#mine may have to be either big but not hooved

[momolady]

Solomon the Centaur: Part Two

Female Reader x Male Monster (reader has vitiligo)

I wake in the middle of the night and get out of bed. My sisters don’t even budge as I leave the room. I have to get some fresh air; my body feels hot all over from the dream I was just having. I stand on the porch and take a deep breath, then slowly exhale, but all I want to do is scream in frustration.

This heat I’m in is rough. I’m having the same dream as always, but this year I have no method of release. Because I share a room with my sisters, I can’t masturbate. I barely know anyone here, so I can’t ask for help from some kind gentleman. I’m growing frustrated, and these dreams aren’t helping.

There appears to be a candle still lit in the main house, and that makes me wonder if Solomon is still awake. It also makes me wonder if he would be willing to help me. I probably know him best out of anyone around here. But no, I can’t do that. I’d hate to make anything awkward between us. I don’t know his type, if he’s taken  or just not interested in sex.

Ever since the afternoon Solomon carried me home when I got hurt, I’ve been seeing him in a different light. He is handsome, and even as I try to imagine his eyebrows as caterpillars, I can’t help but be charmed by his face - his long eyes, his dashing smile, the high arches of his cheekbones. Maybe it’s the heat talking.

Back home, I had a couple of lovers to help me through heat. Most of the fauns back home were either too young, too old, or had teased me in youth. I had one faun lover, but the rest were human. One was an admirer of the candles I made, and he liked it when I dripped the hot wax onto his body. Another was a bricklayer who had huge arms, and liked to hold me up when he drove himself into me. The faun was a poet from out of town. I might have fallen in love with him, but he was more devoted to his work than any other living creature. His dick was the real artistry, though, and I may never forget it.

Alas, none of them can tend to my pleading loins now. I’ll have to find a solitary place to tend to myself eventually, or else I may go mad. I sigh heavily, thinking I should go back to bed and simply toss and turn until I fall asleep,when I see a light moving inside the main house. It goes from one end to the other, and eventually emerges onto the porch which faces mine. In the candlelight I see it’s Solomon. I consider reaching out to him, but he may not want to be disturbed. It’s late, and he probably expects that no one will be up.

“I’m going for a swim,” he says aloud. I don’t know why, but I hold my breath. “If you’re up for it, why not join me?” A soft chuckle tinges Solomon’s voice.

“How did you know I was out here?” I ask timidly.

“The moonlight found you first.” He raises his lantern, revealing that captivating smile. “Are you joining me, or will you be returning to bed, Bonbon?”

I step off the porch and approach him. “The water will be cold.”

“And I’m looking forward to it.” Solomon offers his hand to me. “Can you see okay?”

I take his big hand, and even the touch of it satisfies a very tiny part of the overall itch I have. “I can see fine.”

“What’s keeping you awake this evening?” he asks.

I sigh, taking in a deep breath and letting it out loudly. “You don’t have the patience to hear all my complaints.”

Solomon chuckles. “You have many of them?”

“Only one, but I assure you it’s not something to sit and listen to.” We come upon the mossy bank where we first met, and Solomon sets his lantern down near the spot where he tossed the silver coin, then eases his front hooves into the water. “What keeps you awake tonight?” I ask as I sit on the moss, rather than risk the frigid water.

“Something embarrassing.” Solomon wades in. “It isn’t a topic I would discuss with a sweet lady like you, Bonbon.”

“You know I’m not so sweet after our first meeting.” I pull my knees into my chest. “How embarrassing is it?”

Solomon gathers up his hair, which I only now realize isn’t in his usual braid. It hangs down around him like silk, and as he bundles it in his fist it shimmers in the moonlight. “The water isn’t actually that bad. You should come and join me.” Solomon smiles up at me.

I smirk. “You’re changing the subject. I asked you a question.”

“And I answered it by changing the subject. Take a hint.” He holds his hand out. “Come on, swim with me.”

“Not right now.” I don’t have anything on except a very thin sleep shirt which is barely hiding anything as it is. Once it got wet, it would be better just to take it off, but I’d need to build my courage up before I did that.

“So have you met with Daveen again?” Solomon wades deeper into the water, and his tail floats along the surface.

I shake my head. “No. I really don’t want to.”

“Aww, why not? Isn’t he pretty enough?” Solomon teases.

“I told you, it isn’t that.” I run my hands over the moss. “He said something that reminded me of when I was teased for my appearance.”

Solomon dunks his head under the water. When he rises, his hair is plastered to his head and clinging to his neck. “You were picked on, Bonbon?”

“Because of how my skin changed and became blotchy. They used to call me a cow and all sorts of names. Something Daveen said reminded me of all that, so now, it’s hard to not see him as one of those taunting kids.”

Solomon looks at me, and I swear he knows right away what Daveen said. I continue to rub my palm over the moss, hoping I don’t have to tell him. I don’t want to remind him of anything he’s picked on for, either. “What’d he say?”

I press my lips firmly together. “Did he call me pipsqueak? Or was it ‘pony’?”

I frown. “Well…”

“If it helps you, Daveen was never cruel. Sure, all the kids called me names for my size, but he never made an issue of it. I know kids joined in so they weren’t left behind. I don’t blame him for that.”

“But he was still saying those things. He’s an adult, he should be one and stop saying such childish things!”

A faint, delicate smile comes to Solomon’s lips. “I suppose that’s true.”

“What on earth do you consider cruel, then?”

Solomon comes back to the shore. “Not the things that happened when I was a child, but the things that happened later. This time of year especially reminds me of them.” He kneels on his forelegs, half in the water and half on the moss.

“Well, that makes me feel like my complaints are quite small,” I chuckle.

“Then what are they?” Solomon smiles knowingly.

I have to laugh. “Well, if you must know, it’s faun mating season.”

Solomon starts to laugh. “Don’t laugh!” I cover my mouth as I start to giggle infectiously. “See, this is exactly why I didn't want to talk about it!”

“I don’t mean to laugh! It was surprising for you to just come out and say it.” His smile is so bright it could rival the moon overhead. “So you’re frustrated. No wonder you were talking to Daveen! He’ll do it with anything that says okay.”

I throw a stick at him. “Don’t tease me! I’m at my wits end.”

“Then go say ‘okay’ to Daveen.”

“No! He’s a jerk. I don’t want to do it with a jerk, even when I’m frustrated. I had options back home I could rely on, but here I’m not sure where to turn. And I don’t have my own room here, so…”

“What do you mean ‘options’?” Solomon leans in. “You mean you paid people?”

“No! You’re awful!” I screech, making Solomon snort. I toss another stick at him. “No, I mean friends who were…”

“Extremely lucky?” Solomon smirks.

“Very nice friends,” I huff.

“None of them were someone you regretted leaving behind?” Solomon asks curiously.

Do I regret leaving any of them behind? “No, not really,” I answer honestly. “Do you have someone you miss when you travel?”

“I used to.” Solomon sweeps his hair back again. “But that was a long time ago.”

I observe his morose expression. “What happened?”

“I found out the girl was laughing at me behind my back.” Solomon goes back into the water, dunking himself under. I think he’ll pop up quickly again, but he doesn’t, and I come to the edge of the water just in case. He rises slowly, gathering his hair behind him as he looks at me, his dark eyes gleaming silver in the light of the moon. Solomon holds his hands out again. “Come on, the water is fine.”

I give in, strip off my sleeping shirt and take his hand. He leads me into the water and I wade after him. It’s cold, but not as bad as I thought it would be. I keep hold of Solomon’s hand, swimming beside him. I remember how nice it felt being held by him, his arms strong, his hands so big. And yes, now I see how lovely he is.

Solomon chuckles. “What? Do I have something on my face?” He rubs at his chin. “What are you staring at me like that for?”

My cheeks feel warm, and my nether parts feel warmer. “Nothing. Just looking.” My eyes moved away from his face to his long neck, then down the plain of his chest. My mind races to outstrip my desires, but it loses the race. I touch his chest and smooth my palm up his neck, trailing my fingers along his jaw. He dips his head down and my fingers slipped over his lips. I feel his tongue, then his teeth. I’ve never been jealous of my fingers before.

“Are you sweet, Bonbon?” Solomon whispers into my ear, making my skin prickle.

I’m swooning, growing weak with the want flooding through me. “Solomon, you don’t have to. I…”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind helping a friend.” He lifts me out of the water and carries me to the willow tree, pressing my back against the bark. I put my legs over my shoulders and nod at him. I want it, I need it. His head descends between my thighs, and I grab hold of his damp hair, massaging my fingers into his scalp. His mouth is so warm compared to the cold water, and his low moans melt me like butter. I tug at his hair, letting out a squeal as his tongue laps over my needy mound. His long fingers slide inside, stroking along my labia. He gives me what I need, but in painfully small doses. At last his fingers plunge in, and his lips wrap around the most sensitive part of me. He sucks, and I curl around him, nearly falling before he holds me fast.

He lowers me to the ground, easing me into the moss as I twitch and whimper. His fingers still lingered inside me, coaxing aftershocks, and a lock of his hair remains in my fist. “There, now,” Solomon coaxs. His fingers emerge slick with my fluids. He licks them clean, savoring the sweetness he wanted. “All better?”

I’m still breathing hard and shivering. I gulp and nod as he smiles at me. “I’m not confident,” he says, “but I’m glad I could help you find some comfort.”

I reach up, grabbing Solomon’s hand and placing it over my breast. His cheeks darken, and his eyes seem to grow bigger before he pulls his hand away. “That’s enough for now. You probably want to rest.”

I sit up slowly. “I don’t mind.”

Solomon shakes his head. “I don’t mind. It’s okay.” He gives me a smile. “I’m glad to have given you some relief.”

I pout. “Can I ask for more?”

Solomon chuckles. “I told you I’m not that confident. There’s a reason, Bonbon… Ceres. Fingers and kisses are all I can really give.”

“Oh,” I gasp. “I’m sorry. Is something… did something happen to you?”

“It’s not as tragic as that.” He smooths his fingers over my cheek. “The last person I loved made me lose any shred of confidence I had.”

Solomon said she was laughing behind his back. But why? “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. If anything you’ve given me a small flame again. But that just makes me not want to disappoint you more.” He kisses the top of my head. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

I put my shirt back on and take Solomon’s hand again, and he’s quiet as we return back home. He kisses my hand as he leaves me at my porch. “Get some sleep, Ceres.”

“You too,” I murmur. “And… That was…” I look at his face and grow nervous. “That was… the best oral I’ve ever received!”

Solomon grins and chuckles. “Well, thank you.” He taps his finger to his lips. “Best keep that quiet though. You don’t want to wake your family, do you?”

“I’m good at it too,” I toss at him. “So if you ever want it…”

Solomon shakes his head. “Go to bed, Ceres.” He quickly leaves, filling me with questions about why his confidence is so shattered. But as I go back to bed, and at last it hits me.

The next day I find Solomon working in the orchard, tending to some saplings he recently planted. When he sees me, he jumps. “You scared me!” He clasps his hand over his chest. “What are you doing sneaking around here?”

“I have a question for you. How would you describe my size?”

He furrows his brow. “You’re… petite? What’s going on? Are you trying to pull something on me?”

“Okay, so I’m petite to you. How would you compare your size to mine?”

The look on his face makes me believe he’s catching onto my line of questioning. Solomon clicks his tongue and he sets his tools aside, then crosses his arms over his chest. “I would say I’m quite big compared to you, Ceres. But I don’t think…”

“Remember that!” I insist, slapping my hands over my own chest. “Compared to me, you, Solomon, are huge!”

“Huge?” Solomon scoffs.

I nod and smile sweetly. “I just wanted to make sure you knew that. Just think about it. Picture it.”

His brow creases. “What happens to your brain when you orgasm?”

“Nothing. Do you need any help?” I offer.

“Yes. But I’m not taking it from you, because you’re freaking me out. Go back to the house and do something there.” He picks his tools up.

“Can we go swimming again tonight?” I ask quickly.

Solomon’s shoulders sag. “Ceres.”

“Because you’re bigger than me. Much, much, much bigger.” I stare hard into his eyes.

Solomon squints. “What does that have to do with…” He stops and his face goes blank. “Wait a minute.”

I nod, urging him to keep going with that train of thought. Solomon frowns at me. “I told you last night…”

“Your confidence is shot. I know. And whatever that woman did to you before is horrible. What kids teased you for is horrible. You’re such a beautiful person, Solomon. You’re so good to my siblings, you let my little brothers pester you. You take care of your parents. You even put up with me when our first meeting was shit. You have amazing hair, glorious eyebrows, and a mouth that could make gods jealous.”

Solomon starts to chuckle and blush, but then he looks sad again.

“And to me, you’re the biggest. I’ve only been with humans and fauns,” I tell him. “Imagine how tight I would be for you.”

Solomon looks around, licking his lips anxiously. His pupils are wide, and his cheeks have become several shades darker. “Not here,” he hisses.

I approach him and smile. “Just something to think about if you decide to join me for a swim tonight.”

“Ceres,” he pleads.

“You deserve to feel confident in yourself.” I say it almost like a threat. “Even if it takes until harvest, I’ll make you feel confident again!”

Solomon smiles down at me. “What for?”

“Because I like you,” I say without hesitation. “Maybe I even care about you,” I say with a pout. “Because people I care about don’t go around doubting themselves. Not for long, that is!”

His smile grows. “I care about you, too. That’s why I helped you last night.”

My heart leaps inside my chest. “Then let me do the same, Solomon. Let me make you feel big!”

“Just keep your voice down!” Solomon hisses. “I’ll meet you tonight.”

I clap my hands excitedly. “I’m so excited, I can’t wait.”

Solomon doesn’t look so sure. “Later. Watch for my lantern.” He walks off, and I happily skip back to the main house.

That night I go onto the porch to wait. I see the light inside the house, and as it moves I start to come down the steps. Solomon emerges and approaches slowly, and he looks nervous in the weak lantern flame.

“I was thinking it might be cold by the water again. So I thought… Well, just follow me.”

He holds his hand out and I take it. “Did you plan something?” I giggle.

Solomon leads me into the orchard, towards the farthest corner of the trees. There I see a blanket laid out with some pillows. He hangs the lantern on a tree bough, then sits down with me on the blanket. He takes hold of my hands, kissing their knuckles. “I’m nervous about this,” he confesses.

“It’s okay.” I squeeze his hands in return. “It’s just us, no time limit and no worries.” I take off my shirt, then place his hands on my breasts. “They’re small, but I can tell you like them.”

Solomon nods. “I do.” His thumbs rub over the nipples. “They’re pretty.”

He really does have skilled hands. I touch his stomach, rubbing around his waist. “What can I do for you? How can I make you feel good?”

“Let me touch you a little bit more.” His hands smooth down my chest to my belly. “You’re so beautiful.”

I bite my lip, enjoying his touch. “Solomon…”

“Ceres,” he echoes back.

I reward him with a smile. “I want you.” I lay back for him, presenting myself. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Solomon nods, a resolute look on his face. “Sit up again, just for a second.”

“Sure.” I rise from the ground and Solomon puts his arms around me, hugging me close. He looks into my eyes before placing a kiss on my lips. It’s soft and sweet, a touch timid. “It’ll be okay, promise,” I whisper.

Solomon kisses me again, a little harder than before. I touch him, letting him know I’m not going anywhere. I eagerly return the kisses, feeling him relax more and more as they go on. At last he gathers up the pillows and lays me across them, making sure I’m comfortable before he does anything. Slowly, surely, he mounts me. I feel him behind me, warm and prodding, and he trembles and takes a deep breath.

Reaching back, I spread my labia open for him. “Go ahead.”

“Hey, now,” he forces a chuckle. “I know what I’m doing.” I feel his glans against my vulva and fingers. “It’s just…”

“Just what?”

He swallows. “It’s… smaller than I thought.”

“Hmm?” I wriggle my rear, pushing closer to his penis. “Feels mighty big to me.”

“Not that,” Solomon breathes. “You seem smaller.” The end presses inside me. “I’ve never had to worry about this before…”

“Go ahead,” I urge him. “If anything feels wrong I’ll say so.” My fingers slip onto the shaft of his cock. “Please, keep going. I want you.”

Solomon takes another deep breath, and I feel more of him sink inside. It’s a tight fit, and I’ve never had someone as big as him before. I stretch myself to help ease the tightness. Once he’s secured, Solomon moves slowly. He takes his precious time, talking to me often, checking on me. Eventually his movements become more confident, I’m able to take him easily. He’s moaning and shuddering, and I’m braying into the pillows.

By morning, I’m curled up happily in Solomon’s arms, snuggled into his hair and neck. “How do you feel?” I ask him.

“I should be asking you,” he says with a slight sniffle. “I feel amazing. Thank you.”

I kiss his lips softly and gaze lovingly at him. “Once you get the hang of things, you’re going to be a spectacular lover.”

Solomon’s eyes become sparkly and hopeful. “I would love to love you, my Bonbon.” He snuggles closer to me. “More than anything.”

[ducktracy]

ayo do u have any tutorials on how to draw porky? asking for a friend

BOY DO I!!! lemme see what we got here...

i always start with either the head or line of action—there’s hardly any line of action here, so i just went straight for the head.

i draw the cranium first, then usually fudge my way through the jaw—i have such a hard time properly connecting the jaw to the cranium! porky’s a lot tougher to draw than you’d think. he changes every single time i draw him (it’s evident here!) because i’m so indecisive!

i make sure the snout connects the jaw and the cranium—the snout isn’t properly constructed in number 2 and 3, drifting off of the center-line, but i fixed that around 4-5. you can see where i decided to make the snout wider/thinner as time goes on because i didn’t like how geometric it looked originally. trial and error! i also plop the ears on, defining details later.

i then map out where the cheeks’ll go, and draw the body—i always just draw another circle below and then connect that (i think of it like a bowling ball in a heavy sack) to the head. i like the round, plump look of the late ‘30s/early ‘40s porky, so mine tends to be rounder than most.

the jump between 3 and 4 is pretty funny LOL. i map out details where the legs and shoulders go, rough oht the eyes and mouth, define the ears, etc. his hooves are the DEATH of me. i have such a hard time trying to figure out the connect between body, knees, and hooves, but usually they’re just a bunch of circles/ovals overlapping, the hooves more triangular in my case. i’d like to work on getting the eyes to wrap around the construction of the head more, but i like my eyes tall and thin. i used to call ‘em “mr. krabs eyes” back when i first started to learn how to draw him, actually!

then i add extra details and i’m done! like i said, he changes every time i draw him. here i gave him lapels just because—i don’t usually do that often. i love to mess with his bow-tie, usually leaning more on the “too noticeable” side, making it nice and “fluffy”. i think i may have made his head a bit TOO big, but that’s the process in a nutshell!

my porky is an amalgamation of different influences/animators. animators john carey, rod scribner, and bill melendez are probably my biggest inspirations! i really love how they animate porky, they each have different perks that i adore. i did these mainly from memory, so they may not be 100% accurate, but they’re close enough.

someday i’ll do a more proper demonstration, but here’s a little impromptu guide to hold you over for now. i hope this helps even just a little! he’s a tricky one

[magpiemorality]

Henlo, since the prompts are open, if someone hasn't asked yet, could we have more fae ? (I wanna see if i was right for Tall and maybe have a chance to guess the others ?) I just love your writing so much and your fae is in my top favourite things ! 💛

Have some more fae :D 

Warnings: disappearance/kidnapping, mild panic attack

First | Previous | AO3

***

They go a while without seeing any of Eavan's cousins. It's a peaceful time, full of long, dreamy days and sweet, quiet nights. They drift over the land, sleeping under the stars, never too cold or too hot, unbothered by the passing of time. They eat what they find and bathe where they will, and revel in being in each other's company.

