#she might just summon her knight behind them as a reflex like

[lee-rambles-about-rwby]

Okay yeah Weiss yeeting that rock into that weird looped space to prove it wasn’t a weird looped space only to BEAM herself in the back of the head and eat shit because it is, in fact, a looped space was actually really really funny

[poisonouswritings]

Hello can i get some headcanons for Anisa with a courageous Mc, and one day Mc joins Anisa on a mission/adventure to investigate on some weird stuff, and Mc saves Anisa from a thief that was gonna attack Anisa from behind; so Mc succeed to win a sword fight (with the astrolabe as a sword) against the enemy to protect Anisa

Basically, Mc being Anisa's knight in shinning armor because she deserve to be protected and loved at all cost <33

Anon that's very good,, Anisa is big and stronk but even the biggest and stronkest need someone to protect them sometimes

GN!Reader, proteccing the cat wife

When Anisa has to go out to investigate a rash of armed robberies in the forest path leading up to Porrima, you volunteer to go with. There's been some weird reports - impossible creatures that seem to appear and disappear at the will of the robbers - that you're curious about. And while you know she can handle it alone, you'd rather not tempt fate.

So the two of you go out, Anisa with her sword and you with the Astrolabe. Neither of you are afraid. Not when you're together.

It's evening. The forest is buzzing with life. Your conversation is soft and light and easy - what you're gonna do for dinner, some plans for Anisa's next day off, that sort of thing - and there's no one in sight. No creatures either. This is the area, isn't it? Should be. Maybe today just isn't the day. Bait can't work every time, right?

Twigs snap behind you. Anisa, with her faster-than-human reflexes - spins on her heels and steps in front of you. You spin deftly to the side and summon the Astrolabe, the familiar warmth tingling the tips of your fingers. Standing before you is-

You screw your eyes shut tight before the image can settle in your mind, shouting for Anisa to do the same. She lets out a confused, shuddering whimper. There's a soft crunch of leaves as her sword hits the floor. Damnit. What in the hell is a Lethifold doing around here? They aren't even native to Porrima! They're these creatures - spirits - demons? - that use a unique form of magic to show you your worst fear. And the hallucination continues until,, basically until you have a heart attack and die. Looking one in the eye is practically a death sentence.

Damnit.

Movement behind you. You try to grab Anisa to turn her around but she's frozen in place, breath shaky and uneven and choked with tears. You'll have to help her in a second.

When you turn this time you see a creature that's decidedly human, or at least human shaped. They're covered in a cloak so you can't get a good look at their face.

They pull out their sword and lunge at you.

Well. This'll be the thief then.

You spin the Astrolabe in your hand, gripping right above where the orb sits. Magic flows past your hand and rises up the staff, creating a sort of energy-sword.

You parry the strike easily enough. Looks like those lessons with Anisa have been paying off.

Your saving grace is that you're fearless, relentlessly pushing forward. This asshole has gotta be working with the Lethifold. They can be tamed, can't they? You think so. It's rare but it happens. In any case, if you scare this guy off then the creature should follow.

So you put all your might into it. Not just using the Astrolabe your sword but stepping in. Isn't that something someone said once? When you have the shorter weapon, get in close.

So you do hop close, delivering a fearsome kidney-punch. The figure recoils in pain and you slam your head into their face. When they stumble you lob a kick at their shin and jump back to get a little distance.

A loud, shuddering gasp. A body hitting the floor. Anisa.

You spin your sword back into a staff and dart over to her. She's pale and trembling but otherwise unharmed. Crashing footfalls. The thief and the monster are escaping. You'll have to catch them some other time.

You sit down in the dead leaves and guide her into your lap. She's panting, hair frizzled and eyes wild as she throws her arms around you. You wonder what it is she saw. Though you suppose it isn't any of your business.

For a while you guys just sit there. She whimpers and cries into your shoulder and you do your best to soothe her. Whatever it was she saw, it was all fake. It won't happen.

When she does calm down, she's still quiet. Gripping you like she's afraid you'll disappear at any moment. You hug her tighter and kiss her forehead, murmuring that everything will be okay.

You'll protect her. You'll be the knight in shining armor this time.

And that calms her down a lot more than you realize.

[nobodyfamousposts]

Felix July - First Kiss (Felix Culpa)

@felixmonth

When Felix had his first kiss, it had been an overall unnoteworthy affair. He would be surprised if anyone remembered.

Which was naturally why every detail of it was imprinted in his memory like cheap and ugly-looking stamp haphazardly placed on a child’s hand.

It had been for a photo shoot. He honestly didn’t even remember what specifically it was for. Something promoting a charity? Or a school? He remembered standing stiffly in this horrendous suit that was itchy, ill-fitting, and all too stiff. He remembered it was hot and much too bright—summer maybe? The air was hot and muggy, which only made the suit worse. And there was that girl—that stupid vapid brat of a girl who would insist on holding his hand no matter how little he did to reciprocate or how much he tried to pull away.

He was all of 9 years old, if he remembered correctly. And he hated it. He hated being there.

They were taking pictures and Felix wanted nothing more than to get it over with and go inside where it was cool and he could finally get some water. But the girl he was partnered with kept wasting time with her obnoxious voice and inability to follow simple directions, making the whole thing last longer than it needed to. No one seemed to notice or even really care. He was hot and dizzy, and looking back he was sure he had probably been suffering some manner of dehydration and heat exhaustion.

Then finally it was the last shot and Felix was relieved. Just one more, he had kept telling himself. Just this one last thing and he could go home and sleep in his room.

He remembered the girl’s loud voice all too close to him again calling out his name and out of reflex pulled his hands to himself to protect them from her grasp. He realized too late that it wasn’t his hands she was aiming for as he felt two sweaty palms grabbing his cheeks and a face mashing against his own in what he was afterwards informed was supposed to be some semblance of a kiss. Her lips were dry and while it may have simply been his childish imagination, even to this day he described them as being like plastic.

He heard a shutter go off. Followed by cheers. Like this complete invasion of his person was something to be happy about.

He was left confused. Dazed. Not out of awe or love but out of dizziness and panic because someone just grabbed him and forced her lips on his own and he wasn’t even coherent enough to know if he was okay with that or not. Nobody had mentioned a kiss in the pictures. Nobody had told him this would happen!

Felix was nine years old and had just been kissed. And all he wanted to do was push the little offender away and hide somewhere.

He remembered looking around in confusion, hoping someone could explain to him. But nobody did. They all just smiled at each other with big grins like this was expected or perhaps a nice surprise that none of them saw any problem with.

Everyone was so proud. “His first kiss!” One commented, not that the individual should have known or that it was anybody’s business in the first place.

They cooed and oohed and ahhed like it was something adorable and sweet and romantic before promptly forgetting about the whole thing and moving on to whatever else was unfortunate enough to catch their fancy.

But for Felix, the gross feeling remained. It lingered, even. That stale plastic feeling that remained on his lips no matter how many times he wiped and rubbed them. No matter what he did, the feeling never went away.

Even when he went home, it was still there. He washed his face a good three times to no effect. And he didn’t understand it. He was nine. No one had spoken to him about it or asked how he felt. And he could only reason that maybe it was because they weren’t supposed to? Or that it was something he was supposed to know and deal with? Maybe this was normal and that was why nobody talked about it?

So for a time, he was convinced that he had an allergy to kissing and made a note to avoid doing it again in the future.

He’d developed a bad habit of biting his lip after that. No matter how many times his parents or agent or photographers insisted he stop—because heaven forbid Felix bruise his precious lips, or worse, get an overbite! It took a good while to break himself of the habit, and that was only because of the constant interference of the adults he was forced to work with to stop him.

It all only furthered his dislike of people.

___________________

An ornate door slammed open as Felix barged into the beautifully but rather out datedly beautiful room.

“Marinette!”

He might have been relieved when he saw her, if it were not for the way she barely responded to him, instead remaining stationary at the window seat and oblivious to the world.

Felix groaned. Because of course the akuma had gotten to her as well.

Of all the stupid things—!

Why? WHY did Rossi have to go and mess up the theater performance?

It shouldn’t have mattered that Marinette had gotten the role of the Princess for the play, and to be fair, the girl hadn’t even wanted the role. But Adrien had been selected as the Prince—which Felix was inclined to believe might have have more to do with either some sort of behind the scenes bribery or that the Director had just been intelligent enough to figure that he would get more attention and notoriety by having the male model as the star. Either due to her own infatuation with the boy or because she knew full well what would likely happen with just about anyone else in her place, Marinette chose to keep the role. The Director was overall rather pleased, and the two seemed to do rather well in their practice together.

But Felix knew neither Bourgeois or Rossi were happy with the decision. He also know that at least one of the two was bound to try something to sabotage the play.

Unfortunately, Felix had put his money on Chloe, given her previous antics during Clara Nightingale’s music video. He hadn’t counted on Rossi pulling a particularly vindictive stunt and damage the set and costumes. Or that she would try to blame Marinette to try to get her in trouble.

They were just lucky the Director hadn’t bought her story, but it did still cause a major setback for the play and the Director WAS still rather upset about the whole thing. And that was all that was needed to create an akuma.

A reality-warping akuma of all things, and one with the power to recreate his “masterpiece” in the real world. So far, he’d managed to change the other students into a legion of knights and summon a dragon—though Felix had been pretty certain there wasn’t supposed to be a dragon in the story. Then of all things, the man had transformed the Bourgeois hotel into a castle.

One with a tower.

And stairs.

WHY did there have to be so many stairs?

How Felix had managed to break into the place was a mystery. WHY he had done so was an even greater one. He was fairly certain he had lost his mind somewhere in the midst of the day’s antics.

Except that wasn’t it and he knew it. No, he knew the real reason he had forced his way here instead of doing the sensible thing and hiding out until Ladybug and Chat Noir could defeat the akuma and return things to normal.

It wasn’t even the stairs—though heaven knew his legs no doubt hated him after trekking up to the top floor. No.

It was that he was only there trying to rescue her because she had taken a hit trying to distract the akuma from him in the first place.

Stupid guilt.

Stupid akuma.

Stupid Rossi, wherever she was. No doubt hiding somewhere safe and watching the madness unfold.

“Marinette!” He hissed, grabbing her arm. It was cold. Was she supposed to be this cold?

Dull blue eyes stared at him blankly.

“Marinette, we have to go!” Quickly. Before the akuma returned.

But she didn’t respond. If anything, she appeared altogether rather unconcerned with his warnings or even the fact that he was there at all. Which was particularly concerning, given the aforementioned AKUMA on the loose.

“My Prince will be coming soon. I must wait here for him.” Her voice was as empty as her eyes.

“Snap out of it!”

But she refused to move. She merely remained sitting in place by the window, either unaware or unconcerned with where she was, the akuma attack, or the current state of things.

That settled it, he realized. She was clearly under the akuma’s control. It made sense. Knowing Marinette, if she had been herself, she no doubt would have found a way out of here herself by now.

For a moment, Felix questioned if he shouldn’t simply try to force her to leave with him, but she was clearly under the Director’s control and fully intent on obeying whatever commands he had given her. He could attempt to carry her out, but even assuming she didn’t fight him, she would be little more than dead weight as she was—and that wasn’t including the extra weight from the dress and accessories she was now adorned with.

He would almost say she looked pretty. Almost. The outfit was clearly based on her design for the original dress, but when the akuma managed to grab her, it had altered the entire thing—making it more extravagant than it needed to be and with extra accessories. The mask seemed to fit her face perfectly, mostly pink but with extensive silver engravings. In turn, the headpiece she now wore was also made of silver and inlaid with pearls. The dress was pink and silver, and also adorned with a multitude of pearls and silver leaf engravings.

It was beautiful. But he couldn’t help but feel it had looked better when it had been her own.

He shook his head. Now wasn’t the time for this. He had to get Marinette out of here.

Felix glanced around the room, but there appeared to be nothing of use. Part of him idly noted that this was likely once Chloe’s room. He might have found it humorous if he wasn’t already stressed and focused on greater concerns.

He had to get Marinette out of there.

But how…?

He started running multiple plans through his head. Questioning the logistics and tactics of whether to try to simply pull her or force himself to carry her out when a certain…other thought came to mind.

It was a play, after all. One based on a fairy tale, if he recalled.

Now, Felix was well versed in books and tales enough to know how the fairy tales of old truly tended to end. But most people weren’t generally as aware—usually caught up in the Disney stories and happy endings. The Director, for all that the man took his art quite seriously, certainly appeared to be one of them.

And how did most people think fairy tales ended.

He groaned at the realization.

Why had Adrien had to go and disappear on him?

“Marinette, please!”

She remained unmoved.

Felix wanted to throw something.

Where was that blasted boy when he was needed? He had told the other blond they needed to get to her together, but the next thing he knew, he was alone and Adrien had just gone and run off somewhere!

At least Chat Noir had arrived to help, for all the good that did. But Ladybug was nowhere to be found. And while Chat could take down the akuma, he could do nothing to purify it or undo the damage caused if Ladybug wasn’t there.

They needed Ladybug. And if she was already taken down, then he needed another way to save Marinette.

‘True Love’s Kiss breaks any curse!’ He remembered the way his mother had intoned the words when she used to read to him. The way Rose had so naively insisted the same and how the Director had smiled in agreement.

It’s a reality-altering akuma. And if it can make reality work how it wants…

Felix groaned again in frustration.

This was why he had tried to bring Adrien here! Any fool could have seen how much Marinette adored him. And if this was supposed to follow the story, she needed to be kissed by her true love!

It was Adrien! It had to be!

And the idiot should have KNOWN that!

How could he remain unaware as to how the girl felt? Was he really that oblivious? Or was he simply trying to ignore it out of some perceived politeness?

Felix didn’t know. He really didn’t care. He just…

He just wanted Marinette to wake up.

A kiss to break a spell, right?

He caught himself biting his lip.

“I’m sorry.”

She merely continued to stare at him.

No, not even at him but through him.

And somehow…for all that he hated touch and especially kissing…

He hated that look on her more.

That damn blank look. Like a doll. Expressionless and empty…

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was always vibrant and full of life.

It was…one of the many things he admired about her.

He reached out slowly. Her eyes didn’t even seem to register his movements.

She should never look like this.

He took her face in his hands—her skin cold to the touch.

She should never feel like this.

He lowered his face to hers, eyes closed tightly and apologies screaming in his head.

Contact.

Her lips were soft. Smooth.

Warm.

He hadn’t realized how warm she could be before.

He pulled back, barely grazing her lips with his own as he waited.

There was a shuddering breath that he was sure wasn’t his. A gasp. The feeling of air on his skin.

And blue eyes. Shining and lovely.

“Felix?”

[atamascolily]

Tyrant’s Test. Okay, we’re almost done here.

We open with Chewie on Kashyyyk having family time! I may re-read that section because I want to do a Kashyyyk thing later and there’s not that much detail in the TTT. Right now, I’m interested in Luke stuff.

. It’s impossible to work when the Current is in chaos. And it’s intensely uncomfortable to remain connected when the Current is carrying so much pain. 

This is interesting - so the Fallanassi live the way they do by necessity as much as choice - they cannot function without peace and quiet.

We start to see more of Akanah’s perspective and realize she’s manipulating Luke to keep him with her. At least Luke is aware of it?

But that threat was also nakedly manipulative, and his reflexive resentment allowed him both to see the emotional blackmail and to resist it.

It was not that he gave no credence to the threat. Akanah’s conduct on Atzerri had made clear that she was perfectly capable of striking out on her own when her interests so dictated. But he had no compromise or concession to offer her. The old, familiar demon of Duty had reentered his consciousness during the conversation with the shipwright, and he could do nothing else until he either answered to his conscience or silenced it.

There was no point in seeking a rapprochement with Akanah until Luke knew his own mind—until he knew if he could allow himself to continue the journey.

Again, DUALITY. fuck. “my way or the highway” - LITERALLY.

For the question gnawing at Luke was not whether Leia wanted his help, but whether she needed it. If his presence might mean the difference between triumph and defeat, then he would go to her—as she had come to him in his darkest moment, aboard the clone Emperor’s flagship.

Leia had pulled him back from the precipice of the dark power, and joined her power to his to defeat Palpatine. If she had not been willing to sacrifice herself and the child inside her in confronting the reborn Emperor, Luke would never have broken the grip of the dark side—and the history of the intervening years would have been written with the pen of tyranny. He could not have done it alone.

But having seen not only the great strength in her heart but also the Jedi power she could summon, Luke was all the more loath to volunteer himself as a rescuer. He knew that Leia had within her extraordinary resources of will and power—resources she had of late become reluctant to draw upon. Luke thought that he was much of the reason, with both his example and his presence creating disincentives. It was important that she find that strength again.

It seemed to Luke that Leia had neglected, even abandoned, her own training, and that her training of the children had become unbalanced, with the disciplines of warrior and weapon excised as if they were dispensable. Luke had not spoken of it with her, but from what he had seen, it was almost as though Leia hoped to delay, training the children as Jedi clerics rather than as Jedi Knights—as if the path before her, the path he had followed, promised to take her somewhere she did not want to go.

