouth agape. Emil awoke and jumped out of his arms.

“It’s my sister, Number Six, The Ultimate Weapon. We were made to be weapons long ago.” Emil explains as he faces his sister, sensing the intense and unparalleled magic.

“What you are witnessing is perhaps the most powerful magic in all the world, much more powerful than even a grimoire.” Weiss reveals as The Ultimate Weapon latches onto the large shade and tries to tear through its protective tendrils.

“Mmnnn,” Kainé groans, “What the hell happened?” Number Six lets out a piercing screech as she jumps to cling to a cliff, and fires a beam of energy that the giant shade just barely avoids. The spot where the beam hit is pulverized into nothingness for who knows how deep. Quickly, Kainé jumps up to see her. “Halua! Halua! Goddammit!”

“Is she gonna be alright?” Qrow hopes she will be.

“She will recover, just like last time.” Weiss answers confidently. “But...”

Finally, she had the shade cornered. She howls as the song begins its closing. Cowering in horror, the shade makes a last ditch attempt to win, firing a volley of magic at Number Six. She is unphased as The Ultimate Weapon activates its true might. A bright light begins to grow from where they are. At a steady pace, it swells and devours the shade and everything else in the vicinity, turning it all into nothing. When The Ultimate Weapon deactivates, an unflinching Halua, eyes glowing a dull red, stands where Number Six once was.

“Are you sure you guys are alright with me being around?”

“Yeah old timer, we’re sure.” Kainé assures him.

“It’ll be only for a few days anyways, like you said.” Nier adds.

“Besides, fuckers like us have to stick together.” she reasons.

“And if the world can’t handle us, we’ve gotta find other fuckers who can!” Rubrum exclaims joyously.

“In a sense, we create a world of our own.” Weiss states.

“That’s… a nice way to think of it. A world of our own, one that’ll accept a bad luck charm like me. I like the sound of that.”

Qrow had arrived right in the path of a large rock that was hurled from below. He let out a pained caw as it struck him as he fell. It hurt like hell, but honestly, he was used to such inconveniences.

“Kainé! You hit that poor bird!” berated a child’s voice.

“What? It’s not my fault the damn thing came out of nowhere.” a woman said as she tore through a shadowy monster and looked up. “Wait, that’s not a bird. It’s a guy?”

“It is!” Emil gasped as he saw that Kainé was indeed right. “Don’t worry mister, I’ll save you!” With a wave of his staff, he slowed Qrow’s descent and uprighted him. Lightly, he landed on the ground. “Hmm?” Emil said as he cocked his uncanny head in confusion.

Qrow, meanwhile, realized that this was where the voice of the child was coming from. But he had little time to ponder the realization, as he sensed an enemy nearby, a skill honed from all his years as a huntsman. Swiftly, he unsheathes his sword and slashes at the shade to send it backwards. The lady in lingerie, Kainé, followed up and stabbed the shade in the chest, pinning it to the ground.

“Gawk later Emil.” she tells him as she extracts her sword and moves onto the next enemy.

“R─Right!” he says in an embarrassed tone. “Sorry mister!” he apologizes as he returns to fighting.

“Don’t worry about it kid.” Qrow replies as he joins the fray to help finish off the last of the little shadowy demons.

“So, who the hell are you?” Kainé asks him.

“Qrow.” he answers.

“A better question is, how does a man end up so high in the sky?” the book inquired.

“Ooh, I know that! It was magic!” Emil excitedly answered. “You were the bird Kainé hit huh?”

“Yeah, and it hurt.” an irritated Qrow said as he took a quick drink from his flask. Normally, it would be good to hide his little talent, but there was no reason to try to hide it now that the kid could sense the magic.

“Well damn. That sucks.” she replies nonchalantly.

“Weren’t you ever taught some manners?” he jabs.

“You’re wasting your time with this hussy. Manners are as foreign to her as proper attire.”

“Why don’t you two go and do whatever the fuck it is old timers like you do and shut up?” she jabs back.

“Hey Emil, how were you able to tell it was magic anyways?” Nier asks as they continue arguing. He is mostly unphased by their conversation, and the fact that the man is walking with them to the boat, even though he could just leave. A man falling out of the sky and joining them hardly compared to a kid getting consumed by his weaponized sister, and then joining him.

“Hey! I’m not even that old!”

“And my age is a symbol of my infinite wisdom and arcane power!”

“I just sensed it. It’s different from Weiss’ magic though, and Kainé’s and mine too.”

“Weird.” Nier commented. “Hey, uh, Qrow?”

“What now?”

“What kind of magic do you have?”

“Hell if I know. It was a gift from a friend of mine.” he answers. “What about the rest of you?”

“Mine is from my sister. We were experimental weapons.” he answers solemnly.

“Wha─??”

“It is a sad, and long story.” Weiss says.

“Still, it’s pretty cool that you’re an ultra powerful weapon though.” Nier says.

“Yeah, it’s pretty fucking kickass.” Kainé adds on. “Way cooler than some boring old book.”

“Aww, you guys...” he says shyly.

“I’ll have you know that my magic is far older than you can even fathom, hussy. But I unfortunately cannot answer your question because someone,” he paused as he looked specifically at Nier, “found it acceptable to perform concussive maintenance on The Grimoire Weiss.”

“I said I was sorry like a million times already.” Nier exaggerated.

“You are fortunate you have my mercies.”

“As always Wiess, as always. But, we’re here.” Nier says as they arrive at the boat.

“I’ll go ahead and scout the area. That tower place, I’m guessing? I’ll let you know if I see anything unusual.” Qrow tells them as he shifts to his avian form.

“Hey, wait, don’t you want to─ Aww, he’s gone.” Emil lamented as Qrow flew away.

Qrow scans the backside of the structure. It’s a bunch of shoddy workmanship. Loose planks of wood, metal poles, and cheap ladders are what make up this sorry excuse. But oddly, it does not appear to be old. In fact, it seemed like a recent addition to the place. Nothing is rusted, and none of the wood is rotten either. A few shades even jumped about, and nothing creaks or breaks. It is suspicious, and screams that this is a set up.

Regardless, he defeats about half the shades that lingered on the platforms built into the stone by the time the boat arrives. They’re tougher than the ones on the plain, but they fall just the same, into a dark smoke, and then into nothing. Despite how uncanny it was that slicing into them felt somewhat akin to slicing aura, they were otherwise oddly reminiscent of grimm. What wasn’t reminiscent of a grimm was their ability to bleed.

“Damn, save some for the rest of us!” Kainé yells. “Some of us have a bone to pick with the fuckers!”

“Quit crying and hurry up then!” he shouts to her down below. “Damn kid…” he complains as he takes a small drink from his flask. For all he knows, he won’t be able to refill it anytime soon.

Kainé swiftly jumps up a few platforms above him and starts her slaughter. While Nier and Weiss slowly make their way up, taking care of the few shades that happen to appear, Emil floats up to Qrow.

“So mister, where are you from?” he asks curiously as he floats a few feet away from the platform.

“A place called Remnant.”

“Well that’s an odd name. What’s it a remnant of?”

“It’s just what we’ve called it. Don’t know why either.” Qrow answered as he climbed up a ladder.

“Oh… Well how about your name? Did you get it after the magic, or was it a cool coincidence?”

“It was the name I was born with. Can’t say if I know it’s a coincidence though.” Qrow quickly replied.

“Emil,” interjected Weiss, “leave the poor man alone. He appears to be tired of your barrage of questioning.”

“It’s fine.” he responded. “I’m used to this kinda thing.”

“If you insist.” the book replied in his snotty tone. Something about it seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite put it on his finger yet.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna be a bother.”

“If I can handle my two little girls, I can handle a single kid. Don’t worry about it. But─” He was cut off by a loud and excited gasp from Emil.

“Oh my god! You have two daughters? I bet they’re adorable!”

“What? No. I mean, they are adorable, but they’re not my daughters. They’re my nieces.”

“You just said they were your kids, dumbass.”

“How about you mind your own business?”

“How about I─” she began before her heel got caught in a gap in the planks of wood, causing her to fall backwards. “Ack! Fucking bitch! Stupidass wood!” she cursed as she got up and angrily punted the guilty board.

“Kainé! Look out!” Emil warns her.

“What?” she turns to see a shade about to strike her, and that it is too late to react. Ooh it’s gonna be my turn soon, Sunshine! Bwahahaha!

To her surprise, and Tyrann’s, they don’t feel the slash of the shade’s sword. Qrow is in front of her, blocking the attack. He knocks away the weapon, and brings the shade to its demise.

“I’ll be up top.” is all he tells her before he flies away.

“Hey, wait up! I’ll join you!” Emil says as he follows the black bird.

“Did you scare him off already?” Kainé hears the book assume.

“What happened?” Nier asks as he and the grimoire neared her.

“Shut up. He just went off on his own for no damn reason.”

“Hmm. Odd guy huh?” Nier asked no one, as Kainé and Weiss were already beginning the hour’s bickering.

Meanwhile, Emil chased after the man, wondering why he seemed so insistent on being alone. He didn’t seem like a bad guy who had anything bad to hide. Then again, looks could be deceiving. Emil knew that very well. Emil concluded that it was perhaps something about himself the man was hiding, maybe something he was ashamed of. Kainé was like that at first, and he probably would have really been like that without her.