It's idyllic, but it can't last. Even here, in what seems like a perfect world, there are moments of fear and moments of anger.

Fae are unpredictable, and often solitary or found in very small packs. The trio of cousins is the largest group Remus has seen on their travels, and the only other Fae he's seen up close apart from Eavan. There are occasionally silhouettes on the horizon, or the sound of voices on the breeze, but mostly his Firefly keeps him far from any potential problems.

In any case they go a while without seeing the cousins either. They must be distant, off doing whatever it is they spend their days doing. Eavan tells stories, of grand hunts and courts and riders that travel the land and flit over and across the borders on moonless nights. Remus is never sure how much of it is story and how much is history but he doesn't care too much to wonder too deeply. He is wholly and truly content with his life with his Fae, whiling away the endless days.

So it comes as somewhat of a shock when his Firefly disappears one night.

Perhaps more than somewhat. Remus doesn't panic immediately, but it is odd. They're in the plains, big rolling hills that are so sprawling they're almost flat at the top and bottom of each one. There's not that much cover around, so he should be able to see Eavan nearby, or even in the distance, but there's nothing.

The charms on his ankles allow him to jog around at great speed, making a wide spiral out from where they'd been sleeping, wider and wider and further and further and faster and faster until he's running, shouting for his Firefly, not daring to use his name here.

Silence greets him, silence and the faintest sound of bells on the wind.

What can he do? What can he, Remus, a mortal in the realm of the immortals, do to find or, heavens forbid, rescue his beloved Firefly?

He sits heavily on the ground, and the horn perpetually fastened at his hip knocks gently against his leg, a reminder that it is still here. Use me, it seems to call, and Remus nearly chokes in his hurry to inhale and blow it.

"Work, damn you!" Remus shouts when the useless thing doesn't make a noise. He checks it for blockages, blowing and blowing and nothing works. It's broken, or he doesn't know how to use it properly, and Eavan is gone, and he doesn't know why.

"You are alone?" A voice startles him up to his feet. It's Tall Fae, and Remus practically sobs in relief. 

"He's gone, I don't know where! He's been taken, I think!"

Tall sniffs the air, sharp eyes scanning around quickly. "Gone. Taken?"

Remus clutches at Tall's tunic front, desperate with worry. "Gone. Help me! Help me find him, I don't know where he could be! Who would take him?!"

With gentle but firm hands, Tall guides his hands out of their grasp. He looks at Remus and rests a hand on his shoulder earnestly, as the other two cousins appear nearby. With a quick snap of words Tall sends them both running, and sits Remus down to breathe when the mortal finds his panic mounting again. 

"They will find him," Tall promises in his low, smooth voice. It's comforting. So is the way he lets Remus hold onto his hand, feeling very young next to the utterly calm patience and certainty of the immortal at his side. "He will be unharmed or we will take matters further. You have done the right thing, you need not worry now."

"How can you be sure?" Remus wheezes, and Tall smiles a rare smile. It's a little dark, but Remus is reassured by that darkness. It's the sort of darkness that promises things will get done.

Tall sweeps a hand out across the hills. "This belongs to me. Anyone who has attempted to take my cousin will answer to me. And no one wants to answer to me. My two hunters will find your beloved and bring him back to you. In the meantime, I have heard the most intriguing thing about 'thatched roofs', would you tell me more?"

The distraction works. Remus goes on a long ramble, trying to recall everything he knows of thatching and roofing and mundane earthy tasks. The memories are vague and hazy but it is the conversation more than the facts that Tall wants from him now. They talk, Tall telling stories Remus knows from Eavan, but with far more detail. He describes the thunder of hooves and the fierce glee of fighting. He whispers that Remus is lucky to have not only Eavan's protection but his own. He would not have suffered a human to wander the land before meeting Remus, that was certain.

As the sun sets Tall walks with him, letting the mortal pace out his frantic energy. "It's a beautiful place, but it hurts to stay still nowadays," the Fae murmurs out of the blue. Remus turns to him, surprised to hear pain in his voice. "I was once something else than what I am now. Something more. But now I am just… A cousin."

"And a friend?" Remus offers.

"Perhaps. Although cousin is, it means more to us than to you. It is chosen, not born. Cousins know each other more than your ideas of family ever could. Even by name. But perhaps…” 

They're on the top of a hill when he trails off thoughtfully, one of many, and when three figures appear on the horizon Remus runs.

 It's the other two cousins and his Firefly, his Eavan. He catches Eavan in a tight hug, sweeping him up into his arms and pressing urgent kisses over his face, falling to the ground with the Fae clutched tight to his chest. "I thought you were lost to me," he croaks, as Eavan strokes his face with a tender smile, fingers trembling slightly.

"Never. I would have come back to you, had my cousins not found me first. I am unharmed, beloved, check and you will find no wounds."

"None?" Remus asks, to be sure. Eavan nods and they rest their foreheads together and breathe.

The cousins stand vigil nearby until the pair are calm enough to rejoin the trio of Fae. "Thank you," Remus whispers, holding a hand out. He has to show Tall how to clasp his forearm in a move Remus tells him is for the closest of allies and brothers.

"No, not brothers; cousins?" Tall says, a hint of something uncertain in his eyes. When Remus nods his acceptance and understanding with a broad grin, he draws himself up proudly and nods back, arm still firmly pressed against the mortal's. "Cousins, then. And Remus, take care."

Remus catches his wrist before he can pull too far away. "Cousins know each other's names, you said. And you already know mine…?" It's cheeky, and Eavan actually gasps at the insolence, but Tall breaks into a soft chuckle.

He dips his head. "You are correct, Remus. And you may know my name, as my newest cousin. You may know me as Logan, and please remember, I remain only a horn's call away." He shares another smile with Remus and turns to leave, before pausing and twisting back momentarily. "I should add; you really only need to blow it the once, mind. It makes an awful racket, truly dire. I have a very good pair of ears, I promise," Logan teases, and when Remus laughs the Fae takes his leave, the other two cousins sloping off as they quickly vanish again.

"Cousins?" Eavan asks, crawling over him later that night to tuck up beneath his human's chin. "He must like you."

"I can't imagine why," Remus replies, holding him close. He has nothing to be worried about; Eavan explained it was a magical trap, laid to transport him far away and split them apart to leave the mortal as easy pickings for whatever opposing force had chosen to target them. An enemy of Logan's, or perhaps simply a Fae discontent with the presence of a mortal. But despite the reassurance he makes sure to hold his beloved Firefly very, very tight that night.

--

[mononoavvare]

“why not? what’s in those woods?”

     After Sparrow-became-Sai but before he’d been completely cut from Danzo’s influence he’d been temporarily pulled from the Team Seven assignment and sent here-- some backwater little town just southwest of the border of Frost country. He remembers very little of the assignment itself: a courier mission, he believes, delivering some secret report with information that may or may not be helping to fuck them during the war. He hadn’t been bold enough to check back then, even with his heart growing like a living thing. 

     The mission doesn’t matter. What he’d found in these massive, ancient trees on that mission does. Sai tips his head and considers the path through the forest, the fading afternoon light fading through the tall jack-pine branches far overhead. It’s beautiful. Peaceful. As beautiful and peaceful as it was in the beginning, he imagines, as beautiful and peaceful as it will be in the end. He can’t quite believe he’s back here. 

     Sai had taken the path through this forest, see. It hadn’t been on the map, this path, but it had pointed south and he’d thought maybe he could cut a few hours from his trip and make it back to the village and his friends just a little bit sooner. The path did not make sense once he was on it, left and right turns through a forest of trees not made for running the way the redwoods were and underbrush that made it just a little bit treacherous to wander. He stuck to it, not turning around. He thinks perhaps it was the first time he’d felt honest curiosity. 

     The daylight had turned to late afternoon almost without him noticing, the sun hanging low in the western sky and peeking down at him from those dense branches. Pine needles had muffled his footsteps to almost nothing and the ground had felt spongy, dense, rich. He’d noticed immediately with the birds stopped singing, but pausing and feeling for life around him had revealed nothing-- not even deer, not even foxes, not even rabbits. Sai had continued on the winding, nonsensical path. 

     He’d smelled death first: that particular mixture of fear-blood and torn stomach, and keeping his course had led him right to the source. A pool of blood soaked into the hungry dirt between two massive trees, staining the rust-colored pine needles red and black and when he’d lifted his head he finally saw her. Her, long dark hair spilling over her shoulders and falling into her face. Her, with dull and sightless eyes staring right at him, head tipped down until her chin rested against what remained of her sternum. Her, impaled on the branches several meters above him, her ribcage split open and her entrails hanging out of her, still slowly dripping blood onto the forest floor. Her Kumo headband remained snug around her forehead.

     Strange, he’d thought to himself. There were no signs of a struggle-- no broken branches, no tang in the air that spoke to any jutsu being used. And other than the obvious she hadn’t been injured as far as he could tell. Just caked with loamy dirt on her hands and the tattered remains of her uniform, like she’d been rolling around in the dirt before someone had placed her up here and then ripped her open. 

     He’d peered up at her for a few minutes, probably, except he thinks maybe it had been longer than that because when he heard the twig snap behind him the sun was far closer to the horizon than it should have been. Part of him had wanted to cut her down, though he’d not been sure why at the time. The muffled four-beat footsteps behind him were animal, probably a deer or one of those massive elk or moose that hang around these woods he’d thought, though it was strange that a prey animal would stray so close to another dead thing. 

          Sai turned around. 

     The thing’s lack of fear made sense, then, because it was clearly no prey animal. Four massive cloven hooves connected to brown-black furry legs that were too-long and too-lean and too-strong. It was almost twice his height at the shoulder, big-bodied on those spindly legs, its rear hunched but its front straight and proud. He had to tilt his head back to look it in the face, looming over him as it was, even though its head was leaned down on its massive neck as far as it could go. 

     Its head didn’t make sense either. There was a sense of a massive rack of antlers, of a cervid jaw and a nose of exposed bone. Human arms sprouted where there should have been ears, and from underneath the jaw where it met neck, long and pale things blackened with soot like the antlers and tipped with long and broken nails. Upon its forehead sat a blank mask of a human face with too many glowing golden eyes, and the hands reached down for him with the fingers outstretched. 

          “Oh,” Sai said, and the thing had stilled. “Hello.” 

     Its fingers curled into fists but it stayed frozen for a moment, peering down at him with too-many-golden-eyes, and then slowly the head had cocked to the side curiously. Sai mimicked the gesture, and finally the thing had rumbled a curt “hello” in return. 

     He blinked at it, and then a polite smile fixed itself firmly on his face. His heart beat evenly and his voice was as smooth as glass when he tucked his still hands behind his back and he observed, “it’s quite rude to go around grabbing people without permission, you know.” 

     The thing gave a massive incredulous snort and crossed the one pair of arms under its chin and the other up near its horns like a fleshy crown, and its voice rumbled like thunder when it replied, “by your standards or mine?” 

     Sai had tilted his head and conceded the point silently-- after all, he was trespassing on another predator’s territory. That was certainly rude of him, too. The thing watched him for another moment before stepping forward and uncrossing its arms, reaching down to settle two hands on his jaw and one on his forehead, tilting his head this way and that. Its skin felt restless, like if Sai cut it only maggots or poorly packed dirt or a great wall of static might fall instead of blood. He stood still. 

     “You will do,” the thing had murmured then, absent and nearly fond as it stroked a five-jointed-thumb over his cheek. Its breath was musty and damp against his skin.

     “No,” Sai had said, sounding almost apologetic for some reason as he reached up to settle his own hand on its wrist. “I will not.” 

     The thing had squeezed his head then until he thought his skull might crack, snarling something unintelligible at him that turned into a howl when he’d swiped his tanto across its wrists and lopped off one of the hands completely. When it landed in the dirt at his feet it had dissolved into a hundred moths that scattered frantically into the air between them. The thing had reeled back and he’d taken the opportunity to dart away, far enough to shape three ink clones and drop below the surface of the earth. 

     It had taken off after the clone heading north with a bellow that shook every branch, and Sai had waited a long while before he’d finally crawled back out of the ground with a sigh. It had caught one of his clones moments after the sun had finally set below the horizon but the other two were still running around out there. He glanced at the woman hanging from the branches, sighed, and started walking south once more, careful to keep his footsteps quiet and light and his senses alert. The forest around him was completely empty of life. 

     By the time he made it to the edge, the sun had been coming back up. The thing had caught both of his remaining clones in the night, and the less said about the things it did to them in the brief moments before they dissolved the better. He’d been exhausted, and a dozen or so meters from the treeline he’d turned around just to see and there it had been, lingering just in the shade of the trees and watching him. One hand was clasped around the still-bleeding stump he’d made of one of the arms, and the blood was black, and when it dripped to the ground little raspberry vines sprouted from the ground. 

     Sai had raised his hand in farewell, and the thing had turned its back to him and wandered back into the trees silently, either unwilling or unable to leave its trees behind. He’d gone home, and Naruto had laughed about the perfect hand-shaped bruises on his face and asked what he’d said to piss someone off bad enough to slap him on the forehead, and Sakura had just sighed and settled a glowing green hand to his cheek and he hadn’t flinched because not for one moment was he afraid. 

         He just didn’t think he had any business killing something he hadn’t set out to kill in the first place. 

     It’s the same deal now, he thinks. The thing will not be happy to see him again. But the story is long and he doesn’t feel like telling it, even if he knows Hayate has to be curious-- he’d just spent the last few minutes standing perfectly still and staring blankly into the space between the tall-straight tree trunks. 

     “The path is not actually a shortcut,” he finally says, gesturing to the worn and inviting dirt track that leads weary travelers to their doom. “It is still faster to go around the forest.”  

     And as for what’s in there? Sai just pats Hayate on the shoulder and starts walking again, tucking his hands into his pockets and keeping an eye out for flashes of movement in the trees. One of the other jounin with them scoffs, but no argument comes. “We should keep moving. There is a lot of ground to cover by dawn.”

@moonsdying   ///   the flames rose hundreds of feet into the air we stood on the shore watching them burn we stood

[omenapologist-moved]

Rabbit: Second Statement of “Mira”

Lost statement which was recovered in the depths of the Magnus Institute. This is one of few tapes we were able to recover. This tape appeared to have been slightly damaged in storage, but the integrity of the audio recording remains.

Statement begins.

Once again, I find myself here in this pleather seat, in front of you. Stoic as always. Removed from the situation I am about to relay to you. You try and look like you aren't bothered by my words, but the slight tremble in your voice betrays you. But even more than that, it's the look in your eyes. Your doe-like eyes, Archivist. Big and round and deep and full of fear like a little prey animal when faced with the barrel of a gun. 

But don't worry, I'm not here to torment you or to further comment on your striking resemblance to that which torments me. Some... Interesting things have happened since I was last seated across the table from you. This update I bring is mostly a formality. I expect these tapes to be the only record of my existence, or rather, the only record of this incarnation of myself, of Mira, in due time. I've traveled to many more towns, worn a few different faces since the last time we spoke. Well, the last time I spoke at you, if we wanted to be more technical about it. 

...Does my face look the same to you? I don't even recognize that I have one anymore. It is not something I worry about, particularly when I am alone to my thoughts. Who I am when I am alone does not matter, just as it doesn't matter whether or not a tree makes a noise when it falls in a forest and no one is around. It is when I am around others that who I am matters. 

To you, I am Mira. The strange little taxidermist that kept running over innocent animals with their car, had a psychotic break, and skipped town over and over again. At least that is what you tell yourself to avoid confronting the greater other, that which I am and that which I am not. You try and be skeptical, Archivist, but I can tell it is mostly to hide your fear... But you didn't say no when I came back.

My apologies, I said I wasn't here to torment you. It's just a little funny. 

I've poked and prodded and beaten around the bush long enough.

It's been nearly three years in total now since I left a life I once said was mine. I found a picture of that person in an old notebook the other day, and it was not me, and I am fine with that now. Every day I become more and more of a stranger to myself, and that is okay. 

I have become content with my life's path once again. 

I have rediscovered an old hobby.

For these past years, every time I saw that deer, I would look at it in its beautiful eyes that looked too much like mine and I would slam my foot on the gas and stare it down as I ran it over. I got better at causing less damage to my car over time. I'm amazed it's survived all the collisions. I'm amazed I have survived all the collisions. 

I came close a few times to being hit by an oncoming car, or veering directly into a tree, or the hooves of the animal smashing their way through my windshield and crushing my throat under their keratinous force. It felt as though the universe were holding me in its cold arms and sheltering me from the worst of these impacts, just so that I could be where I am today. 

The last few times I caused steel to collide with flesh, an itch grew upon me. Something I had not felt in quite some time. A desire once more to create, to peel away the soft, gentle fur of a little creature until its pink muscle is bared to the world and eaten by flies and maggots and carrion crows. To stretch its skin taut and stitch it back together, to have those glassy eyes once again staring me down from every crevice of my home. 

I resisted it at first. I knew I'd be a failure to it, that it would hate me, its cruel father, for condemning it once more to walk the Earth in such a terrible form. Legs a few half-inches too long, lips that were meant to be drawn into a contemplative expression stiffly stitched into a grimace, and those eyes...

But then, in a town where I wore the face of a happy-go-lucky bartender named Elijah, one of the stray cats I had been leaving food out for presented me with a gift. A freshly-caught little rabbit. I remembered how it felt to process such a creature. The fur of rabbits is so soft, softer than anything synthetic, but you have to be careful when you de-flesh the hide. The skin is so thin and tender and prone to tearing with the slightest nick, and if you are enough of an amateur such as myself you can ruin the whole hide. 

But once it is done it is such a precious little thing. So soft, but less... Frantic than it was in life. 

No little panicked rabbit heartbeat. 

Just silence and softness.

I wrapped the little thing in a plastic bag and I put it in my freezer, and the next day I went to the store and bought the barest of supplies. The tan would be nothing impressive, I wasn't even sure if it would last given the exceptionally low quality of the alum I had purchased, but it was worth a try, I thought. 

Somehow, it was worse than my previous specimens. The eyes squinted at me and they scorned me and they judged me not just for the sin of stuffing this creature but for all of the sins I had committed since pursuing this hobby. The skin itself had cured just fine, and yet the fur was falling out in chunks. I was eventually left with a thing that hardly resembled a rabbit anymore at all, but for the two unmistakable ears protruding from the top of its head. 

Most of it was bald flesh, translucent. The cheap floral foam I had used to sculpt the form it was stitched onto cast it in a ghastly green hue, and without the bulk of the fur to hide my errors every little imperfection shone through. The light tan stitching holding the piece together made it reminiscent of a recently autopsied corpse rather than a piece of taxidermy. I could see the full resin orb of its eyes through the skin, wide in terror at my sins. 

What have you done. 