It was her choice to make. Her destiny was no more clear to him than it was to her. But whatever that destiny was, it seemed that she was fighting it rather than following it.

And it was certain she would learn nothing from an errant Knight’s well-intentioned but unnecessary rescue—if she would even allow it to happen. Knowing her streak of aristocratic, self-reliant pride, Luke was not at all confident he could count on her to ask for help, even if she needed it—not after the fight they had had the night he left Coruscant.

No, those around her, the others who loved her, would urge Luke to return to her side, no matter what the circumstances. And Leia herself would insist that he stay away, no matter what the circumstances. It was essential that Luke make his own assessment of the situation, that the decision be his alone. And it was better that Luke stay out of sight and out of reach until the decision was made.

Hey, a Dark Empire acknowledgment! And also, again, duality: either/or. Either Leia saves herself or Luke saves her. There’s no middle ground, no compromise, not alternatives. Sigh.

As always, there were hundreds of blind messages—love letters and propositions, requests for personal favors, questions from amateur and would-be Jedi, the occasional diatribe from an Imperialist stubbornly resisting the idea that his world had changed.

Luke almost never looked at any of it. The novelty value of blatant proposals had long ago faded, and the one-two punch of praise and begging had worn thin even faster—it was as uncomfortable as being surrounded by a crowd in which everyone wanted to touch him.

So let me get this straight: Luke is constantly being bombarded with e-mail requests, yet he’s unaware that women want Jedi babies? UNREAL.

The young woman looked up at him with eyes widened by surprise. Her tattooed forehead and cheeks marked her as a follower of the Duality, a popular and benign Tarrack cult founded on the twin principles of joy and service. 

Oh, wow, DUALITY AGAIN.

“My goodness,” Manes said, his steps slowing as he reached the main level and saw Luke clearly. “My goodness. This is an honor.” As an afterthought, he gathered himself for a salute. “Forgive me, sir—I don’t know your proper rank—”

“I no longer hold one,” said Luke, leaning over one of the data stations.

“Oh—I see. Then I’ll confess that I’ve never met a Jedi. Nothing unusual there, I guess—I don’t know anyone who has. Is there a proper form of address—”

“You can call me Luke.”

LOL.

The event had given both such inexplicable pleasure that he hated to take those memories away from them, but he had no choice. He had already blocked the machine records of his visit from being written to the logs. Compressing a nerve here, a blood vessel there, Luke brought on a moment of unconscious paralysis, and in that moment swept the memories from their minds.

Luke is very cavalier about mucking with peoples’ minds, I’m just going to say. Why not just mind-trick them directly?? Seems like that would be less invasive that cutting off blood vessels. 

By the way, this is how we learn Luke and Akanah Did It:

He leaned toward her conspiratorially. “Have you ever had sex in hyperspace?”

This time she could not contain her bubbling laugh of bemusement. “Yes,” she said, and melted away into the night.

*shakes head*

“Where the Current touches self-awareness, there is a tiny ripple—as when you sense a presence with the Force. The metaphor is more different than the means.”

“But I can’t feel anything here—nothing more than the energy of the ecosystems on the fourth and fifth planets,” Luke said. “Nothing of consciousness—nothing of will.”

“It is not consciousness or will that matters—it is the profound essence of being, nothing more,” she said. “I can perceive the crew just as you would perceive a handful of sand I scattered on the far side of a pool. From a distance, sometimes you can see only the effect, not the cause.” She smiled. “But you must be very still to see even that, for you are also of the Current, surrounded by the ripples of your being.”

Yeah, okay, so the water metaphor is spot-on. 

“Best for everyone if they never see us at all,” he said as he charted the course.

“Done,” Akanah said, looking on from behind Luke’s flight couch.

Luke looked up at her quizzically. “It can’t be that easy.”

“Why not?”

“Eh—don’t you have to know who it is you’re trying to hide from?”

“Why?” she asked.

“So you have a focus. So you know whose thoughts you’re trying to deflect. It’s done with precision, not brute force.”

“That’s coercive,” she said. “And invasive. You reach into another mind and bind its thoughts, or place your own there.”

“Well—yes,” Luke said. “But the use of that power is constrained. The purpose must be important enough to justify the deed and the consequences.”

“It seems the Jedi are always finding reasons to justify their violence,” she said. “I wish you would try as hard to find ways to avoid it.”

“Violence? What violence?” Luke protested. “More often than not, all that’s required is to induce a moment’s inattention, or reinforce a suspicion. No harm is involved. A sworn Jedi would never—oh, make someone walk off a cliff thinking there was a bridge there.”

Akanah shook her head in earnest disagreement. “You, who’re immune to your own tricks—who are you to judge the harm done? You do this in secret, to lead a suggestible mind, or compel an opposed one. Do you think that those you’ve coerced see the morality of it the same as you do? Besides,” she sniffed, “it’s inefficient.”

“What?”

“Inefficient,” she repeated. “It requires your constant attention and involvement.”

“If you know an alternative, I’m your eager student.”

“What about the way you concealed your hermitage?”

Luke frowned. “That’s different. I created it from elemental substances to have that quality—to blend in with the coastline as though it were part of it.”

“It was a powerful bit of work,” she said. “When I saw it, I knew you had the gift of the Fallanassi. But you didn’t go far enough and apply the principle to its ultimate conclusion.”

“Which is—”

“To make it not merely resemble its surroundings, but merge with them,” Akanah said. Closing her eyes, she drew a deep breath. She let the breath out slowly as she lowered her chin to her chest—and then she was not there.

“I’ll be a—” Luke reached for her where she had been standing, but his hand grabbed only air. “Cute trick,” he said, taking a step toward the refresher, away from the forward deck. “Handy for breaking into libraries, escaping arranged marriages—where are you?”

“Here,” she said from behind him. He turned to find her silting sideways in the right-hand seat, wearing a small proud smile. “Did I touch your mind?”

“No,” he admitted. “Not that I could notice.”

Akanah nodded. “A long time ago, one of the Circle discovered that when she achieved a particularly profound Meditation of Immersion, she would disappear from the view of others. Much later, we learned how to take an object in with us and leave it there.”

“Where do you go when you disappear?”

“Where do you go when you dream? It’s impossible to say. What does an answer from that context mean in this one?”

“Well—is it difficult?”

She shrugged. “Once mastered, it’s no more difficult or mysterious than concealing a cup of water by pouring it in the sea.” Then she smiled. “But achieving mastery is much like trying to remove that cup of water afterward.”

“And you’ve merged this ship?”

“Yes. Some time ago, while I was in meditation.”

“Will the engines still work?”

“Did the floors of your hermitage hold you, and the roof keep out the rain?”

Luke wrinkled up his face. “So we’re completely undetectable now?”

“No,” she said. “Nothing is absolute. But we’re safe from eyes, and from the machines that are like eyes.

gotta say, Luke totally deserves being dragged so hard here, given his behavior in these books.

“If I have to pick between your being an illusion and your being real, Akanah, I think I have reason enough to know that you’re real.”

OH COME ON WHY THIS COYNESS ABOUT THE SEX, LUKE??? Are you never even going to talk about it directly???

Oh, and Luke deduces that the Fallnassi are around him, and he can’t see them, which is clever. Not all of them are human - interesting. Luke convinces them to abandon their vows and help the NR against the Yevetha.

Leia goes to see Mon Mothma, which is kinda nice. They watch birds and it’s nice for Mon to be a mentor figure to Leia.

Leia turned and looked back at her mentor. “But I still don’t know how to choose between the other two.”

“I think you do,” said Mon Mothma. “What you don’t know is how to live with the choice. And there I can be of no help to you. That secret escaped you when the clarity left you.”

“When did that happen?” Leia asked, returning to sit on the edge of the stool at Mon Mothma’s feet. “I didn’t see it go—did you? Never before in my life have I struggled with decisions, or with accepting their consequences. It’s been so strange, watching myself from the inside, wondering why this woman was speaking for me.”

“Your clarity came from your certainty that our cause was just and our purpose worthy,” Mon Mothma said. “But there is little certainty of that kind to be had in a place like the Senate, in a city like Imperial City. Certainty is eaten away by the thousand and one compromises that are the currency of democracy. Causes fall victim to the building of consensus. Accountability becomes so diffused that it vanishes, and agreement becomes so rare that it startles.”

OH NO, there’s the duality again. Luke and Leia are mirrors of each other - see Luke’s ideas about isolation vs. civilization earlier. Sigh.

[brooklynislandgirl]

A ship you say? Have a star ship. Some Anikeni. {Not that you couldn't do one with Beth, but a. I didn't want to call Beth out like that and b. I couldn't think of anything ridiculous to open this with}

All Hands || -

I. who wakes up first in the morning

It is not often that she wakes before he does. Anakin’s body and his spirit or some combination of the two has an internal clock that one could set as a galactic clock. Perhaps it is because they cannot risk being found together in her cell or his. Perhaps it was his childhood before he came to Coruscant. Perhaps it is his connection to the Force. She doesn’t really know why, but he is almost always the first one to wake.But this time she has a few moments of luxury. Wrapped around him, he slumbers in the curve of her arms. She brushes back the stray wisps of hair from his face though leaves his braid to cut across his cheek and leans in to breath him in. These moments are so rarely precious that she has to take full advantage of them. To daydream of their lives beyond the Temple walls if they had met any other time or place. What it would be like back home with soft cushions and rich covers, given the luxury of sleeping as late as they liked, days if need be, before his eventual restlessness would have them pouring between star-maps and freshly brewed caff, deciding where in the universe they would go. Where best to make a real difference. Or even more simply to let him sleep without his plague of dreams which come more frequently as the days pass.Perhaps a bit selfishly, she nuzzles the back of his neck and very carefully tightens her hold. He is supposed to leave today, an assignment with Master Kenobi that will keep him in Galactic City but away from the Temple. There are worse things, but… she has a bad feeling about all of this.“Be careful,” she whispers into his shoulder. One time for each of her moons. Blue a prayer hope for his eyes, a wish of happiness from the green for hers. The protection of violet for her sabre even in the dark, and the last unseen for when he is far away from her. It’s her charm, her silliest superstition. “Be safe. Be smart.”Be mine.“I heard that.”He smiles without opening his eyes.

II. who’s the first to fall asleep at night

He’s asleep before he actually hits his mattress. He doesn’t mean to be but weariness might as well have been his middle name. He doesn’t stir even the slightest as she sets on his bench the small treasure trove of a sandwich and some berries that make a lush wine when fermented properly. A bota of fresh tea, cold and crisp. Hints of honey and mint leaves. All because she knows he never stopped by the cafeteria.Clever fingers work at his buckles and one by one she pulls each boot off with, followed by the socks. She tucks both his robes and his coverlets around him not so bold as to strip him down to his unmentionables. That would be…improper as it was rude. For half a minute she debates silently to herself if she should bother with his glove but Anakin is very particular about that, even with her and eventually she decides that it’s better if she leaves it on. Even asleep he looks… she doesn’t care for the heavy shadows under his eyes and how starkly his bones brush against his skin. If he could look at her somehow and still remain asleep she would be willing to bet his eyes would be fever-bright.They are running him ragged, as if he were the only knight the Jedi had at their disposal and they don’t see how it’s etching him away. She has half a mind to march into the Council Chambers and ~There’s a dark indescribable feeling that drifts down her spine like the softest of touches that almost buckles her knees.Her Master is waiting.She leans down and brushes a kiss to his temple, gives a lock of his hair a tug and goes quickly before she is summoned a second time.

III. what they playfully tease each other over

Her eyes are closed, her head cushioned in his lap. She doesn’t peek even as her fingers reach up and latch around his throat. Not tight enough to cut off his breath, but enough that won’t be able to brush off the feel of her for hours.“And of course, I would import some of the finest of my trees from home, to build your pyre. And once you’re nothing but ashes, I would take them and have them compressed until they became a beautiful jewel, maybe the colour of your eyes, and then I will flounce around the galaxy with your remains hanging always in the hollow of my throat. And once you’re one with the Force, you will be so grateful that you shine against my skin like starlight.”

A variable of their Impending Doom game, this time she has poisoned him with something fast-acting and likely incubated in her own body ~not that she mentioned that last part, but she’s getting better at it, becoming less and less sick each time, which pleases her Master.He’s making that noise again, the faint whine that might be a moan, and it makes the muscles in her belly contract with the sharp ache to respond to it, and his throat rises and falls beneath her skin. Her nails have a mind of their own and want to dig in. They don’t. She tries very hard to never leave a mark on him in a place that can be seen.“That would be really nice,” he breathes out. “But unfortunately you let your guard down and I’ve managed to double-cross you.”His voice is tense. It’s low and dark, a whisper. His hand splays out against her waist before closing again, fingertips tightening against the ridge of her hip bone.She quirks a brow and tilts her head up. “How foolish of me. I suppose I deserved it. But… in that case…you must tell me of course, how even in death you manage to betray and murder me. In the greatest detail.”

IV. what they do when the other’s having a bad dayHe finds her in her room. Face buried in her arms, body shaking from the tears she should not be crying. If her patient could not be saved, then it must be the Will of the Force, but the platitude rings hollow in her ears. The woman had children, had a husband. What would they do now without her? Especially the youngest, newly born into her hands, just days ago before the sickness set in.She is supposed to be sleeping but grief can do nothing but pour out of her in wracking sobs. And though he is a universe away out on the rim, he comes. She can feel his arms around her. His cheek pressed to her hair. Little softly spoken things she can’t quite hear though she feels the rumble of his voice. The warmth of his presence like real sunshine she hasn’t felt in years.

And she pours herself into his presence. Lets him lift that sorrow as only he can but when he starts to pull at it, unravelling it and taking it into himself she pulls back from their connection, making herself lesser established in the Force. She can’t let him do that, can’t let him put more sadness into his already full soul.A flicker of displeasure at her resistance, the confusion that comes from wondering why she retreats, though maybe he knows and understands. She isn’t quite sure how to read him, not so far away. And as much as she misses him, she urges him to go back. To live in his moment before anyone notices he’s…gone.~*~

Obi-Wan Kenobi’s face darkens as he watches his former apprentice. Though his eyes are open they are storm-tossed and shimmering with unshed wetness, his jaw tense. He is both there and not, slipped off into some recess of his mind. A habit Anakin has taken up more and more these terrible days. He doesn’t like it. Wants to say something but what could it be beyond baseless accusation. He frowns but after a moment, the boy’s nostrils flare and he looks over. His voice is tight, grim.Pained.“I’m sorry, Master. What were you saying?”V. how they say ‘i’m sorry’ after arguments

The vase goes hurtling past his head. Shatters into a thousand fragments behind him. For all that his reflexes had always been faster than hers, faster than anyone’s, there is anger that fuels her use of the Force. The book he catches and sets down before it hits his chest, and his jaw tightens. “Get out.” She isn’t asking him.“Why are you so-”“I SAID GET OUT!”Despite the furrow of his brows, the wetness around his eyes, the tremble of his lower lip, she makes a strangled sound of actual anger in her throat and looks for something else to throw, they have very little between the two of them. “This is my room!”

“Fine!” She stalks forward despite him being between her and the door. She will go through him if she has to.He smells like her. His precious senator.“FINE.”The door rocks on its casters as it slams shut behind her, biting off the small echo of her slippered feet.~*~It is interminable days before she can bring herself to look at him. Guilt has eaten her alive and what is normally so vibrant about her feels withered and yellowish. She knows better than to think she has sneaked up on him and his body stills mid-kata, the swing bringing his blade within an inch of her skin. His blade wooshes off. She doesn’t look up into his face, doesn’t flinch.Her eyes close and she takes a breath. “I….owe you an apology for my behaviour the other night. It was dramatic and stupid and it should never have happened. Please…forgive me that indiscretion.”The words are stiff, but informal. What she is saying though is that she is sorry, and if he doesn’t forgive her, she will die here. Now. At his very feet.Because she will. She can no more live without him than she can exist without the sun on her skin and the air in her lungs.It feels like eternity, staring down at the ground. Trying to feel him, hesitantly, through the Force as she cannot bring herself to look up. To let him see the raggedness of her feelings on full display.

It is an eternity, before just as slowly, just as carefully, she feels his hands take hold of her upper arms. How they tighten around her, fingertips touching.Before he pulls her in close and buries his face in the side of her neck.I’m sorry, too. And just maybe that breath he takes is the first since he’s gotten back.

VI. which one’s more ticklish”Could….could you just not….you know. Do…that?”She lifts her face from the water where she floats like a dead man. Woman. Plant. Whatever. It’s endearing that it disturbs him, for all they tease about being the cause of one another’s demise. She drags her lower lip across both sets of her teeth then grins. “Swim? I mean, I suppose I could get out. Or just let myself be pulled under. If you’d prefer.”