“I’m here!” Emil announced once he caught up with Qrow. “Man, you fly fast.”

“Wouldn’t you rather be with your friends, kid?” he questioned the kid.

“Ohh, I don’t mind. I just wouldn’t want you to be alone. Being alone sucks most of the time, huh?”

“Meh. I’m used to it.” he waved dismissively, taking a small drink from his flask.

“Still, it’s better to be friends than alone.”

“Not always, kid.”

“Not always?! It’s always better to be with friends!” Emil shouted, to which Qrow winced at the young boy’s volume. “Oh, sorry.”

“It’s fine. But I just prefer to be alone.” Qrow said as he took a seat.

“Why?” Emil asked. He could see that Qrow was thinking.

“Back in my world,” he began, “everyone has a sort of ‘magic’ more or less unique to them. We call it a semblance, and mine is Misfortune. It brings bad luck to anyone nearby. I’m sure you can see why now.”

“Hmm, I do see. … Well, that’s alright. I’d still rather be here with you than let you be alone.” He could see that Qrow froze for a moment, as if the words were somehow familiar, then he regained his composure and let out a short chuckle.

“You’re a funny kid, you know?” Qrow joked.

“Im serious! I know I only sound like a little kid, but I’m older than you!” Emil fussed.

“Yeah, let me guess, a thousand years old?”

“Mmm,” Emil pondered, “somewhere around there.” Qrow looked at him as if he were telling an obvious lie.

“Well, I guess I should explain. You told me something about you, and I’ll tell you something about myself. It’s not a very happy story though.” Emil sat down to tell the tale of him and his sister.

“And so, Emil and Halua Grimm became the most powerful weapons in the world.” He finished wistfully.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” Qrow said solemnly.

“Yeah… But at least it led me to Nier, Weiss, and Kainé. I wouldn’t trade my time with them for anything. Okay! Now tell me something about yourself!” Qrow was shocked by the sudden shift in mood, but was happy to entertain the child.

“My name is Qrow, with a “q”, and my last name is Branwen, though that’s just the name of the tribe I grew up in. So, would your name happen to be spelled with two “m”s?”

“Yeah. Me and Halua always wondered why though. Do you think you could know why?”

“Well, like this world has Shades, my world has Grimm. I think it’s just a coincidence though.” Qrow says as he takes a sip. “Besides, you’re a hell of a lot better than any Grimm back home.” It was hard to discern, but Qrow could tell he was happier than before. That made him happier too. “So, were your eyes silver, by any chance?”

“No,” Emil began somewhat shyly, “they were more of a really light purple. Though, I think they were a different color before I gained my petrification, but I can't remember what color exactly if they were different.. Could people with silver eyes petrify things in your world?”

“They could petrify Grimm. That’s about it though. But, people with silver eyes are said to be destined to become great warriors.”

“I think Nier said that Yonah had silver eyes.” Emil mentioned.

"What about Yonah?" They heard Nier say as he climbed up to where the two were sitting. At their own paces, the two got up.

"That she has silver eyes, right? Qrow said that in his world, they become awesome fighters!"

"Hmm… I don’t think she’s fit for the warrior lifestyle. But, if it’s a sigh that she'll live a longer life, I'll take it. But until then,"

"We keep on going, yeah, yeah. Let's hurry up already." Kainé interrupted as she kicked the rock blocking their entrance out of the way. "I haven't killed enough shithole shades for today."

"The hussy is right that we should move along. The sooner we take care of things, the better." Weiss stated as he ushered them in.

Once inside, the place was virtually unchanged since Nier's last visit. Kainé didn't think much of the place. Weiss seemed shocked that this was the place where he was stored. Emil, however, was clearly enamored by the place.

"Wowww… this place is pretty, isn't it?" He praised quietly as he floated over towards the center where the towering tree stood. There, warm sunlight filtered through, alleviating the coldness of rusting metal and decaying concrete.

"Hmm. It would be a nice place to relax for a little bit." Qrow responds as he follows Emil. It's quiet and calm there. He thinks it could have been a hotel, based on the layout.

"Not while shades are here though." Nier commented as the soulless monsters readied to fight.

Promptly, the group got to culling the local shade population. Swords galore, magic, and a favored spear, all end the lives of the shadowy entities. Some are even left petrified.

"Emil, you can still petrify shit?" Kainé asks him out of curiosity.

"Yeah, I, um..." he begins as if feeling guilty.

"Sweet. Smashing stone shades really hits the spot." Kainé smiled cruelly as she reduced a statue to rubble. "Ahh, that felt bitchin'."

Briefly, Qrow contemplated if he should allow himself to cuss. On one hand, he would feel a lot better. On the other, he was just starting to be able to control his tongue around Ruby and Yang, and he didn't want to undo his hard work. It took a lot more effort than he would have wanted to admit.

"Hey, Qrow?" Nier called to get his attention.

"Yeah?" Qrow called back before tripping over a stair step and hitting his head. "Fucking stair!" he snarled. Cussing was fine so long as it wasn't around Ruby and Yang, he decided. If he wasn't around them, it was alright. He then noticed the shade above him.

"I've got you!" Emil shouted. Swiftly, it was petrified, and then destroyed by Kainé.

"Careful old timer." Kainé warned as she helped him up. "Can't have your ass dying on us."

"Such a kind soul you have, helping an old man like me." he teased.

"Pft." she responded as she rolled her eyes. She heard a snicker come from Weiss and snapped her neck at him. "Got somethin to say, book?"

"Oh, to a kind, young woman such as yourself? Heavens no." He replied.

"If you say so, Weissy." she glared at him with an innocent grin. As they continued their trademark bickering, with Emil joining in to unwittingly embarrass both of them, Nier returned to his conversation with Qrow.

"So, what else can you tell me about those silver eyed fighters?" Nier questioned as he stabbed another shade through it's armor.

"Back in my world, they're a myth at most to many. But, they do exist. With their eyes alone, they can take down hordes of Grimm. I guess the equivalent here would be Shades."

"I’d just be happy if Yonah could even go a day without needing a nap, if I'm being honest."

"What's wrong with her?"

"The Black Scrawl. There's no cure for it yet, but I'll take any kind hope I can get. As long as she's alive, even if it's risky like this, I'll be happy."

Qrow knew that there was probably no way the power of silver eyes would be in this world, but who honestly knew. Besides, he also knew that people needed all the hope they could get, even if he himself has mostly given up on the notion of hope..

"It's also genetic. Either of your parents had silver eyes?" Qrow asks

"Well, my mom did. I got my dad's eyes, but we both have his hair color. … Hmm, they were both great people. My mom was a good fighter too." He said fondly. “But when the Scrawl started to take over her, she had weird dreams. She said she saw weird but huge rectangular structures that went high into the sky, and things that moved on wheels at unnatural speeds."

"It sounds like she saw a city. Maybe one from before whatever happened that made this world like this." Qrow commented as he and Kainé slashed away at a huge shade.

"She also… she also had nightmares. In them, she fought these pale white beasts with glowing red eyes she said she fought them with incredible powers, powers like Emil's…" Nier had never really connected the dots before. It was just something he had never considered, always too busy with other things to reminisce about his mother like this.

…

No response. It was quiet.

"Huh?" He said in confusion as he looked around. Kainé and Qrow were gone. "Emil! Get close to me!"

"Huh? What?! Where'd they go?!" Emil questioned as he noticed the disappearance of his friends.

"It could be a shade, one with powers previously unknown to us. We should stay close to each other." Weiss advised.

"Right!" Emil nodded. Cautiously, they circled about, looking all over to see if they could spot anything unusual, and fending off the few shades that remained on the floor..

"I can sense some strong magic nearby, but I cannot pinpoint where. Can you two here us!" Emil shouted out.

"Perhaps w─" Weiss's words were interrupted by a sudden crash that caused the floor to give way beneath Nier.

"I got you!" Emil said as he lunged for. Nier. But, his efforts were for naught. He too was mysteriously swept away by a shadow. Thinking fast, Nier stabbed his sword into the wall to slow his fall.

“What kind of shade is that?! What did it do to them?!” he shouted as he landed.

“We are in the presence of a powerful shade, one capable of using incredible magic. They’re still alive, I know that much. If we kill it, it’s magic should be undone!” Weiss replied.

“All we have to do is find it then.” Easier said than done, but, it would be done.

Silently, they were back to back, waiting in anticipation for an attack. Nier was tense, ready to pounce at the vile shade. Weiss readied a sealed verse, taut and set to pin down the enemy for the kill. Nier looked up, left, right, everywhere he could look, except for below himself, where his own shadow betrayed him.

With heavy breathing, Qrow opened his eyes to be surrounded by darkness. It wasn’t the darkness of a moonless night in the middle of nowhere. That did not even compare. This was an advanced darkness very few things in the world could compare to. In front of him lay an unknowing expanse, a field of nothingness, a─

“Turn around, dumbass.”

“Huh? Oh.” Qrow sighed as he stopped flailing about. There was Kainé and Emil. She was lulling about as Emil did… something magic related. They all floated in the void, but were otherwise perfectly fine.