What have you done. 

What have you done.

But somehow, I was not discouraged. I gave the blasphemous excuse for a piece of art a prominent place on my bookshelf. To remind me of my work, and that I had far to go.

Several days after, one of my coworkers invited me to an outing after work. The face I wore wouldn't say no, and so despite myself I accepted. I had yet again started keeping some meager supplies for the collection of roadkill in my car, but had yet to find any salvageable specimens. 

The outing doesn't matter. My presence was ultimately only so that I may be the vessel of that which they wished me to be, so I played my role and I played it well. I socialized, and joked, and was informed sometime afterwards I had been the life of the party. Good for them to get such use out of me. By the time I left the party, it was well after dark. 

Despite my best attempts in the contrary, I had found myself in a fairly rural area once more. Not that being in the city had kept the deer from pursuing me, of course. It would always find me. The red of blood and peeling mint-green of my car made quite the contrast. One I became used to with time.

I was driving home from the aforementioned outing. It had rained earlier that day and the yellow tinted light from the occasional street lamp danced somberly upon the wet asphalt. The road to the ramshackle motel I was staying in was a lonesome one. I was accompanied only by the watchful birch trees and my own thoughts, which had grown fuzzier as of late. A dull hum in the back of my mind, intrusive thoughts blending with my own until I couldn't tell where I ended and the other began. 

The sky was black and starless, the typical countless pinpricks of light obscured by oppressive storm clouds threatening to release another downpour. The typical yellow lines that divided the road were worn away in this area, neglected asphalt riddled with potholes of varying but always hazardous sizes. 

The black of the road and the black of the sky blended into an all-consuming void, the shimmer of my headlights on the wet road the only stars in sight. Ghostly birch trees stood as sentinels on either side of the road, observing me as they did every other passerby. As I progressed to my destination the trees became thicker and taller and the road became skinnier and more perilous. 

As they had promised, the clouds above unleashed their storm upon me. I turned on my high-beams and proceeded through the downpour.

In the distance, something on the shoulder of the road caught the light emanating from my car. Two perfect circles of light flashed. Animal eyes. I knew what would come next. The deer with my eyes would walk onto the middle of the road, and it would wait for the kiss of hard metal against its soft flesh and strong but not strong enough bones, and it would die there on that road and be gone by morning, and I would wash its blood from my car and pay for the repairs I needed to pay for, and I would pack up again and I would move town and change my name and my face to suit the next group of people that I would find myself amongst.

No.

No, I decided.

That was enough. I had enough.

The deer looked at me in the same way it always looked at me. Its eyes were more mine than they ever had been, full of a very, very human hatred.

My heart beat in time with the pace of my windshield wipers as they swept the rain from my field of vision. I stared at the deer in waiting of its own demise. I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles were white, skin taut like that of a taxidermied rabbit around its form, translucent and pale and cold. I pressed my foot onto the pedal until it was flush with the floorboard. I felt the car lurch forward, taking a moment to make purchase with the rain-sodden road. 

I felt every moment of the impact, this time. I heard as the plastic and metal on the front of my car were wrought around the cervine's fragile frame. The doe slid onto the hood of my car, and as it did I became closer to its eyes than I ever had been and how they burned, Archivist. 

As the skull of the creature made impact with the glass barrier separating the two of us, its eyes did not close, the glass windshield spider-webbing around where the deer had collided with it. It remained in one piece, but only barely. The car slid along the slick road, and I slammed on the breaks. My nose smashed into the steering wheel, eliciting a trickle of blood to spout forth from it. The slain animal slid from the front of my vehicle, propelled forward by the remaining velocity.

The vehicle finally finished its motion, and sat under the rain. Again, there was silence.

I wiped the blood from my nose, and I leaned over to my glove box, and I retrieved my skinner knife and my spare needles and thread, and out there on that lonesome road in the middle of the rain I began my masterpiece.

The deer was dead. Its eyes were still open. I had never in all this time seen them shut. Despite the fire behind them having been extinguished by my own hand, they still burned.

I would give it a reason to hate me.

[cuthie]

Cuthbert: The Benny Of Many Names

  Outside of the Feathermoon stronghold, deep into the woods, a circle of six kaldorei women dropped to their knees. Arms stretching out to the heavens, they threw themselves forward into the grass, worshipping at the feet of another elven woman who’s entire body was made from tree bark. The wooden elf woman gently clapped her hands before her bosom, bowing her head as her worshippers praised her. Beyond the circle of kaldorei, a dark skinned high elf watched, rolling his glowing blue eyes.   Oblivious to his presence or simply unperturbed, the circle continued their praises as a white haired woman rose back to her feet. “Quer’coos, daughter of nature, please grant your children a word of wisdom and comfort in these troubling times. Our faith has been shaken, the skies have been opened, our people struggle and look for answers. It has been long since we were blessed with your presence, but please know that we are as uncertain and fearful as we are humbled before you.”

  Speech finished, the speaker returned to her knees in a deep groveling bow. The figure of oak bark threw her head back, brown hair transforming into antlers. Taking a step forward, soft elven feet transformed into hooves as the figure grew double in size. As each hoof touched the ground, flowers began to sprout in her wake, until finally she reached the speaker. Gently her fingertips stretched out, growing akin to the branches of a great tree until they brushed against the night elf’s cheek.   As the Wild God’s carved lips opened, her voice poured out like honey, “You all have my blessing. Carry it forward, protect this realm from the agents of evil. As for what lies beyond the veil, put your faith in me and mine.” With that, the wooden woman pointed beyond the circle, out to Cuthbert Allbright. Not sure how to react, Cuth just ran a hand through his hair and gave the ‘girls’ a confident nod.   Each woman in the circle gave Cuthbert an appreciative smile. It was an entirely new experience for him. Generally people looked at him with either exhaustion, annoyance or doubt. But this hopeful confidence? It was kind of hot. Should- should he take his shirt off or something?   Before he could even savor the moment, it had passed. The Wild God had spoken to her worshipper Sentinels and sent them on their way with a small magical boon. Turning to walk towards Cuth, her body shrunk in size as white robes just folded out from the wood of her skin. Her beautiful angelic face distorted, morphing into an expressionless metal mask. The once sweet feminine voice had become the familiar whisper of The Benefactor. “Cuthbert, are you quite finished following me?”   Cuthberted hopped down from the large protruding root, landing before his mysterious ‘friend’. “Well Benny, or should I say.. Coocoos? I’m gonna keep following you until you let me in through the sky like everyone else.”

There was a sound of chimes coming from behind the mask. “Quer’coos is the name my Kaldorei and Shu’halo followers call me.”

Cuth popped his collar, “Oh, did they sign your Book of Love, also?” The Benefactor slowly shook their head, “There was no need for that. They love of their own volition.”

Cuthbert wrinkled his nose, “How come you didn’t turn into a big bug like last time?” “Not just a bug. The noble beetle. When I address my Troll practitioners I approach them as Tenki’massa, the  Loa of Gift Giving, and whatever form they need to see me in at the time. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an urgent matter to tend to.”   Without another word, The Benefactor raised a hand to their side, opening a swirling rift of blinding white magic. As Cuthbert shielded his eyes, the magic widened, bursting and taking the ‘Deity’ with them. -----   In a dimly lit wooden room, a Pandaren child rested still in a casket. Her parents wept on their knees, uttering prayer after prayer. Behind them, a small white cat leapt from a swirling powerful white sphere. Noticing the pretty kitty, the child’s spirit reached out to pet her.   Before she could reach the cat, the world began to fade away. The blackened horrors of an ancient realm of binding opened up, claws grabbing hold of the ghost child. However, the cat hissed and batted the evils away, protecting over the lost cub.

The parents continued to weep, oblivious to everything, even to the dark skinned high elf frowning in the corner.

<Hold her Cuth, do not let her go.>   Without being told twice, Cuthbert dove for the Pandaren girl, wrapped her in his strong arms. It was like trying to wrangle a tie out of a goblin blender, or at least, that was the closest experience Cuth could compare it to. All he knew was that his friend Benny needed him to hold a child and keep them away from.. From something bad. Without question, he was ready to exchange his life for that child’s, diving betwixt her and whatever evil had been summoned to take her away. That’s when he heard it. A little girl’s cry for help. And another.. And another and ten more, a hundred more, a thousand more. Desparate souls colliding against one another, confused and in agony and terror as their screams grew louder and rose higher and higher in pitch! And as he feared losing his grip, the world faded to white.

  Blinking, a cold chill ran down the quel’dorei’s spine as he clung the cold spirit to his chest. They were no longer in that sad dark room. There was no more blackened magick tugging at the girl. There was no anything, just a void of white and grey and wind? <You can let her go now, thank you.>   Cuth’s gaze looked up, beyond the white sphere he had been trapped in. The little kitty who had come for the girl’s soul was now a bajillion feet tall. Bright green cat eyes dwarfed Cuth, as if they were blinking at a spec of dirt. Gulping, Cuthbert released the Pandaren girl, feeling her aura as if it were a physical palpable thing. Her fears were being soothed, her sorrows drifting away, and then.. She was gone.   A giant paw threatened to bat the realm away as if it were simply a ball of yarn, yet Cuthbert stood his ground. He didn’t care if he was the size of an ant or ten feet tall. Nobody was more better than him, not even cat gods. Puffing out his chest defiantly, Cuthbert watched as the paw collided with the ceiling of his new swirling white world.

     In the blink of an eye, Cuthbert was standing outside beneath a extended roof attached to a humble Pandaren noodle bar. The rain was beginning to trickle, splattering against his forehead. The white cat, now cat-sized instead of god-sized, rubbed herself against his leg. <Thank you. That shouldn’t have been as difficult as it was. They’re getting stronger now.> “They?” A Pandaren woman behind the noodle counter looked towards the strange elf talking to himself.

<How are you following me, Cuthbert? That shouldn’t be possible.>   Cuthbert wrinkled his nose towards the Pandaren, “Hey, mind your business, I’m feeding my cat.” Shaking his head with a sigh, he returned to The Benefactor, “It’s your fault. You gave me the magic to do it, just sayin’.”   There was the sound of a ticking clock before the cat’s voice returned to his mind. <Explain your process, please.> “Well, I see little bubbles of arcane or.. You know I’m not good with words. Bubbles of magic, whatever portal magic you’re using. I then just concentrate and poof inside.” <You poof?> Cuthbert disappeared in a ‘poof’ of smoke, reappearing on the bar’s rooftop a good fifteen feet up. A few moments later and the white cat likewise ‘poofed’. <Short range teleportation utilizing the shadow magic I bestowed upon you. I didn’t think it would be capable of tracing spellwork. You’re a peculiar creature, Cuthbert Allbright. But I owe you, for assisting with my duties. Ask of me one thing and it shall be yours. Anything.>   Cuthbert scratched at the back of his head. Anything, huh? “Okay, then tell me what we just did. And your REAL name! And what’s goin on.” Chimes rung. <I am The Benefactor. I am Quer’coos. I am Tenki’massa. I am Jhizu, worshipped as a Guardian by the Pandaren. These are not lies, they are all my names, my duties. Today you assisted in ferrying a child’s soul to the Spirit World, to the Shadowlands. There she will wait without hunger, fear or harm, until she can be reunited with her family in my realm.>   Cuth scratched under his chin, “My mind’s goin like a mile an hour. You got me all twisted and dizzified trying to figure out your words and.. Stuff. I. So you sent her through the sky? But you won’t send me? That’s kodoshite.” Somewhere a glass broke. <That is not a place for mortals, Cuthbert.> “You said you owed me.” <And I repaid your favor by answering your questions.> “So you’re not gonna help me get up there? You know, they opened up a portal in Stormwind. I’m sneaky as fel, I could get in there without anyone even knowing. So you may as well let me take a peek.”   The cat nuzzled Cuth’s leg, her purr sending shivers coursing through the elf’s shoulders. <I promise you, when I have need of you, I will call upon you. I know you’re eager to serve.>   Cuth scratched the cat behind her ear, “Mmhmm.. I just wanna go up there and be the big hero that fixes everything. Is that so much to ask?”   Jhizu’s reply came in the form of a familiar portal. Beyond the tinge of magick shimmered Feathermoon. Knowing the conversation was over, Cuth sulked with drooped shoulders as he hopped through the portal.   Ugh.. When was he gonna get to be the hero again? 

[saintheartwing]

Undertales of Friendship: Beware the Man Who Speaks in Hands

Frisk was not having very good dreams.

Over and over, he would find himself descending down, down into the dark recesses of the "True" Laboratory beneath the normal place where Alphys had worked in the underground. The walls a dark green, a chill running through the air, a faint fog all around his feet as he nervously stepped past patient chair after patient chair. Over and over again he'd approach the sinks in the back of the room, turning them on to get the key one of them had inside them, hoping to flood the sinks and for the key to either float up, or the pipes beneath to burst open to get what he wanted. Yet that always gave way to the sight of that...THING coming out of the third sink.

A cute little round, cheery face, twisting and bulging and morphing into a monstrosity with a horrific laugh, large black eyes with pinprick white pupils gazing back. A tongue lagging out of one of many mouths, eternally crying and bleeding-black eyes on a whispy, curved tail like a scythe. This...this odd, strange, faintly melted specter of many faces looking back at him, three in a row all rising up from the sinks, mouths opening and closing and all speaking at once, and saying the same phrase again and again.

"LOREM IPSUM DOCET.

LOREM IPSUM DOCET.

LOREM IPSUM DOCET."

Frisk knew what it meant. Sorrow itself teaches. And he knew what these things were. Pieces of what had once been the Royal Scientist of the Underground, WingDinG Aster, aka Gaster, as he preferred to be called. More bestial and darker traits had risen up in this little "Mini-Me" of Gaster, and they were really only interested in one thing.

"Come join the fun."

"It's a real get together!"

"Become one of us! One of us!"

"You'll be with us soon." The Memoryheads intoned, as more heads sprang up around Frisk, knocking him back as they bulged and popped, Frisk shivering as the Memoryhead closest to him intoned in a dark voice.

"Sorrow itself teaches."

"Teaches what?" Frisk asked. And again the Memoryheads would get closer...closer. "Look, I-I don't want to join in the fun!" He insisted. How many times had he done this before, only to be ignored as they leapt on him and-

But now it was different. Now they merged together, popping and squishing into one, growing larger and larger as an enormous black maw opened slowly and a voice faintly echoey in tone rang out.

"I only want what's mine. And you have a part of it."

"Wh-what's that?" Frisk asked, a gigantic head now staring down at him, white pupils gazing deeper and deeper into him as Frisk found himself sinking, going further into the endless black that was engulfing him-

And then he awoke, Fluttershy the Pegasus gently dabbing a cloth over his head as he sat up on her couch, glancing about her little cottage. "Wh-what happened?"

"Oh, Frisk, sweetie, you fainted in the middle of feeding the chickens outside. Is it too hot for you? I don't know why you always wear a long-sleeve shirt." Fluttershy sighed a little, waving a hoof in the air. "I mean, blue does bring out your eyes, but you must get very hot."

"No, it...it isn't that." Frisk muttered, holding a hand to his head as he cringed. "I keep having these bad dreams and I haven't slept well lately."

"...dreams?" Fluttershy murmured. "Hmm. You know, I think I know someone who could help with bad dreams." She offered with a gentle smile, clasping her hooves together and beaming.

And indeed, a quick letter from Spike was sent out, and Princess Luna of Equestria was soon back in Ponyville, happily meeting with Frisk as the tired, ragged-faced, scarcely-able-to-keep-his-eyes-open child moaned, rubbing his head as he laid on the couch in Fluttershy's home. Fluttershy handed him some golden flower tea, another very popular dish brought up from the Underground thanks to the kindhearted Toriel, and Luna thoughtfully looked him over, dark blue eyes gazing intently at him as Sans, who was also there to look after the kid, gave the kid a hot dog. Or rather, a hot cat.

"Ugghhh. I'm sorry, Sans. I don't feel like eating it."

"geez. ain't even hungry enough to have one of my specialties? now I KNOW somethin' ain't right with you." Sans said, shaking his bony head back and forth. "maybe a joke'll cheer you up. what do you call a guy who gets run over? tired."

Fluttershy, Luna and Frisk all slooooowly turned their heads to directly look at each other, then at Sans, saying absolutely nothing. "..."

"...wow, something IS wrong with you. not even a chuckle." Sans commented with a surprised look on his face.

"I can see his soul's aura. It is plagued with bad dreams. Something has a grip on him." She reasoned aloud. "Frisk, I ask of you. Tell me EVERYTHING thou dost remember of thy dreams. It's most imperative."

"I'm dreaming of these...amalgamates. Melted-together things, pieces of a person that used to be. They're called Memoryheads because they're...well, they're like living heads that are the embodiment of a memory of a man." Frisk said, his tone sounding just as exhausted as the child looked. "A man named Dr. Gaster. He used to be the Monster Kingdom's Royal Scientist...and he was Sans and Papyrus's big brother."

"Whatever happened to him?" Fluttershy softly inquired.

"He fell into his machine, into the time/space continuum and now's in pieces."

"what Frisk here means is that he's at a PIECE conference." Sans remarked wryly.

Many, many, MANY miles away, something stirred. A very furious growl turned into a roar as a cracked face snarled out high and loud enough to crack every glass window in Canterlot. Which it DID.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT BONEHEAD SAID THAT!"

"OW. OW. Sans, that joke was so bad it's physically hurting me, OWWW." Frisk moaned out, Luna whacking her head against the nearby wall over and over again, Fluttershy covering her face with one hoof as Sans nonchalantly shrugged.

"maybe you're right. guess I should leave and make sure you get some-"

"DON'T YOU DARE-"

"PIECE and quiet."

"OHHHHH." Frisk groaned, writhing on the couch as Sans exited the house, laughing uproariously as another pained groan echoed out from miles away in Canterlot.

"Ugggghhhhh. How detestible. He should put more backbone into his pu-" Princess Luna began to say before cringing. "Oh sonofa-"

"HA!" Sans laughed.

Unbeknownst to them, it wasn't Frisk who was in the most danger. No, that dubious honor went to Papyrus, who was hard at work in his new job as a guard for Princess Celestia in her palace at Canterlot. Well, "work" is a strong word. Because currently, he was, along with the other guards, enjoying a nice game of charades with her. Celestia was pantomining a clown to demonstrate the circus, though the guards couldn't quite pick up on that, least of all Papyrus. Then again, perhaps the other guards DID realize it, they just couldn't speak over Pap's VERY loud voice.

"OH! OH, YOU ARE A FLOWER! NO, NO WAIT, YOU ARE A PATIENT FROM AN INSANE ASYLUM! NO, NO WAIT! A MAGICIAN! YES, I AM CERTAIN YOU ARE A MAGICIAN! IS THE WORD MAGIC?"

Celestia chuckled a little, Papyrus happily bouncing up and down in the throne room as she cheerily smiled back, some of the other guards jabbing each other in the side, snickering a bit at his childish exeuberance. It was really quite adorable.

But then the room began to get dark and cold, a chill settling in as Celestia realized that she could see her breath right in front of her. She gasped, quickly looking around the room as the expanse all about her began to convert into utter shadows, and she narrowed her eyes. Was this Discord playing a prank? It couldn't be Sombra, he wasn't around anymore! What was going on?