For all that Anakin is acutely sensitive to the Force, the subtle innuendo goes right past him and right into the next star system. Its so very sweet, she can’t help but commit the look on his face to memory.”Not what I meant, and you know it.””Yes.” She does. So she dips down. Below the surface of the water, holding her breath. Comes at him like a very fast thing with a mouthful of teeth, which of course she is, just not built for it. Breaking the surface, she’s right in front of him and it takes very little to ruffle her fingers against his side. His weakness, one she’s known about for years.

He grabs her shoulders, thrashing even though she knows the water actually impedes some of the sensation. Pushes her down. Lets her slip through his grasp. And she’s so tempted, so very tempted to bite at him. And maybe he knows that too because before she can shake her hair out of the way, he’s pulling her up again.

There is the smallest of moments, they are breathing each other. Lips parted and almost touching. She is absolutely certain, beyond any shadow of doubt, that some stranger in wild space could feel a sudden heat boiling their blood with the sensations rising up through her, looking at him, this very second.And then as Anakin thinks about moving, she closes her eyes.And almost drowns on the water sucked into her throat as he tucks an arm around her waist and dips her so that he can reach one of her feet. Proceeds to tickle it as he brings it above the surface.”You should know by now, Keni. I know all of your secrets.”Well, maybe, she agrees soundlessly once they are laying side by side in the glow of their cave flowers. Most of them.But not all.VII. their favourite rainy day activities

He tinkers. But the word is insufficient for what it actually is. The closest thing she can equate it to is watching a master artist at his craft, whether it is painting or sculpting, some unbearably exquisite mastery it takes a lifetime to achieve. She watches every twitch of his fingers, the way his face becomes so serious the deeper into his passion he delves.She could lay there on his bed, on her stomach, and spend a century alone just watching him. And like the shadow of a cloud passing across the sun, she has to accept that maybe he doesn’t have that. Anakin is impulsive. Restless. A danger to himself and others if you believed everything you heard, which she of course doesn’t…but still. His like as a Knight, his life as a human… She pushes the thought away like the vile and uncouth thing that it is. Won’t admit that it scares her sometimes, especially with how he comes back to her. A new scar here, a little piece of him missing there. He isn’t a stranger to the bacta tanks, though she wishes he absolutely was.

She drags her gaze away and closes her eyes. Tries to focus the sound of the rain. The sound he makes which is ever so quiet. Anything but the inconceivable idea that some day she will look back at these, the happiest days of their lives, and know that he’s really…gone.And the only way to comfort herself is deciding, then and there, that if he dies, she will too. Together in the Force then as they are now.She doesn’t see him looking over, that same focus and concentration she was admiring a moment ago, and beginning the first rough sketch outline of her face.VIII. how they surprise each other

She can feel it. A thrum of energy in the Force. It stalks her steps throughout the infirmary as she administers medicine and healing energy to the patients. She talks to them of things no more taxing than if they’ve gotten rest, if this or that is feeling better. The answers, in most cases, are invariably the same. Of course they would be, nothing changes that dramatically overnight, even with the best of care.It whispers through her mind driving her nearly to distraction when she sits at her Master’s side, trying to meditate one one of the lesser known Mysteries. Which becomes a lesson in hand to hand combat that she is almost grateful for as it bleeds a little tension out of her even if she gains a few bruises when her reflexes lag.It is still there when she uses the refresher to wash the day off herself, when she picks at her salad and gives half of it to the Guardian she thinks is Tazu. Always so hard to tell with the masks, which is entirely the point, she supposes.Each step toward her room is an exercise in control.The robes stripped away. Replaced by a thin shift. Her hands rise up to unbind her braids and suddenly a hand comes over her mouth. Stifles the scream that is raw and blood-curdling behind the right pressure that crushes her lips to her teeth to the point that she can taste her own blood sweet on her tongue.Anakin’s breath is hot on the edge of her ear.“Gotcha! Owe me one!”She relaxes then, which is lucky for him, otherwise he would have sailed over her shoulder and flat onto his back when she stepped back and elbowed the air out of him. Instead she holds up both hands in the air, a sign of surrender.Because he is right. She does owe him for managing to scare her. But the prize is hers when he lets go and she narrows her eyes.“Did…did you actually just watch me change?”IX. their most sickening shows of public affectionThe curve of the niche is cold on his back, despite the layers of his robes. Under which her hand has found purchase, petting and caressing him, and it feels like his skin is on fire, but smooth as marble. Her lips affixed to his throat, biting deeper, drinking at the slick coppery tang so very different than her own sap. His arms pinned to his side by a judicious application of the Force. He can squirm all he likes, whimper as loudly as he dares, but she isn’t letting go. Not this time. One delicate fingertip traces the shape of his mouth, the full softness of his lips.Let yourself go. For me. Trust me to catch you when you fall. Words that flicker through his mind as softly as she can make a command, unable to be heard by anyone else. All that can be spied is a beatific look of serenity on her face, and the throes of concentration on his as all around them pairs of Jedi concentrate on their own meditations.Anakin has been gone too long. She cannot waist another second without a proper welcome, a glimpse of unspoken desires between them. Let him wonder if it’s accidental or on purpose that the imagery in her head is projected at him as strongly as their connection will allow.~*~

“They always seem much more tranquil when they are here.” “Almost disturbing this is, this attachment. A trouble it is for young Skywalker.”“His breathing still needs work, though.”“More like Ivers he should be. Agree with you I do. Young they are yet, wisdom will come in time.”~*~

If it was possible to die from mortification alone, Anakin would be thrice over. But they can’t meditate forever….

[mjwiththefangs]

Beautifully Deadly (NaLu) #4

Chapter 4

Vampire/Supernatural AU

Rating: M

Summary:  "Supposedly an entire kingdom disappeared when their queen went beyond the borders, remember?" When Natsu Dragneel leaves the kingdom to investigate mysterious disappearances, he finds a much bigger adventure than he was bargaining for, including a beautiful vampire hidden away in an ancient castle. She has little to say about her past, or why she's locked away. Who did this to her? What has she been feeding on? One thing Natsu knows for sure that she is dangerous... Could she have something to do with the disappearances? "I'm sorry, Natsu, but I'm just so thirsty."

Chapters: 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6

Read it on: AO3 & FF.net

A/N: Hello again! First of all, shout out to @bmarvels and @mannyegb ; Thank you both so much for Beta-reading this one for me and helping me out with it! And a huge thank you to @the-savior-swan for your help when i got stuck with a paragraph!

Secondly, Im so sorry that this one took so long! But, of course, thank you all for your patience, and your lovely reviews <3 ! This chapter is longer than the last one, I'm working on getting more words into my chapters as they progress; Let me know you all think! Oh, and before i forget; the sword mentioned, its name means “archangel” in japanese, and I made up the name of the metal from “Engel” (hard ‘G’), which is the old english word for Angel :) Anyways, I hope you enjoy reading (and hope you thought it was worth the wait!) See you in the next one.

A heavy sigh filled the air in the King’s study. Igneel sat down at his desk, sinking into the plush leather chair, running his hands down his tired face. If ever there had been a Dragon carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, Igneel was him.

He narrowed his eyes on the communications lacrima on the oak desk. His call had not gone quite as expected. As for what he had expected, well, he wasn't sure.

He was just painfully aware that his plans had to be put on hold for the foreseeable future. Thankfully, the receiving end of his call had been understanding for the most part. The wise old King suspected that they were growing impatient, however.

A frown was cast on his sharp features, he had been careful and meticulous in his arrangements. Perhaps something had missed his attention, whilst he had been preoccupied with the welfare of his people and the disappearances. Perhaps focusing on the disappearances and in turn trying to raise morale in the kingdom had driven him to rush his plans, maybe he’d been sloppy. Perhaps the young Prince had misunderstood his concerns.

Natsu.

His Son was certainly headstrong and stubborn. Igneel knew that Natsu suffered as their people vanished and losing his friends had been the last straw. Igneel understood that. He just wasn't prepared for Natsu to abruptly leave and investigate alone.

A sharp rap on the door stole his attention. He cast his eyes towards the door, rumbling ‘Come in’ as he did.

The door creaked open, and a tall woman entered. She had long pale pink hair, almost white under direct light, worn up in a clip. Her sky blue eyes met his.

‘This is a pleasant surprise’ he thought to himself, sitting back in his chair.

‘Grandeeney,’ He warmly greeted her, ‘What do I owe the pleasure?’

Her eyes creased at the sides in a half-smile, returning the greeting. She closed the door behind her, coming to sit in the chair opposite him before she exhaled softly, ‘They're almost ready to head out.’ She wrinkled her nose before continuing,  ‘except that Wendy thinks she can join them.’

The King was visibly taken aback, blinking in mild shock. But before he could open his mouth to respond, Grandeeney held up a hand and cut him off.

‘She wants to use our sky magic to heal any who are injured. Yet she is still unable to protect herself with her power.’ concern laced her features, unable to hide her worry for her daughter.

‘She only wants to help, Grandeeney.’ He told her gently, reaching a hand out to her. She let out a resigned sighed in response.

‘I know. I am still unsure if she truly has my heritage, however.’ She straightened her posture and met his stone grey eyes, ‘You may not be of my blood, but you are my kin, Igneel. It is the same for Wendy and Natsu.’

He nodded in agreement.

‘We should have Erza lead the knights out before the hour is done. Wendy shall have to remain here if she truly cannot defend herself yet.’

The wise woman did not miss the subtlety laced in his words. She held his gaze and gave a single nod.

She rose from her seat, ‘I’ll go inform the Titania.’

.

The Angel breathed deeply, slowly releasing his breath. He had a sullen face as he glowered ahead. This was a risk, he knew that, but it was the only lead he had.

Erza would not have approved had he told her, so as much as he hated keeping things from her, he had simply asked her trust him.

The building before him seemed hollow, buried deep into the Mikage forest. It stood stoic and imposing. He tugged the collar of his cloak closer to his face.

Avatar.

They were searching for something… for someone. Jellal had a hunch about what exactly they were after. After all, the fallen angel had tried in vain to achieve the same goal. Jellal had done so out of arrogance, driven by a curse, yes, but still he had been aware of his actions and continued to bear his burden. What was Avatar's drive?

The Angel sought his power from deep within his core, welcoming the warmth that tingled and spread down his limbs. The red tattoo above his eye burned an angry red. His body glowed in a gentle heavenly light, no brighter than a star at dusk.

As quickly as he summoned the power he unleashed it, bursting forward at extraordinary speed, a trail of light in his wake. It was definitely quicker than walking.

Summoning all his courage, he landed and with faux confidence strode towards the door, allowing his magic to slip and exude only a fraction of his true power. The mark over his eye remained burning red. He threw the heavy iron doors open.

Weapons and spells were immediately trained on him. He wore a sinister smirk. Startled mutters and shouts echoed around him. Waving his hand easily across his body, all threats against him were dispelled. He scanned the various beings and guards littering the entrance hall, mentally noting that not all of them were magical.

‘I hear there's a certain someone you're looking for’ he dropped the bait.

Eyes narrowed on him suspiciously as they sensed his power. They grew instantly more wary of him. One spoke up ‘I know you…’

Jellal raised his chin, easily reclaiming his old alias and keeping his introduction short, ‘Siegrain’

.

Jellal found himself swiftly led through the halls by an Avatar member after his entrance, to where he would be awaited by a high ranking member. Word apparently travelled fast. He kept a mental note of where he walked, silently mapping the building as he went. He ended up being seated within a dark room, heavy curtains framed the large window, and only allowed a small fraction of light to enter.

Jellal often thought himself a good actor, he felt capable of wearing a mask to suit the situation. The ‘mask’ he chose on this occasion was that of ‘Siegrain’, the one most familiar with his crimes and sins.

He had not expected, however, to be met by a man dressed in heavy cloaks, shrouded in the shadows. The only part of the man he could see clearly was the ornate metallic mask covering his face. Jellal had a suspicion the cloaks covering the stranger were an imitation of some clergy wear.

This man sat before him was supposedly in charge, the leader. Jellal concluded they must be worshipping someone in particular to be so secluded. He was not sure he liked that.

The man began to speak, his voice sounded worn by time, yet demanded to be heard, ‘Siegrain. What brought you here to Avatar? Perhaps you follow our cause?’ There was no question in the man’s voice. He wasn’t asking.

Jellal maintained his composure, crossing one leg over the other, resting his cheek on his knuckles, feigning disinterest. ‘Perhaps I might know your name first? It only seems fitting as you know mine.’ He kept his voice smooth and inviting.

The man lifted his head, light glinting on the mask he wore, ‘Very well. I am Arlock. Now tell me, Siegrain, What brought you here?’

Jellal leaned forward, a sly smile tugging the corners of his mouth. He had to remain in control. ‘We share a common interest.’

‘I see. We of Avatar wish to purge and cleanse sin. We seek his guidance.’ He paused. Jellal felt his muscles tense in anticipation, ‘And what of you, Siegrain? Did you not seek him in your Tower of Heaven?’

He had to maintain his composure. His back twitched involuntarily, remembering his wings’ old reflexes. The scars burned. He barked out a laugh, ‘My “Tower of Heaven” was a futile pursuit. I had already been cast from the heavens, of course. I found it fitting. I sought to create something new’ He neglected the information that he was acting under the influence of a Gorgon’s curse cast upon him, by the very same who exiled him for falling in love.

‘A Valkyrie came to stop your experiment if I recall. What became of her after opposing you? The Titania, wasn’t it? You clipped the wings of the mighty warrior.’

There it was. It was like ice in his veins. The words cut him like a knife. He felt his heart momentarily still. He felt sick. The way Arlock spoke, as though falsely praising him, mocking him, Jellal wanted to obliterate the man were he sat.

Instead, he grinned. He forced a harsh laugh, spreading his arms, ‘The mighty Titania? She is a warrior no more! She was unworthy of bearing the bloodline of a Valkyrie!’ His stomach churned violently at his words, silently shrieking his painful remorse for his sins.

Would he ever be worthy of her heart?

He quashed his own emotions, the arrogant mask still affixed, ‘She was in my way. So I destroyed her wings. She shall not be a threat to any future endeavours.’ he scoffed.

A cruel smile formed on Arlocks’ face, the motion causing the mask to shift slightly, ‘It would seem we have much to discuss.’

.

The Titania herself stood in the courtyard of the Fire Dragon King’s palace. Her red hair burned in the afternoon sun. Her mind swam with worry, concerned for her fiancé. She knew how powerful the angel was. They had crossed blades once, and she had barely triumphed, only at the cost of her greatest assets. She had not been quick enough to stop him from killing an innocent, however. The curse upon him at the time had corrupted his very soul.

She had mourned her wings for a long time. She had felt incomplete without them for what felt like an eternity. Her wings had been fierce, dark auburn in colour, adorned with silver cufflinks and feathers as sharp as swords. She had been quick. She flew as fast and nimble as a falcon.

She found her solace in her warrior skills. She had struggled with her balance once her wounds had healed. She adapted. She commissioned new armour to compensate for her new weight distribution. She regained her agility through swordsmanship.

The Titania was certainly every bit as formidable as she had ever been. Yet, on days when the sky was clear of clouds, she found herself yearning for the breeze beneath her wings.

She knew Jellal had caught her wistful gazes. How the fallen angel despaired over what he had done to her. She forgave him long ago. In her eyes, the price to save him had been worth it. He had never seen it that way.

His sins bore heavily on his conscience. She would never forget the day he acted on that guilt.

‘I have to atone, Erza’

He had cupped her face with a bloodied hand. His face was creased with pain, but he wore a smile. She sobbed. She found him there, after sensing his pain and following the trail. She had panicked when she saw all the blood surrounding him, his back.

‘It was the only way.’

He had done it to himself. A clatter rang out as his limp hand dropped something. She would later learn it was a unique sword, with a blade forged of Engellium, called the Dai-Tenshi. It was the only weapon capable of killing an Angel.

She looked in horror at his mutilated wings. They lay discarded, the fluffy white down stained crimson. Once they had been elegant, large white wings, with long soft feathers that almost trailed the ground. Her heart clenched in agony. How pitiful they looked now. Her beloved smiled at her, even as his body trembled with agony.

His body had glowed faintly, like a light fading out. He fell unconscious as his life bled out around him.

She had immediately rushed him to the healers, Grandeeney and Porlyusica. There were none superior in medicine to the two of them, even as distantly related as they were. He had been lucky to survive, they had told her. His back was painted with lacerations. He still bore those scars today.

She shuddered at the memory. His wings she had lovingly gathered and laid to recover in a place sacred to her. She never told him.

She knew he would be safe. No weapon existed outside of the kingdom that could fatally wound him. Erza could feel her connection to him. Its’ strength waned with the distance between them. She felt his guilt. Perhaps that was what dragged the old memories to the surface.

She had to focus on now. Her soldiers had been given the order to dispatch. She oversaw them now as they gathered provisions, sharpened weapons and reinforced defences. Her violet eyes were clear and sharp. She saw everything.

Erza glanced up at the sound of approaching footsteps.