“Make yourself comfortable, or whatever. Emil will get us out soon enough. I swear to hell I’m gonna tear the little shit stain that did this to fucking shreds.” she hissed.

“I take it this isn't a thing that happens everyday?”

“No.” Emil answers as he fiddles with a glyph. “The craziest things tend to be giant, monstrous shades every now and then. But we always take care of them!”

“Yeah, we take real good care of them, don't we, sunshine?” a cold, cruel, and sharp voice says from the unknown. Qrow knows that this voice is dangerous. He can sense it, so he held Harbinger out, prepared to strike. Emil notices the voice too, and hurries with his magic. Kainé is unphased, and rolls her eyes at the remark

“Show yourself!” Qrow shouted into the void. For a moment, he thinks it is the monster that captured them.

“Hmm? Ooh, they can hear me. Finally! Do you know how boring it can get just talking to one person? Real fucking boring.”

“Ugh, do you ever shut up? Like really? I could cut your tongue out and you’d still find a way to talk more than anyone else.” Kainé complains. But, she is justified in her grievance. “Hm? Oh. That’s just the shade that lives in me. Just ignore his bitchass.”

“Hello mister shade!” Emil greets innocently.

“You’re supposed to tell this one to fuck off, Emil.”

“Oh. Okay. Fuck off mister shade!” he corrects, and resumes his work.

“Adorable.” Tyrann deadpans. “So, dear black bird. What sort of atrocities are there in your home. I’d kill to know.”

“There’s the kinds of things that would kill you first.” he retorts. Qrow didn’t like this thing. If this was the standard for shades, then it was a good thing they were being slaughtered.

“Fat chance, but that sounds like my kind of place. Tell me, is the death slow and painful?” Qrow is disgusted as the thing laughs.

“You get used to it after a while.” Kainé shrugs. Before Qrow can respond, they’re on the roof, where Grimoire Weiss also is.

“It worked!” Emil triumphantly shouts

“GAH! Don't sneak up on me like that! You’re all fortunate I can’t get a heart attack!” Weiss berated.

“Where’s Nier?” Kainé demanded.

“Beyond this door, but, it is blocked by a magical barrier. If we all focus our attack on it, we should be able to break it.” Weiss explained, and on the count of three, magic assaulted the door Nier was behind, breaking it and the barrier. They could see the shadow descending down onto Nier.

“YOU WILL DIE YOU FILTHY BROTHER KILLER!” it screamed.

Thankfully, Emil was quick enough to cast a protective barrier around him. It floated in place as it attempted to break the barrier. Quickly, Qrow rushed at the thing, except he could see that it wasn’t exactly just anything. It was Hazel, possessed by a shade? Qrow had a million and one questions, but he had no time for them. He kicked the monstrous man and fired a bullet to his chest. He knew it wouldn’t be enough to take Hazel out, but it was enough to send him flying, flying back into the shadows.

“We’re not too late, are we?” Emil wondered.

“Nope. Just in time.” Nier responded gratefully as Qrow helped him up.

“Hold your conversing for later. More pressing issues are at hand.” Weiss reminded them as he floated back over to Nier.

“Right. Let’s just stay close together.” Qrow ordered. “He can't take us all on at once.”

With great tenseness, they all cautiously made their way out of the shrine. They eyed every shadow they passed, and relied mostly on ranged attacks to dispatch any brave shades that dared to attack. Only when they finally left the shrine and onto the boat did they all begin to feel safe, all but Qrow. Something wasn't sitting right with him, and it wasn't just Hazel appearing. He couldn't make a sound conclusion yet, but he knew he would in time

“That guy, he was possessed too, but it was different somehow.” Kainé revealed.

“I have some information that might help make sense of things. We should try to settle down first though.” Qrow suggested.

“Agreed.” Weiss concurred. “It has been a long day, and we’ll be much safer in the sunlight and the open field.”

With that, resident expert campers Kainé and Emil decided on a good spot to set up on. While Emil got the fire ready, which didn't take long thanks to magic, Kainé reaped some fresh mutton. Before long, a fresh meal was served. It was plain, of course, but it was warm, edible food, that didn't taste like an abomination, which Nier was particularly grateful for.

“Old timer,” Kainé began as she bit into a piece of meat, “what were you gonna say about that possessed guy?”

“He’s from your world, isn’t he?” Weiss guessed. Qrow nodded his head yes, and swallowed a bite.

“Hazel. He works for the woman that controls the monsters of my world. I’m sure that at least one of his goals is to get in the way of my mission.” Qrow said with annoyance. But, if anything, he expected Hazel or someone to show up sooner and pose a problem.

“Why would he focus on me then?” Nier wondered. “It’d make more sense for him to target you then.”

“Maybe it was the shade that possessed him?” Emil Suggested.

“Could be. It looked like the shade in him had a lot of control.” Kainé answered. She remembered how the massive fiend was covered almost head to toe in the shade pattern. Filthy brother killer, huh? Sounds like someone was having a lot of fun before we even came along. A man after your own heart, ey sunshine?

“But…” she continued, “he didn’t exactly seem out of control either.”

“Now that I think about it, the eyes seemed familiar. Remember those stone guardians that imprisoned you, Weiss?”

“Not fondly. It was hardly how a Grimoire such as myself should be greeted.” Weiss complained. “But, yes, why?”

“Remember that one of them had glowing red eyes? His had that glow to them.”

“I see now. My former wardens were siblings, and it appears as if one of them survived our initial attack and wants revenge.”

“And that would be a cause Hazel would sympathize with. I could be that they're in sync, rather than one of them being in control.” Qrow murmured as the gears in his head turned. Shades and Grimm appeared to have some similarities, so perhaps Salem had taken interest in that. After all, what better way to learn about the monsters than to become one?

"There's just one problem though, why would a shade have a brother? Shades don't have family." Emil reminded them.

"Just as I am a product of ancient magic that is unknown today, perhaps they are too. They may very well just be a special case of rare, ancient magic influencing an archaic pair of shades." Weiss reasoned.

Wanna tell them the truth? I wanna see the looks on their faces when they realize just what they've been killing! Ha ha haa!

"Doesn't matter. They're our enemy now." Kainé tells them firmly.

"Right. It doesn't matter what kind of shade they are. They're still a shade, and we have to kill them before they kill us." Nier affirmed after taking one last bite and letting out a long yawn.

"... You three get some sleep. Me and the book,"

"Grimoire Weiss." he interrupted to correct.

"Me and little Weissy Weiss here will keep watch." Qrow taunted. Qrow had to say he felt proud of himself when he saw the grimoire's reaction. It was like ruffling up an Atlesian, which always made him feel better.

"Oh joy. Another bane to my existence." Weiss commented sarcastically.

"Will you shut the fuck up already. We’re trying to sleep." Kainé

"And when you want some sleep, let me know. Don't feel bad or anything either. I hardly even need any sleep." Emil directed at Qrow.

"Sure thing." he answered.

As the hours progressed, Qrow and Weiss managed to turn civil with one another as Qrow sipped out of his flask every now and then. From Weiss, Qrow learned that blood and words were the focuses of the grimoire's magic. Blood was the physical component of the magic, and words were where the power resided. Although, the words used were a mystery much like the script that occasionally accompanied it.

In turn, Qrow shared the scant information he knew about magic. The most common magic of his world was elemental, the magic that belonged to the maidens. Then there was Oz. His powers included the elements as well. A simple way to understand the rest of his magic was that it concerned energy, the flow, transfer, and magnitude of it. A specific portion of that ability was given to him and his sister to aid them in their little parlor trick. Upon their deaths, that power would return to him.

And then there was the depraved woman known as Salem. The full extent of her powers was unknown to him. Power over the Grimm was an obvious magic of hers. He imagined her abilities included the elements as well, since it seemed to be a common magic. Beyond that, he could only guess with uncertainty.

“So, what about the magic that made you a book? I doubt you were always a grimoire.”

“Truth be told, I do not know if I ever was anyone or anything else. The best theory I have is that it involves humans of the old world. But, for what purpose I was intended to serve or how exactly I came to be, it is all hardly of any importance now.”

“Now?” Qrow wondered. The book looked around to make sure the kids were truly asleep.

“When Nier beat me out of my slumber, I only had my knowledge, no memories to speak of. Without him and my memories, I still could have done as I so pleased, but I did not because I couldn’t just let him end up hurt. And then it just so happened that our goals aligned. And then came the Shadowlord and Grimoire Noir. They almost succeeded in using me for what I can only assume was my purpose, but I eventually came to my senses thanks to a certain foul mouth. I didn’t want to leave them, you see.”

“Well aren’t you a big softie?” Qrow teased. He had a feeling the book would have rolled his eyes if he could have.

“You are a menace, second only to Kainé. But, I suppose I am. She is much the same. Therefore, I imagine you are much the same, hmm?” the grimoire accused.

“... I guess so.” Qrow admitted. “Can’t say it always feels good.”

“I imagine so.” The book commented as the man took the last drink of his canteen. “While it has been nice talking to someone who isn’t a moody teen, I’m sure you need some sleep.”