"...PaPyRuS..." A voice whispered, its voice haunting and echoing as Papyrus stiffened in shock, Celestia looking over in his direction before inky blackness began to swell around him, Papyrus struggling to get free of the darkness that was engulfing him. He let out a gasp, trying to push the other guards away so they wouldn't get sucked in, Celestia racing towards him.

"NO! PRINCESS, STAY BACK! I DO NOT WISH YOU HARMED!" Papyrus insisted, the blackness carefully pinning his arms to his sides as a form rose out of the black, its face skeletal, one black crack running up its right eye, another running down towards its mouth on the left as it gazed over Papyrus, bony hand clasping Papyrus's cheek. "DO...DO I KNOW YOU?"

"You don't remember, Papyrus?" It spoke. "I remember everything about you. Everything."

Papyrus's mouth gaped open slightly, Celestia taking a step forward, eyes intently narrowed as her horn glowed. "You release him NOW. I will not allow you to harm an innocent."

"I only want what's mine." The being said. "I need...to make USE of you." It told Papyrus.

And with that, the inky blackness exploded outward like a bomb, Celestia reeling back along with the guards as she gasped, glancing around...

Papyrus was gone.

AN HOUR LATER...

Sans was calmly sitting on a bench in the park, leaning back and doing nothing. Just the way he liked things. Calmly sighing, he looked up at the sky, and the clouds idly passing by as he saw Papyrus approaching off in the distance, dressed in his normal attire and eagerly sitting down next to him. "WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?" Papyrus asked Sans.

"well, i like to watch shapes in the clouds. that one looks like a flying dragon, see?" Sans said, pointing with a bony finger up at a draconic-shaped puffy cloud that looked like it was belching out 'flames', Papyrus nodding in agreement.

"OH, YES, IT DOES INDEED."

"and that lil' one over there looks like a mother duck, and the other ones after it are lil' ducklings."

"LIKE THAT CUTE LITTLE BIRD THAT LOVES TO CARRY PEOPLE OVER RIVERS?" Papyrus inquired.

"yeah. we gotta treasure that bird." Sans agreed with a calm, respectful nod.

"MAY I TRY ONE?"

"of course, paps." Sans said with a wink, Papyrus rubbing his long chin before pointing upward with a red-gloved hand.

"OOH! THAT ONE LOOKS LIKE A WOUNDED DERPY WITH SMOKE COMING OFF OF HER WINGS-"

KRAKKA-THROOOOOM! Derpy Hooves crashed hard into the market, a cry of "MY CABBAGES" echoing out through the air as a loud "Sorry' echoed out soon after, Derpy limping by them, angrily holding up an exploded mailbag, complete with the shredded remains of what had been a suspicious package and cake frosting and cabbages all over her body, Sans raising a nonexistent eyebrow as he looked her over.

"what happened?"

"It's a SICK world we live in with SICK PONIES!" Derpy shrieked, grumbling darkly as Papyrus shook his head back and forth.

"WHAT A SHAME. THIS IS WHY YOU SHOULD NEVER SEND MAIL THROUGH THE POSTAL SYSTEM."

"yeah. i'm guessing that was a Boom Boom Cake of Pinkie Pie's."

"HOW CAN YOU TELL?"

"cuz she's got a real explosive personality."

Silence for a long, long time before Papyrus wryly remarked "...I HATE TO TELL YOU THIS, BROTHER, BUT YOUR JOKE JUST...BOMBED."

Sans stiffened a little, slowly turning his head, as if truly seeing Papyrus for the first time, his mouth agape in surprise as Papyrus put a hand on his shoulder...with incredible weight behind it. "you're not paps."

"NO...I'm not." The being that was not Papyrus said. "You know who I am, Sans. And you know why I'm here. You understand why."

"gaster, come on, he's just a child-" Sans began to say, Gaster's stolen form shaking its head back and forth solemnly.

"I'm not going to harm him anymore than I've harmed Papyrus. Or that I'll harm you. I only want what's mine." Gaster explained."Now come. It's time for all of us to be one big family, Sans. The way it should be." He intoned kindly, as Sans felt a large embrace engulf him, the shadows swallowing his form as he fell deeper, deeper, deeper into the abyssal black around him...

And then, within a few moments, there was only what appeared to be Sans on the bench as he made his way back towards Fluttershy's cottage. "now then...third time is the charm."

...

...

...

...Frisk was still on the couch, fast asleep as Luna held a hoof to his head, focusing intently, her lips slightly pursed. Fluttershy stood nearby, biting her lip as the light softly filtered in through the window, bathing over Frisk in soft golden light as Luna cringed.

"This is serious. An immense block is inside his mind. Whatever's inside him has placed a mental barrier that I cannot easily break through. I will need additional help, Fluttershy." Luna sighed at last, removing her hoof from Frisk's forehead before steepling her hooves, lying back in the chair she was sitting on. "He will have to be taken to Zecora."

"taken to ol' stripeybutt, huh?" Sans's voice rang out as they turned, seeing he was stepping out of the closet, Fluttershy gasping as she slightly jumped up in the air. "what? c'mon, Fluttershy. nothing wrong with a couple skeletons in your closet. everybody has 'em."

"I take it you could simply...shortcut your way to Zecora?" Princess Luna mused aloud as he looked Sans over, the skeleton giving a cute little wink, showing off a faintly royal blue glowing eye as Frisk was softly hovered through the air and over towards him. "However are you able to do that?"

"ahhh, blue magic runs in the family, really." Sans the Skeleton remarked with a shrug. "both my brothers got different mastery over it. But Paps's spirit's tied to the trait of Bravery, so his magic comes off more orange. Me, I'm patient, so mine's light blue." He remarked with a shrug, unzipping his blue jacket as the sleeping Frisk was caaaarefully lowered down, down, and soon, was perfectly positoned right in front of Sans's form. With a little smile, Sans zipped his jacket back up, Frisk now warmly tucked away in the jacket almost like a mother kangaroo with her baby joey, as Sans patted the sleeping child on the head. "theeeere we go. all snug as a bug in a rug."

"You've been waiting to do that to him for a while, haven't you?" Fluttershy asked with a smile. "I can tell."

Sans gave her a big grin. "oh, you've no idea." He said, reopening the closet. "i'll see you two later. got a lot to do." he remarked before popping into the closet again, Fluttershy smiling before suddenly stiffening up. Something hadn't been right. What had he said? "My magic's light blue".

...but Frisk had been surrounded in a royal blue light.

"Princess Luna, I think something terrible has just happened." She realized aloud, wheeling around and looking into Luna's eyes. "We need to find Ms. Toriel immediately."

Meanwhile, Frisk was still tucked away inside the jacket as Gaster-Sans calmly walked down the forest path, heading to the abandoned Castle of the Two Sisters, the old castle of Princess Luna and Celestia. The castle was long overgrown, its steeples crumbling and cracked with trees around it drooping and saddened, everything about it giving off the air of dejection and abandonment as Gaster's borrowed form approached the front of the castle and pushed the doors open. Little Frisk was still fast asleep, Gaster's stolen form looking quietly down at Frisk, biting into a lack of bony lip.

He felt guilt. Frisk had been nothing but kind and loving to monsters like him. He'd freed his kind, he'd given his brothers something to live for again. Such a dear child.

"I..." He hesitated, gently stroking Frisk's brown-haired head. He just looked so cute, all tucked away tight and warm and safe in his jacketed body. "...he's just a child..." He murmured.

But he wanted to be whole again so dearly. To just be himself. Before he'd only been able to hold onto the material world in little bits and pieces, barely able to manifest for more than five minutes. But now with Sans and Papyrus sampled...

And soon it would be three with Frisk. Out of everyone in the Underground, four had the strongest physical connection to him. He'd been scattered in pieces across the Underground, and had barely managed to scrape enough of himself together for this wild, desperate plan. He needed four souls, and the pieces of himself within them: Sans, Papyrus, Frisk and Alphys. With Papyrus, his physical form would become more stable. With Sans, his mind would get more stable. With Alphys, he could get back his Soul. And with Frisk would come his heart, his compassion. He needed that. He needed to feel again. To just love someone.

"You're only feeling remnants of a man who once was." He murmured to himself, gently taking Frisk's sleeping form out of his jacket and laying him on a table as his visage began to shift, growing taller and darker. "You don't truly feel guilty. All you feel is a shell. Intellectually, you know you should feel disgusted. But you don't truly feel it. With the child claimed, you will. With the child claimed, you will feel again. Be almost utterly whole again. It's everything you want, isn't it?"

He now stood tall, a large skeleton in a dark cloaked robe with a silver undershirt, his form lean and faintly thin. A black crack ran up his eye, another running down to his mouth from the other eye, his skeletal hands having large holes in the center as he gently laid one on Frisk's head. "Believe me." He spoke softly to Frisk. "I'm truly grateful. With this, I'll be whole again. And you'll never be alone." He offered, shadows beginning to rise around Frisk as his SOUL was exposed...

Gaster flinching as he reeled back, cringing as he clutched at his chest, feeling his remnant of a Soul, his pale imitation flinching. Damn. The soft light of Sans and Papyrus within him were objecting. They were almost utterly overpowering him. Perhaps he couldn't claim the child yet. He'd need more raw power. Perhaps Alphys would do. Her Soul was rather weak-willed in comparison, and would provide the boost needed.

Ah, well. For now he could at least do one thing with the child. Carefully lifting the child up, he placed him between the folds of his coat as he buttoned it up more, the little one nicely tucked away inside him as he softly enjoyed the gentle movements of Frisk turning ever-so-slightly in a peaceful slumber. Sighing, Gaster sat down against a nearby wall, and softly drifted off to sleep himself to join the child in dreamland...

TO BE CONTINUED...

[anubislover]

Super Drake

“Nami? Robin?” Chopper called, glancing around the busy shopping district of Sabaody. He’d been momentarily distracted by a candy shop window; there was a cotton candy display shaped like a giant sakura tree. He’d spent a few moments drooling over it before he realized Nami and Robin—who must not have realized he’d stopped—had disappeared into the crowd.

The pint-sized pirate tried to duck and weave between the legs of the various people that walked past, but for the most part he just ended up bumping into them and getting knocked around. Besides that, with his height, it was hard to pick out Nami’s bright orange hair or Robin’s sharp features in the crowd. He considered transforming into his larger humanoid form, but that risked frightening unsuspecting shoppers.

So, he was stuck on a busy street, lost, with no idea where his crewmembers might have gone or if they even realized he was missing.

The little reindeer started to panic, running back and forth, crying for his nakama. His little hoof caught a stray stone, and with a yelp he pitched forward, blue nose bumping hard into the ground as he fell on his face. “Ow!”

“Are you ok?” came a deep, unfamiliar voice.

Whimpering and trying not to cry from embarrassment, Chopper nodded as the stranger helped him up. “Fine. Just lost,” he said with a sniffle, straightening his hat. He shouldn’t cry. Zoro never cried when he got lost. Probably because he was used to it, but still.

Composing himself and knowing he should thank the man before trying to find Nami and Robin, the small doctor looked up.

And up.

And up a few more feet until he finally could see the face of an enormous masked man frowning down at him with concern. He had an X-shaped scar on his chin, red sideburns, and a hard jaw, and his skintight, leather outfit was all blue, except for a black and red cape.

The man’s brow furrowed beneath the shadow of his pointed hat. “A tiny thing like you in this crowd? Of course you’re lost.”

Nervous and a little ashamed, Chopper kicked the ground lightly, knocking the pebble that had tripped him across the street. “It’s not like I meant to,” he grumbled under his breath.

“Are you trying to get to a specific place?”

“No, just trying to find my nakama. We got separated.”

The crowd gave the large man and tiny reindeer a wide berth, making it far easier for Chopper to get his bearings, but he still couldn’t see much over everyone’s heads. At this rate, he’d have to climb onto a roof or something in hopes of spotting his friends, but that didn’t mean his tiny legs would be fast enough to catch up. Perhaps he could turn into his full reindeer form…

Chopper jumped as the stranger replied, “Dangerous thing to happen in a place like this.” Crouching down so they could better speak face-to-face, he peered at him inquisitively. “Now I know where I’ve seen you; you’re the Straw Hat’s pet. What are you, if I may ask? Zoology’s a hobby of mine, but I’ve never seen anything like you. Are you a breed of tanuki?”

“I’m a reindeer and the ship’s doctor!” he snapped, stomping one of his hooves in annoyance. It was bad enough the Navy classified him as a pet instead of a full-fledged pirate, but people getting his species wrong was just as insulting.

“Ah. That explains the antlers. In my defense, I’ve never met a talking reindeer before.”

“Have you met any talking tanuki’s either?” Chopper countered.

With a chuckle, the man shook his head. “I suppose not. Nor have I met a doctor version of either. Straw Hat’s crew is certainly an interesting one.”

Chopper blinked as he finally registered that the man had recognized him as a Straw Hat, which meant he’d seen his wanted poster. Was he looking to turn him in? If Robin and Nami came looking for him now, would they be in danger? Hatchan had warned them that Sabaody was a dangerous place, with slavers and Marines and other unsavory folk. He started to sweat, realizing this man could very well be more dangerous than he seemed.

The man seemed to sense his concern. “It’s smart of you not to trust so easily, but I promise, I’m only trying to help. I read about what Straw Hat did when Nico Robin was taken; I would be a fool to kidnap his doctor.”

Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, Chopper slowly nodded. “Ok. But if you hurt my nakama, it won’t just be Luffy you have to worry about,” he said sternly.

Lip twitching upwards for a brief moment, the man nodded solemnly. “I understand. Here,” he said, grabbing the miniature doctor around the waist like a child as he stood, lifting him up so he could see over the crowd. “Can you see them?”

Blinking, Chopper took a moment to scan over the tops of the swarm of peoples’ heads, grinning when he spotted Robin and Nami, who were looking around frantically. “I see them! About a hundred feet in front of us! Two human women—one has black hair and is carrying books, and the other has red hair like yours!”

The tall man lowered him down to rest on his shoulder. “Hold onto my cape. I don’t trust you not getting stepped on or lost again before we reach your friends.” Quickly, he pushed through the crowd, his large bulk easily cutting through the dense sea of people.

Settling against him and burying his hooves into the soft fabric, Chopper sighed in relief. “Thanks. What’s your name, by the way?”

The man seemed to hesitate. “X Drake.”

“I’m Tony Tony Chopper! It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Drake!”

A small grin curled his mouth. “It’s Captain Drake, actually.”

“Oh, sorry about that. It’s nice to meet you, Captain Drake!”

With Drake’s long legs, they caught up to the Straw Hat women easily. Nami was practically beside herself trying to figure out where the little reindeer had gone to, muttering terrified ramblings about kidnapping and bounty hunters to herself. Robin was much more subdued, though from the way her arms were crossed, Chopper could tell she was concentrating on opening eyes and ears on every wall between there and where they’d last seen him.

“Excuse me, Miss? Is this yours?” Drake asked, gently tapping Nami on the shoulder.

Turning around, the navigator’s face lit up in relief as Chopper was dropped into her arms. “Chopper!” she exclaimed, hugging him tightly to her chest as if her were a lost teddy bear. “Oh my God, we were so worried about you! I’m so sorry; we thought you were right behind us!”

“You should be more careful, doctor-san,” Robin chastised, but her smile and the gentle way she patted his head told him she was relieved he was safe.

“Sorry. There was a cotton candy display that caught my eye, and by the time I noticed you were gone, there were too many people in the way to see you. Good thing I had help!” he said, pointing at Drake.

Both women’s eyes widened in clear recognition; the two were avid readers of the paper and were smart enough to keep an eye on potential rival pirates.

Nami hugged Chopper a little closer, ready to make a run for it, while Robin daintily crossed her arms again, her calm, polite smile never faltering. “Well, we appreciate you aiding our dear shipmate, Captain X Drake.”

“Wait, you know him?” Chopper asked, innocently confused.

“Only by reputation,” Nami replied, frowning suspiciously as her free hand drifted to the batons strapped to her thigh. She may not have been much of a fighter, but she was ready to pull out every trick she knew to protect her trusting crewmate.

For his part, Drake found himself wishing they had been as ignorant to his identity as a pirate as Chopper—it had felt nice, being looked up to again, even if just by a small reindeer. He fondly remembered children from villages he saved from pirates beaming at him, shamelessly following him around while whispering to each other about whether or not they should talk to him.

Since he’d become a pirate, those whispers had taken on a more fearful tone, and children didn’t smile at him anymore.

Concerned at the sudden tension in the air, Chopper studied his savior closely. Sure, he was dressed pretty unusually, but he didn’t look like a Marine, or even a pirate. At least, most of the pirates he’d met had been dressed far more comfortably. Maybe he was one of those “brave warriors of the sea” Usopp would tell him stories about? But then why would Robin and Nami be afraid of him?

A sharp wind blew past, lifting Drake’s cape, and a particular story Usopp had told him popped into his head, making everything click into place.

“Wait…you’re a superhero, aren’t you?” Chopper asked, eyes lighting up with wonder.

“…a what?”

The younger pirate was too thrilled to notice the others’ confusion. Of course! It explained everything! Usopp had told him about men who wore capes and masks, wandering cities helping people in distress. He always described them as big and strong in elaborate, skintight costumes, too. And it would explain why Robin and Nami were so on-edge; superheroes arrested criminals, and pirates typically counted, especially cat burglars and fugitives.

Despite the danger such a realization should have invoked, Chopper was too starstruck to care. “I got rescued by a real superhero! Captain X Drake!” he said excitedly, sparkles glimmering around his head.

“No, Chopper, he’s—” Nami started, but Robin stopped her.

“Yes, thank you for your help, superhero-san,” the archeologist said with a knowing smile, unwilling to dampen her friend’s innocent excitement. Besides, Drake could have easily kidnapped their companion instead of helpfully returning him, and the poor man looked so utterly bewildered at the praise she couldn’t help but be amused.

The Supernova blushed, and Nami, catching on, gave a cat-like grin. She was still suspicious, of course, but she trusted Robin’s judgement. Plus, the little pirate in her arms was practically vibrating with glee, and it was easier to escape from a flustered man, anyway. “Oh, yes, thank you, Captain Drake!” she giggled with a wink. “You really saved the day!”

Still gazing at the man with wonder, Chopper gushed, “Can I have your autograph?!”

Drake sputtered in disbelief, “You want my autograph?!”

“Yeah! Usopp and Luffy’ll never believe I met a real superhero otherwise!”

For a moment, he looked like he was going to refuse, but Robin’s dangerous smile and Nami’s protective glare made him faulter. His resolve weakened further when he looked down at the little reindeer’s hopeful face. Tugging his hat down a little lower over his head in hopes that the shadow would better hide his blush, he replied, “I don’t suppose you have a pen and paper?”

“Here, you can sign this,” Robin said, pulling a piece of parchment out of her bag. She folded the top and bottom fourths before carefully ripping them off, handing the paper to him.

A large sweatdrop ran down the back of Drake’s head. In his hands was his bounty poster, but with the WANTED and reward sections conspicuously torn off. He glanced up, ready to argue that this probably wasn’t the best thing for him to sign, but Nami pointedly shoving a pen in his face kept him quiet.