‘Gray.’ She greeted him warmly, acknowledging him as her old friend, rather than her soldier.

He nodded to her, fingers fumbling at the buttons of his shirt. His habit was made worse when he was anxious. She shot him a quizzical look.

‘What are my orders for the mission?’

He looked at her firmly. Her mouth set to a firm line.

‘Gray, you are needed here.’ She wondered if he saw through her words. He was undeniably useful. He and Natsu were best friends after all, and he was strong. She felt the air drop in temperature around him.

Her worries were confirmed. The more Gray used his ice-devil heritage, the more it ate away at his soul. His father had retired from the royal guard due to the toll it had taken on him. Mika’s death had been the last thing holding back the cursed heritage. The Nymph had always maintained a calm presence, her natural magic purifying her beloved husband and son.

Erza hoped that Gray’s Nymph blood would learn to counteract his ice devil blood. She feared it was a losing battle. Especially now that his mentor had passed away too. His mentor had made sure to teach him how to utilise a more neutral form of ice magic, drawing power from the nature around him. But long would those teachings last now?

She expected Gray to argue with her, given his emotions leaking into his powers. Instead, he sighed, resigned.

‘Fine,’ He reached a hand to rub his head, throwing his removed shirt over his shoulder as he did, ‘I’ll get Ultear and Lyon.’

Erza looked away, back at the guards scattered in the courtyard. ‘Mm. I will send them word.’

She pretended not to see how Gray flinched out the corner of her eye.

‘Right’ He mumbled and turned away, heading to leave, ‘Make sure you find that fiery idiot in one piece.’

Especially if I don’t find him first. He uttered a silent apology.

.

Meanwhile, far away from the kingdom by now, a small blue feline glided through the sky. He could smell fish, and boy was he feeling hungry.

He had been flying intermittently for at least a day or two now, landing every so often when he felt tired. He had been snacking on bugs here and there when they took his fancy, but now the faint scent of fish had him drooling in excitement. Happy purred to himself, his initial reason for leaving the kingdom long forgotten in the face of his favourite food.

He flapped his wings, gaining altitude and followed his nose to what he hoped would be his next meal.

.

Elsewhere, a blonde vampire was screaming. Her heart hammered beneath her breast, one hand clutching at her chest, the other pointing accusingly at the man before her.

‘Why are you here!’ She screeched, pure terror filling her.

His eyes sluggishly met hers and he moved to reach for her, his movement leaden and slow. He blinked, the motion taking entirely too long, opening his mouth to speak. But no words ever came, he fell limp, his eyes rolling back into his head.

Lucy could feel herself trembling, her mind struggling to make sense of what had happened. The last thing she could remember was being in the roof garden. The fog surrounding her memories was slowly lifting. She could recall suffering Bloodlust. Dread crawled up her spine, like cold fingers creeping along her skin. She knew she’d passed out in this room.

Lucy swallowed. It became apparent to her that something wet and still warm dripped down her chin. Lucy hesitated. Holding her breath, she drew her outstretched hand to wipe her lips.

She shrieked. Blood.

Her eyes flew to the man laying completely still on the stone floor. She scrambled over to him, her eyes landing on the torn up flesh of his neck. Her heart pounded painfully. She knew the answer as soon as the silent question crossed her mind.

Did I do that?

Lucy could feel the panic beginning to rise in her. Had she killed him? She studied his face, suddenly noticing the shock of pink hair on his head and the large horns nestled within the strands. She tentatively held her hand below his nose. She waited, tension holding her still.

She sighed in relief when she felt his warm breath over her hand. He was still alive. But what was she supposed to do with him now?

Lucy certainly had a lot of questions that needed answering. She couldn’t risk letting him leave. Not that he could at this moment anyway. But how had he found her? What was he doing here?

Her face tugged into a frown. What if he was associated with the very person she had tried so long to hide herself from? Lucy shook her head. No, she couldn’t risk it.

Juvia.

Juvia might know what to do with him. Lucy stifled a groan. Juvia’s main lake was a half hour’s walk from the decrepit building, she didn’t think she could carry the unconscious man that far. That was if Juvia hadn’t moved on to temporary new waters. Lucy didn’t know how she had been out after her Bloodlust episode, Juvia may have already left to gather more resources by now.

Lucy gnawed on her still-bloody lip. There was one place that she could keep him. Moving carefully, Lucy lifted his arm around her shoulders moving herself to lift him up with her.

He released a small pained whine as she moved him. The scent of his blood drifted back to her again. She could feel her eyes shifting to a darker hue. Shaking her head, ignoring her instincts, she carried him to his new accommodation.

.

The chains clinked as the clasps locked around his wrist. Her gut twisted with guilt. He was carefully laid in the small cot. Her eyes flitted to his face. He looked uncomfortable.

Lucy dropped her gaze, her sights landing once again on the man’s wounded neck. It took her longer to look away from it this time. She realised as she observed him that he had blood on his shirt.

It dawned on her then that he had arrived here injured. She cursed under her breath realising that she really had attacked him. She had finally drank from a living person. She felt her heart crack painfully, now her soul would surely be lost forever.

The vampire continued to examine the wound on his neck, her eyes shifting to a fierce, glowing red. Her body moved of its own accord, lulling her closer to him. Her face drew closer to him, her overwhelming need to ease his pain overtaking her. Her eyes darkened further, shadows forming around them. Inky black creeping in, her irises drowned, leaving only menacing, crimson slits behind. Hovering over him, her lips parted, inching closer to soothe the wound.

The man groaned. Immediately Lucy leapt back in embarrassment, gasping, her eyes reverting to honey gold. Heat filled her cheeks and she recomposed herself, turning on her heel in the direction of aid. She was certainly not going to lick his torn flesh better, but the least she could do was clean it up and wrap him up.

[the-gedonelune-times]

I’ll Stay

Hello, hello everyone! Today I’m here to bring a fanfic in honour of a certain dragon boy whose route will be released very soon! My writing may be a little rusty, but I hope you all enjoy this fanfic nonetheless! 

Also a big thank you to @leonthecardboardunicorn for giving me some amazing ideas to use for this story, along with character suggestions!

After a long day of both classes and prefect work, I was overjoyed to be here in my dorm sitting down at the vanity, while combing my hair and talking to my beloved roommate. It seemed like forever since we last had some girl talk!

"So what's it like being a prefect? Is it just as hard as you imagined it to be?" "To be honest, I don't know how Klaus and Randy managed to do it all! They made it look so easy!" In the mirror, I saw Amelia taking place at the edge of her bed before speaking. "Oh no...so it's that bad?" Giving a few more brushes in my hair, I placed the brush down and spun around on the seat before getting off and walking over to my own bed. "It's not that it's bad, rather, it's a bit more stressful. I'm really glad Yukiya and Elias are helping me though. Not to mention Alfonse and Caesar, they've been a real big help with the whole prefect thing too." Gently pulling back the covers, I slipped into my bed and proceeded to make myself comfy while Amelia and I continued our girl talk. "Hm, so do you like any of them?" "What do you mean by that?" "Well, I mean do you fancy any of them?! Could one of them be stealing your heart?" Amelia gave a teasing smile causing me to blush and wave my hands wildly in front of me. "No, of course not! At least not like that! Besides, Alfonse and Caesar are a couple and Elias and Yukiya are just really good friends, almost like family. There's nothing romantic going on between any of us." "What about people outside of the group?" "Out of the group...." "Oh! I know that face! You're starting to go deep in thought, aren't you? Oh, your face is even starting to turn red! You really must like someone!" Truth be told, I actually had someone on my mind...he was a bit of a mysterious guy, one who had helped us and even betrayed us a few times. None of us knew what his intentions were, was he friend? Or was he foe? However, after freeing Lucious from the underground Labyrinth, we began to see him around more and more, not that I was complaining. In fact, I was quite happy! This could give me the chance to get to know him more. Just who are you, Hugo? I couldn't help but smile through my thoughts, but I was snapped back to reality when a tapping sound came from the door to our balcony. "Is that Hugo again?" Amelia gave me a curious look and all I could do was look at the door and give her a look of uncertainty. "Maybe? But we've had a few different visitors come to our dorm at this hour. Remember the time when Zeus, Hiro and Lucious came to our dorm near midnight?" "Oh right, wasn't that because of Hiro and Zeus?" "Yeah. Hiro and Zeus were having a fight and Lucious needed our help to shut them up." "It didn't go well if I recall." I shook my head softly. "Nope, in fact, all three of them soon got into a fight and the housemothers got involved." "I hope there's not another fight about to happen." "Me too Amelia, me too." Getting up from my bed, I quickly made my way over to the door, pushing the curtains away; a face coming into my view. It was Hugo! "Hugo?" The moment I opened up the door I could feel a chill blow in. "Forgive me Goddess, have I disturbed your slumber?" "Huh? Oh, no! Truth be told, I was just about to head to bed, but you didn't disturb anything!" "I see. So I take that everything is well? Nothing is wrong?" "Nope, everything is fine, nothing to worry about." "Good. I will see you tomorrow." With that, Hugo jumped down from the balcony and was gone just as fast as he appeared. I reached my hand out in front of me in an effort to stop him, even though I knew it was futile and that he was already gone. I withdrew my hand back slowly before letting it drop back at my side before staring out at the night sky. "Nadia?" "Huh?" "Don't you think you should close the door? It's getting a bit chilly in here." "O-oh, right!" Taking a step back, I quickly shut the door and made my way back over to my bed, once again crawling under the covers, only this time my head made contact with the pillows. "So who was it?" "Hugo." "Really? Again? He's been showing up here more and more." "Well, he told me once that it's part of his duty now." "Duty?" "Yeah, he keeps calling me a 'Goddess' and he says that is mission is to protect me. I guess that means mandatory nightly checkups?" "Sounds kind of romantic to me." "Huh?! Romantic?" "Well yeah! It's like he's a knight doing his duty in protecting a princess. Oh, I wonder if you two will fall in love!" "A-Amelia, let's not get ahead of ourselves now, okay? He's just a friend, nothing more, nothing less." "Aw, if you say so." Yawning softly, Amelia leaned over on her bed and gave a goodnight before turning out the lights. As darkness settled in, my thoughts couldn't seem to stop running. There were so many things I wish I knew about him. I wish...I wish I could find a way to be closer to him. Before I knew it, sleep had taken over and I felt myself drifting away from reality. -------------------------------- The next morning, as Amelia and I were making our way out of the dorms, we both noticed a familiar face and I felt Amelia shake me a little on my shoulder before pointing outwards. "Hey, isn't that Hugo?" "Yeah, how strange, usually he's not up and about this early. I wonder what's up." "Well, go talk to him!" Saying that with a smile, Amelia pushed me forward a little, my legs did the rest and moved on their own accord. As I inched closer and closer to where Hugo was standing, I noticed that something was wrong. His movements were off; he seemed to be wobbling a little bit like he was off balance. Fear gripped my mind and I ran up to him. "Hugo?! Are you okay? Can you hear me?" "G-Goddess?" His voice was shaky and just when he turned around to face me, he fell down, bringing me down with him. The impact my knees had with the ground hurt less than the impact that was on my heart while seeing Hugo like this. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes and I quickly shouted for help before placing Hugo's pale and flushed face in my hands. "I f...feel like I'm dying." "Hugo, you're not going to die! Don't talk like that!" Situating myself, I moved Hugo so that his head could rest on my lap while waiting for help, which didn't take too long to come. I brushed back his bangs and looked down at his face before looking up and seeing Zeus and Lucious sprinting my way. "What the hell happened?" "Is that..." "Yes, It's Hugo, now can you please help me get him to the infirmary?" "Why should we?" Zeus folded his arms over his chest and gave a huff. "Because he needs help!" "Yeah? When has he helped us?" Lucious spoke up this time, even though he had a sharp tongue, he still helped to support Hugo up onto his feet. Zeus, on the other hand, didn't seem to budge at all. "Zeus? Are you not going to help?" "Why should I help?" "Well, would you rather report the incident to Klaus instead?" I watched as Zeus let his hands fall to his sides and he heaved a sigh before taking position at his other side and helping prop him up. "This is such a pain." "I agree, especially since I have to be stuck carrying this guy with you." "What'd you say pipsqueak?" "Do you ever shut up?!" "That's it!" "Don't you dare summon anything, you moron!" As they walked out of sight I couldn't help but feel a little bit bad for Hugo, I just hope those two don't start anything too bad. Especially Zeus, I know how wild his summonings could get. Flashbacks of him teaching a class caused my body to shudder before dashing over to where Amelia was at. "Nadia? What in the world happened?" "I think Hugo might be sick or something. I'm not sure what it is, but he sounded really distressed and he didn't look that well." "Oh no! What are you going to do?" "I heard that Klaus is supposed to be teaching the first-period class. I'm going to fill him in on the situation and see if I can go and be at Hugo's side for a little while. Just to make sure everything will be alright. Which means I won't be able to walk you to class today Amelia!" I shouted out to her as I ran and in the distance I hear her voice, telling me that it was fine, she even wished me good luck. I continued to sprint onward and was getting closer and closer to my destination. However, on my way there, I ran right into someone and would have landed on my butt had it not been for someone's quick reflexes in keeping me upright. "Do people not know how to be aware of their surroundings in this day and age?" a very familiar voice filled my ears and I could feel a wave of relief wash over my body. "Klaus!" "Nadia? Why are you in such a rush? Class still doesn't start for another few minutes." "It's because I wanted to talk with you about something, well, rather inform you of something." "What is it?" "W-Well...um. There was a student that has fallen ill and well...I'd...like to watch over and make sure that they're going to be alright. So I was hoping that I could be excused from your class for the day." "You didn't even have to ask. Nadia, as a prefect, the students become a main concern. However, I expect you to study hard for the test I'll be preparing, I'm not going to make it easy." "Got it! Bye Klaus!" With that, I ran towards the infirmary, leaving Klaus behind as he shook his head. As I ran, my thoughts were all of Hugo. Watching him wobble and fall to the ground, hearing his raspy voice and seeing that pale and flushed face of his. I hoped it wasn't something serious.... The moment I reached the infirmary, Zeus and Lucious were in the waiting portion, along with Caesar. "What are you guys doing here?" "Great, she's here! I can finally leave and do something that isn't killing me with boredom!" Zeus got up but was soon pulled down to his seat again by Lucious. "Shut up, idiot. Look, we wanted to make sure you got here safely." "You both aren't very honest are you?" "You looking to fight?!" Zeus held up his hands and a green light began to form, but it was soon cut off when someone took hold of his hand. "Don't you dare summon something in here you moron! And you!" Lucious pointed a finger at Caesar. "Don't come accusing me of not being honest, pokchop!" Lucious hissed between his teeth before dragging Zeus as they made their exit, leaving Caesar and I alone in the waiting room. Sighing, I took a seat across from Caesar and looked down at the ground. "They were worried, you know?" "Huh?" "Zeus and Lucious. They came here making sure Hugo wasn't in bad condition. They did it for your sake mostly, saying they knew how you cared about him and that they'd force him to get better." I couldn't help but let out a giggle.

”But hey, Caesar?”

”Yeah?”

”I know why Lucious and Zeus were here, but what about you? Why are you here?”

”I’m just here for Alfonse. He was pulled out of his prefect duties to fill in the position of the school nurse. The one usually had family business to attend to and had to leave immediately. Leaving Alfonse to fill in the position.” "Wait, does that mean you're going to be here the whole day?" "Pretty much." "But why?" "Because I don't want Alfonse to be alone. I want to stay right here and wait for him." "Caesar…”

Caesar flashed me a smile and was about to speak when Alfonse suddenly stepped out of the room, a shocked expression was plastered on his face.

“What are you both doing here?”

“I came to see how Hugo was doing. Is...Is he alright?”

“Yes, he’s fine. He’s just got a cold, however, he seemed to have pushed himself too hard and that’s why the effects of the cold have become the way it has.”

I let out a sigh of relief. “Is it okay to see him?”

“Of course. In fact, he might appreciate the company.”

“Off to see your next patient then?”

“Yes, it appears there’s another student who’s become sick and will need a shot with some antidote inside. But I’m going to need your assistance Caesar?”

“Me? Why? You know I’m not that good with doctor stuff.”

“You just need to be your cute piggy self.”

“What? Why?!”

“Because the student that’s sick happens to be afraid of needles and I think it would be nice if you could be there to calm the student down.”

Caesar gave out a sigh and slumped his shoulders. That’s when Alfonse walked over and took Caesar's hand in his own before kneeling down, making eye contact with him.

“Please honey?”

“W-whatever!”

Saying that, Caesar pressed his lips against Alfonse’s and was soon enveloped in a puff of white smoke. When it settled, a blushing pig was sat down with his tail between his legs, he was unable to look at us directly and was making small oinking noises. That’s when Alfonse scooped him up in his arms and hugged him.