“Yeah. Some sleep sounds good.” He said as he gently awoke Emil, and took his place to rest for the “night.”

“So, where to next?” Qrow asked as he served himself a piece of mutton seasoned with nearby herbs courtesy of Emil.

“Back to the village. That was the best lead I had, and nothing came out of it. So I’ll have to see if Devola and Popola have any new information for me.” Nier answered.

“Me and Emil will be around then. See you two in a bit.”

“You two aren’t gonna go with us?” Qrow wondered.

“Yeah, the shitfaced villagers don’t really like us.” Kainé answered.

“So?”

“Devola and Popola thought it would be best if we stayed away so we didn’t scare them or anything.” Emil replied sadly.

“What? Do they own the place.”

“No, they do not, but─” Weiss was about to explain before being cut off.

“Who cares then. Come on Kainé, I never took you as someone who followed the rules like that stick in the mud over there.” Qrow taunted, referring to the book in the air.

“Alright then. Emil, we’re going to get in that dumbass village.” she said with finality.

“But what about the guards?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Hmm… Remember what I said about making people feel sorry?” she questioned him with a sinister smile.

“I do not like that look, hussy.”

“Fuck you.” she spat at the book and turned to Qrow. “And we have just the perfect prop.”

Two guards are stationed atop the gate see Nier and his friends rush to the gate. It’s difficult to tell, but one of the two outsides appeared to be holding a blob of black in their hands.

“Oh god it’s them again.” says one.

“What do we do? Popola said they wouldn’t be a problem.” said the other.

“Okay, let’s just remind them. Maybe they forgot.” guard A suggested doubtful they indeed forgot.

“Did you forget they have magic?!” guard B shouted quietly and fearfully as they neared.

“Shit.”

“Hey! You gotta let us in!” Nier shouted.

“Please, we have to help this poor bird!” Emil begged as the black bird twitched in his boney hands.

“I just couldn’t leave it to die at the hands of a shade,” Kainé began innocently, “Just like when I saved you two from that giant shade.” Her voice had added just a bit of edge to it, enough for the guards to feel the weight of her words.

“Or like when I helped fight the Shadowlord when everyone else ran away! Or when Kainé saved Yonah when no one else could!” Emil added.

“Won’t you please let us in? All so we can help this poor little birdy here?” At that moment, the crow let out a wheeze of a caw. The guards could not still help but feel somewhat threatened. But, despite this, they conceded.

“Fine. Just… neh. Nevermind.” One said with defeat.

“Thank you so very much.” Kainé smiled.

“Yeah, thank you mister guards!” Emil thanked genuinely. “Don’t you worry little birdy, we’ll fix you up in no time.” he cooed.

“Thanks guys!” Nier waved as they passed through the gate. They all tried to hide their giggling as they made their way to nier’s home.

“Well, that went better than I imagined.” Weiss admitted. “And here I thought you were going to directly threaten them.”

“That was plan B.” Kainé told him.

“Of course it was.” he deadpanned.

“Cheer up. You guys’ll finally, really meet Yonah. She’s always wanted to thank you two properly.” Nier told them.

“Oh I’m so excited! Should we surprise her?” Emil suggested.

“Umm, probably not. She’ll probably faint. Okay, just wait here for a moment.” He said as they got to the front of the home, and he quickly went inside. After making sure none of the villagers were looking, Qrow turned back into his human form.

“Excited?” he asked the two.

“Eh, sure.” Kainé shrugged with nonchalance. But, she could not hide her smile.

“I am! Do you think she remembers what we looked like? Does my scarf look alright? I want to make a good impression.” Emil worried.

“I don’t really think she’ll care about that, kid. But,” he began as he fixed the green scarf, “it looks fine.”

“Alright come on in.” Nier said nervously. “Sorry if it looks messy, I tried to clean up a little but,”

“I’m so happy you’re all here!” Yonah shouted, interrupting her brother. “It’s nice to finally get the chance to talk with you two!” she said to Emil and Kainé.

“It’s nice to officially meet you Yonah.” Emil greeted.

“Yeah. If Nier’s not gonna shut up about you, we might as well meet you.” Kainé reasoned.

“And it’s nice to meet you too, mister Qrow. I’m glad Nier has another friend for me to meet!”

“No problem kid. It’s nice to meet you too.” he replied. She was an adorable little thing, reminding him of Ruby with her bubbly demeanor. It was also obvious she was her brother’s kid sister. They had that same white hair, and a similar facial structure. And now that he could see her eyes, they were indeed silver. But, it was likely that didn’t mean anything.

“Do you guys want a drink or anything?” Nier offered.

“How about I make them something! Nier says I make great food!” she beamed. Behind her, her brother’s eyes went wide with fear, an emotion any of them had rarely seen.

“No! I’ll buy something!” he quickly interjected. “It’s a special day. We should buy them some food from the village. You guys’ll like that, right?” he said as if it were a plea.

“Sure.” Kainé said indifferently. While she had heard of Yonah’s atrocious cooking, she wasn’t a wimp and would have taken some of her cooking just fine. But, she figured Nier could use a break.

“I’m fine with that.” Emil answered. While he too had heard of her cooking, he doubt he would have minded it anymore.

“... I’ll try some of your cooking.” Qrow told her. If Nier’s reaction was anything to go by, it was a very bad decision. But, he couldn’t stand to see her face droop down a little, even if it meant suffering a single poor meal. He was sure it couldn’t be that bad though.

“I’ll go to the market real quick then.” Nier said as he made his way to the door.

“Or, how about you let me and the grimoire go. You kids should stay here and have some fun.” Qrow suggested.

“By my word he can think! We’ll be back soon then. Don’t tear the house down.” Weiss quickly agreed before Nier could say no.

“No promises Weissy!” Yonah shouted as she waved a quick goodbye.

“Yeah Weissy, no promises.” Kainé teased. Once outside, they could hear the lively and joyful commotion as it just barely escaped the walls.

“A rare moment of peace and quiet, I must thank you for that at least.” Weiss thanked.

“I just didn’t want them to think I’d run with the money.” Qrow reasoned.

“Believe it or not, they’re rather trusting.”

“And it hasn’t come back to bite you yet?”

“No, surprisingly. Though I suppose that should be cause for concern. Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now.” Weiss dismissed as they passed the fountain, absent of Devola for once.

“Well, did you notice anything odd about the back of the building as we climbed up it?”

“Hmm… I can’t say that I do. All looked as a rock face should.”

“Even with the ladders and wooden planks?”

“Well of course! How else─ Ooh, I see! Based on the location, it all should have rotted or rusted away.” Weiss finally realized.

“But it wasn’t.”

“Begging the question of who set it there for us…”

“Any idea who that might be?” Qrow asked.

“Well, Popola said it was near a trade route, so it’s possible traders built it.”

“But why would they?” Qrow asked.

“Why indeed. There was no other activity in the shrine save for us and the shades. My, this is a most concerning conundrum.” Weiss worried. “But, a small break from that is in order. The market awaits us, and I doubt you know what they want.”

“And that is also what I brought you for. See, I can think.”

“Indeed you can.” Weiss replied. All in all, the book was rather surprised by the man. He was much more capable and intelligent than he looked or let on.

After gathering a few items, some healthy fruits, a few vegetables, some juice, and a bit of seasoned meat, they began to make their way back to the small home.

“So, any idea on who could set you all up?” Qrow asked.

“If someone is in fact steering us onto a path of their creation, I do not know who it could be. Such a person, or group, would have to have quite the amount of resources and power to do so, as I imagine they would have been doing so for some time.” Weiss answered.

“Yeah, there is the chance it could just be some odd coincidence or some rare natural phenomenon that preserved the metal and wood. But still, I’ve got a feeling something’s up.” Qrow reasoned. His instincts tended to be rather good after a lifetime of honing them.

“As do I. But, I believe we should not mention this to Nier and them. They’re all stressed enough as is, and this may not even be a real concern.” Weiss suggested. His unparalleled wisdom told him it would not be a bad idea to suspect some foul play.

“If you say so. In the meantime, I’ll be doing a bit of recon. Hold these.” he said as he handed Weiss the groceries, placing them in a magical hand.

“Such a waste of my talents.” he huffed. “But if you could, give Popola a visit at the library on the hill? Tell her what happened and see if she has any new information would you?” he requested.

“Consider it done Weissy.” Qrow taunted.

“I will enjoy seeing you eat the lass’s cooking.” he said ominously before Qrow left and he reentered the home.

After scanning the town for half an hour, Qrow had found nothing of interest, save for a shiny coin. He was sure it likely wasn’t worth much though. He then made his way to the library at the top of the hill. Once inside, he could see that it was a rather small library, but all things considered, impressive. A number of patrons were scanning the walls of their contents. He asked one of them to point him to Popola, and told him where she was.

Just as he stepped onto the stairs, he could have sworn he saw Ironwood. He looked back for a moment, and saw that no one was looking at the books by the stairs. Children’s books, by the looks of it. Qrow laughed at his mind playing such a trick on him. Qrow had no affinity for men like him, but, Ironwood was not a bad man. Not exactly a good one either but the same could be said for many. At the very least, he was easy on the eyes and a decent drinking buddy, and very fun to rile up.