With a sigh he carefully signed his name across the upper-right corner, handing it to Chopper to inspect. The small pirate’s beaming grin could have rivaled the sun, and Drake felt his heart swell a bit with pride. The whole situation was ridiculous, but he’d endured worse than a little embarrassment.

And even if he hadn’t, that smile would still make it worthwhile.

“An autograph from a real superhero,” Chopper whispered with wonder, holding the poster gingerly so his hooves didn’t risk smearing the still-wet ink. “Thank you!”

“You’re…welcome. Be more careful and stick with your friends,” he said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well, after that little adventure, I think we need something sweet,” Robin said, ushering Nami and Chopper down the busy street. Tossing a wink over her shoulder, she added, “And I’m sure superhero-san has many other people to save.”

“Uh, yes, I um…need to go patrol the streets for evildoers,” he replied lamely.

“You do that,” Nami said, patting Chopper’s head fondly. “Thanks again for helping our shipmate.”

“Yeah, thanks again, Captain Drake!” the reindeer called over Nami’s shoulder, waving one of his hooves eagerly, the other still tightly clutching the autographed poster.

With a wave of his own, Drake made his way back up the street, a small grin lifting the corners of his mouth. He was far from a superhero, but it was a nice reminder that, despite giving up his old life and reputation, he wasn’t entirely a pirate, either.

[moomingitz]

If youre uncomfortable replying to this you can stop here. What are your thoughts on crushers Oc Lutrudis?

I’m going to paraphrase this right now. I never really feel comfortable saying what I think of other people’s creations like fan characters when someone who isn’t the creator asks me for my thoughts on them. Even when it comes to easy targets like Akiadahlia. I know fans are just doing this sort of thing on their free time as just a hobby, they’re not pursuing a career and they’re not getting a regular salary for it. For the average fan it’s something they do as a means of escape, and while I don’t really find much of a need to make Sonic fan characters myself most of the time(because there’s a stockpile of canon characters to work with) I do see the appeal in it.

But, I am going to make an exception here, due to how the creator clearly doesn’t respect other fan’s tastes or their works and efforts, saying lovely things like how I and other fans who like or defend characters like Chris Thorndyke have a “talent for seeing a character that doesn’t exist”, being dismissive of other’s AUs or interpretations of characters by saying “I understand seeing potential in a character but they may as well be a completely different character guuuys” but then expects people to write his personal favorites the way he thinks they should be portrayed, mocking and demeaning the very idea of people defending or unironically liking games like Sonic 06 and admiring it’s ambition it had, etc. And he still does it.

So if you really want my honest, unfiltered opinion of his fan character, I will break this personal unwritten rule of mine for this. But keep in mind here, that I will be talking about them in terms of their character design for most of the part, because I don’t really care to look up much stuff about them.

—-

Remember that one rant of mine a long while back, how “hooved” type Sonic characters, official or fan made, tend to be a big victim of the franchise’s Same Faced Syndrome thing in character design? Well this Lutrudis character is a good example of that. She’s one of the most generic looking horse Sonic fan characters I’ve seen in a long time.

She’s not only a good example of Same Faced Syndrome, but it’s also an offender of “informed species”. I honestly thought she was a cow until I read that she was meant to be a horse. This character doesn’t really have much of an actual significant resemblance to a horse, even as far as more simplified representations of animals go. She has more resemblance to the Sonic franchise’s takes on monkey characters more than she does with anything from the equus genus.

All I did was swap out the tail and ears and she instantly became a monkey.

To go even further and show just how cookie cutter it is, and the lack of an effort to make her resemble a horse in an actual significant way, that she may as well be a completely different species, here’s what she looks like when the only single modification I made was giving her a standard mammalian nose instead of there being visible nostrils.

She uses the same base body used for Amy, Sticks, Wave, Blaze, and countless other Sonic fan characters out there, and then slapped on interchangeable design characteristics. A perfectly spherical head with a standard Sonic muzzle, same standard almost triangular or curvy torso, and the same rubber hose arms and legs. It’s what I like to call an assembly line Sonic character design. Lutrudis here looks like she could have come out from the custom character thing in Sonic Forces. At best she looks like she could be one of the many nameless, generic looking background characters in post-reboot Archie that were meant to fill in the background space. If she was meant to just be a nameless background character than this would have been tolerable. But her creator didn’t intend for to be one. She’s apparently not only supposed to be a major character, but she’s also apparently supposed to be Sonic’s damn love-interest. So I will come down hard on this. And I hate to sound like some angry “fem-nazi”, but I’m also just sick of seeing female Sonic characters in official media alone using this cookie cutter design base in general.

I don’t expect people to be masters at designing more unusual species as sonic characters, but at least do something more than just adding visible nostrils on the muzzle. Give them a more unique head shape or body type more closely resembling a horse, or even just give them a unique muzzle instead of a standard Sonic one. Anything, please.

It’s like when I finally learned how Tiara Boobowski was actually intended to be a manx, despite looking exactly like the franchise’s idea of a hedgehog.

My not-so positive opinion of her character design isn’t just because I think it’s a poor representation of her intended species. I can get over Sonic barely resembling an actual hedgehog, Knuckles an echidna, because their character designs themselves look appealing. This isn’t the case with Lutrudis. I think she just looks kind of boring in general. She just doesn’t look that appealing to me.

The outfit and attire doesn’t look like it had much rhyme or reason behind it. It’s just kind of dull. The gloves are at least pretty unique looking, but unfortunately that’s undermined by how plain everything else is. It looks like someone went clothes shopping at Wal-Mart, buying the most plain basic t-shirt, shorts, and bandana, trying to dress up as their super hero alter ego, only to end up not looking as cool as they envisioned it would look.

Having both the tail and ponytail as not only the same shapes, but long, makes the silhouette look both kind of busy but also kind of redundant. Like looking at Snooki’s big hairstyle stacked on top of each other.

I don’t know what he was thinking with putting that green together with not only a bright ass primary blue, but putting that bright brown color together with them, but it doesn’t look the most pleasing to the eye.(Assuming he even designed the character himself and just didn’t have someone else do it for him.) They all look like they’re battling for dominance. Even with the lighter toothpaste green I’ve seen her colored in to break things up, the bright primary blue and bright brown still clash against each other.

And I usually don’t like to make presumptions about creators with their OCs, but, I get the vibe here that this guy is possibly just using Sonic more as a stand-in for himself with his OC. It’s always kind of brow raising whenever a person says they aren’t a shipper and think romance is icky, until it involves their own OC who was not only obviously tailor made to be their ideal waifu, but the canon character they’re pairing up with their OC is one they’ve said they don’t like.

What’s frustrating about this is how a species like horses aren’t used that much when it comes to Sonic characters, yet it’s done in the most safe and bland way possible. The character design does have potential, but whatever it is it’s held back by the common crutches people rely on whenever they design an anthro Sonic character, both official and fan made.

I really don’t expect fans to be pro artists or character designers. But when the creator of the OC in question is not only a rude elitist prick who shits on or demeans other fans for things like “seeing a character that doesn’t exist”, always complains about non-game Sonic characters having either boring or generic character designs, but also seems to really love jerking himself off over how totes unique and awesome his fan character is unlike other lowly fan characters or even canon characters; this is the best he can do? This is what he has to show for it? A bland, cookie cutter looking and sounding character? Believe it or not, but sometimes, “I would like to see you do better.”, is appropriate.

Though him and his ilk are probably just going to find any desperate way to make this about me being an evil Chris fan, and maybe even cherry pick one of my Chris redesigns to “prove” that I’m a hack fraud who has only ever done that and nothing else. If he is even reading this(I’m sure he is because he really loves hate follow people).

[deanothecheynosaur]

The Bear and the Nightingale (2017)

Yay first one! (Whether you read the long synopsis or not, the ranking is at the bottom)

Funny story before I get into it: so my boyfriend's brother bought me this book in paperback for Christmas. I had not started reading it yet, but I was checking my Kindle to see how many books I read in 2019 and saw that I had purchased this a while back, never got around to reading it, and forgot I had it. So I'm taking back the paperback as soon as his blizzard is over (which oddly fits the book) and bought the second and third on Kindle. I have another gift card, but I need all three books to be in the same format.

Short synopsis:

Vasya is a young girl in a small village northern Rus' who can see things others can't. Everyone thinks she's a witch. The frost demon Morozko watches and protects her to keep himself strong enough to contain the Bear. An epic story about the clash between the old religions & the domineering Christianity & about the sexism of the time.

Long synopsis:

Moving on. Our story opens in Northern Rus' in the remote village of Lesnaya Zemlya bordering a large forest with the family of Pyotr Vladimirovich, his wife Marina Ivanovna, and their children Kolya (Nikolai Petrovich), Sasha (Aleksandr Petrovich), Olya (Olga Petrovna), Alyosha (Aleksei Petrovich), a bun in the oven, and their nurse, Dunya (Darya Nikolaevna). There's some important backstory though. Marina is the daughter of Ivan I Grand Prince in Moscow and his third wife, a mysterious woman who wandered out of the woods with no family, no history, and many suspected she was a witch. Marina knew it would be her last child and it would be a girl like her mother. This is set during the late 13th century, after Genghis Kahn died while the Tatars were still dominating the area. But Marina was right. She died in childbirth delivering Vasya (Vasilisa Petrovna). Throughout the book, there are hints that everyone but Sasha blames Vasya a little for Marina dying.

Vasya grows up naughty and ugly, with huge green eyes, black hair with a hint of red, a mouth too big for her face, long limbs, and too skinny. Olya calls her "little frog." Vasya does whatever she wants: Dunya is old, Pyotr is a busy man between being the Lord of the area and a farmer, and she has no stepmother. One evening, Vasya gets lost in the forest and sees a one-eyed man sitting against a gnarled black oak tree she had never seen before. He was uber creepy. But then another man shows up on his horse, refers to the one-eyed man as Medved, and tries to talk to Vasya. She gets scared and runs, but neither man pursues her. After she gets home (still freaking out), Pyotr decides it's time to remarry before Vasya gets unmanageable. He takes Kolya and Sasha with him to Moscow to find himself a wife and Olya a husband. It's mentioned several times throughout how a character cleans the ice out of their horse's hooves or mane, which I think is a great addition because it really solidifies the time period by how important horses were to everybody. Once they are settled in Moscow, Sasha spends time with other devout Christians (he prays a lot) and discovers that there is a renowned holy man (Sergei Radoneshsky) at a monastery three days north of Moscow. Pyotr lets him go alone to meet the man. Once Sasha gets there, he decides he wants to be a monk at this monastery and goes back to Moscow to ask his father. Pyotr agrees on two conditions: 1. Sasha cannot join the order or speak to Father Sergei until after the next harvest; 2. Sasha will be disinherited. Which honestly I think is fair.

A minor character that sets a lot of major things in motion is the Metropolitan of Moscow, Aleksei. Took me a minute to figure out that that means he's a bishop. Anyway, basically his job is really to deal with problems that might hurt the future of the current family ruling. Initially, he lines up marriages: Olya to a lesser prince that could have a claim to the throne of he married higher, and Pyotr to the Grand Prince's mad daughter, Anna Ivanovna. She saw demons everywhere except the church, so she wanted to be a nun. Of the two arranged marriages, the latter was less necessary in the initial context but crucial to rest of the plot. On their way back home, they run into a strange man, slight in stature but moves too quickly to see with pale skin, curly black hair, and icy blue eyes. He admires Pyotr's horse and Kolya is a dick to him about it, so the man has a knife to his throat. To save Kolya, Pyotr must give a necklace with a bright sapphire stone in it to Vasya to keep with her always. Kolya forgets the encounter altogether and wonders about the white scars on his neck... Pyotr is nervous about he necklace, so he gives it to Dunya. Dunya doesn't want to spoil her, so she decides to keep it for a while. Then she starts having one of several dreams in which she is confronted about keeping what is not hers.

After Sasha and Olya leave to be a monk and marry, respectively, Vasya spends less time with people. We soon learn that she can see creatures, the spirits from the old fairy tales Dunya told. Except they're real. Vasya is not crazy, and neither is Anna, but Anna is too Christian to be cool about it. Plus, Anna is a mean stepmother, strongly preferring her own daughter, Irina Petrovna. Vasya soon befriends the domovoi who lives in the oven and protects the house. Vasya doesn't realize her family can't see these creatures, so she talks to the vazila, the spirit of the horses who guards the stables. He says that she and Anna are the only people who can see them. Vasya thinks the stables are safer, so she visits the vazila often. He teaches her to speak to horses and understand them.

Then our friend Aleksei the Metropolitan does his last bit of manipulation. There is a priest in Moscow who is very good looking and gifted at painting icons. Aleksei is concerned that this will cause too many disruptions, so when the priest up in Lesnaya Zemlya dies, he sends the pretty priest, Father Konstantin Nikonovich, up there to take his place. I've never hated a fictional character so much in my life. Vasya is talking to the rusalka, a river demon who lives off of consuming the fears and desires of various animals and humans, killing them in the process. She goes for men a lot. Vasya unfortunately stops her from killing Father Konstantin. He immediately dislikes Vasya, thinking her too bold and not pious enough. Anna is obsessed with Konstantin because priests are her favorite and this is a hot one.

As time goes on, Vasya gets less and less like a lady should be, which infuriates Konstantin, but he's also having impure thoughts about her, which infuriates him in other ways. Anna and Konstantin try to convince everyone that if they continue to leave offerings for the old spirits, they will go to Hell. But shortly after, the village faces all the hardships. Freezing cold. Food shortage. People dying from the temperature. Wolves eating livestock. And then the crops flood. What survives the flood in the spring burns in the summer. Konstantin tells everyone that God is testing their faith, meanwhile Vasya is trying to sneak offerings and keep people alive. She also learns how to ride horses. Pyotr betrothes her to a Lord/horse breeder from a few towns over, Kyril Artamonovich. He's an oblivious ass. When he finds out she can ride, he calls off the wedding and leaves. Konstantin convinces Anna that Vasya somehow will get Irina killed, so when Pyotr leaves town, Anna tries to get rid of Vasya, either by death or by hog-tying her and taking her to a convent. Anna tells Vasya that she can stay if she finds snowdrops (the flower) in the forest (it's midwinter). Vasya takes off to find some, deciding worst case scenario, she would rather die in the forest than in a convent. She ends up at the gnarled black oak from her childhood, and the one-eyed man is still there. He tries to grab her, but the same man on horseback swoops in and saves her. He takes her back to his "house" to rest. She shortly finds out that he is Morozko, the god of winter and death. The one-eyed man is his brother, Medved, the Bear, the god of fear and suffering. Morozko has had him bound for a few hundred years, but with the offerings decreasing, Medved's strength is increasing. Morozko is known to be a trickster and a lavish gift-giver. Among other things, he gives Vasya a horse called Solovey (Russian for Nightingale), a young bay colored stallion who is not quite as mortal as your average horse. He also gives Vasya some snowdrops so that she may go home, but when she arrives, things are not how she left them. This is where we hit the climax, and I'm not giving away the ending. 😉

I'm very into folklore and old religions, I love forests, and Russian history is so long and colorful that it's been a fascination of mine for a while. Plus, ice stories interest me, maybe because my birthday is frequently cold and icy. So this was a great book for me to read. It's also clear how well-researched it is, as well as spelling things so that an English speaker would still be saying it with the Russian pronunciation.

On a scale of 1-5, I give it a 4.5. It would be higher but so many characters were unlikeable.

[yeet-or-be-hawed]

Hunters of Flesh and Money Part 2

The chilly wind sent a shiver up your spine as you stepped out of the post office in Strawberry. The wind cut through you like knives as you flipped through your parcels. The envelope second from the bottom of the stack was thick, once you flipped to it, you smiled. In Sadie’s chicken scratch handwriting was your alias. When you opened the envelope, there were two letters inside. You opened the first:

Dearest Fletcher,

I must say I am very excited to be writing this letter. It feels so wonderful to finally have a piece of my old life back. I wonder what Jake would think of me now; on the run with a bunch of outlaws and criminals. I try to tell myself he would be proud of me for reclaiming what little life I had left, but I can’t help but feel he would be disappointed in me. I’ve killed men, I know it ain’t that big a deal to you, but it just feels so...unsettling. But please, do write back with details on yourself and how you’ve held up. What jobs have you been working lately? Have you been getting yourself a proper night’s rest? Don’t ever hesitate to write if you befall hard times. The group I ride with now are kind of rough around the edges but they’re kind people. They remind me a lot of you. I look forward to your next letter, maybe next time you’re in Rhodes we can meet up. Our little group has settled down near a lake just outside of there. I miss you dearly and look forward to seeing you again.

P.S. Mr. Morgan just gave me a letter to send to you with this one. He wouldn’t stop with the questions the whole ride from Rhodes to the camp the day we met you. I promised him I wouldn’t read it, but I didn’t make any promises about asking you what it says.

Yours, Sadie

You could almost hear the sadness behind Sadie’s words and it broke your heart. She was such a lively and happy woman, the loss of Jake had shook her to the core. When you opened the second letter, you didn’t recognize the scrolling handwriting.

Ms. Fletcher,

I would like to thank you for everything you have done for Mrs. Adler. Since the day we saw you in town, she has changed drastically. She has came out of her shell and makes attempts to speak to some of the other members of the gang. It ain’t much, but it’s something. It’s something we wouldn’t have had without you. She was so closed off and aggressive when we found her, almost feral. You made her a little more human again, and I can’t thank you enough for that. Any friend of Sadie Adler is a friend of mine, don’t be afraid to write me if you need anything-work, shelter, food anything- just send a letter our way.

Arthur Morgan

You had to admit, you were quite shocked to see the second letter from Arthur. The hard looking man you met that day didn’t even look literate, but the way his handwriting neatly scrolled across the page gave off the impression he may be smarter than he seemed. You ducked into the saloon and pulled out an old worn notebook. With a nod to the bartender, you pulled out a pen and began:

Sadie,

I am also very happy to have reconnected with you, and I’m glad it has made this dark time in your life a little brighter. I think Jake would rather the life you’re currently leading towards worse alternatives. You could’ve came down that mountain and straight into a brothel like so many other widows do. You could’ve died on that mountain, drowning in your own grief. There’s a lot that could’ve happened, but this is what did. Whether it’s unsettling or not, killing is a part of life and it’s kept you alive this long. I for one, am proud to see you handling yourself and surviving. You know me, ain’t much in my life that changes. Since I found the Adler Ranch I’ve been on the lookout for more jobs. The young fellow outside of Blackwater that talked funny ain’t been in his usual spots the last few times I’ve gone to find him. He mentioned having a group he got separated from, I hope he’s found them instead of dying or getting kidnapped. He was a smart mouth, but he was a good kid. Found a lady down south in the bayou who paid good for killing, but I ain’t been there in awhile. I been getting most my work from a funny fellow down in Rhodes. I been spending the last few weeks on Mount Hagen doing some hunting. I’m currently in Strawberry, selling off my quarries. I reckon the cold weather is moving in so I should head south. I’ll be taking work in Rhodes for awhile, I should be there by the time you receive this. When I’m not working, you can find me at the Rhodes Parlor House. As for Mr. Morgan’s letter, it was nothing more than a thank you. He said you were in brighter spirits since we met. He seemed nice Sadie, but don’t start trying to match make me again.