“We’ll get you changed in some work attire when we reach our destination.” Saying that, Alfonse opened up his bag full of doctor supplies and lowered his arms down, allowing Caesar to jump down in the bag with a smile on his face. “We’ll see you later Nadia, take care!”

Alfonse gave a final wave to me before the both of them left me alone in the waiting room, I took a glance at the door which led to where Hugo was stationed at and took a deep breath before walking in. Stepping into the room, I saw Hugo lying down in one of the beds, he had a wet washcloth on his forehead and his breathing seemed better than it was when she first saw him in this state. Walking over to the bed I stood and looked at his sleeping face, I felt a blush creep onto my face, I couldn’t pry my eyes off of his beautiful features.

“Goddess is that you?”

His sudden voice made me jump back with widened eyes. “Hugo? How did you…”

“I felt a presence in the room, one I was very familiar with.”

His eyes slowly opened up peered at me, causing my blush to deepen.

“Goddess...may I ask you to join me?”

“J-Join you?! You mean in the bed?!”

“Yes...is that so bad? I wish to tell you something important.”

After hearing his words, I hesitantly began moving forward until I reached his bed and took a seat on the edge of it. That’s when he reached his fingers up and brushed away my bangs and gave me a goofy smile.

“Goddess...I think this may be the end for me, I just want you to know, that..I don’t want you to leave my side…”

Wait, has Hugo never experienced a cold before? Is that why he thinks he’s dying?

“Hugo, you’re not going to die, I won’t allow that and you need not worry about me leaving you, I’m going to stay right here until you get better, alright?”

“You really are too kind…”

I could feel the tiredness in his voice when he spoke and when his hand dropped back down to the bed, I knew he was completely pushed past the brink of exhaustion. I gently ran my fingers through and played with his hair, listening to the small snores that came from his mouth. I then leaned down and placed a small kiss on his forehead.

“Get better soon, Hugo. I’ll be right here by your side.”

Saying that, I could feel another blush rise to my cheeks. I took a seat right next to the bed and ended up falling asleep right next to my guardian, and I couldn’t have been happier.

[pocketseizure]

The Legend of the Princess, Chapter 27

What It Means to Fight

In which Zelda weaves the threads of the past into something new and different.

(Chapter 27 on AO3) (Story Tag on Tumblr) (Cover Illustration)

* * * * *

“Turn away now,” Daphnes ordered. “Help us calm the rebellion, and we will forgive you. We are not unmerciful.”

Ganondorf scowled at him and prepared to respond, but Zelda preempted him.

“There is no mercy in this,” she proclaimed. There was power in her voice, and it propelled her forward. She stepped in front of Ganondorf, leaving Link behind her.

“Father, if you know what this man is, then you know what you’re doing by provoking him. You will get everyone in this room killed, including yourself.”

“He’s a monster, Zelda!” Daphnes objected. “You have no idea what he’s capable of.”

“Actually, I do. I know exactly what he’s capable of.”

Zelda took another step forward, and she felt the very stones of the temple resonate with her determination.

“Zelda, I know you’re exhausted,” Daphnes said, attempting to placate her. “And I know… I know you care for this man. You’re still young, and your entire future is ahead of you. Please, let us protect you.”

Zelda laughed, remembering how Tetra’s eyes had sparkled in the mirror of the underwater castle. She took another step forward, and she remembered how glorious it was to be a goddess flying high over Hyrule. She remembered the girl on the sacrificial altar, Hylia’s mortal reincarnation and her distant ancestor. Was that altar somewhere in this very temple? Zelda thought it just might be. She could feel the energy of this sacred place flowing through her.

She thought of the glamour Ganondorf had cast on his clothing, and she realized that she knew exactly how the spell worked. She cast it under her breath, using it to clothe herself in the pure white dress of the sky goddess, and she delighted in the touch of the warm summer air on her skin as her Sheikah clothing faded away. Her feet were bare, connecting her to the earth of this ancient ground. A horrible sacrifice had been offered to the goddess long ago in this very place, soaking the soil at the center of Hyrule with the blood of the god who loved it.

She understood that she was meant to be a sacrifice as well. People would fight for her, and people would die for her, as people had fought and died for her in the past. Hyrule was Hylia’s legacy, and her role was to represent this legacy, trapped within the beautiful crystal of her fate so that she could suffer nobly for her kingdom. Her father and her friends and Link and even Ganondorf were all fighting for her, but no one ever asked what she wanted.

Zelda smiled as she raised her bow. It was no longer the small Sheikah reflex bow Impa had given her but a glowing arc of pure silver. The arrow she fit against its string was a bolt of radiant light.

“I can protect myself,” Zelda said to Daphnes, and then she shot him.

The ray of light struck him exactly where his right arm joined his shoulder, severing it completely. He won’t be touching the Triforce anytime soon, Zelda thought, feeling no guilt whatsoever.

The king’s wound cauterized instantly, but he passed out from shock and collapsed. No one moved or spoke as Zelda hopped lightly onto the dais, knelt by her father’s body, and removed a white baton from an inner pocket of his robe. Still kneeling, she slung her bow over her back, and then she stood. She held the Wind Waker in her hands and snapped it in half. It was much easier than she thought it would be. When it broke, the baton dissolved into faint particles of light, and Zelda felt its magic surge into her.

“I’m glad that’s taken care of,” she announced, clapping her hands together.

“Now on to the next order of business,” she continued, summoning another silver arrow to her fingers.

She turned to Darunia. “You’ve been like an uncle to me, and I thank you. My father will need your support as he recovers,” she said. “But you have to give me that ruby. Your people don’t owe this kingdom anything, and you have nothing to lose if the volcano erupts. Lava is the lifeblood of the mountain, and I have no doubt you can tame the dragon that flows through it. It’s still a child, after all. It may even become your son’s companion after he gets better. When I am queen, I will see to it that whatever is amiss on Death Mountain is settled to your satisfaction.”

She held out her hand. Darunia, looking sheepish, dropped the Goron’s Ruby into her palm. She struck it with the silver arrow, and it shattered.

Next she turned to Makar. “If you’re going to become the next Deku Tree,” she began, “we need to get something straight right now. I will do everything in my power to protect your forest, and I expect you to do nothing less, but I will not tolerate people getting lost in those woods. Your territory has served as a barrier cutting Hyrule off from the rest of the world for centuries, and that has to end. We will both see to it that no one will threaten the forest, but this kingdom cannot remain isolated.”

She pointed at Link. “Give me the Kokiri’s Emerald,” she commanded, and he removed it from his pouch, awestruck. She threw the arrow like a dart, and the gem burst into pieces in his hand. Makar did not respond to any of this but only watched her, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“I believe I’m next,” Ruto said, the Zora’s Sapphire already shining between her fingers.

“Ruto, I’m sorry,” Zelda began to apologize, but Ruto cut her off.

“Give me another one of those arrows,” she said. “I want to do this myself.”

Zelda did so, and Ruto plucked the silver arrow from her hand before driving it down violently onto the blue stone, which exploded into a shower of shining dust.

“Sweet Nayru, that felt so good,” Ruto sighed, handing the arrow back to Zelda. “I’ve wanted to do that for years. We’ll talk about this soon, I promise,” she added, winking.

Zelda winked back and then faced Impa. “You’re fired,” she said simply. “You and your entire tribe, you’re all fired. I don’t know what happened to the Sheikah in the past, but I have a pretty good idea. What my family did to you wasn’t right then, and it isn’t right now. Of course I would never object if you were to stick around, but only if you decide to stay as my friend and as my equal. And as my advisor, not as my assassin. Think about it, okay?”

Impa nodded in acknowledgment, and Zelda turned to Nabooru, who raised an eyebrow when Zelda met her gaze.

“You,” Zelda said, “are perfect. You should visit Hyrule more often. As long as I’m in this castle, the Gerudo will always be welcome here.”

“I’ll consider it,” Nabooru responded. “I only hope there will be a castle left for us to visit.”

“I was just getting to that,” Zelda replied.

She stepped over her father’s body and walked to the pedestal at the back of the dais before turning and facing Link.

“Listen, you’re not bound to me,” she said. “I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t need a chosen knight. Your destiny is your own, and you don’t have to be a hero if that’s not what you want. If you wouldn’t mind listening to my advice, though, you should really stop being so quick to follow orders. And you’ve got to put that sword back where it belongs before anything escapes from the broken seal.”

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to follow orders,” Link said, already stepping forward to join her.

Zelda rolled her eyes. “Just do it,” she said. Link grinned in response.

“And finally, you,” she said, looking directly into Ganondorf’s face. “You are an idiot. Did you really think you could just touch the Triforce and fix all this? That is the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard in my life, and you would know that if you actually talked to people instead of trying to do everything on your own.”

“With all due respect, Princess,” Ganondorf answered, crossing his arms over his chest, “isn’t that what you’re doing? Trying to fix everything yourself? Issuing commands while shattering gems and breaking political arrangements that have been around for centuries? But I admit, I admire your courage. If you have an idea for how to end this cycle, I’m listening.”

“You know what? I’ve seen things you wouldn’t believe, and I don’t have time to deal with another one of your monologues. As it happens, I do have an idea. Stop standing down there by yourself and get up here so you can help me.”

Ganondorf didn’t move, and for a moment she thought he was going to reject her, to turn on his heels and leave the temple on his own. Please, she begged him silently, hoping against hope that he would trust her. She understood how difficult it must be for him to stand alone with all of them looking down on him, especially since none of them had done anything to help him when he’d asked. Please, don’t make me fight you, Zelda thought, struggling not to cry. As she waited for Ganondorf to make a decision, the power she’d felt when she destroyed the sacred stones deserted her, and once again she felt vulnerable and helpless. Were they really so bound by their fates that she could come this far and still have him walk away from her?

He must have seen something in her eyes, because he dropped his gaze and shook his head. “Don’t make me regret this,” he muttered, and a second later he had teleported onto the dais beside her.

Zelda smirked. Ganondorf may have done what she asked, but he still had to show off while he did it. Hopefully that meant he wasn’t too angry at her. She certainly hoped he wasn’t – she had almost killed her father for his sake, after all.

“Darunia,” she said, “can you take the king back to the castle? Tell everyone that he was injured in battle. Everyone else, can you leave me and Link and Ganondorf here? I’m counting on you to get everything under control before we return. Make sure all the combatants are retained in the front courtyard. I’ve got a speech already prepared, and I need an audience to make it effective.”

“I thought I was fired.” Impa scowled at her.

“For Din’s sake.” Zelda clicked her tongue in an unconscious imitation of Tetra. “Nabooru, can you help?”

“Come on, everyone,” Nabooru spoke up, tugging at Impa’s ear as Darunia hoisted Daphnes onto his shoulders. “It looks like it’s up to us to get this situation cleaned up. Let’s go.”

Zelda smiled gratefully, and Nabooru returned her smile before turning away from her. Zelda knew that there would be repercussions for sending everyone off to settle matters at the castle while she remained at the temple to conduct this last bit of business in secret, and she wasn’t looking forward to the conversation she needed to have with her father, but she would have to worry about that later.

“All right, it’s just us now,” Link said after the group had left. “Zelda, do you want to explain what’s going on? Or did you just want to clear the stage so that I can fight him in peace?” he added, pointing to Ganondorf with his thumb.

“You wouldn’t stand a chance,” Ganondorf growled.

“What was that?” Link glanced at him out of a corner of his eye. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught what you said. I couldn’t hear you over the sound of having the Master Sword in my hand right now.”

“I’m sorry, Link, but you’re really going to need to put that back,” Zelda cut in. “Ganondorf is wrong about a lot of things, but he’s right about the sword acting as a seal on Demise’s curse.”

“When did I say that?” Ganondorf asked, shooting her a sharp look.

“Sorry, wrong timeline.” Zelda shrugged. “I guess I owe both of you an explanation, so here it is. Basically, my father used the Triforce to amplify the power of the magical artifact I just destroyed, which flooded Hyrule. Ganondorf, you stayed in the castle and started kidnapping people. Meanwhile, I think I escaped and had a child with Link. Maybe? I’m not sure. Anyway, just about everyone in this kingdom died, but I learned something interesting about the Triforce.”

“Which is?” Ganondorf prompted.

“We had a kid?” Link asked. Zelda ignored him.

“If someone whose heart isn’t in perfect balance touches the Triforce, then it breaks into its three component parts, each of which lodges within a chosen bearer. When Daphnes touched the Triforce, it must have split, because Ganondorf got the Triforce of Power. I got the Triforce of Wisdom, and Link, I think you got the Triforce of Courage, although I’m not entirely sure what you did with it, because it seems to have fragmented even further… But that’s beside the point.”

“So what you’re saying is that it’s possible to split the Triforce without destroying it,” Ganondorf concluded, rubbing his beard.

“Wait, hold up. I’m still not over this thing about us having a kid,” Link interjected, and Zelda continued to ignore him.

“Based on what happened because of my father, I don’t think it’s a good idea for any one person to touch the Triforce. Ganondorf, I know you think the solution is to destroy the thing altogether, but I’m not so sure about that. I think we need more time to figure out what the Triforce is and how it works, because I don’t want to do anything that can’t be undone.”

“But – ”

Zelda cut him off. “I promise, you don’t want to touch that thing. At least not alone.”

“So we should all touch it together, is what you’re saying,” Link suggested.

Zelda snapped her fingers. “Exactly! If we split it between the three of us, then it will continue to exist, but no single one of us will be able to use it without the full understanding and consent of the others. This should also remove it from the control of my family, at least partially. Hopefully that will forestall Demise’s curse and prevent the return of Ganon.”

“That’s the second time you’ve said that word,” Link broke in. “What’s Demise?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Ganondorf said.

“No, I’ll tell him,” Zelda insisted, knowing exactly how Ganondorf would spin that story. An instant later she corrected herself, ashamed that her first instinct had been to assume the worst of Ganondorf’s intentions. “Or actually, both us of can tell him together. The point is that we need to touch the Triforce, all three of us at the same time. But before we do, I need to make sure that the Triforce won’t choose one of us as its master.”

Zelda paused, unsure of how to phrase what she was trying to express. “Um, this is a strange question, but neither of you has a pure and balanced heart, right?”

“No,” said Ganondorf flatly.

Link laughed. “Oh goodness no. Listen, I could tell you things that – ”

Zelda waved a hand to cut him off. “I’m pretty sure I don’t either. We should be good then.”

“So how do we enter the Sacred Realm?” Ganondorf asked. “You destroyed the three sacred stones that were supposed to be the keys that open the gateway.”

“About that,” Link answered for her. “The sacred stones didn’t open the portal. It’s complicated, but their purpose was to reveal the pedestal where the Master Sword slept. This sword was forged and blessed by Hylia herself, and it’s the key that opens the Sacred Realm. The gateway was briefly accessible when the sword was drawn, and I think it will open again when it’s replaced on the pedestal.”

“Are you sure?” Zelda asked. She had a feeling that this was indeed the case, but she needed to be certain.

“I can’t explain it,” Link replied, “but it’s like the sword has a voice, like it’s singing to me, telling me things.”

“You do understand how strange that is, don’t you?” Ganondorf said in a sour tone.

Zelda shot him a look before addressing Link. “I believe you,” she assured him. “Like Ganondorf, I’m concerned about what will happen if that sword remains drawn, but I don’t want to force you to do anything that you’ll regret later. Based on what you’ve told me, you’ve spent most of your life searching for the Master Sword. I don’t really understand what happened, but now it seems that you’ve bonded with it in some way. Are you willing to give it up?”

“I most assuredly am,” Link replied. “Nothing would make me happier. I’ve always wanted to become stronger, but not… not like this.”

A look of pure relief spread across Link’s face as he regarded the Master Sword’s empty pedestal, and Zelda couldn’t help but smile at the purity of his happiness. Their eyes met, and for a moment – just for a moment – Zelda could envision herself leaving the temple with Link and setting out into the brave new world of a future that no longer existed.

Ganondorf cleared his throat. “Once the gateway to the Sacred Realm opens,” he said, “I’m not sure how much time we’ll have. I’d like to act quickly, so we need to decide what wish we want granted when we touch the Triforce. I don’t think we have much room for error.”

“What do you mean?” Link asked.

“Say that each of us wishes for Ganon to be defeated. That wish could be misinterpreted, with one of us becoming Ganon precisely so that they can be defeated. Or say we each wish for Hyrule to have a prosperous future. That would mean something different to each of us, so the Triforce might end up creating three different worlds to contain each of our wishes. We don’t know how the magic works, so it would be best to be as precise as possible.”

“Then it’s simple enough, isn’t it?” Zelda offered. “We each wish for one part of the Triforce, nothing more and nothing less. What part we get doesn’t really matter – at least, not from what I’ve seen. It only matters that each of us gets one piece.”

“Fine by me,” Link assented, and Ganondorf nodded in agreement.

“All right.” Zelda took a deep breath. “Link, are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Link answered. “Ganondorf? What about you?”

“I’ve been thinking about this moment for years. I couldn’t be more ready.”

“Zelda?” Link turned to her. “Are you ready?”