After knocking on the door and waiting for an answer, he entered when Popola told him to come in. In there were two women, twins by the looks of it. The main difference was their auburn hair, more red than brown though. One had slightly messy hair, with it jutting out in some places, while the other’s was perfectly straight.

“Hmm? You’re a new face. I was kinda expecting Nier.” said the one with messy hair to her sister.

“I’m Popola, and this is my sister Devola. Is there anything we can help you with?” The twin at the desk asked.

“Yeah, I’m a friend of Nier’s.”

“Oh, is that so? I’m glad then.” Devola said.

“He needs all the help he can get. So, what was it you needed?” Popola added.

The two seemed innocent enough, but Qrow could just feel that something was up with them. Though, he could not tell if it was something good or bad. Time would tell.

“Nier’s with Yonah right now, so he wanted me to pass on some info.” He began. He went through the gist of what happened at the shrine, to the possessed human. Though, he left out the info about he and Hazel being from another world. Around these two, he wanted to feel secure and revealed as little about him and his situation as possible.

“I see. That is concerning.” Popola commented.

“The shades are becoming more and more brazen, huh?” Devola commented as she lounged on the couch.

“Any idea why?” he asked them.

“Their leader is the Shadowlord. Whatever the reason, its because of him. I’m surprised he hasn’t told you yet.” Devola responded nonchalantly.

“I’m sorry, but was that all? We were kinda in the middle of something.” Popola explained. Qrow wondered what exactly they were in the middle of, but knew he couldn’t just pry like that.

“Yeah. Nier wanted to know if you came across any new leads.”

“Yes actually.” she responded happily. She opened a drawer and pulled out a piece of paper and an oddly shaped piece of stone. “This is a part of the key to the Shadowlord’s castle.” she said as she handed him the paper and key piece. The Stone Guardian, Sacrifice, The Law of Robotics, Memory Tree, and Loyal Cerberus.

“We’re not sure what Sacrifice and Loyal Cerberus are referring to, but its likely that The Stone Guardian piece was somehow connected to Gretel at the shrine.” Devola began.

“The Law of Robotics likely concerns the junk heap, and Memory Tree may have something to do with the Forest of Myth.” Popola finished.

“Alright then, Thanks ladies. I’ll be sure to give him this stuff.” Qrow waved goodbye as he walked out.

“Of course. Take care now.” Popola said.

“Yeah, and make sure Nier stays safe, will you?” Devola requested with undeniable concern. Of course, he agreed to.

As he closed the door, Qrow wondered just how they knew the shade at the shrine had a name. That was most concerning and suspect. Just how they came into the possessions of the items was a suspicious mystery too. Not only that, why just ask to keep Nier safe? What about his friends? He may not have been as capable as them, very few likely were, but there was no doubt they could be hurt too.

And then the Shadowlord. Qrow thought he must be somewhat like Salem, a manipulator of shadowy beasts. It was safer to assume he was intelligent, and leading those kids down some path of his creation. But why? And there was still the concern of who was helping him, if there was anyone.

By the time he made it back to the house, his mind was running through the possibilities. He was glad he could run them by the grimoire. While somewhat annoying, he was no doubt wise and smart. Though, he was snapped out of his thoughts by a terrifying smell.

“Brothers, what is ─”

“You’re back!” Yonah exclaimed, holding out a pot of… something. He wondered how she made it an unnatural looking bright blue. He doubted she had food dye.

“Just in time for your dinner, it seems.” Weiss snickered. Qrow gulped.

“Looks… interesting.” He commented with a smile. He reminded himself he was doing this to make a sickly little girl happy.

“It’s an awesome color isn’t it? I wonder if I could get Sebastian to make something as cool looking as that.” Emil said.

“Not unless─” Weiss said as he was cut off by a jab to his spine and a dirty look from Nier.

“I guess I’ll try some. I doubt it would taste bad to me.” Kainé said.

“Not that it ever tastes bad!” Nier affirmed intensely.

“I’ll try some too then! Can’t let Mister Qrow have it all for himself. I think it smells good anyways, so that means it’ll taste good.” Emil said as a bowl was set before him. Next was Kainé, and finally Qrow.

“Are you sure you don’t want any, Nier? I made a lot more than I meant to.” she told him.

“Oh, no, I’m fine. I already ate a lot.” he reasoned. He was thankful she didn’t press any further.

“Okay, on the count of three, all of you take a sip!” she adorably ordered. “One… Two… Three!”

Each of them took down some of the soup. Nier covered his eyes as he did so, and prayed they would all act fine. When he didn’t hear anyone gag, he uncovered them to see the trio gulping down the soup.

“This is good.” Kainé said in between gulps.

“My word, this is the quietest I’ve ever seen her! … See! The hussy didn’t even bark back at me! What kind of enchantments do you use young Yonah? I must know!” Weiss insisted as he moved about in grimoire fashion. It made her giggle.

“It’s my secret!” she joked.

“It’s sweet and salty, with a bit of bitterness to even it out.” Emil explained. “I really like it.”

“I love it.” Qrow said as he savored it. There was definitely some alcohol in this, weak, but alcohol nonetheless. Just how she got some in there, he did not know. He wasn't going to complain or question it though. “Pour some in here for me, will you kid?” he said as he offered her his empty flask. The soup, if it could be called that, wasn’t anything strong, but it was free, and the best kind of booze is free booze.

“Of course mister!” she replied gleefully. Internally, Qrow laughed that he would get a refill from such a situation.

“Hmm… I guess I could try some.” Nier said after contemplating grabbing a spoon.

“Hey! Back off, or else!” Kainé threatened as he went for her bowl. Cautiously, he backed away.

“You can have some of mine.” Emil offered.

As Nier took a spoonful out of Emil’s bowl, he inspected it nervously. It did not smell good to him, and was beginning to regret his decision. But, Yonah was watching, so there was no backing away. Quickly, he took the spoon into his mouth. It was terrible. Either they were good liars, or they somehow all actually enjoyed it. Quickly, he swallowed it.

“That was… Great!” he tried to say with enthusiasm.

“I’m glad you like it! Here, have a bowl!” She said as she slid him a bowl.

“Oh no, I’m still to full Yonah, I─”

“Mine now.” Kainé announced as she stole the bowl and began to wolf it down. Qrow chuckled.

“More please!” Emil asked as he held out his bowl.

“Fill me up again, yeah?” Qrow asked as he offered his half empty bowl. Happily, she refilled both of their bowls.

“I’m so glad you all liked it!” she said, smiling brighter than the sun.

It made Nier the happiest among the group. Despite everything, she wanted to help, so seeing her actually able to do that made him feel a warm feeling he hadn’t felt in some time. She proudly placed the pot back on the stove and resumed eating her meal from earlier.

“Hey, you’re not gonna eat any?” Kainé questioned, hoping she wasn’t taking any food away from the little girl.

“Oh, no. It tastes terrible to me. Devola said that it’s because I have weird taste buds.” She answered cordially as she reheated some food from earlier. Nier lamented the fact that he didn’t think of that excuse for himself. Well, he could perhaps use it in the future, blame it on puberty or something if he had to.

After a day of rest in the home, the group decided to leave for the Junk Heap. Yonah begged for them to stay just a little longer, but Nier was quick to say he needed to take care of things. As she deflated, he was even quicker to remind her that they all had such a fun time together, and that they would do it again soon enough.

“So, what’s the junk heap like?” Qrow asked aloud.

“It’s in the name. It’s a heap of junk, duh.” Kainé sassed.

“To be precise, it’s a place filled to the brim with junk from the old world, before it regressed to become what it is now.” Weiss explained.

“There are a lot of machines there. They’re a mix of technology and magic. The world sure had a lot of power and knowledge back in the day.” Emil reminisced sadly.

“Well, the machines still break against our weapons, so the old world couldn’t have been that powerful if you ask me.” Nier added.

“Power alone only does so much. Still, let’s just hope we don’t have to spend more time than we need to. But, based on what your friends said, I’m thinking the piece might be tied to a specific machine. And that, might take some time.” Qrow lamented.

He had already learned some nice info about magic from Weiss, but it wasn’t enough to feel satisfactory. He doubted a place filled with machines would reveal much to him, even if they also were part magic. However, he was glad he was able to help these kids. That was a goal he came to value more than he originally thought he would.

When they made it to the entrance to the heap, Nier made one stop at the brother’s weaponsmith to see about upgrading Beastcurse. He left Emil, Qrow, and Kainé outside longer than he anticipated. Weiss expected some sort of verbal spat when he joined them back outside. To his surprise, the two were formally sparring, with Emil as their referee.

Kainé was strong and quick with her swords, but Qrow still surpassed her. Serrated blades screeched against the sword Harbinger. Weiss could see that it was a well crafted weapon. Their back and forth was a sight to behold, though Weiss was sure Kainé could beat him if she used her magic. With a skillful parry, Kainé was sent skidding back.

“You’re a pretty good fighter, no surprise there, but you could still use some more experience.” he told her.

“Experience this!” she yelled as she rushed at him. Once they met, a volley of exchanges could be heard echoing.

“Get his ass Kainé!” Emil cheered. So much for a clinical ref.