-F

You rolled your eyes, Sadie was nothing if not stubborn, you were certain this wasn’t the last you would hear on the subject. With a quick fold and a slip inside an envelope, the letter was ready to be sent. You stood to deliver the parcel to the post office, but hesitated, it would be rude to not respond to Mr. Morgan would it not?

You sat back down and pulled out another piece of paper.

Mr. Morgan,

I accept your thanks, though you don’t need to give it. I hadn’t intended to lighten her spirits, or to even see her for that matter but I am thankful I did. Jake and Sadie were the best damned couple I knew, it still breaks my heart to think about poor Jake. Although it saddened me, I wasn’t surprised to hear she had been so unlike herself after his death. She’s the strongest woman I know, but even the strongest of us are prone to breaking. I appreciate the offer, but I ain’t one for handouts. Just keep Sadie safe and we’ll be square.

-F

-

Sadie approached Arthur excitedly, a big smile on her face. It was a sight he wasn’t used to. “Mornin’ Sadie, what’s got you so happy?”

She held up an envelope, “letters, from Fletcher!”

“Letters?”

“One for me,” she gave him a side eye. “And one for you.”

“Me, huh?” He laughed nervously as he took the letter. Sadie gave him a strange look he didn’t recognize as she wandered away. He read the letter carefully. Your handwriting was...well it wasn’t sloppy but it wasn’t very pretty either. He thought it looked like you wrote in a hurry. You wrote eloquently which surprised him. The line “even the strongest of us are prone to breaking” made his chest feel hollow.

The parlor was nicer than what you were used to, it was modern and bright which you weren’t sure was an improvement or not. It was your third day in Rhodes and you wondered when Sadie would receive your letter. You would’ve never admitted it to her, but you had spent the majority of your time waiting in the Parlor. Trelawny’s jobs tend to sound bigger and grander than they really are, leaving you with more time during the day than you had planned. Most the time you spent your free time like this hunting, but you wouldn’t forgive yourself if you missed Sadie.

Friends weren’t something that came around very often in your line of work and they rarely stayed very long. The news of Sadie’s survival had made it more difficult to be alone. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to join their camp, but that would be selfish. Your bounty was too high, the list of people you had pissed off was too long. It didn’t feel right endangering a whole group of people just for the sake of feeling good. You took a long swig of your beer and grimaced, why did life have to be so goddamn complicated?

You knocked back the last of your drink and headed back to the caravans just outside of Rhodes. Trelawny wasn’t there when you arrived earlier that morning, but it wasn’t a surprise. What was a surprise though, was the disheveled state of his caravan when you arrived. As you walked up the steps, the book that he was always reading was flipping upside down, thrown haphazardly to the edge of the small porch. You hadn’t realized when you came through, but there wasn’t a soul in sight. “What happened here?” You whispered to yourself as you crouched down and picked up his book. You slowly moved into the caravan and continued your search. There seemed to be a struggle inside too, and some blood on the floor. A plate of food was left on the dresser, barely touched. As you took a bite of the hard bread that was left on the plate, you heard hooves approaching. You quickly dived under the bed and pulled your Mausers as voices came close enough for your to pick up the conversation. 

“...ckon it’s the one with the fire outside.”

“Let’s take a look.”

Two men, easy enough. You slowly cocked the pistols before the men entered, ready to pounce. Adrenaline pumped behind your ears as two sets of boots made their way up the stairs of the porch.

“Someone got here first.”

“So it seems.”

“By the looks of things it wasn’t a social call.” 

“Check the house.” One man said in a hushed tone. You tensed, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. If these were lawmen, you were screwed. Not only would they blame you for being at the scene of the crime but it wouldn’t take them long to figure out they’d caught themselves an outlaw with quite the bounty on her head. You held your breath as the men entered the threshold of the small caravan. 

Arthur entered the caravan slowly and cautiously, whoever took Trelawny may still be around or stashed away a trap for some unsuspecting looter. Charles was investigating the small kitchen area while Arthur searched around the bed. The mattress was tucked away into a nook, unmade and a disheveled mess. He couldn’t help be recall how Grimshaw would beat him with a shoe if he didn’t make up his bedroll as a kid. Arthur got down on his hands and knees to search for any clues under the bed, the last thing he expected was to be face to face with two golden pistols. 

You almost dropped the pistols in surprise. “Mr. Morgan?” 

Arthur stared at you in disbelief as you crawled out from under the mattress. “Fletcher? What the hell-”

Your eyes flicked to the giant man just behind Arthur, bow pointed between your eyes, you lifted your guns in response. You didn’t look away from the big man. “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Mogan. I hope you aren’t the men I’m looking for.” 

“Depends,” the big man said. “Where’s Trelawny?” 

“Dunno,” You said as you lowered your guns as a sign of peace. “I came by to see if he had any work. Saw there was a struggle and decided to let myself in then you two showed up.”

The man looked to Arthur who nodded. The man lowered his bow but kept his gaze on you. “Well, I guess the two of you can help me find him.You two keep searching in here, I’m going to check out outside and see if there’s any clues.”

Arthur and Charles just watched as you sauntered outside. Charles turned to Arthur. “You know her?” 

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Long story.” 

Charles chuckled. “Bossy, that one is. Can we trust her?” 

“I think so. She’s friends with Sadie, apparently she used to be good friends with her and her late husband. Outlaw on the run, just like us.” 

Charles turned to say something, but he was cut off. “I got tracks out here!” You yelled from outside the other end of the caravan followed by a sharp whistle. When the two men walked out, you were already mounted on your huge horse. “You boys know how to track?” 

“Yes ma’am.” Charles responded. 

“Good. Tracks start here and head this way, follow me. Yah!” And with that your horse was barreling down the road, leaving a dust cloud in its wake. 

You didn’t have time to wait on the two men to saddle up, you were growing anxious to find Trelawny. You had only known him a couple of months, but the funny man had a charisma that made it hard to dislike him. Truth be told, you had grown to be quite fond of the silly little man. Last time you saw him, you actually promised to let him take out Garbanzo for a ride. You intended to keep that promise, if anything purely for the sight of such a small man on such a large horse. As Rhodes disappeared behind you, Arthur and the other man were riding behind you. Arthur had a beautiful white Arabian and the other had a lovely grey snow capped Appaloosa. You made a mental note to compliment them both of their horses once this was all said and done with. You could pick up bits and pieces of the conversation the men were having as they approached, but you remained focused on the tracks. They led you to a small camp just on the edge of the forest just off the road. You dismounted quickly and approached. Two men sat under the shelter of the tent and a third by the fire. You put on your best smile and approached. “Hello gentlemen, what brings y’all out here this time a night?” 

The man by the fire eyes you wearily. “I could ask you the same question, miss.” His eyes darted behind you, you could hear the two horses come to a stop. 

“Me and my friends here have lost the fourth member of our party, you haven’t seen any funny men runnin’ around here? Dresses kinda formal?”

The men looked at eachother, to the men behind you, and back to you. “Seen plenty of funny men, sure. Ain’t seen no fancy ones.” 

“He uses a cane, just like this one.” The bigger man plucked Trelawny’s cane from the grass. You saw red, and jumped the man in front of the fire. Your fist beat into his face. “Where is he goddamn it? Don’t play stupid with me!” 

A brawl abrupted, three on three. Arthur questioned the man he had pinned and the other man beat his opponent silently. Your hands clasped around the man’s neck and you slowly added pressure. “Son, I ain’t got all night. Now either ya tell me where my friend is, or I crush your windpipe and me and my friends kill your buddies.” You heard a gurgling sound to your right and turned to see Mr. Morgan lifting himself off his limp victim. “Looks like one of your buddies is already dead, wanna join him?” 

The man cried under you, “Fine fine I know where he is!” 

You smiled coldly. “Hear that boys? He knows where our friend is!”

“th-they took him to a cabin, over by the cornfields!”

“Well now,” you cooed. “Was that so hard?” You pulled your pistol and shot the man right between the eyes. “Cornfields. Let’s go.” 

As the two men mounted, the third surviving member of their team get up and began to run in the direction of the fields. You shot him in the back and he fell. “What was that for?” The bigger man asked. 

You mounted your horse. “He was headin’ in the direction of the corn fields. Probably gonna try and give his friends a heads up.” 

Arthur nodded in agreement and the other man shook his head. The three of you took off together. The Braithwaite cornfields weren’t far and to be quite honest, you’d be more than happy to kill a few of those inbreed yocals. As you approached, two men were dragging another out of a cabin. As you approached, you noticed it was indeed Trelawny. Without batting an eye, you placed a bullet between each of their heads and Trelawny fell forward. You jumped off your horse and ran to him. You pulled your arm around him and helped him onto your horse. “You okay, Josiah?” 

He half coughed half laughed, “Fletcher is that you?”

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah it’s me.”

“So, you’re alive!” Arthur called as his dismounted his horse. 

Trelawny looked up and gave as much of a laugh as he could. “Allegedly.” 

He was in the worst shape you’d ever seen him. The pomade was worn out from his hair-it was tousled and messy. He had bruises and dried blood on his face. 

Arthur cut his binds as you held him upright. “Don’t worry, they won’t be for much longer.” His voice had a cold deadly note in it you had not recognized. 

“Go get them Arthur, I can handle this.” 

Arthur nodded to Trelawny and headed down towards the cornfields. You reached into your satchel and pulled out some fine brandy to give to Trelawny. He took a deep swig and gave you a swift pat on the back. “Thank you, my friend. I don’t know what would’ve happened to me had you three not came along. Are you riding with the Van Der Lindes now young Fletcher?” 

You laughed. “The who? Nah. I stopped by your ol caravan to see if you had any work. Saw a struggle and started investigatin’. Not long after I showed up, these two came along.” You turned to Charles, who was tending to his horse. “I never caught your name, by the way. People call me Fletcher.” You extended a hand to the big man. He took it and gave it a firm shake. 

“Charles.”

You nodded and the gunfire in the fields took your attention. Trelawny laughed, “Leave me here with Mr. Smith, I can tell you’re itching to get down there.” 

With a smile and a nod, you grabbed the semi-auto shotgun from your horse and your mausers to be safe. You crouched through the cornfields cautiously. Normally you would go in guns blazing, but normally you don’t have a comrade in the fight either, you would need to be careful and not hit Arthur. 

The corn was thick and the fields were huge. it was damn near impossible to see anyone. A flock of birds flew up not too far from you and you smirked, mother nature was giving you a hand it seemed. You slowly snuck in the direction and found your target. a single shot to the back of the head and he fell. After taking out three more men, there was commotion over by the barn. You rushed over just in time to see Arthur with a lasso around his neck, struggling for air. “Duck!” you shouted as you placed a bullet right between the eyes of the man holding the rope. As soon as it was released, Arthur choked and gagged for air. “Thank you.” He gasped. You slapped his back hard, “No problem.” 

The two of you made your way up the hill back to Trelawny and Charles. Trelawny rode of the back of your horse with you and the four of you silently rode back to the caravans just outside of Rhodes. You dismounted first and helped Trelawny down. He seemed shaken still. “T-thank you for all your help today, all of you.” He chuckled nervously. “I suppose I’ll be lucky if they don’t come back for me in my sleep tonight.” He half joked. 

You rolled your eyes and hitched Garbanzo to the hitching post beside the caravan. “You ain’t gotta worry bout that, Josiah. I’ll stay here with ya tonight, if they come they’ll be comin’ to their own funeral.” 

Trelawny looked at you and you could see all the gratitude he couldn’t speak in his eyes. “Thank you, madam I feel truly safe knowing you’re watching over my threshold.” He turned to Arthur and Charles. “Thank you gentlemen again for everything. Send ol’ Dutch my regards.” 

“Will do.” Charles said. 

Arthur nodded and turned his horse the other way. “I’ll come by tomorrow evenin’ and check on ya. Stay safe you two.”

You tipped your hat to the men as they left and Trelawny hesitated at the door. You gave him a reassuring smile. “Go on to bed, you need your rest. I won’t leave ya, I promise.” 

He patted your head and even though it made you feel childish, you took comfort in it. “Thank you my dear girl. My life is eternally in your debt.” With that, he turned and entered the house. You looked up at the sky, the moon was bright and the sky was full of stars. What a strange world we all live in. 

[zach-the-fox]

Furiends Episode 3: A Bad Idea

A new day has come, and the warthog sits with the cat and blue jay at a small table in a small coffee shop by the name “Pawbucks”. The girls, however, are slouched in their chairs, and have their heads leaning against solid objects as flat-mouthed, half-eyed expressions occupy their faces.

“Ugh, I’m so bored!” Navy exclaims. “What are we supposed to do now?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” responds Emmy. “Thought it would be a good idea to talk about art, but we constantly see each other’s posts on Furbook.”

“Come on, I’m sure there’s something else to do,” Carly adds. “Maybe we can go to the cartoon festival?” The bird and warthog just look at her. “No? How about-”

“Let’s just get out of here,” Emmy interrupts. She gets out of her seat. “Perhaps, it’ll come to us…” The bird and cat follow without another word. The three exit the coffee shop and walk along the sidewalk.  As they amble down the street, Navy begins a conversation on her interests with a certain character she conjures up. That’s when the pass a display of books in the window pane.

Emmy takes notice of a book on the shelf through the display, forcing her to enter the store. The other girls follow her as she steps toward her target, pulls the book off the shelf, and examines it. The title reads “The Dark Arts for Dummies,” and having a deformed face on the cover. “Interesting…” Emmy opens the book and scans through its contents briefly. “Very interesting…”

Carly stands behind Emmy, glancing over her shoulder to see inside the book. “That book interests you?”

Navy stands and makes her way beside the warthog. “Ooh, a book on dark magic?”

“Looks like it,” Emmy says. “Says everything about how to summon demons and conjure black magic.”

Navy gasps and smiles at the idea. “Oh, can we do this! Please?”

“I don’t know if we should,” Carly adds. “May have some bad outcomes.”

“Or maybe we can raise our very own demon!” Navy utters. “And perhaps wreak havoc on that wolf for taunting Zach.”

“Not sure if that’ll be the case,” utters Emmy. “But you know what, it probably would be a way to kill boredom. Besides, what could go wrong?”

 ***

 Back at the mall, the three girls wander around in search for their items. They split off in different directions as they look around.

Navy picks up a box labeled “dinner candles” on it, taking it for the first item. “These will do.”

“Miss,” calls out a store associate. “We haven’t stocked those yet!” Navy continues walking up to the counter and prepares to pay, leaving the clerk with a look of dismay.

Emmy searches up and down the row of chalkboards, taking the erasers and chalk from the holders. “This will suit our need of chalk dust.” She picks up one eraser, but barely has a grip on it. “Uh oh!” Upon catching it, she hits the chalk boards on either side of her, emitting dust into the air around her. “Oh no…” Emmy’s mouth begins opening wider until, “Achoo!” The dust enters her nose more, causing an uncontrollable sneeze. “I must… achoo! Get out of- Achoo! Here…”

In the floral shop by the corner, Carly looks around for the last item on the list; black rose water. “Hm… If I were rose water, where would I be?” Her eyes are drawn to the bottle on the top shelf near the entrance. “Of course, it’s up there…” She looks around, yet sees no worker in the store. “And no one’s around to help… Guess I’ll just help myself then…” The cat reaches for the bottle, but her paw is only inches away from it. “Hugck! Come on!” She stands on her tippy-toes. “Come on, Carly! You’ve almost got it!” Her paw stretches out more and wraps around the item. “Got it!” Her weight, however, causes the god to lean forward into the shelf. “Uh oh! Whoa!” Carly is knocked into it, causing it to fall over. As the shelf falls, a vase of flower water tips and spills all over her. Carly gets up and sees the damages she’s caused. “Uh, whoops…” She quickly pulls out some cash and leaves it on the counter. “I’ll just be going!” She leaves the scene. “I was never here…”

The girls regroup in the center of the mall.

“All right, everyone got everything from the list?” asks Emmy, rubbing her nose with her finger. The cat and bird nod. “Good. Now, we need a place to perform the ritual.”

“Let’s do it at my place,” says Navy. “We can set up there and-” The bird sniffs the cat. “Hey, why do you smell like fresh roses?”

“Please don’t,” Carly utters. “I need a bath once I get home…”

“You can wash later, when we’ve-” Emmy sniffles. “Oh no… Achoo! Ugh…” She sneezes again.

“Bless you,” Navy tells her.

“Security!” someone shouts. “Security! Someone has destroyed the flower shop!” As the spectator yells, the girls rush out the entrance.

 ***

 The gang gathers at Navy’s studio apartment, where they set up for their “special event”. Carly draws along the floor, making a pentagram with a marker. Emmy takes sand and proceeds to encircle the pentagram, touching the points with perfection. Lastly, Navy places candles beside the points and lights them.

Carly looks into the picture in the book before viewing the shape in reality. She crosses her arms with a smile of pleasure. “Looks about right.”  

“Yeah,” Navy adds. “And it smells nice, too!”

“Okay, let’s get started.” Emmy picks up the book and holds it in her hooves. “All that’s left is to recite the incantation.”

“Wait!” Carly interrupts. “What if whatever comes out of there tries to kill us?”

“Hm, good point. We should suit up and prepare for the worst.” The three girls rummage around Navy’s place for protective equipment and anything that could be used as a weapon. They manage to find gear and tools, preparing in five minutes. Navy holds a shovel close while donning a knight’s helmet, while Carly protects herself with football helmet, wielding a frying pan for her defense. Emmy’s head is covered with a pumpkin as a baseball bat leans up against her for her weapon. The warthog holds the book up. “Everybody ready?” Navy and Carly stand guard behind Emmy, ready to expect the unexpected. Emmy begins the incantation. “For thou who lives trapped in flame and clay, heed this call, rejoice and pray.” Navy’s wings tremble, shaking the shovel in her grip. “Gather upon thy mortal door.” Carly tightens her grip of her frying pan. “Break the gates, and emerge once more!” The candle flames enlarge, brightening the room as a portal opens within the center of the pentagram. One big, round ball shoots out from the entryway, bouncing off the walls of the apartment. The three girls panic as the frenzy continues.

“Whoa!” Carly dives behind the counters in the kitchen to take cover, lying on the floor. “Jeez! How do you stop this thing?!”

“I don’t know!” Emmy dodges as the flame ball flies past her. “This thing’s out of control! Yipe!” She stumbles onto the ground, avoiding the fire sphere as it nearly collides into her.

“Don’t worry!” Navy holds the shovel firmly. “I’ve got it!” As the ball comes her way, she swings and smacks it away. The sphere of flames smashes through the glass window and outside. “Homerun! Woo!” The orb is last seen barreling down the street, burning lampposts and trees along the way. “Um, uh oh…”

Carly stands and looks out the broken window. “Nice going…”

Emmy is quick to her feet as she heads out the door. “Come on! We have to go after it!”

“Are you crazy?!” the cat utters. Navy is already behind the warthog. “Hey, wait for me!” Carly sprints after them.

 ***

 Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Zach, Niji, Eren, and Silus enjoy some time together in the park. The boys each hold ice cream cones in their paws and chat away as they lick their frozen treats.