Zelda opened her mouth to respond, but then she glanced at Ganondorf. He was regarding her with an intent expression. Link may not have fully understood what he was asking of her, but Ganondorf did, and he was clearly concerned about the decision she would make. If there was a time to turn back, it was now.

Zelda considered Link’s question. Was she ready?

It was very early in the morning of the day when she was to have been crowned as the newest queen of Hyrule, an event she had been preparing for her entire life. It was true that her castle was currently under siege, but this conflict could easily become an opportunity to establish herself as a strong monarch whose reign was marked by an auspicious beginning. By divine right, the Triforce belonged to her and her alone, and there was still time for her to claim it as her own. If she made a pure and selfless wish for the benefit of Hyrule, then it was entirely possible that she could become one of the greatest queens in history. When she was queen she could travel throughout her kingdom, bringing peace and prosperity to her subjects. Link could be her knight, and she might even be able to unite her people with the Gerudo by marrying Ganondorf.

Did she truly possess the courage to give all of that up, to relinquish all of the power and potential that she could achieve as a wise and compassionate ruler?

“Absolutely,” she assured them. “Let’s do this.”

( Link to Chapter 28: The Legend of the Queen )

[blackrose-ffxiv]

The Witch of Witchdrop Part 5 05/15

As Luca Black, Idristan Agache and Anselme de Haillenarte approached the next large cavern, the odd discordant clanking sound would only grow louder and louder. As they rounded the corner, the first thing they would see is another knight. Only--there was something very, very wrong. It was taller than one would expect for a man... and there was something off about the shadow it was casting. As it turned slightly, that would become obvious what--in place of a mouth were a mass of tentacles, and where once were eyes was a set of ones that were so pitch black they might have been holes. Clutched in one of the soulflayer's hands, as if it weighed nothing, was the body of yet another knight--with the same odd puncture wound in their head.

Luca froze as they rounded the corner and saw just what. His grip tightened on his sword and the lantern. Voidsent were disgusting creatures, he thought--but this made his stomach churn. Luca had never been a fan of the sea--and now it was like something from its darkest depths had crawled up to the surface and spat on to the body's shoulders. Luca scowled at its weapon of choice.

Anselme froze when the oversized knight turned to ‘look’ at them. That was being generous as the monster had no eyes. It was dressed in the remains of a Temple Knight’s standard issue mail and armor, though it had split through mail and plate in several places to make room for all of the extra monstrosity crammed into what was previously a human host. The warrior recalled with unsettling clarity the corpse in Witchdrop having its heart eaten from its chest and the tentacles rolling out from under the helmet. So this was the result. The Knight shook his head to clear the images from his head, readying his grip on his axe. Rather than wait for the monster to get over the surprise of coming face to face with the trio he charged forwards to close the distance between them more quickly.

The soulflayer lets it meal drop unceremoniously to the ground as it raises it's arms. Voidtainted aether starts to flicker into life around it's hands as Anselme charges towards it--the only warning he would get before a dark purplish blast of fire streaks towards him in an attempt to roast the knight in his armor.

Luca held his advance as Anselme strode forward. Something in his bones told him it would just complicate the man's attack with the broad reach of his axe if another body entered the fray just then. He tossed his sword between his hands, the runes burning bright in their particular spot of darkness in the cavern.

Anselme may have expected the monster to be a little more protective of his meal. Rather than try and get a little more from the corpse it simply dropped it and turned its attention fully on Anselme. The Knight didn’t back down, he drew his axe back and took to the air, throwing his weight into a heavy overhanded swing. The counter struck him square in t he chest, flames so dark they were nearly black blasting him backwards with a cry of pain and surprise. Superheating the metal of his breastplate until he could feel the heat through the padded shirt underneath, he’d probably have marks suspiciously like the ornate patternwork of the plate on his chest for a bit, but it wasn’t bad enough to render him entirely useless.

Luca watched as the fire roared around the creature's hands. His dark brows rose. Would Anselme move in time? Luca charged in after him, waching the glow on the creature's hands, wondering just were his seemingly absent eyes were focused. It seemed, as he drew closer, that they were not focused on him--Luca fought a reflex to look after Anselme as he soared past him. In close enough proximity, Luca planted a boot into the cold damp earth and swung his blade hard in an upwards arc-- The runed blade was a blur, aimed right for the creature's flaming wrist. Luca felt a wet crack as the blade connected with is slippery flesh and bone.

The soulflayer did not appear to notice Luca, for its attention was on Anselme. It starts to take a step towards Anselme--a new knight had come right to it, and it was still hungry after it's earlier meal was so rudely interrupted. Only for it to cry out in pain as Luca swings his blade, the silvery sword almost completely severing the hand! The soulflayer screams and turns towards Luca, lashing out with a blast of dark, voidal magic.

Luca wondered, for a moment, as he energy surged towards him, if his body was going to urge him to stand in its path as it had wih the vodoriga's beam. But as it neared him, instinct told him that wouldn't be the case this time. Luca dipped his shoulder, as if running into a strong wind, he blast of magic sailing over his shoulder. He threw his sword into his left hand and deftly caught it by the handle as he raised his now free hand and summoned a concussive blast of aether. He didn't wait to see if it rolled the soulflayer's brain like it had done the Inquisitor's and instead spun, his sword gripped in reverse, arcing its startling silver blade through the air towards the thing's face.

Anselme pushed himself to his feet, hissing in pain as moving pushed the heated metal against his skin. He was forced to remain still, leaning on the axe’s haft. Luckily, Luca seemed to have the matter well in hand. Delving into some unforeseen swordsmanship talents to quickly limit the soulflayer’s ability to cast by removing one of its hands. The Knight let out a low whistle of appreciation as he recovered, allowing the apprentice to continue unhindered by having to mind another within range.

Luca was faster than the one-handed soulflayer. Before it can start to cast another spell, Luca's spell slams into it. It clutches at it's head with it's one good hand, a deeply disturbing cry coming from it's...mouth? before it is silenced for good by Luca's blade as it sinks through flesh and bone. The soulflayer stands there for a moment, before it drops next to it's former meal. After a few moments, the body would simply dissolve into a mist of foul-smelling aether, leaving just a damaged suit of armor behind.

Luca's shoulders heaved with heavy breaths in response to the effort. He looked down, sneering at the grotesque smell that assaulted his nostrils as the thing vanished--as every other voidsent he'd met had. His fingers ached from how tightly he'd been holding the sword. Then suddenly, as the focus of battle began to ebb, pulling the world around him back into his frame of senses, he gasped. "Anselme!" he turned sharply to look back at the man, eyes widened, searching to see if the man was okay.

Anselme raised a hand, waving lightly to dismiss the concern in Luca’s voice and eyes. “I’ll live, I’m fine. Don’t worry.” He assured him with a grin. “That was some impressive bladework there. Where did you learn that?” He grinned over at Idristan, assuming it hadn’t been the mage only because of the weapon of choice difference, then moved carefully over to the damaged armor and the corpse of the Dzemael soldier. Well, there was plenty of proof now. A suit of armor with a hole punched through the chest and days-old blood dried around it as well as the lingering mess the Soulflayer had left behind. He suspected there weren’t any guards left alive to lend their eyewitness accounts. The howling sound echoed through the tunnels once more, much closer this time than it had been previously. While it had surely heard the last sentinel die, this one had likely been felt instead.

Idristan wrinkles his nose as the voidsent disappears. He keeps his staff in hand, but it's lowered as he goes to join the others. "Luca learns quickly," he remarks, perhaps a touch too fast, to Anselme. "I think we upset something," he adds.

Luca felt a presence with him--as if Anselme's question had summoned it from the aether. For a moment Luca felt...at peace, almost. Reassured. He smiled, then, a hidden expression the other two men wouldn't have been able to see--despite the small ache that followed it in his chest. Idristan had answered for him before he could say the words 'my father'. At the howl, Luca's focus came back to the room, he presence he felt gone. "Do we keep going?" he asked, looking between the two more experienced men.

Anselme continued grinning, either not noticing Idristan’s quick response or not considering it a large enough concern to press the matter at the moment. There would be time to recall the boy’s impressive feats over a few pints and some burn salve once they were out of this. If they got out of this. “We’ve come this far.” He noted, the expression dimming somewhat as he looked to the other two. “I suspect we’re getting closer to the source, if that was her second in command so to speak. She must be near.” He looked back down at the ruined armor and corpse. “Or we retreat and wait for that backup…” He didn’t sound entirely convinced about that.

Idristan nods in agreement with Anselme. "If that backup hasn't gotten here by now the other house is either dragging their feet and Halone only knows when they'll turn up... or they encountered the same creatures we did and weren't prepared." His eyes flick back towards the entrance of the tunnel, towards the darkness that awaited them if they tried to flee. "We can't let this thing loose," he declares. "And I don't think we'll be allowed to stroll out of here anyroad. We keep going," he declares.

Luca nodded once in agreement.

@roses-and-grimoires @luca-the-hunter

[visanimus]

Oooh! How about Noctis from ffxv x reader where they go to a haunted house together, something goes wrong and actual daemons attack, and reader reveals she's actually a kitsune while trying to protect him? (Just in case you don't know they're badass, multi-tailed shapeshifting foxes in japanese mythology that can also take human form and use magic, mainly foxfire. The mythology is actually really cool and there's folk stories about them taking human form to be with those they fell in love with)

Thanks for the kitsune refresher, I actually got a book that covers Japanese mythology.

~

| Noctis Lucis Caelum

• Keeping your secret away from your boyfriend, a prince of his kingdom that was close enough to your family’s homeland (that had been there for a few 100 generations or so), was difficult at times though not all the time. It was easy to give ambiguous answers about where you were from, it was easier to say that your parents traveled around so your couldn’t exactly recall where you first lived. It have you an excuse for many things you didn’t know was the norm here in Insomnia and it’s surrounding towns and countries. Though that wasn’t the real reason why you lie to your friends. You weren’t completely human; you were a kitsune.

• Having grown up around your family in the country side before going off to Insomnia haven’t really taught you everything there was to be humans, and so it was a bit difficult navigating through human society and learning as much a possible about them in order to blend in. Meeting the prince and his friends was an experience that helped you in furthering your education. Being around them was easy and helped you with a few social faux pas that happened from time to time. One day you and Noctis developed feelings for each other and started courting one another. This is why you ended up spending ‘All Hallows Eve’ with the group. Prompto was the one to suggest a “Haunted House” before the movie marathon with pulled of sweets and Ignis’s home cooked meal that reflected the festive Insomnian holiday.

• You never had ever been to a haunted house before and were a bit apprehensive to do so because of your instincts warning you. You shouldn’t step in there. The hairs on your neck would stand, as you stood frozen, until Noctis’s reassuring hand held your hand in his with a shy smile at you. Calmness washed over you but that sense of urgency and a need to protect Noctis rose within you. A phantom like swish was felt behind you as your tail almost flickered into existence and your ears almost twitched into visibility as you felt your need to fight would slowly rise. It would be best to calm down before you blew your cover in front of someone you cared for, who might not react well to you and your heritage. Smiling at the man, you followed him into the haunted house and stuck with him as you and your friends were separated.

• Getting scared at every corner with no real danger actually helped you enjoy the festivities. You were able to cling to Noctis’s arm and hide behind him, and he was able to play the hero and defend you against the terribly cheesy Hallow decorations. Both of you were giggling and laughing at the absurd idea of actually being scared and instead, enjoying your time together as a couple undisturbed. Small jokes about running from monsters to how Noctis would have to the shining knight on top of a white steed in order to save you from them sent you both into a breathless fit of laughter.

• Those laugh filled moments ended as the room began to shake as something tore through the floorboards. The sound as wood splintered and scattered through the floor ripped a genuine scream from you and Noctis as he grabbed your hand and almost dragged you out of the room into the hallway. Heavy foot steps shook the hallway and made it difficult for both of you to keep your footing. Noctis’s voice screaming out into the house, “Guys! There’s a daemon here and it’s her with me and ______! We have to get her out of here!” You could almost roll your eyes of you weren’t shaken from being caught off guard but you tore yourself from Noctis in order to atleast slow down the daemon. You wouldn’t have to allow others see your true form unless it was a dire situation. Fear painted his features as Noctis turned back to grab you, only to see a flurry of fluffy tails and ears as your clothing changed to match the seemingly magical transformation.

• Heat circulated underneath the skin of your palms and finger tips as you summoned a part of you you hadn’t felt in some time. Blue fire ignited and danced around you as you remembered the chant that would eat away at the daemon in front of you and protect your prince. The moment your fingers snapped you felt the rush of heat travel through your body and out of your hands onto the daemon that caused your senses to act up earlier and nearly endanger your love’s life. Silent whispers of multiple spirits’ acceptance of your fox fire usage as they blessed you and the human you wish to protect gave you enough time to grab his hand and dash out of the house to meet up with the test of your friends. In this form you were stronger and quicker with any human, with reflexes that left many jealous of your kind. Your picked up on the sound of the daemon’s screaming before it was silent as you calmed down.

• The palpating heartbeat of yours started to calm as your human companions started to bombard you with various questions about what happened, what you were and what was happening. Ignis and Gladio’s authoritative voices cut through the various questions Prompto and Noctis hadn’t been able to stop asking as they took in every detail of your appearance and exchanging information of what they saw in that house. Once everyone was quiet and calmed down enough, you all got into a car and drove back to Noctis’s apartment. You decided to tell them what you were and what you did with the promise that they would never tell another soul. They agreed and you told your story.

• “My kind is what you would call a Kitsune. Yes, like the stories you heard about my kind, but with you humans, no offense, tend to embellish a few details about my species. Both of my parents raised me out on the 'country' side as many would call it and that's why I never knew much about your human holidays or how you all loved your day to day lives. But I knew that I wanted to know more about your species -- Noctis mess with my tails and ears one more time and I will use Foxfire on your hair.""But you remind me of a cat, who's a cutie?""How dare you. Especially after I saved your total royal behind."

[imjustthemechanic]

The Stone Knight

Part 1/? - Two Statues Part 2/? - A Curious Interview Part 3/? - John Doe Part 4/? - Escape Attempt

The mysterious John Doe wakes up and tries to run.  Then things get weird.

Nat noticed the man's eyelids flutter, but considering the condition he was in, she assumed it must have been some kind of reflex action. Even with his accelerated healing he must be in terrible pain, and the hospital had probably pumped him so full of drugs he might well think he was Sir Stephen of Rogsey.  She figured he would drift back into unconsciousness a moment later.

Instead, however, his right hand twitched, and then he raised it to feel at the oxygen mask on his face.  That got Carter's and Wilson's attention, as well.

“Oh, my god, is he awake?” Carter asked.

The nurse in attendance put a hand on the man's shoulder.  “Sir,” he said, “if you can hear me, you need to lie down and rest.  We'll get you something for the pain.”

The man wasn't listening to him – maybe he couldn't even hear him.  He got a grip on the tube running off the mask, and started trying to get it off.

“Oh, Sir, don't do that.”  The nurse tried again to settle him down, then yelped as the man grabbed his wrist and bent it back, then threw him to the floor.  With the nurse no longer interfering, the mystery man pulled the oxygen mask off and left it hanging around his neck, then yanked the IV line out of the arm.  The nurse started to get up again, but stopped as Dr. Wilson stepped in front of him.

“Stay down.  We'll get him sedated,” he said, and pressed the button to summon help.  Then he tried, himself, to push the mystery man back down onto the bed.  “Sir, if you can hear me,” he said, “I need you to lie down and relax.  You're badly injured and if you try to get up you're going to make it worse.”

Dr. Wilson was a much larger man than the nurse, but the mystery man threw him off, ripped the sensors from his chest and finger, and staggered to his feet.  The world seemed to go silent around Natasha as she watched it all unfold.  This... couldn't be happening, could it?  This man had been shot, had his face sliced open and his skull cracked, and then been thrown in a river.  It was a miracle he was even alive.  Hw could he be standing?  As when she'd asked the woman in the pub if she'd also seen Zola, Nat now looked at Carter to make sure she wasn't hallucinating.

Carter was standing with her stance wide and a hand inside her jacket as if to pull out a weapon, but she was looking right back at Natasha, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing, either.  And while the two women stood there staring, the man stumbled past Dr. Wilson and out the door.

At that moment, instinct took over.  This man was running, so Nat chased him.  She bursed through the door behind him, and saw him come to a halt in the hallway, narrowly missing an orderly with an empty guerney.  He turned to run in the other direction, saw Natasha, and looked around desperately for another option.  There was only one: the set of swinging doors that led into a stairwell.

Nat ran after him.  Footsteps behind her told her that DI Carter and Dr. Wilson were following, but she didn't look back.  One of the first rules she'd been taught was never take your eyes off your prey.

In the stairwell, a man was sitting a few steps down, with another nurse attempting to comfort him as he wept.  Both people looked up in surprise at the wounded man.  He stared back for a moment, and then since he could not go down without jumping over them, he went up, climbing on all fours like a child.  Nat ran after him, taking the steps two or three at a time to catch up.