“You got him now Kainé!” Nier assured.

“Show that hussy the might of incomparable wisdom!” Weiss cheered on Qrow. Someone had to.

In one swift motion he kicked her away. And almost as if by magic, the blade transformed into a scythe before their eyes. Kainé, however, did not notice, and sped back to him for another assault. That was her error. The scythe hooked the blades out of her hands by their chain, and a low kick felled her to the ground.

“Like I said earlier, power alone only does so much.” He told her as he held out a hand to help her up. Rolling her eyes, she took the help.

“Yeah, whatever.” she said.

“Your weapon, how did it do that?” Nier wondered as Qrow handed Kainé back her swords.

“Huh, wait, when the fuck did that happen?” Kainé exclaimed as she noticed Harbinger’s new form.

“That?” he said as it transformed back into a sword. “In my world, this kind of thing is commonplace. Its just a series of gears and stuff. Nothing special.” he replied dismissively. “... Well, no. It is kinda special.” His weapon was a rather unique one, even among the many huntsmen of Remnant.

“Impressive indeed, but our fun has been had. We have a new clue on the Law of Robotics. There is a machine that has partnered with a shade. If there is anything that is our target, that must be it.” Weiss announced.

“Don't be such a stick in the mud, book. The fun doesn’t even have to end, you know.” Qrow told him as they made their way into the heap.

“There is such a thing as a time and a place, you know.” Weiss annoyingly reminded him.

“I’d say this is a good time and a place.” Qrow replied. Then, an idea came to him. “For example, this is a good time and place for a bet.”

“... Really? I never would have guessed.” he replied sarcastically. “Please impart your wisdom unto me, Grimoire Weiss, as to how this is the proper setting for what is likely a petty bet?”

“Simple. I bet I can teach beach day over here better than how you can teach big brother here.”

“Pah! Do you truly think a ruffian such as yourself would serve as a better instructor than me? I agree to your little bet. I am sure some humility will do you good, once you lose.”

“Hey! Who said I gave a shit about this?” Kainé protested. “I am not gonna spend some time listening to some old timer telling me how to fight.”

“Here take this then.” Nier said as he held out a large sword with a bird motif. “You can wield two swords like Kainé.”

“Uhh, are you sure? I mean─”

“Yes, it’s fine.” he assured. “I still have the spear and dagger anyways on me anyways. It’s no big deal.”

“If you say so.” he said as he somewhat reluctantly took the sword. Now, he matched Kainé with two swords in hand. Granted, his were larger and heavier and lacked the chains her sword had. Looking at the golden sword, it was rather simple. But, it did have a strong and unique silhouette.

“Good. With that settled, let this one-sided battle begin!” Weiss announced confidently.

“I still haven't agreed to this crap.” Kainé reminded them.

“Don’t worry. I was a combat teacher for a bit, and I was amazing.” Qrow proudly assured.

“Wait, what about me?” Emil asked.

“You’ll be our judge.” Qrow answered him.

“It is an important and honorable task, one I am sure you will perform well in.” Weiss added.

“Yes!” the little mage excitedly nodded. “Don’t you worry, I’ll be a great judge!”

“Ugh…” Kainé sighed as she rolled her eyes. Now she had to do it, for Emil.

“Hey, It’ll be fun, Kainé. If you end up winning, that means you’ll have helped beat Weiss in a bet too.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” she chuckled, a grin spreading across her face.

“It was nice knowing you, Weiss.” Nier said dejectedly.

“And what is that supposed to mean? I will not accept a defeatist attitude!” Weiss yelled affirmatively.

“Let’s show those losers how its done!” Kainé yelled excitedly as a wave of machines approached.

“Now you’re talking my language.” Qrow replied as he swiftly felled some machines in a display of bravado. The other sword, it felt surprisingly good in his hands, almost empowering as if by mysterious magic.

As they progressed, Weiss barked “tips” for Nier to follow. Most of the time, he followed them well. Nier didn’t mind. It was different fighting without Weiss’s magic, as he focused his attention onto studying Nier’s movements and technique, but Nier considered it a good challenge. Plus, it was safer to practice on the machines rather than shades. They had become more and more dangerous, just as he did. The machines remained much the same as they were when he last visited, and the time before that, and the time before that.

As for Qrow, he found that Kainé was difficult to teach, at first. She was a difficult person in general. But, he knew that he was too. In a sense, that made her easier to deal with. Qrow quickly found that she didn’t take well to being told what to do, even if it meant improving her fighting. What she did take well to was being shown what to do without being told to do it. She was someone who learned by observing, which is what he realized after going down the first elevator.

The machines at the lower levels of the Junk Heap were more of a challenge, but still nothing compared to their talent and skill. Dual wielding the large swords, many automatons were easily felled. Qrow had half a mind to take up dual wielding back home. An impressed Kainé followed in his footsteps, turning machines into scrap much more efficiently than before, and without the aid of magic.

However, Qrow’s semblance was starting to act up, and it was eating at him. Nier had tripped and nearly met the electric end of an automaton. And sure, some machines were crushed by falling ceiling tiles, but one even fell near Weiss, almost flattening him.

It was at that point Qrow said they could spit up in their search. To cover more ground. At first, Weiss and Nier wondered if that was a wise move. But, Kainé convinced them, saying that if they ran into the shade and machine, they’d reduce it to smoke and scrap metal easily. Emil also supported her and Qrow, but opted to stay with Nier and Weiss.

Having split up, Qrow was sure less bad things would happen to the people around them. But, it seemed as if his semblance just decided to focus more on him and Kainé. At one point, he fell down one of the bottomless pits, and had to fly out. A few feathers were singed as a result.

Later, in a dead end room, Kainé got body slammed by a machine because she was too preoccupied mangling a P-33. Thankfully, the machine that body slammed her didn’t have its electricity on, for some reason. Regardless, Kainé quickly exacted her furious revenge. After that, Qrow suggested they take a break out in the empty hallway.

“Dammit, what the hell?!” Kainé yelled frustratedly as she kicked the wall. “Why the fuck is today so shitty!” Again, she kicks the wall. “What! The! Fucking! Hell!” Qrow leans against the wall, and she takes a deep breath and joins him for a moment of rest. “Well, at least its not boring today.” Qrow lets out a quick chuckle.

“Sorry.” he apologizes. “Not everyday I hear something good about me.” She could now sense his unease. She looked at him, and saw that he seemed hurt. Well, not hurt, per say. More sad, the kind of sadness that comes from the bitter acceptance of what one perceives as terrible. It was familiar to her.

“So, what’s up with you, then?”

“Would you believe me if I told you I was a curse?” he asked her. She gave a quick laugh in response.

“You’re asking another walking curse that, you know?”

“Oh. For what its worth, I don’t think that shade makes you a curse.” he earnestly told her. After all, you can’t really blame a person if a literal monster inhabits their body against their will. Her sad and bitter laugh surprised him.

“He’s hardly a curse. More of an annoying bitch than anything.”

“That’s not hard to believe.” he scoffed all too knowingly. From what he could infer about the shade’s personality, he was the very sadistic, and very annoying type, He’d come across a few similar people in his work for Oz. In Qrow’s eyes, the only thing that separated such people from Grimm was their intelligence and other desires aside from sadism.

It did not escape Qrow that this meant that some other thing weighed her mind, some other thing that made her mark herself as cursed. He knew better than to pry. If she wasn’t going to say, she didn’t have to. He could respect that. He knew he’d be a hypocrite otherwise. Still, he felt that she at least deserved to know what plagued him, what was plaguing her because of him.

That, and she was still just a kid, an teen hardened by cruel life, but a kid to him nonetheless. If his time teaching had taught him anything about kids, it was that they opened up to adults who took the time to understand and empathize with them. Mr. Branwen, man who had lived through a hell of a youth worse than most, found that he was rather good at getting the kids to open up about their feelings and concerns. It was one of the few things he could say he was proud of about himself.

“I told Emil already, but I guess you should know too. I… ”

“Uhgg. I’m gonna stop you there. These kinds of things are always sob stories.” she told him, rolling her eyes in usual teenage manner. “I fuckin hate sob stories.” she said under her breath. “It doesn’t matter what’s wrong with us. At the end of the day, we’re abominations either way, and we’ve still gotta live on regardless.”

“You’re pretty smart, you know?” Qrow chuckled. He’s sure she had a shitty life too. In an ideal life, kids don’t get that kind of thinking, so young at least. “You still wanna beat that book with me, yeah?” he asked, getting off the wall to stretch.

For a moment, Kainé hesitated. There was just something about him she felt that she could trust. She then noticed the concern, almost hurt yet resigned look on his face because she was taking so long to answer.

“Yeah, definitely.” she quickly confirmed. “But first, can you keep a secret?” she asked.

“Of course. What is it?”

She motioned for him to come closer. Even though it was just them two in the empty hallway, she still felt the need to whisper it. He lowered his head down, and let her whisper her secret to him. He was surprised at first. It was not what he was expecting in the slightest, but it was something he could very personally understand. In return, he shared a “secret” with her too.

He assured her, they were not monsters because of the body they were born with. She was a strong young woman. He told her that he felt much the same once, a long time ago, but assured her she too would overcome it.