“Mmm,” Niji spurts after licking his treat. “I love rainbow-flavored ice cream.”

Zach looks to the short deer, who takes a bite out of his swirl. “Eren, thank you very much… You didn’t have to pay for mine… I could’ve just passed on it.”

“No no,” Eren tells him. “It’s fine. Besides, it would’ve been fair if you were left out. You’re our friend after all.”

“Nobody ever thought it was unfair when they left me out of things, the orphanage and Team Rescuers especially…” Zach’s ears start to droop.

“They’re just dumb,” Niji adds in. “The whole town, too. Just because you’re different, doesn’t give them the right to push you out of things. So what if you are the product of some bad animals or have a mental disorder? You look and act normal to us.”

Zach’s eyelids open wide as his ears straighten. “R-really? You think so, Niji?”

“We all do,” Silus implies. “They just don’t know what it’s like to be different. You shouldn’t let people talk you down because they say you have “flaws”. In fact, you shouldn’t assess yourself for your flaws, but of your strengths; the things that make you proud of who you are, no matter what anybody things.”

“Gee, I-” The fox pauses, then turns his head after spotting something glowing in the corner of his eye. “W-what? What is that?” Everyone turns to see where he’s looking. “It looks like a giant-” Zach’s eyelids pull back as far as they can go as he notices a large fireball heading straight for him and his friends. “Holy!” Silus is quick with his reflexes, grabbing the fox, wolf, and deer with his arms and pulling them away to avoid the flames. However, as the ball of flames whooshes past, it manages to touch Zach on his torso, Eren by his shoulder, and Niji on his head, as well as the newt’s arms that grasp the three. The four boys collapse to the ground and scatter as they grudge at their burns, grunting and yelping with pain. The fire sphere then disappears from view, leaving the friends clueless.

Emmy arrives on scene with Navy and Carly beside her. “I think this is where it-” She notices the boys. “Oh my gosh! Niji, Eren, Silus, Zach!” She and the girls aide the four friends to their feet. “You guys okay?!”

“What happened?” asks Carly. “You’ve got burns!”

“Yeah, no kidding!” Niji shouts. “No thanks to that giant fireball that passed by!”

“Wait, you know where the fireball went?!” Navy utters. “Where did it go?!” She searches around frantically. “Is it around here?!”

“Navy, now’s not the time!” Carly calls to her. “We have to help our friends!”

“We don’t even know what’s happening,” grunts Zach. “We were having ice cream when that flaming ball came out of nowhere… Oh, it hurts!”

Eren looks up at the girls. “Um, why are you wearing those outfits?”

“We’ll explain later,” Emmy says. “Why don’t we head back to Navy’s place and get you guys some ice?” The friends agree. The boys stand with ease due to their injuries and follow the girls back. @carlycmarathecat​ @emmy-the-absolute-goof​ @pink-unicorn-blood​ @rainbow-strike​ @ask-choro-mama​

[legenddeathed]

leave.

(inspired by)

The shoreline is dark and dreary, obscured by dark fog, but it is also quiet and empty. A few hours ago, they fought through hordes of undead on this beach. Now, all that is left are corpses and the soft rustling of the tide. He is close to their boat. If he can carry her a few more feet, they can go home–together.

There is just something in his way: it is small and white, long and dark. It is one elfish child and one smoking wolf’s head. It is standing just at the edge of the water, waiting for him.

For a moment, none of them move, just watch each other–sentinels. Slowly, Lamb takes a small step forward. Her hooves leave no ripples on the surface of the water she walks on.

“Leave.” Lucian’s finger tightens around the grip of his rifle. It begins to glow, gives off a ghastly white smoke.

“Fleshling–” begins Lamb. Even with how small she is and how soft her voice is, it carries impossibly far. It almost chills him–almost.

“Leave!” Lucian shouts, raising his weapon and shooting. A blast of bright white light breaks free from his gun. Is it hearsay for a Sentinel of Light to shoot at Death? Lucian doesn’t care.

The light fades as soon as it comes, and the Kindred is standing right where he left them. Did he miss? He grits his teeth and cries out as he shoots again. This time he is sure he doesn’t miss, but the Kindred comes away unscathed and unperturbed. In fact, it’s moving towards him at a slow, steady pace.

“Fleshling,” Lamb says again. She sounds almost as if she is warning him.

“She’s not yours!” Lucian screams at them. This is the most delusional he must have ever sounded. “Leave. Leave!”

He snatches Senna’s gun from his hip and begins shooting the Kindred with both. Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang! Over and over and over again: blasts of pure white light, unadulterated and blinding. They pass right through Lamb as if she is made of light, herself. As for Wolf, the light is swallowed into the infinite blackness of his body, darker than ink.

“Fleshling,” Lamb says a third time. She sounds almost impatient. Lucian grits his teeth and keeps shooting. He can’t let it take her. If it takes her, there’s no chance to save her. If it takes her, that means she’s–

“DEAD!” screams Wolf, at last losing his patience. He opens his great maw and reveals the endless blue inside. Hot breath and dark saliva fly from his mouth as his black teeth snap. “She is dead, Sentinel! DEAD! She is mine, mine, MINE!”

“No!” Lucian cries out. His two guns turn both towards Wolf. He unleashes the full power of them on it. Wolf only howls and swallows the white light whole.

“I am not DEAD, Sentinel!” Wolf snarls. “Your stupid guns do nothing to me, stupid FLESHLING!”

He rushes forward, flying through Lucian’s shots like smoke, and roars before his mouth yawns open to swallow Lucian whole. Wolf stops hairsbreadths away from Lucian’s face, his teeth practically pricking his cheek, his saliva dripping and stinging his skin–but Lucian does not flinch.

“I’m not dead either, Wolyo,” Lucian sneers into his mouth. His breath smells like rot and fear. “There’s nothing you can do to me.”

There is a moment of silence before Wolf gives a throaty chuckle from somewhere deep within his chest. Then he backs away and closes his mouth. Lucian is sure it was open so large that it reached from his toes to the top of his head.

“Haha,” Wolf rumbles a little, “very good, little Sentinel. Very good.” He laughs a little to himself as he recedes to Lamb. He circles her shoulders and eyes Lucian with greed, impossibly wide mouth turning up in a hungry grin.

“Fleshling,” Lamb says, eyes quiet and burning, “the Kindred–”

“The Kindred can leave,” Lucian snaps, sneering down at Lamb. “There’s nothing for you here.”

Lamb stares at him, unblinking. “Your wife is here.” She points to the body. “She is there.”

Lucian trains a gun on Lamb’s forehead. “She’s not for you,” he snarls. “Like I said: leave.”

Lamb looks at the gun, then back at Lucian. Meanwhile, Wolf laughs another wave of rolling chuckles. “Haha, stupid fleshling,” Wolf says as he drifts around Lamb. “You cannot stop the Kindred.”

“What is this?” Lamb asks at last, a finger reaching towards the rune gun. Lucian shoots, but the light only passes through her and hits the ground beneath her. The tip of one of her fingers at last touches the muzzle. Immediately, the light in the rune gun fades away. The stone becomes cold in Lucian’s grip, even through his gloves. He feels panic rise, wills the gun to fire, to glow, to do anything–

This is nothing, he hears a quiet voice ring in his head, expansive and deafening, coming from all sides. You are nothing. This is but a toy, you a child, and life child’s play.

Lucian can’t help it. He goes against everything he’s ever been taught. He drops his gun.

Immediately, the voice–voices?–stop. The gun’s clatter on the ground is louder than any gunshot. The Kindred stands in the same place as ever, as if nothing had happened.

“The Kindred does you service by speaking to you,” says Lamb, voice sounding sharp. “The Kindred does not need your permission to take the fleshling’s soul–and clearly, you cannot stop it.”

“The Kindred is the Kindred, fleshling!” Wolf laughs at Lucian’s stupidity. “What are you to I, that which is infinite? To I, that which is everlasting?”

“The Kindred only appeared to you so you may say your last words,” Lamb says. “The Kindred is not without compassion. The Kindred is not hate. The Kindred knows what love is.” She points again, without looking, to the body. “Say goodbye.” An order. An expectation.

“But–” Lucian swallows. “Her soul. He–Thresh–”

“The Chain Warden is the KINDRED’S business!” Wolf howls without warning, blue eyes blazing like a star, body bristling into a million pins. “The Chain Warden will get his dues! The Chain Warden is mine!”

“The Kindred takes more than the simple soul, Sentinel,” Lamb says. “The soul is cursory. The soul is the Kindred’s gift to you. There is life, and there is death. She is between.”

“She’s not dead?”

The knowledge hits Lucian like stone. She isn’t dead? If she’s not dead, If there’s still a chance–if he can get her soul back, if he can return it–there’s a chance she can be revived, that she can be pieced together, that the Sentinels can–

“None are dead until the Kindred touches them,” Lamb affirms, sudden and quick, as if hearing his thoughts. “But if the Kindred does not, they become…”

She turns and point to the cursed and mutilated corpses on the shore. “They did not come to me. They did not want me. They were kept from me. There are many reasons–so many. Too many. Fleshlings are fearful. Fleshlings are wary. Fleshlings are ignorant. You have been taught better. You have learned more. Remember your mission, Sentinel.”

Lucian’s eyes narrow. “I don’t need reminding from you.”

“Then the Kindred takes your wife,” Lamb says with finality. “This is what you say.”

His grip on the other gun–her gun, the one he did not drop–tightens for a moment, but even he knows he will not muster the will to light it. It does not glow. His grip relents.

“Do it.”

“The Kindred allows the fleshlings to say their goodbyes.”

Lucian casts his gaze at the body–Senna. His Senna. Like this, she looks almost peaceful, but he can see the ghosts of pain and terror gripping the shadows of her face. He memorizes this face, regardless–burns the image in his brain. He will remember this forever. He promises. He swears.

“We already said our goodbyes,” he says. They always do. Before every battle. Before every mission. No matter how big, no matter how small. “Do it.”

The Kindred looks at him, then look away. It approaches Senna, stands over her and stares down. Lucian watches, expecting words, expecting action–the teeth or the arrow?–but none come. The Kindred, after only a moment, turns away from her–from him.

“That’s it?” Lucian cannot help but ask. “That’s all?”

The Kindred look back. “There are things only the dead can hear from the Kindred,” Lamb says. “Only things the dead can see.”

“You do not possess the Eye,” Wolf chortles, aware of how enigmatic he sounds. “You have not sacrificed. So you cannot see. You cannot hear.”

“I’ve sacrificed plenty,” Lucian frowns.

“Not enough,” Wolf looks straight into his eyes, grinning–laughing at his own personal joke. “Not enough.”

“The body is yours, Sentinel,” Lamb says as the Kindred turns away. “The Kindred has taken what matters.”

Without another word, without another sound, the Kindred slips into the ground like water. In a blink, it is gone, leaving Lucian alone on the shoreline. After a moment, he picks up the gun from the gun and holsters it with the other. He returns to Senna’s body and stands at her shoulder.

He kneels and weeps.

[comicgeekscomicgeek]

Their Hero Academia – Chapter 29: Class 1-A and the Sports Festival Part 2: Finish Lines and Score Cards

Presenting the next raw and unedited chapter of my on-going, next-gen, My Hero Academia fic, Their Hero Academia!

Earlier chapters can be found here

Izumi let out a small gasp as she saw the third stage of the race rise up before her and Katsumi.  She might have expected another obstacle like the pillar field they had left behind.  She might even have expected a mine field or something like that, but no, that wasn’t it.

Before they, rising up and completely blocking any way around it, was what appeared to be a demolished office building, leaning sharply to the left and crumbling.  It was too tall to go over it, above the flight ceiling, even if she could make that much ice that quickly.

“You’re… you’re seeing this too, right, Izzy?” Katsumi asked.

“Indeed I am,” she said. “Any suggestions?”

“And the first students are coming on the final stage!” Present Mic’s voice cut through the noise of the race and crowd.  “They’re gonna have to make their way past this destroyed office building if they’re gonna get to the finish line!  It’s still anybody’s race!”

“Smash through,” Katsumi said.  “Break through a window, maybe third floor or so… then we just have to push out the other side.”

Below, she could hear the whooshing-zip sound of Isamu and saw him sliding towards the building, Mineta still on his back.  Aoki, the girl with the wheeled monopod instead of feet from Class 1-C, was very close behind them.   Katsumi’s suggestion seemed risky… but she was also not sure she had anything better.   Especially since Isamu likely could simply just slide around the outside of the building.

“So we shall.”

Izumi concentrated, lifting them up higher on her ice slide, pushing towards the building.  “Clear us a path!” she told Katsumi.

“On it!”  Katsumi broke a chunk of ice off, held it in her hand for a moment, then threw it like a baseball.  It impacted the window ahead of them and exploded with a powerful but short-lived boom, creating enough of a whole for them to pass through.  She extended her ice slide, creating a bridge to the hole Katsumi had created and both stepped inside.  

With her feet on solid (albeit crumbling) ground, rather than her own ice, Izumi suddenly realized just how bone-wearily tired she was.  She hadn’t made that much ice, processed that much heat in…  she honestly couldn’t remember when.  Even with her regulator rig, it had taken its toll on her. Suddenly, she felt her legs collapse out from under her and she sank to her knees.

“Izzy!” Katsumi screamed, and she dropped down to her own knees, her face inches from Izumi’s own.   Katsumi put her hands on her shoulders. “Izzy!  Speak to me!  Are you okay?”

Her eyelids feeling heavy, Izumu shook her head.  “I may… have overexerted myself,” she said, quietly, ashamed.  She was so certain she had the stamina for this.  And now she was letting everyone down…

“Here,” Katsumi said, turning around.  “Climb on my back.  Can you hold on, at least?”

“I… think so…”

“Then we’ll do that. I’ll carry you the rest of the way.”

“You really do always have my back.”

“Always, Izz. Always.”

***

Her terror abated for the moment, and Izzy on her back, Katsumi ran as fast as her legs would carry her.  She did take pride in her fitness.  It wasn’t her Quirk, it wasn’t some mutation like Horse-Girl’s hooves, this was pure physicality, all her.  And she was in damn good shape, if she did say so herself.

Damn, though, if Izzy wasn’t light.  Her friend was thin and willowy compared to her, but she hadn’t realized how much.  She couldn’t be much more than forty-five kilograms.  No wonder she was so winded.

Legs pumping, Katsumi made her way around the wrecked office they’d found themselves in.  She leapt over a desk, landing with a hard thud and a “Huhp!” shout from herself.  Dodge a chair, avoid a fallen I-beam from the ceiling, avoid the dangling wires… plenty of obstacles to avoid.  

No one else around though. They meant everyone else had taken some other route.  They weren’t so far ahead that others shouldn’t have been catching up, but looks like they were the only ones on the third floor.   Which also meant that she couldn’t tell how far ahead or behind anyone else they were.

She’d didn’t hold too many illusions about first place, as much as she would have liked it.  She was competitive to a fault, but she was also a realist.  She just needed to do well enough to make her mark and get her and Izzy to the next round.

And maybe try and do better than Toshi or Kana.  Show them she still had plenty of game.  Not that either of them would look down on her.  But she had to keep pushing.

They were close to the other side of the other side of the room now and Katsumi grabbed a desk chair as she ran by, imbuing it with the explosive power of her Quirk.  She gave it a hard shove, sending it careening across the floor on its wheels until it impacted with the wall.

KABOOM!

The explosion left a large hole in the wall and Katsumi didn’t slow down for a second.  She’d gotten real good over the years at figuring out exactly how long it would take something to explode and how big an explosion it would make.  By the time the smoke from the explosion had cleared, she was right upon the hole she’d created…

“Hang on tight, Izz,” she said.

And jumped right out the hole.

Maybe not her smartest idea. But she always was impulsive.  It usually served her well.  A good yell and a good solid punch were what she considered basic necessities in the fight against evil.  Knock the guy out early, you don’t have to worry about untangling their plans or strategizing.

The ground was coming up awful face and she braced herself for impact.  It hurt like crazy, but nothing seemed broken.  Instantly, she broke into a run, with the finish line in sight.

“Still with me?” she asked Izzy.

“To the end,” Izzy told her.

Behind them, she could hear the sounds of shattering glass and smashed steel and concrete as other students burst through other floors and windows of the collapsing building.  With some of them decidedly faster than he, Katsumi ran, as hard and fast as her legs would carry her.  

“And now the first runners are coming up on the finish line! Will it be one of the duos from Class 1-A?  Someone else? Those last few meters are still anyone’s game!  One thing’s for sure… they better have those cameras ready down there!”

***

In all honesty, the third leg of the race had been the easiest for Isamu, even with a passenger to account for.  He’d had to rely on Mineta to protect him during the swarm of minus one-pointers, had to use a lot of care and caution during the pillar zone, but the building? Unlike a lot of the others, he hadn’t even needed to go inside.  With his Slide and Glide Quirk, he’d been able to simply slide over the outside of the building, putting him on the ground before anyone else had even made it outside.

“We’re doing it!  I can’t believe we’re actually doing it!” Mineta shouted from his back.  She was remarkably cheerful considering she’d nearly fallen off three times during the pillars.  Where, admittedly, she’d come in handy too.  She’d actually been able to keep a couple pillars from rising up at them with her sticky balls.  He’d not, if he was forced to admit it, had much of a high opinion of her prior to this.  But maybe she was all right after all.

“We are…!” he shouted back, a little surprised by it.  All these other people competing, all those Quirks, and he was winning?  He was half convinced he was actually in a coma after having been set on fire and this was all just part of his coma dream.

And there it was: the finish line.

“Hang on tight,” he said, putting everything he could into his speed.  He couldn’t go full out and expect her to hold on (not to mention the effects of wind burn or being able to breathe, things he was adapted to), but he was giving it all he could.

He was still going when he felt her digging her hooves into his sides.  “Hey!  Hey! You can stop!  We did it!  We did it! SLOW DOWN I WANNA GET OFF!”

Her words drew him out of his focus and he skidded to a rather sudden stop, applying a bit too much breaking force.  Mineta went flying forward as the laws of physics kicked in, landing upside down on the ground in front of him.   She let out another cheer.  “I’m okay!”

Isamu helped her to her feet, then turned to watch the big screen as others started coming across the finish line.

“And second across the line are Haimawari and Mineta from Class 1-A! I guess you could say he made this a real slide show, eh, Eraser?”

“…You can make me sit up here, but you can’t make me respond to your dumb jokes, Mic.”

“Looks like your class teamed up for this one!  Anything you’d like to say about that?”

“It’s technically within the rules.”

“That’s it?  That’s all you’ve got to say?”

“Anything else is between me and my class.”

“Oh, you’re no fun!”

“Thank you.”

Well, if that wasn’t ominous…

“And that’s number forty-two over the finish line!  We’ll be putting the countdown of our winners up on the charts in just a minute, but for now, let’s go down to Hawkeye and get the scoop on our first place finisher!”

The camera zoomed in on Hawkeye, who stood with the guy from 1-E who’d apparently come in first.  Jin Ando was a short boy, with dark hair cut into a bowl cut.  Rather than looking excited (Right now, Isamu felt like he had enough energy to Slide and Glide his way around the whole world) though, he just looked bored, like he wished he was somewhere else.