The mystery man kicked out at her, forcing her to dodge.  She finally managed to throw herself on top of him and grab him around the waist.  This must have been painful for him, but he didn't cry out.  Instead, he rolled over on top of her, crushing her against the stairs and forcing the air out of her lungs.  She had to let go, and he continued on up.

“Stop where you are!  Police!” shouted DI Carter.  Nat sat up to find her at the bottom of the flight, aiming her firearm at the man. She wouldn't shoot him, Natasha thought, not when she needed him as a witness.

Maybe he knew that, or maybe he simply wasn't interested in the threat, because he didn't even look back.  He vanished around the corner to the next flight, and Carter swore and followed him up.

Dr. Wilson was behind her, but stopped to check on Natasha.  “Are you all right?” he asked her.

“I'll survive,” said Nat.  She picked herself up, ignoring her bruised ribs – they'd be fine in a few hours.

Dr. Wilson nodded and then ran on up after Carter and the mystery man.  Nat took a couple more deep breaths and then followed them. Somewhere above, an alarm started to blare.

They arrived at the top to find that the man had broken open the emergency exit and run out onto the roof.  The bandages from his neck were lying abadoned on the steps.

Nat, Carter, and Wilso followed him out.  The roof was covered with gravel that crunched under their feet, peppered with elevator boxes and ventilation fans.  It must have been cold and painful on the mystery man's bare feet, but he ran a few more yards before stopping, as he seemed to realize where he was.  He turned in a circle, taking in the landscape below: the colleges, the shopping center, and the suburbs that ran down towards the old city and the river.

Then there was a loud roar from behind them.  Everybody turned around.  On another part of the roof, beyond the emergency exit they'd just come out by, was the air ambulance helipad.  The helicopter itself had just started its engines, and after a few seconds of warmup it rose from the pad to fly very low overhead, low enough that Natasha could see how surprised the pilot was to find people looking back at him.  The mystery man dropped to his knees and raised his arms as if holding a shield over his head, as if he thought the helicopter were a dragon about to swoop down on him.

It didn't, of course – instead it flew away to the east on whatever mission it was on, the roar of the blades slowly fading away to nothing.  The mystery man got to his feet, turning to watch it go.

Dr. Wilson went up and took the man's arm.  “Sir,” he said, “you are at Raigmore Hospital in Inverness.  You've been badly injured, and we are trying to care for you.  Do you understand?”

The man stared at him for a moment, then said, “yes.”

Still, Natasha went and took the man's other arm, holding it gently but firmly.

“Come on back inside,” said Dr. Wilson.

They helped him to limp back indoors.  One flight down, the male nurse was waiting for them, with a wheeled stretcher to take the mystery man back to his room, but he refused to climb onto it.

“Take it away,” Dr. Wilson said to the nurse.  “Have somebody find a bed for him on the High Dependency Ward.”  He glanced at his charge.  “I think we can discharge this guy from the ICU.  Call it a hunch.”

The hospital found the man a semi-private room and Dr. Wilson managed to convince him to get back into bed.  Once he was settled, the doctor began undoing the bandages around his middle, already loosened during the escape attempt, to check on his bullet wounds. Natasha remained standing at the foot of the bed, while DI Carter sat down to wait.  Nat wasn't sure why she was still here, but her gut told her that she couldn't leave yet.  This man was important, and she had to be here to help figure out why.

“What's your name?” Dr. Wilson asked.  He examined the injuries, then asked another nurse for a pair of small scissors, and began removing the stitches.  The mystery man had been shot only yesterday, and had already healed enough to have his stitches out.

“Sir Stephen,” the mystery man replied.  “From Rogsey in Anglesey.”

Nat rolled her eyes.  “Oh, you are not!” she said.

Everybody looked at her.

“I don't know you, Lady,” said the self-described Sir Stephen. His implication was that she didn't know him either, and was therefore in no position to tell him who he was or wasn't.

“I'm Dr. Natalie Rushman.  I'm an archaeologist,” said Nat firmly.  “I know something about the middle ages.  Even if Sir Stephen of Rogsey had existed, the stories say he died in 1066.  And if he could somehow come to the present, he wouldn't speak modern English, even Pseudo-Shakespearean Fancy-Talk English.  He'd be speaking some dialect of old Anglo-Saxon.  Hwæt. We Gardena in geardagum, þeodcyninga, þrym gefrunon, hu ða æþelingas ellen fremedon.”  The first three lines of Beowulf, which she'd memorized a bit of just so she could recite it to her classes.

Sir Stephen frowned at her in confusion.

“I rest my case,” said Nat.

Dr. Wilson handed the scissors back to the nurse.  “Should I put his name on his chart?” the woman asked.  She probably knew this was a dumb question, but was trying to stick to stuff she understood. Nat sympathized.

“Um.  Put him down as Stephen,” said Dr. Wilson.  “Stephen Rog... is Rogsey a real place?”  He looked at Nat.

“Of course it's a real place,” said Sir Stephen.  “I was born at Saint Marcella's, not a mile away!”

“I have no idea,” said Nat.  “Google it.”

Dr. Wilson sighed.  “Put him down as Stephen Rogers,” he told the nurse.  “That's a name.”

“I am here in the room,” said Sir Stephen, annoyed.  “You think me a madman, don't you?”

“We think you're a man who's been hit pretty hard on the head,” said Dr. Wilson.  “You're not crazy, but you've suffered a very serious head injury.  We're going to help you with that.  It's our job.”

“If you wish to help me, could I have some meat to eat, or at least a loaf of bread?” asked Sir Stephen.  “I fear I must eat a great deal.”

“If the rest of your metabolism is as fast as your healing, I'm not surprised,” said Dr. Wilson.  “I'll see what we can do.”

He ordered a meal for the patient from the hospital cafeteria – spaghetti and meatballs.  It took Sir Stephen a few minutes to get the hang of his fork, but once he had, he devoured three helpings and ate six pieces of soggy garlic bread, which astonished everybody even further.

While the man ate, DI Carter pulled a chair up next to him and showed him her badge.  “I know you're not feeling very well,” she said, “but I was hoping I could talk to you for a moment.  I'm Detective Inspector Carter of the Inverness Police, and I'm looking for a missing person.”  She turned on her phone and found a picture of Mr. Pierce – the same one that had appeared in the Courier's article, and probably taken from their website.  “Do you recognize this man?”

Sir Stephen was still chewing on garlic bread as he looked at it. “No,” he said.  “I do not.”

“He didn't hire you?” asked Nat.  She was hanging on to her theory that Mr. Pierce must have had this man pose for the statue of Sir Stephen – because to believe anything else was madness.  Pierce must have promised the statues to somebody.  They would have been a remarkable find if they'd been real, forcing historians to re-assess whether Sir Stephen and Totenkopf might have been actual people. Maybe he and Zola had planned to pull off the archaeological hoax of the century, a modern-day version of Piltdown Man.  Calling in Natasha was a test, to see if they could fool an expert.  The statues had failed the test because Pierce was an idiot who'd gone to great trouble to get the armor and weaponry right but hadn't bothered to look up what kind of commemorative art was being made in the eleventh century.

“I've never laid eyes on him,” Sir Stephen said, and pointed to the image with his fork.  “Unless it's a poor likeness.”

“The likeness is fine,” said Carter, and put her phone away.

“Why were you at the warehouse, if Mr. Pierce didn't invite you?” Natasha asked.

“I know not,” said Sir Stephen.  “The last thing I remember was fighting the Red Death for the Grail.  Then there was...”

“The grail,” Natasha interrupted.  “The Holy Grail from the King Arthur stories?  Sir Galahad and everything?”  Maybe it wasn't Pierce who'd hired this guy.

“The very same,” Sir Stephen said.  “I'd not have believed it, had I not seen it with my own eyes.”

Nat grabbed the nearest sheet of blank paper and a ballpoint pen, and sat down to scribble a drawing.  DI Carter had asked her to work with a sketch artist, but Natasha was quite able to draw faces, herself, and this one had been so distinctive she could hardly forget it.  Nor was it a difficult one to represent.  She got a rough outline of Zola's unusual features down on the paper, and showed it to Sir Stephen.  “How about this guy?” she asked.

Even before he spoke, she could see in the man's face that he recognized the image.  “That is Zola,” he said.  “The Red Death's kobold.”

“Kobold?” asked Dr. Wilson with a frown.  “Isn't that supposed to be something like a pixie?”

“Yes,” said Natasha.  It was, in fact, almost exactly the same thing: a helpful spirit that could be malicious if crossed.  “Did he hire you?”

“I serve King Harold,” said Sir Stephen, offended.  “I do not draw my blade for foreigners or goblins.”

Nat gave up, and offered the drawing to Carter, instead.  “This is the man from the pub.”

“He looks like a goblin,” said Carter.  “I'll see if we can find him – and see if I can find who made those statues you mentioned for Pierce.”

“You believe me now,” Nat observed.  Carter hadn't been sure earlier.  Now she seemed happy to accept Natasha's version of events, if only because they made more sense than Sir Stephen's.

“I told you – I don't believe things,” Carter corrected, and sighed.  “The ten o'clock news tonight is going to be weird.”

[mikanrulz]

*sighs longingly* Y'all remember when Azazel was a right asshole that deserved approximately half of the shit he had to deal with? I miss Azazel and his assholery but holy damn this is some serious character development from Genesis when he has gleefully fucking up people's lives

Hello there :D

Sorry this took me too long to answer. On one hand, I really want to rally behind azazel protection squad, but on the other hand… as you said, he was an asshole who deserved half the things he has to deal with. Then there’s also the part of me that likes to see my fav characters suffer and pushed to the limit bcs that’s usually where they shine, where they show their true colors, where they show what they’re really capable of. SORRY.

This is really a dilemma bcs while I really want Azazel to win (and see if he gonna go back to his old smug attitude), I kinda want to see him lose more bcs if he keeps losing like that, Lucifer would have no choice but to come save him again right? :D or maybe Mugaro would go berserk for Azazel’s sake, I’m not picky :p

Speaking of character development tho.

behold that mean and smug af smirk.

I see ppl commenting how he fastly improved from S1 bcs now he’s kinda a dark hero for the demon side, and how he’s more, er, empathetic toward others now?

I actually disagree on this.

I don’t think he changes that much. If anything changed, it’s that now he’s *visibly* way more *angrier* than he was in S1.

1. His default expression in S1 is being smug. Anything unexpected happened, he made a little frown-y face for a second only to cover it up in a smug smirk the next scene (most notably: ep5, 6, and 10)

My point is, in S1, he liked to act like he was in control even when he wasn’t. In S2, he doesn’t even pretend anymore and freely makes angry face all the time no matter who might see.

2. the sad face. S2 is not the first time he shows a blank face or something that could be read as a melancholy face. In S1e05 he already showed something close to it, when Cerberus reminded him of his failure, and when the butler told him of intruders coming in.

3. About the dark hero thing. I don’t think he fights to *save* the lives of the demons; I think he fights solely to restore his own pride, and incidentally, the demons’ pride. When he says this in ep4, more than anyone realizes, he’s actually being totally true - esp to himself.

He was always big on pride thing.

In S1, it might be bcs he was a former angel or whatever, but he seemed to look down on other demons, much like the way in this season Sofiel looks down on demons and Bacchus and even more on Hamsa. In s2e01, while he freed the captured demons, he killed the summoned demons abiding the trader’s command. This means he actually still doesn’t care as much about demons’ lives in general, he just can’t let lowly humans who dared took down Cocytus also took demons as ‘unwilling’ slaves.

Still in ep4, Dante says this: “you turned down our invitation and became a slave to the humans.”

I want to say the cause is yet again his pride, that he still thinks himself too good for these lowly demons, but I think he’s just being pragmatic. No other high ranking demons are with these underground demons, there’s no meaning in him joining if he would be the only one pulling their weights bcs they’re bound to lose anyway. It’s better to move alone as the Rag Demon, bcs while he couldn’t completely bring down Charioce, he could at least be an embarrassment to Charioce’s troops as that one demon they just can’t capture and keep freeing the captured demons.

When he fought Beelzebub in ep11-12, he kept using the the word ‘debt’ instead of saying ‘betrayal.’ While Beelzebub’s betrayal indeed smarted, he seemed more pissed off that Beelz managed to pull one over *him* at all (thus debt) than the actual betrayal deed; that he’d been insecure enough to take Martinet’s words to heart and unknowingly becoming his pawn in the process.

He was Lucifer’s right hand man; even Bacchus remarked on this. So why did he even believe Martinet’s words, a demon who was so clearly below him in rank, over his own trust in Lucifer? It’s precisely bcs he took pride in being Lucifer’s right hand man that he couldn’t forgive himself for his failure; he had to restore his pride back by trying to recapture Amira. He chose to eat Martinet’s provocation instead of swallowing back his pride and insisting on meeting Lucifer.

Once again, Azazel was Lucifer’s right hand man. He, more than any demon, had the right to meet with Lucifer, and that Lucifer should be the only one able to punish him if he chose to - not Martinet. But Azazel’s insecurities over his own continuous failures seemed to make him forget that fact.

It’s kinda similar to how he’s literally unable to ask Nina ‘please help me’ bcs his pride gets in the way. He chooses to *order* her instead, which understandably alarms her. Till the end, when he offers to control her dragon transformation, he phrases it as a command, not request for help. Even tho it’s obvious he’s the one who has everything to lose while Nina has nothing at stake at all even if she refuses him.

Just, I know this is rather impossible and downright uncharacteristic even, but should he, you know, lets go of his pride and actually asks for help, it would do wonders probably. Bacchus might just be shocked enough to actually help.

4. He’s nice to kids (mugaro) and women (nina) now (?). I’m hesitant to call this a development since we never actually saw him interact with kids in S1. Rita didn’t count since Azazel knew she was not a child and he never treated or referred to her as such. For all we know, he actually always…neutral….to children and we just never get to see it before. Um.

Cerberus was a girl but then again she was a demon girl who left at the first sign of trouble. It was probably not even their first assignment together since he had ‘as expected’ air as he watched her leave during Orleans’ Knights’ ambush in ep5, meaning he was pretty used to her and her whimsical way and had no respect left for her or something. plus, that whole looking down on other demons thing.

Nina’s a girl and he does save her twice, both seemingly out of reflex - which is indeed not very demon-ish of him. But in Nina’s case, I don’t think it even registered to him until ep4 that’s Nina’s a girl who is very much a… girl. I mean, while he’s aware Nina’s obviously a girl, her gender doesn’t seem to matter to him the way it does to her.

idk, I’m still not sure on this part. May come back to this later.

Conclusion: I think Azazel’s still very much the Azazel of S1, he’s just more… intense. He used to be the perpetrator; now he’s part of the victims. It’s his change in role that’s causing us to see layers that we tend not to notice when he plays villain.

Rather than Azazel himself, I think Bacchus, Kaisar and Rita’s attitude change is more curious. Like, what exactly Azazel did that made him so endeared (to various degree) to them until they care and wouldn’t want to see him killed?

[hejin57-blog]

MUSIC MASTERS: CD ONE

Might want to rewind a bit...

-----

-----

WHITE KNUCKLE RIDE: PART SEVEN

-----

It had been her first Friday night off in over a month, but for Colleen Kay, some splinter in the back of her mind was stopping her from fully enjoying it.

The heat had kicked in and she had covered herself up with a warm blanket on the couch, and yet still she couldn't focus. Colleen shuffled around, trying to get more comfortable as she focused her eyes back on the pages of this particular romance novel.

But as she tried to read, the words just seemed to melt off the page.

Her ears perked up.  Now she realized exactly what was bothering her.

For whatever reason, there was no booming music coming from Michael's room. The apartment was so silent, and she knew for a fact he had come straight home after school. Unsure of what to do with herself, Colleen looked around, then back down at her book.

She sighed heavily in the next moment, throwing her book to one side of the couch in frustration.

It dawned on her just how used to Michael's loud music she had become, and just how empty everything felt without it.

Colleen leaned back, her black hair falling to one side as she momentarily stared up at the ceiling.

"Hey Mike." she called out loudly, though not moving an inch. "You okay in there?"

No answer.

Colleen sat up, and in a few strides she was at Michael's door. His enormous poster of the Bee Gees seemed to serve as impromptu doormen as she debated knocking first.

It was a short debate. Colleen slowly opened Michael door, and was met with the sight of him sitting cross-legged on his shag rug.

His back was facing her and he was completely silent, save for the faint sound of music coming from his headphones. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and clearly Colleen could see a sheen of sweat that could only have come from strenuous exercise.

Colleen was a moment away from apologizing for bothering him in what looked like a private moment, when Michael's whole body gyrated in one smooth motion. With all the grace of a gymnast, he flipped himself onto one arm, eyes still closed as he focused on his music and nothing else.

Despite how lazy she'd often seen her brother act, his abdomen didn't quiver for a moment as he kept the handstand. Michael now blinked, noticing her and smiling wide in response.