Qrow knew he was not an epitome of self-love by any means. Far from it. But, his body was not a source of his self-hate. With an uncontrollable and unfortunate semblance, he was going to love that aspect of himself that he decided on, the part of himself that he could control. That part of himself he did not, would not, hate was a source of solace and comfort.

Qrow knew that Kainé wasn’t just going to love herself overnight, but he had given her some hope. That, she was thankful for. Just knowing that someone like Qrow was kinda like her, was comforting.

Don’t lose your hate so quickly now, sunshine. A weak, sad, pathetic voice told her.

While they all lost to Hazel and Gretel at the Junk Heap, they did manage to find the Law of Robotics key piece among some rubble.

But, Emil did later declare Qrow and Kainé the victors of the bet. Nier was ambivalent, but Weiss was absolutely livid, nearly unable to accept defeat. Qrow and Kainé had a lot of fun rubbing it in.

By the time they returned to the village to rest, he had come to accept his loss. Though, he stated that if their bet concerned magic, rather than weaponry, Qrow wouldn't stand a chance. He teased the book, saying he shouldn't be so sure of that.

Although reluctantly, the guards opened the gate on their command. Devola was playing the Song of the Ancients at the fountain this time around, eyes closed and focused on the song. So, it wasn't much of an issue to get past her unnoticed.

Once inside the home, Yonah squeaked with joy that they all returned so soon, and ran to hug her brother.

"It's nice to see you again too Yonah, but take it easy, ok? I don't want you to overexert yourself so much." Nier worried as he hugged her back.

"Ohh, you worry too much!" She scolded.

"He's just concerned, is all. Besides, you've got a good big brother. It's only natural for him to worry." Qrow explained.

"Well…" she sighed, "I guess you're right. I do have a pretty good big brother. I probably shouldn't complain too much. I promise to take it easy today then."

"Thank you Yonah. I heard that Popola managed to find some cards and taught you how to play with them. Maybe you could teach us, and we all could play?" He suggested. A smile beamed from her happy face at the idea.

"Okay! I'll go and find the cards." she announced as she went upstairs.

"I'm gonna go to the store real quick then!" He shouted.

"Alright! Don't take too long!" she shouted back.

"We'll help her look then." Kainé said.

"Sure. Want anything in particular?" He asked.

"No, I'm alright." Emil answered.

"A potato. … Two potatoes." Kainé said after a moment.

"Alright… Two potatoes." Nier said. He was unsure why she would want such a plain food.

"I'll go with you." Qrow offered. "I'm sure you need a break from the book."

"It is a pleasure and honor to be in my presence you know? Honestly, do you think the Grimoire Weiss is as common as a crass paperback?"

"Sure." Nier agreed as the two were walking out the door.

"Have fun, Weissy." Qrow goaded.

As the door closed, Weiss sighed. But, if he were being honest, he wouldn't mind just resting on a nice bookshelf for a moment. Nier was with Qrow, and the other kids were just upstairs where they could cause no trouble. He deserved a little rest, and there likely wouldn't be a better time for quite a while.

So, he found a spot on the nearly empty, but comfortable shelf in the corner near the staircase, and felt himself slowly drift into a calm and relaxed state.

"Thanks back there. For talking to Yonah and convincing her for me." Nier said graciously as they entered the shopping district. Truly, he was thankful.

"Eh." he shrugged. "Think nothin of it. Besides, you are a good brother. Trust me, I know what a bad sibling is, and you definitely aren't."

"It doesn't feel like that sometimes…"

"Yeah. It's easy to feel like you're never doing enough. I can promise you though, you're doing all you can, and it is a lot." Qrow assured him.

"Thanks. Again. That means a lot." Talking to Qrow, hearing him reassure him, it felt good, like it was something he needed, but didn't know he needed.

"You're welcome kid. Now come one, we've got some memories to make." He said, and proceeded to trip in front of the women at the fountain. He could hear them giggle. So much for trying to seem cool and stuff.

"Well, here are your potatoes." Nier said as he tossed them to her.

"Nice! You don't know how much I've been fucking craving these." She said, and took a bite out of one potato like it was an apple.

Qrow was not a man easily caught off guard. But that, that was shocking, and frankly, revolting.

"What?" she said to a staring Qrow as she took another bite.

"Why??? That's not how you eat them…"

"How the fuck are you supposed to eat 'em then?"

"Cook them?"

"And lose the crunch?"

"Ok my gods… give me those, I'll make fries."

"What the hell are fries?"

That broke Qrow's heart. After all that happened to him, it was not an easy thing to break. He could almost cry. He had to sit for a moment to process this. All the while, Kainé loudly munched on her potato.

"Okay." Qrow said once he recovered. "Just find me the other potato. I promise you will love fries. If you don't I will literally give you Harbinger."

He gave her a confused look. Right.

"My weapon." He clarified. Satisfied with the offer, she tossed him the other potato.

"You really named your weapon? You sleep curled up next to it or something?"

"That reminds me," interjected a refreshed Weiss, "the other blade you are currently in possession of is the Phoenix Sword."

"That's pretty believable." He said as he cut up the large potato. He was glad they bought cooking oil earlier.

"Would you like to hear the story I've collected on it?"

"Sure. Why not."

"Ugh." Kainé groaned. "I'm going upstairs so I'm not bored to fucking death." With that, she joined the others in a game of cards.

So far, Yonah had beaten both Emil and Kainé. Qrow imagines Nier was next to lose, and that Yonah was probably making up rules as they went. He'd figure he'd indulge her and lose later.

"Anyways, let me begin." Weiss said, and told the story.

This is an old story. A beautiful bird with brightly shining feathers lived silently and carefully in the depths of a forest.

One day, a child abandoned as a burden wandered into the depths of the forest. The bird took pity on the starved and sunken child, and pecked off one of its feathers to give to the child. The child brought it back and pleased his relatives, and he was able to live with his family again.

Hearing the story, people barged into the forest one after another, and told the beautiful bird of how poor, how unfortunate and how unrewarded they were. The beautiful bird took pity on them, and gave them one shining feather after another, and when it gave its last feather, the bird’s beautiful body was reduced to a sorry state. However, the ugly bird did not have any regrets.

The ugly bird that lost its feathers was freezing in the cold, and the child from before appeared in front of it. He told it that he was searching for a brightly shining and beautiful bird to repay his debts. The ugly bird was overjoyed, and told the child of its desire. "That was me. Please, would you not keep me warm in your chest?" But the child merely took one glance at the ugly bird and called it a liar, killing it with a huge sword and eating the burnt bird. Afterwards, he continued to search for the beautiful bird.

"... Well, that was something." Qrow commented.

"What were you expecting?" Weiss said accusingly.

"I don't know." Qrow responded defensively. "Ow!" He hissed as some oil splattered onto his hand. "Maybe how it was created, or something about its original owner?"

"Hmph, I imagine your weapon's story isn't to your tastes then."

"It doesn't have a story!" Qrow affirmed.

"Pah! All noteworthy weapons have a story, and yours is no exception!"

"Wait, wait. You're saying that Harbinger, my Harbinger, has a story?"

"Naturally. Do weapons in your world not have stories? Most odd." Weiss said before letting Qrow answer. "I suppose it is my duty to tell you your weapon's story then. So, I implore you to listen and listen well."

In a time not known, there lived an archer with jet black hair who killed, and killed, and killed the allies of the wretched light. The Goddess of Light ordered his death, as he was far too much of a threat for a mere mortal. She sent her greatest warrior to slay him. Equipped with divine magic and a holy armament, he obeyed his Goddess and killed the Hero of Innocent Darkness with his own fiery arrows.

Being an honorable and just soul, he ascended to an afterlife within the light. There, the cruel goddess controlled him as another one of her puppets. In her name, he ended the lives of many valiant souls who sought a world of freedom. Wherever he went, the goddess’s will followed in the form of a fiery arrow. To his dismay, he soon even surpassed the one who killed him, and became her new greatest warrior.

So, when a new living, breathing soul threatened her as he once did, it was this warrior’s duty to dispatch the threat. The threat was a young woman, much younger than he was when he took up arms against the goddess. He announced his arrival with the shining shot of a holy arrow into the air.

The woman… she seemed familiar to him. But, it was no time for distant memories. He had to carry out the will of the Goddess of Light, even if he did not want to. While a magic user, she was unique in how she wielded it. Rather than fight at a range, she fought up close. She lasted much longer than he had in his last fight, but even she too was felled. However, he too succumbed to her efforts. He lay there, burning by fiery arrows once more. In his final moments, he wondered, and feared, what awaited him in the death after death.

“Well, there’s your story. More satisfactory than the Phoenix Sword, hmm?”

“No.” Qrow deadpanned. “In fact, I’m gonna forget it. Well, I’ll forget it soon.” With that, he popped open the flask and downed it. He was hoping to ration it, but in all honesty, he’d rather not have to live with the fact that even his weapon was a sad mess. He was sure the alcoholic “soup” wasn’t going to be strong enough to actually help him forget, but, it was worth a shot.

“Underappreciated as usual.” Weiss sighed to himself.