Some of the others from 1-A had gathered around.  Isamu turned to Midoriya.  “Do you think they’re going to let him win?” he asked.  “Are there rules for teleporters or something?”

Midoriya shook his head. “I don’t know… teleportation Quirks are super­ rare.  There’s maybe a dozen listed on the Public Quirk Registry. It’s probably not something they planned for.  Of course, if they don’t let it count… that means you won, Haimawari!”

Isamu felt himself go pale. He hadn’t thought about that!  He definitely did not need to be worth a bajillion points in whatever came next!

***

Toshi gave Haimawari a reassuring pat on the shoulder.  “Relax,” he said.  “Whatever happens, we’ve got your back.”

“I… thanks, Midoriya,” Haimawari said.  He didn’t look any less tense, but Toshi did see that he was breathing again, so that was good.  He probably shouldn’t have said anything and gotten him all panicked.

“After deliberation with the Principal and the other teachers,” Hawkeye said, “we have decided to allow Ando’s first place finish to stand.”

A combination of cheers and boos went up from the crowd.   Toshi wasn’t really sure what side of the fence he fell on.  On the one hand, Ando had used his Quirk, the same as any of them.  On the other hand, he’d completely circumvented the obstacles all the rest of them had had to negotiate.  He firmly believed people should be able to use their Quirks as freely as possible… but it just didn’t seem in the spirit of the event.  It wasn’t pushing himself, it wasn’t rising up to a challenge…  If Ando was a long-range teleporter, than what he’d done wasn’t any more difficult than walking across the street for him.

And with a Quirk like that, why wasn’t he in the Hero Course?

“However,” Hawkeye said, “we will be issuing rules going forward to that will further clarify and restrict the use of such Quirks during similar events for future Sports Festivals.”

Ando took a step forward. “I just want to say thank you for recognizing my victory.  I’ll now be withdrawing from the Festival.  I hope everyone keeps me in mind as I begin my delivery business going forward.  As you can see, I offer near instantaneous delivery times.”

He vanished from the stage in a flash of white light.

A long moment of silence held the crowd, until Hawkeye spoke again.  “All right,” she growled, “with that over with… let’s take a look at how our top forty-two did!”

Toshi looked over to the big board, this time displaying the ranking students.  Pictures appeared alongside them as their names and classes appeared.

1)     Jin Ando, Class 1-E, General Studies

2)     Isamu Haimawari, Class 1-A, Hero Course

3)     Mika Mineta, Class 1-A, Hero Course

4)     Yui Aoki (the wheeled girl from 1-C, Toshi realized), Class 1-C, Hero Course

5)     Katsumi Kirishima-Bakugo, Class 1-A, Hero Course

6)     Izumi Tododoki, Class 1-A, Hero Course

7)     Haya Tanaka (the comet girl from a last month… good for her!), Class 1-C, Hero Course

8)     Kana Tetsutetsu, Class 1-B, Hero Course

9)     Chizue Kuroiro, Class 1-B, Hero Course

10) Sora Iida, Class 1-A, Hero Course

11) Chihiro Kaminari, Class 1-A, Hero Course

12) Tensei Iida, Class 1-A, Hero Course

13) Takiyo Aoyama, Class 1-A, Hero Course

14) Toshinori Modoriya, Class 1-A, Hero Course (Not bad… he wished he could have placed in the top ten, but in the top fifteen wasn’t bad at all.)

15) Shota Shinso, Class 1-A, Hero Course

16) Hizashi Koumori (A bestial, bat-winged boy), Class 1-B, Hero Course

17) Takuma Sero, Class 1-A, Hero Course

18) Kenta Sato, Class 1-A, Hero Course

19) Inori Tagikawa, (A blonde and otherwise normal looking girl), Class 1-C, Hero Course

20) Goro Gomusuk, (The guy who’d inflated himself like a beach ball and bounced around during the race), Class 1-B, Hero Course

21) Yoru Kan (a pale girl with fangs who looked a bit uncomfortable in the sun), Class 1-C, Hero Course

22) Asuka Tokoyami, Class 1-A, Hero Course

23) Akaya Koda, Class 1-A, Hero Course

24) Taichi Yamachi, (Was he a centaur?), Class 1-C, Hero Course

25) Kimiko Dashi, (A girl with short hair with three stripes in red, yellow, and blue, and what looked like a traffic light strapped to one arm), Class 1-B, Hero Course

26) Rukia Yagami, (A tall girl who looked like she was made on diamond), Class 1-I, Support Course

27) Joichiro Koichiro, (A guy with short, dark hair, and… two pupils in each eye?), Class 1-B, Hero Course

28) Momoko Mogura, (A short, mole-like girl with glasses), Class 1-F, General Studies

29) Ichigo Minoru (A lion-like boy), Class 1-C, Hero Course

30) Sasuke Kido, (A red haired boy who seemed to be shimmering slightly), Class 1-B, Hero Course

31) Ken Tenoh, (A guy with a wild, untamed mane of black hair and claws on his fingers), Class 1-D, General Studies

32) Rei Endo, (A blue-haired girl with pointed ears, but not readily apparent Quirk), Class 1-E, General Studies

33) Anime Fukidashi, (A girl with too large eyes and who looked like a living animation cel), Class 1-B, Hero Course

34) Mio Yamaguchi, Class 1-B, Hero Course

35) Sozo Horikoshi (Was he carrying a sketch pad?), Class 1-D, General Studies

36) Hekima Kodai, Class 1-B, Hero Course

37) Koharu Kocho (A slight, butterfly winged girl), Class 1-F, General Studies

38) Shikha Mizuno (A girl with antlers and big ears), Class 1-C, Hero Course

39) David Togata (Was that a  flying skateboard?  Good for Dave!), Class 1-G, Support Course

40) Daisuke Shoji, Class 1-A, Hero Course

41) Kimiko Ojiro, Class 1-A, Hero Course

42) Shiro Monoma, Class 1-B, Hero Course

“Of course,” Hawkeye went on, “with Ando withdrawing, everyone will be advancing one spot and we will be moving up the current forty-third place finisher.  That student is Jin Choyaku, from the Hero Course, Class 1-C!”  Toshi watched as a boy with curly dark hair and what looked like coiled springs below his knees joined the other kids from 1-C who had passed.

Various cheers and congratulations when up among the students. So many students in the race, and only these forty-two had made it.  Toshi was proud to count himself among them, and even prouder that unlike any of the other classes, everyone in his had made it.  There were a lot of Gen Ed kids who’d made it this time too.  Five all together.  Which really wasn’t all that much, given there were two form the Support Courses and thirty-five from the Hero Courses, but definitely more than most years.   If they were serious about getting in… well, he hoped they had a good shot.

“I’ll give you this, Toshi,” Katsumi told him.  “your teamwork idea really paid off.  Got everybody through just fine.”   She gave Haimawari a harsher look though.  “Doesn’t explain how you pulled off a win, though.”

Haimawari let off a little terrified shriek, but he didn’t try to hide behind Toshi (difficult, considering he was taller) like he might have a few weeks ago.  “Trust me,” he said, “I don’t know how I pulled it off either! I, ah, I guess I just had the right Quirk in the right place for it.  But you were doing really good too!  I saw you booking it at the end there!”

Katsumi crossed her arms, but gave a small nod of approval.  “And that was pure me.  So watch yourself, Newb.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Haimawari said.  “Watching it, ma’am.”

He went quiet for a moment, as a thought seemed to strike him and the color drained from his face again. “Wait a minute.  The teleporter kid’s win counted.  But he dropped out.  That means…”

Toshi gave a pat on the shoulder, trying to be reassuring  “It means you won!”

“I won!” Haimawari shouted, throwing both arms in the air.  “I won!  I won! I… won.”

He took a moment to look around at the other forty-one who’d passed the first round.  “Ooooh, this is gonna be bad.”

Hakweye called for silence again.  “And now for the Second Stage!  For this, we’ll be splitting you into two teams.  Those of you whose placement was an odd number will be on the Blue Team and those of you whose placement was an even number will be on the White Team. Team Captains will be Isamu Haimawari and Katsumi Kirishima-Bakugo, as the first place finisher and first even-placed winner to complete the race under her own power rather than riding or being carried.”

She pointed to opposite ends of the stadium.  “For now, both teams should proceed to end zones.  You’ll be met by a teacher there who will hand out equipment and then I will explain the rules for our next event: Quirk-Ball!”

Toshi saw Katsumi flash Haimawari one of those grins she got right before she screamed and punched the hell out of something.  “Looking forward to competing against you, Newb,” she growled.

Well… this was going to be interesting.

[hoodoo12]

Violations and Consequences (2/6)

A rescue. Violence. Death. Minor mention of deities and what may or may not be appropriate for Orcs.

Part 1

Mature.

“Worthless swine!” a thick voice hissed.

Before either of you could react, a heavy warhammer made solid contact with the man’s temple, crushing it with a dull wet sound. The blow was so hard his body followed as his head lolled, flopping him to his side. Tangled as you were in his limbs, you were thrown sideways too.

“And you, filth--”

But before the insult and threat was completed, the bandit you’d lacerated scrambled to his feet and crashed away through the undergrowth.

Instead of chasing the bandit, your savior took you upper arm and you were hauled to your feet.

“Volesh!” you cried in a gasp.

Being thinner than her brother didn’t make her less solid or intimidating. Grar’s sister stood like a rock, holding you steady as your knees threatened to give out. With one hand you found a grip in the chestplate of the armor she wore. The other still gripped your knife, and she held your wrist to keep it away from her. The tall female Orc watched where the bandit had run off for a moment with a scowl on her face, then turned her attention to you.

“Are you injured?”

“N-no,” you replied, sniffling a little. Now that you were safe, your tears returned unbidden.

The Orc ignored your weak human emotion, and kept an arm around you.

“Ghath!” she called.

Silently, her son appeared at your side. The boy was barely double digits and his tusks were just starting to show but he was as tall as a grown human and muscular. Although nowhere near the bulk he’d gain when he was an adult, he’d match many human men in strength already.

“Mother?” he asked quietly.

“Collect the goats while I attend to your aunt.”

You were sure he would much rather chase down the man who attacked you, but he didn’t complain. Immediately he went off to fetch the livestock.

Volesh took your shoulders and looked you over. “You are sure you are uninjured, sister? You are covered in blood.”

“It isn’t mine. I cut him. With this.” You opened your hand to show her your knife.

Her dark eyes widened and a small smile formed around her tusks.

“That’s good,” she praised, but didn’t explain the cryptic response. She told you to wipe the blade clean on the ground and return it to its sheath around your neck.

You complied even as you insisted your weren’t hurt; she demanded to check you over. You hadn’t realized your skirt had been torn, and your undergarment was ruined beyond repair. The Orc found blood in your hair from a wound on the back of your head, where you’d hit the ground. You were bruised in various places: your upper arm, your shoulder, and a few that were darkening on your inner thighs where the men’s grip had been too tight. You barely felt them, but Volesh wisely told you from experience that you would be stiff and sore tomorrow.

You assured her that you had willow bark and other medicinal plants to ease the discomfort.

“You and your alchemy,” she replied, with a shake of her head.

You wouldn’t think to call yourself an alchemist, but she told you her brother should consider supplying you with an alchemy lab, so you could truly create potions. That was neither here nor there at the moment, however. You asked how she and Ghath came by you.

“We knew Grar was traveling. I have finished some of the items you’d requested from the forge, so we thought it was a good time to visit.”

“It was good timing!”

Volesh told you that she’d planned on coming alone, but Ghath wanted to see his Blood-Kin, adding that the boy was fond of you. You knew that, even if he was sometimes shy around you. As if talking about him summoned him, your nephew returned, driving your small herd of goats in front of him.

He carried one kid.

“This one has died,” he said quietly.

It was the kid that had approached the bandit, and had been shoved away. He must have used enough angry force to break its neck. You sighed and ran your hand over its side, sadly. The brown and white kid was the first to have been born from your tiny herd.

It was upsetting, but there was nothing to be done.

“He was a wether,” you said. “He was going to be sold or butchered anyway. It just would have been when he was older. We can take him back to the cabin and have an evening meal.”

Ghath offered to carry him for the trek back to your cabin. You nodded. For a moment you considered continuing on to the pasture where the shepherd would be waiting for you, but you were starting to feel the beginnings of aches and pains. The goats would have to forage near the cabin today.

As the three of you--plus the goats, who didn’t seem put out they weren’t headed to the pasture--trekked back to your cabin, you asked how they’d found you.

“We heard your scream. Your trail was easy to follow; Ghath saw the faint deer trail and goat spoor, so we ran to you.”

“You’re becoming an excellent tracker,” you commended your nephew. “You’ll surpass Grar’s skills soon, I bet.”

The Orc boy blushed and pushed his hand through his hair to keep it off his face; he wasn’t yet old enough to wear it braided like an adult. He mumbled something about wanting to be a hunter like his uncle. His mother didn’t reply, but you’d learned to read subtle Orcish expressions and she wasn’t entirely pleased with that life goal.

Instead of continuing to talk about it, you changed the subject, asking how they managed to arrive at the cabin so efficiently. The Stronghold that was their home was several days hard travel.

“We have horses!” Ghath exclaimed.

That surprised you. Orcs didn’t typically keep horses because the standard equine was hardy but too small for them to ride comfortably.

“I was shoeing for a stablemaster and they had two coldbloods that were too large for men to ride,” Volesh explained more completely. “They’d been trained for cavalry, but an oversized horse isn’t ideal. Too big a target. He offered them to me at no cost, just to get him out of his stable, so I earned my coins and two beasts as well!”

With that explanation Ghath launched into telling you how saddles made for men weren’t fit for Orcs--although, he admitted, he could use them just fine for now--and he and his mother had to learn to ride, and how his father was both pleased and dismayed at horses in the Stronghold--

Volesh shushed him. You knew it was for sharing personal information about a Chieftain, even if he wasn’t within earshot. It was understandable why horses would be both a blessing and a curse: they could help with travel or breaking grounds for crops, but their upkeep wasn’t quite as easy as other livestock. You supposed the Chieftain also weighed Orcish traditions versus modern sensibility; he seemed to be a little more progressive than other Clans may think appropriate.

Even after being shushed Ghath had continued on about how he’d learned to make leather halters and bridles and he was in the process of creating a harness. His next big project was a saddle large enough for an adult Orc that was still appropriate for the horse--

Volesh gave him a light slap on the back of his head as he rambled on. The boy took it for the affectionate tap it was and grinned for a moment before finally stopping his chatter. You were closer to home now, the cabin just visible through the trees, and he hurried ahead of the two of you.

You would have picked up the pace too, but the aches you hadn’t felt initially were finally catching  up. Your sister-in-law stayed by your side, and in the few minutes of privacy you had you heard her thoughts that the boy didn’t have the fortitude to become Chieftain, that he had a temperament more like his uncle’s and maybe he would end up living outside the Stronghold too.

You heard the uncharacteristic worry in her voice, and reminded her that Grar did well for himself. And with her teaching Ghath forging plus what seemed like a natural affinity towards horses, your nephew could find work as a smith anywhere in the Holds. Good blacksmiths were always in demand.

She sighed and reluctantly agreed.

Finally back at the clearing with your cabin, the goats wandered to the stream to drink. Ghath introduced you to the horses. They were incredibly tall, much more than the typical stocky breeds, with thick necks and legs like tree trunks, but they were gentle. The boy picked up their large feet and brushed back the feathering that covered the lower part of their legs to show you the shoes he’d helped hammer out and nail to their hooves.

He also showed you the rivets he’d put in their halters, and told you how they’d arrived dusty and with patches of their winter coats that he’d brushed out until they were sleek, and he’d untangled their tails and shaved their manes and how he’d been measuring to get the proper sizes for the harnesses--

Ghath may have continued for a long time if Volesh didn’t remind him that you needed to clean up from the attack in the woods. Sheepishly, her son apologized. You hadn’t minded; it was nice to hear his enthusiasm even if it was boyish, but she was right.

With an increasing limp, you took a clean dress from the cabin and slowly made your way downhill a bit further to the pool Grar had created with a dam. The goats were further downstream. You stripped out of your apron and found it wasn’t easy to pull your dress off over your head; your muscles were tightening and made it painful to stretch. Still, you forced your way out of the fabric and stepped carefully into the pool.

For a moment the water swirled a brownish red before the color was carried downstream. You hadn’t realized how sweaty and dirty you’d gotten, nor how blood had caked into your hair as you watched the dirt float away. The bruises made themselves more known as you dipped yourself lower.

Gingerly you washed yourself of the grime with the soap and rags that had been squirreled away in a cache of rocks nearby. It seemed odd to be bathing midmorning.

Unbidden, the events of the morning flashed through your mind’s eye and suddenly you were crying. You were so reckless to not be paying attention to your surroundings; you were so careless to leave your dagger home after all the times Grar had told you not to! You were lucky be only mildly injured! Through your sobs you praised the Nine Divines for watching over you and promised a tribute to Stendarr, the God of Mercy and Luck, especially.

Calming gradually, you splashed water on your face. A tiny bubble of anger popped in you, and you finished your prayers with a word of thanks to Malacath. He wasn’t your god, but guided your husband and his people, so it was only appropriate to acknowledge him as well. If Volesh and Ghath hadn’t felt compelled to visit, you wouldn’t be here at this very moment.

Finally, having dawdled enough and worn yourself out with crying and anger, you exited the pool. You dried yourself with your apron--you knew it would be useful today!--and pulled the fresh dress over your head. The other’s skirt was too torn and bloody to salvage much except for rags. Gathering it into a bundle, you made your way back to the clearing.

In your cabin, you quickly swallowed the herbs and a tincture that would help with the soreness that was growing inevitably stronger, then you went back outside.

Your Blood-kin had skinned and cleaned the kid. Because you weren’t sure what Grar may want to do with the hide, you told them to leave it hanging. Volesh brought out and showed you the new spit she’d created at her forge. This wasn’t the first way you intended to use it, but she and her son built a fire in the outside pit and set the wrought iron spit over it. You helped by having bowls of salt and pepper available and mashing garlic and rosemary to form a paste to flavor the meat.

Once the fire had been banked down to coals, the meat was seasoned. Even though the sun beat down overhead Ghath sat by the fire, tending it. You and Volesh nestled potatoes and root vegetables into the cooler coals to bake. You still had to strain the milk you’d collected this morning and you’d wanted to harvest the early peas from the garden, but all of the sudden you were too exhausted to stand,

Volesh told you to go to bed. You tried to argue; it was lazy to take to bed in the early afternoon!

The Orc scowled at your stubbornness and reminded you that you’d been attacked several hours earlier. Would you allow anyone seeking your help, after going through what you did this very morning, to continue to work? Or would you tell them that rest was needed, for the body to heal?

You scowled back at her because her words were true. Your nephew laughed and remarked that if your skin wasn’t so pale you’d make a good Orc with an expression like that.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the observation, adding that you’d learned from the best, which made even his mother chuckle.

Finally, though, you couldn’t argue and went into the cabin to lay down. Volesh followed, and with your instruction created a poultice of daisies and tallow. As often as she made a withering comment about your ‘alchemy’, she knew the benefit of it. She helped spread the paste on your bruises and bound them with clean strips of cloth, then left the cabin, leaving  you alone.

  tbc . . .