“You’ll get used to it soon enough.” Qrow joked. “Come one, we’ve got kids to feed.”

Qrow carefully ascended the stairs, as to be sure he wouldn’t drop them. A cautious Kainé scrutinized a fry before taking a bite out of one. Her face lit up and she quickly shoved it into her mouth. The others quickly joined in on the indulgence, enjoying the simple treat as much as their voracious friend.

Nier threw money at him to get some more potatoes, and Yonah begged him to teach her how to make them. He was happy to oblige. It made him happy to see them all so energetic and pleased. He also made the book go with him to the shopping district so they could discuss some important matters.

All in all, Qrow was satisfied in how things were turning out. Sure. things could be better, but they definitely could have been a lot worse. So, this is a win in his book. It seemed odd that he felt so happy in this world, but he knew that he would have to leave this world soon. If anything, he preferred that. That way, he had less of a chance to ruin his time here, or ruin anything else. But, for now, he would enjoy this mission.

Qrow woke up feeling groggy, and was hit with a terrible headache. His first thought was that he had gotten stupid drunk before returning to Oz and was paying the price. But, as his senses came back to him, he noticed that he wasn’t at Beacon. He wasn’t sure where he was. He quickly got up and searched for his weapon. It was at the side of the bed he was on, and he quickly shifted it into its scythe form.

Cautiously, he went for the door. He found it odd that his capturers let him hold onto his weapon, but he wasn’t going to complain. Just as he was about to touch the handle to make sure it wasn’t rigged or anything, the door shot open.

“Hello there.” A woman greeted as she blocked the scythe with a suitcase. “Just on time. I was hoping to have a few words with you, if you don’t mind?”

Qrow really wasn’t going to take his chances entertaining this woman, so he figured that the best course of action was flying past her as a bird, which he did. Though, he didn’t get far. He flew straight into another suitcase and fell limp to the ground.

“Thank you Accord.”

“You’re welcome Accord.” cordially replied Accord. She walked over to pick up the knocked out bird, and took measurements and notes as she walked to her destination.

When Qrow awoke, a different woman was in front of him. She was eating some fries, sitting on her comfortable looking bed. She had off white hair, and silver eyes. Qrow shifted back into human form.

“Yonah?”

“Oh Qrow! It is you!” she shouted as she jumped up and pulled him in for a hug. “I almost didn’t believe Accord when she said you’d be here. I’m so glad you’re alright. I’m glad you remembered me too.”

“I’m glad you’re alright too. Couldn’t forget someone like you if I tried. But, uh, mind filling me in on all this?” he requested as she released him from the embrace.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah! I guess Accord didn’t have time to huh? Come and walk with me, and I’ll give you the basics.” she said as she picked up her sword, one with a phoenix motif, and then her fries.

“Still hooked onto those fries, huh?” he asked. He was glad to see a familiar face. It put him at ease. That, and he did not feel or sense any danger in this place. It felt safe. That was a good sign.

“Mmhm.” she said with a mouth full of fries before swallowing them. “I always remembered how to cook them how you taught me. In fact, because of you, this place has fries now.”

Qrow lightly laughed. It was an odd honor to have, but an honor nonetheless.

“So, what exactly is this place?” he asked, still smiling.

“This, is the base of the organization known as The Dragon Guard. Though, dragons are practically extinct in most timelines now. But, we do have Mikey. He’s funny. But anyways, our goal is to defeat god. His goal is to destroy humanity and our creation.”

“And naturally, you guys aren’t gonna let that slide, right?” Qrow stated. Yonah eagerly nodded.

“Yup! I was recruited a couple years ago. Though technically, its been millenia since then.” she said as if it were no big deal. Qrow looked at her, eyes wide with surprise. “It’s actually not that complicated if you want me to explain it.”

“I’m good. My head hurts enough as is.” he complained as he rubbed it.

“Yeah… Accord said that might happen.” Qrow looked at her curiously, almost concerned.

“Did you call for me?” they heard a voice say from behind. He jumped up with a yelp in shock.

“On time, as always. How are you Accord? Come across anything that needs some of my special attention?” Yonah casually asked.

“I’m good, as always.” Accord smiled. “Though, there have been reports of another dangerous interloper. This one wields elemental magic and a bunch of swords. But, I doubt you’ll need to take care of her. She’s in one of the timelines where the Seeds of Destruction activate the goddess.” Qrow wondered what the hell any of that meant.

“Another moment of rest for me then, I guess.” she sighed. “Hey, do we have time to spar real quick?” she asked Accord, who thought for a quick moment.

“Sure. I’ll be sure to set up an arena for you.”

“Thank you Accord. Alright, follow me!” she said as she excitedly led Qrow to what he assumed would be the training area.

They passed many different places on their way. There was a large mess hall, a weapons room Qrow would have to see if he could look at later, a magical test center, and he even saw Mikey. Apparently, the white dragon loved his fries, which he confirmed Yonah made perfectly just as he did. When they finally reached the training room, he was out of breath.

“Here,” she said as she pulled out a seat, “rest for a moment. Do you think you could watch my swordsmanship and critique it? Kainé said you were an amazing teacher.” Her face betrayed her cheerful voice, as a hint of sadness could be seen.

“That, I am. So show me what you’ve got.”

After watching her go toe to toe with an android in black, he could say he was very impressed. Her attacks were quick and precise. Additionally, some damage she took seemed to be shrugged off by her own attacks, as indicated by the health bars on display. As the battle ended with Yonah as the victor, he proudly made her way over to Qrow.

“So, what do you think?” she huffed excitedly.

“I’d say you’re even better than me.” he answered honestly. Time had been kind to her. He hoped it would stay that way. She deserved it.

“Really, you think so?” she asked. Qrow nodded his head to reaffirm. She squealed in joy. “I’m so glad you think so! It means so much to me!” she yanked him in for another hug. It was rough, but he didn’t mind too much.

Just then, they heard the door open, Accord walking in.

“Oh, you’re here early, er, on time, actually. I guess it just feels early.” Yonah said. Sadly.

“Your time’s almost up. The magic that brought you here is strong. We were lucky enough to even be able to intercept it.” Accord neutrally explained. “You know, you’re a singularity. Of sorts.”

“You’re someone who causes timelines to branch and split off. You even made a timeline that survived.” Yonah said happily.

“Yeah, an incredible feat. If I were you though, I wouldn’t feel bad about the ones that didn’t survive. Those ones were gonna fail regardless. But man, you did give me a lot of work, not that I mind though. It provided some nice data. That brings me to this: I’ve temporarily sealed off a majority of your memories from during your time away from your world. You have a choice. You can choose to remember or not. It will be a lot to take in, and you’ll have a nasty headache for a bit. So. what’s your choice, avian interloper?”

“I…” he wasn’t so sure. He had a bad feeling about this. But, something compelled him to choose to remember. It felt like he had a duty to remember. It felt somebody was convincing him it was the right choice. “I want to remember.”

“As you will.” Accord answered, pulling out her large phone. “Alright. Initiate code. MEM-3313.”

She was right when she said the headache would be nasty. But, the memories were worse. So many things made sense, and it was all saddening and terrifying. But, mixed in there, were some good memories, ones people wouldn’t trade for the world. There was little Yonah, so much like Ruby to him. Her, Nier, Kainé, Emil, Halua, Weiss, and Rubrum, were a part of many wonderful memories, memories of a world where he felt normal, even if just for a moment. And there they were, in a few terrible memories too, reminding him of his fears and hatred.

“We have another choice for you. Do you wish to keep your memories?” Accorded asked. “Regardless, I already have the important ones recorded, so don’t let us influence your choice.”

Those memories worth more than the world, weren’t worth more than all the suffering and sadness and betrayal he had witnessed so many times. He could barely handle it.

“Take them… take them all…”

“Are you sure?” Yonah asked this time.

“Kid… I’m sorry. I’m not that strong of a person.”

“You are a strong person, Mister Qrow, just not that kind of strong, and that’s alright.” she sat down to take a seat next to him. “The world is a pretty terrible place. And we can all only take so much. I don’t blame you, okay? Accord, transfer them to me.” Qrow looked at her in shock.

“You’re a good man Qrow. Don’t forget that. I know that someday, you’ll be stronger for the people who need you. I believe in you. You have someone who believes in you. Don’t forget that, okay? You have someone who believes in you.”

Qrow wasn’t sure what to say as she tearfully pulled him in for one last hug. He just noticed that he was crying too. He began to feel sleepy.

“Thank you for so many good memories, Qrow. You helped make those days with my brother and friends possible. …Thank you, and goodbye…”

“Goodbye. . .”

You have someone who believes in you.

#qrow branwen #nier #kaine #grimoire weiss #rwby #18.9k words #okay back to this format #cause its kinda cringe #but lots of fun #and saddness #well its just full of drakenier convolutedness #not full of it persay #but definitely has those elements #also ill someday write a sinoalice/rwby fic so i can have Weiss Grimoire Weiss and snow white interact #The remnant branches #Ash Qrow #fun fact the title is a susumu hirwasaawa refrence. His song Ash Crow is also what inspired Harbinger's story #with the fiery arrow and fleeing and being afraid and all that.

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