"Oh hey Colleen!" he exclaimed, before pushing back with all his might. With a quick back flip, he was back on his feet.

"What's up?" he then asked, stretching his arms up high as he exhaled from the previous strain.

"Didn't mean to bother you.  You working out for dance club again this year?"

Michael's mind fizzled for a moment, delaying his response.

"Dance club..." he said sort of flatly, only to catch himself a moment later.

"Yeah! Dance club, of course! I can't be slacking on dancing. I mean, it's like the only thing I'm good at."

Colleen smiled before messing with his hair. "That and being a real pain in the butt. But it's nice to see you doing something else besides being holed up in your room, little brother."

Colleen's nose twitched uncomfortably once she picked up the general scent of his room.

Even he wasn't so oblivious to not know what she was thinking.

Michael grinned. "Probably need a shower, don't I?"

"You think?" she replied, heading back out the door as he closed it behind her. He heard her yell from outside though as he searched his room for a serviceable towel.

"Try not to be out too late tonight, Mike!"

Michael was only half-listening at this point.

"No worries, Colleen." he replied, though probably not loud enough for her to hear him.

With the towel hung over his shoulder, he grinned to himself at the thought of his recent success.

For the past hour he'd had Canned Heat on constant loop, and not once did his subconscious tap into the song effect, even when his mind wandered aimlessly while he practiced his dancing.

It had been one month since Kim had caught Calvin tailing them in Central Park. From their few training sessions, with Aeris still showing up to watch, Kim had made it abundantly clear to Michael that he was still awful in a fight.

As Michael stepped out of his room and into the shower, he mentally recounted the events of the past few weeks.

The cool warm water shrunk his afro into curls with its spray.

Even after texting him twice, Michael was once again reminded that he hadn't heard from Calvin since they'd last seen each other in September.

Whatever Last Record was, Michael still had no clue. And Kim had proven to be no help as well, since she either avoided the question or simply didn't know the few times he had asked her about it.

Michael winced as the water hit his inner thigh, reminding him of the nasty bruise he'd gained from messing up a handstand.

He'd gotten better, but every time Michael went up against Kim during training, it seemed like it was never enough.

He put a hand against the porcelain tile wall, letting the soothing water run down his back. He didn't even want to begin to think about what would happen if Aeris decided to show everyone what she could really do. More than anything, Michael Kay didn't want to be the group embarrassment in all this.

A few minutes later, Michael's shower was done, and he went about the usual ritual of drying out his impressive orb of hair. He glanced at his phone more than once as he inspected himself in the mirror.

Any hope of it buzzing with a response from Calvin was dashed quickly though.

Annoyance building, Michael's mind slipped as he forgot where he'd left his hair pick. He rummaged through the counter drawers, some of which clearly hadn't been opened in years.

Finally, Michael spotted the elusive orange implement. Grabbing it impatiently, he was almost so fast about it that he didn't notice a dusty set of photos underneath.

MIchael's eyes widened in an instant. He snatched them up, scanning them like they were classified information.

One was of Colleen when she looked about his age, clad in a green cardigan and her expression making it seem like she didn't have a care in the world.

The second showed two people he didn't recognize; a young woman with mocha skin and long, curly hair, and a young beanie-wearing man who sported a small mustache.

But it was the last picture that mattered the most. It was both of those people, but between them stood Rob, his cap pulled down, bass guitar case slung over his shoulder, and a surprisingly calm smile on his face.

They were standing right outside the door of a lit nightclub, one that Michael vaguely remembered passing by with his uncle at some point in the distant past.

The photo was an old Polaroid, and written at the bottom was a date and a few words.

Jamiroquai at the Supper Club

NYC, 8/22/1993

That would have been cool enough, but what really caught Michael was the two words below that. They were simple, seemingly innocuous, but they stuck in his mind in an instant. He spoke them out loud.

"...Audio Knights."

It was like hearing the words Last Record all over again. His mind couldn't take the unknown implications. Then the obvious hit him like an oncoming train.

Could Rob have been a Music Master too?

Michael wanted to punch himself for not realizing the notion sooner. How could he have been so blind?  It all made so much sense now.

A mixture of excitement and impatience washed over Michael Kay. Ignoring his hair for the moment, he instead grabbed for his phone, beginning to text furiously.

He wondered if he was going to regret this. Kim wasn't going to be happy, but he was more anxious than he was afraid of the consequences.

Sending the dreaded triple text, Michael set his phone down, went back to his hair, and hoped for the best.

-----

Her fist slammed square into his jaw, and Michael slid back as he struggled to stay standing from both the impact and the pain. Canned Heat flared hot on his heels, singing the rock below.

"You sure you're not enjoying this too much, Kim?" Aeris remarked as she watched the two of them spar, legs curled up to her chest to help warm her from the cold night.

Kim simply cracked her knuckles as she allowed Michael a moment respite. "After four weeks of the same thing? I wish I could say I was."

"Hey, that was a cheap shot!" Michael argued, before surging forward with a burst of Canned Heat. Unfortunately for him, his frustration caused him to forget his surroundings.

He made it about four feet before one of Walking Disaster's hydra-arms grabbed onto his leg and threw him to one side.

Kim just crossed her arms in response. "What do I keep telling you? There are no cheap shots."

Thrown by the arm, Michael flailed wildly towards Aeris. Luckily for her, he'd gone through this more than once now.  He was just a mere two feet from her before he  was able to just barely land on one arm, transitioning into a handstand and then back upright.

"Now that's what I like to see. Less complaining, and more of that." Kim remarked, before she willed the clawed arms to surge around her like striking serpents bent on the attack.

Finally though, it seemed the hours of working on his reflexes and dancing seemed to pay off for Michael Kay. He spun around with the beat of his song, dodging grasping purple claws in the process. Some came from the front, and Michael quickly moonwalked a few steps back just out of their reach. When they came from the side, he did the limbo to slide right under without even breaking a sweat.

And in that perfect moment, when all six of Kim's summoned hydra-arms were jumbled together like a canopy, he focused everything into his right hand. A beam of red-orange thermal light sliced through all six in one destructive motion, as Michael rolled underneath, stopping right in front of Kim.

His hand was right above her chest, still pulsing with heat, as her musical constructs fell apart behind him and dissipated into nothingness.

Kim was speechless for the moment, but Aeris, not so much.

"Now that's how it's done!  Way to go, Michael!" she cheered excitedly. Smiling in response, Michael moved his hand away from Kim's front, and for once, even she seemed somewhat impressed.

"Huh. Not bad." she said simply, cracking a slight smile. And once he heard clapping, Michael's smile just grew that much wider.

Unfortunately, any hint of happiness on Kim's face sank beneath the ocean once Michael's one-man audience began to speak.

"Not bad? Really, Kim, you give Mike here so little credit. That was a veritable stomping if I've ever seen one." Calvin said plainly as he now stood right beside Aeris. He smirked with the same smug look that Kim remembered from four weeks ago, which only ignited her anger at his mere presence further.

"I'll show you a stomping!  You don't listen very well, do you?" she growled with fury, going headlong for Calvin.

Michael was quick to put his non-heated hand on her shoulder though, speaking quickly lest she lash out.

"Hey, cool it for a second!  I invited him."

Kim turned, her growl directed at Michael. "You what?"

Calvin interjected though, his tone lowering to his best mediator voice.

"Relax, I didn't come here to start a fight. Mike asked me to come, so I came."

Calvin addressed Michael now, his tone apologetic. "My bad for missing your texts. I had some phone issues."

Of course, the truth couldn't have been further. By ignoring him all these weeks, Calvin had pretty much guaranteed that Michael's impatience would get the better of him.  Because of that, he had gained his opportunity to squeeze into their little group.

"No worries." Michael said, though he could still feel the tension on Kim's shoulder. "There's some stuff I still wanted to ask you about anyway."

Calvin put one finger in the air, feigning his memory just coming back to him.

"Last Record, right!" he quipped, snapping his fingers. "Well, I'm here now, and I'll be happy to stick around."

Kim still continued to shoot her death glare straight at him however, but Calvin looked down at Aeris instead.

He smiled. "That is, if I'm wanted here."

Finally speaking, Aeris seemed oddly comfortable with the whole situation.

"I mean, is it really that big of a deal?" she asked innocently. Part of her just wanted to stop the fire before it started, but another part of her wanted Calvin to stay. For what reason, perhaps even she didn't want to admit that to herself.

Kim was clearly surrounded. She prepared to bark a nasty response, until she looked back at Michael and he cued those sad eyes and that somewhat unsure smile. Though her expression didn't immediately change, it was at that point that she instantly saw Seth in him yet again.

Who was she kidding?

She had seen her older brother in him since day one.

Otherwise, she would have beat him into the dust when they first fought in that back alley. And she certainly wouldn't have offered to teach him like this. She was using her valuable time on this afro-headed idiot and clueless country girl, and now Michael wanted to add this obvious con artist to the mix?

Michael's expression still didn't change though, and his tone of voice was as welcoming as always.

"Come on, Kim. Can you let it go, just this once?"

The tension dissipated as Kim's anger began to subside. She smirked back at Calvin, rubbing her chin as she realized that the least she could do was take advantage of the situation.

"Okay." she began. "You can stay."

Calvin nodded, unsurprised. "I appreciate it. So Mike, about Last Record, let me tell y-"

"On one condition." Kim added, much to everyone's surprise. She stepped aside, her hand out towards Michael as she allowed him a path to pass across the rock face.

"Let's see how you do against Afroboy here. Maybe he can wipe that smug look off your face for me."

Calvin, for once, was a bit taken aback. Did she seriously think that this guy would even so much as touch him?

Nevertheless, he did have an audience now. This was his chance to make that good first impression.  

Meanwhile, Michael seemed instantly disappointed.  If this was the only way to get Calvin to stay, then it seemed Last Record would have to wait.

"Alright." Calvin agreed, rotating one shoulder as he whipped out his music player. "If that's what it takes."

With a click, he had his song of choice going. And for once, Michael recognized it. The synthesized noise reverberated in the air, its lyrics ever so catchy as the neon effect formed around Calvin's outstretched hand.

-----

-----

They were but two-dimensional squares, though they came in all sorts of bright colors and each one pulsed to the beat of his music. As Daft Punk's Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger swarmed around his palm, Calvin just bled confidence in both his posture and expression.

"Make me proud, Michael." Kim suggested, patting him hard on the back as he activated Canned Heat. His heels flared up, but Calvin didn't seem too worried. He addressed Aeris one more time with a wink.

"Wish me luck."

She didn't say a word, but it was becoming increasingly obvious by the smile that crept up on her face that there might be something just a little charming in those blue eyes of his.

Both Michael and Calvin dashed forward, and Kim was quick to make it to the safety of where Aeris was watching, as red-orange heat and colored cubes roamed in the night air with reckless abandon.

The punk girl didn't say a word, but Kim couldn't hide herself this time. On her face was a relaxed, somewhat carefree expression that seemed so unlike her. For the moment, she wasn't pissed, or angry, or even annoyed.

Aeris smirked to herself at the sight. Unfortunately for her, Aeris let out a stifled laugh.

"I heard that." Kim murmured, though her expression didn't change.

"Sorry. It's just nice to see you like this." Aeris observed, watching the fight continue to unfold. Though Michael was fast, especially with Canned Heat, it seemed there was more to Calvin than he let on. He moved with surprising grace, almost like he was used to it all.

"Don't get used to it." Kim was quick to point out, though her tone said otherwise. "My money's on Afroboy, by the way."

Aeris didn't respond this time, and Kim left it at that. She noted the twinkle in her eye as the blond girl focused on Calvin in particular.

Nevertheless, for the first time in a long time, Kim just let it be.

And if she didn't know any better, when she watched Michael flash a grin as he deftly dodged Calvin's projectiles, she almost thought she saw Seth.

It was a strange, but comforting thought.

And for once, comfort was all Kim Ramone needed right now.

-----

For Renaldo, there were few things scarier than being in a Symphon waiting room and to be constantly glared at by the First Beat on reception duty.

But at least Helia was elsewhere.

He sat alone in a pristine white chair, with nothing more than a small table and other empty seats to keep him company. With both hands clasped together, he could do nothing more than wait.

They had failed in their task to retrieve Kim Ramone, but worse still, he had chickened out at he last second. By now, Renaldo had resigned to his fate, and knew for a fact that Helia was going throw him under the bus for everything. He was her trainee after all, it only made sense.

Renaldo could only pray silently as he hoped that the worst thing to happen to him today would be nothing more than Helia verbally abusing him as usual.

Meanwhile, just a short walk and a few doors down, Helia sat in a dimly lit room, having just finished giving her report.

Her superior liked it dark, and so his face was all but hidden. A loud squawk erupted from his direction, as a crow ruffled its wings on his shoulder.

He finally spoke, having been listening intently for five minutes straight.

"So that's everything then?"

His voice was like velvet, but there was a sinister quality to it that made even Helia visibly uncomfortable.

"Yes." she repeated. "Everything."

He laughed. "You know, most First Beats don't just admit to failure."

"I would have stayed and finished the job." she clarified again, though there was shakiness clearly in her voice.  She debated blaming Renaldo again, but something told her that might not be too smart in this situation.

"I'm sure you would have. Fortunately for the both of you, it turns out something useful came out of it all. The boy with the afro you mentioned is of particular interest."

"He was using disco music. He's clueless though. I can't imagine there's anything to worry about."

The man just laughed, spreading his arms out on his desk. Black and red-stoned rings were present on his fingers, and a large amulet of unknown origin hung down from his neck.

His crow squawked again with what seemed like impatience.

"You're right. For you, at this moment, there's nothing to worry about." he continued, his threat just so thinly veiled.

"But for this Music Master, it's a different story. We all remember Last Record after all.  Quite a tragedy it was."

Helia's heart was now practically in her throat. Renaldo was lucky to be waiting outside.

"O-Of course."

"And more importantly." he finished, his words coated with venom. "Because of that tragedy, we all know how Zero Beat feels about disco music.  There can be no exceptions."

Turning to his shoulder, he put on a mocking tone of sorrow, rubbing on the belly of his crow with one ringed finger.

"What a poor, poor boy..."

-----

WHITE KNUCKLE RIDE:

END

-----

Fast forward to the next track...

[unforgivablekrp-blog]

       THE SHRIEKING HARPY HAS THE SCOOP ON                                the infamous yi siwoo !

— DID YOU KNOW?

Here’s what our columnist found out about this 23 year old...

blood status: halfblood lineage: werewolf occupation: alternate chaser for the dashing dokkaebi residence: mudang-ri wand: hawthorn wood & thestral tail hair faction: neutral alignment: n/a organization: dashing dokkaebi silhak speciality: active magic sejong major: did not attend

— EXCLUSIVE INFORMATION!

Inside resources have said Siwoo...

smells the sun on his skin, honeysuckle, and clean linen upon taking amortentia sees mauled bodies when facing a boggart conjures a panther when performing expecto patronus.

— HISTORY EXPOSED!

( there once was a boy who cried wolf.

– days pass,

                    but no one comes to save him. )

i.

it starts like this: with a boy curled up on his mother’s lap, the sunset glow washing the floor a warm lemonade pink, and the soft lilt of a woman’s voice as she reads from a storybook.

“eomma,” he interrupts, a yawn threatening to spill from the edge of his lips. “what if the knight doesn’t get there in time?”

she pauses. tucks a lock of hair behind his ear as she mulls over his words carefully before coming to a conclusion that she’s happy with. she leans in close, storybook ending long forgotten.

“that’s easy, siwoo-ah. you’ll just have to save yourself.”

ii.

a letter arrives.

in all purposes, it looks unassuming- hidden amongst the rest of the bills- that his mother doesn’t even notice it at first. but as she flips through the mail, she stops on it, eyes scanning the return address.

later that day, when his mother comes to tuck him into bed, she lingers after giving him his good night kiss on the forehead. “siwoo-ah, you got something in the mail today.” her voice is hushed as she hands him the letter, and he blinks with wonder in his eyes as his mother reads him the contents inside it.

magic.

she tells him, almost ruefully, that his father was a wizard, but she fell in love with him anyways.

“where is he now?” he asks, barely a whisper. he remembers him in fragments; a foggy distant memory of clean aftershave and a gentle smile. he knows better not to ask where his father is, but curiosity creeps up on him and won’t let go.

her face shutters, and she folds her hands together in her lap. “dead,” she says truthfully, “your father… was a good man. he died doing what he loved.”

he nods, pretending that he understands. there will be years ahead of him to understand what his father died fighting for.

iii.

yi siwoo is thirteen years old; brash and knuckleheaded, ready to fight anyone who mutters about his blood status or about his muggle mother. his magic is volatile at best, and his temperament often gets the best of him in fights, ending in bloody brawls and split lips.

he’s thirteen years old and angry at the injustice in the world, and his hands itch to do something, anything. he gets held back by a teacher after school, someone he doesn’t recognize. he glares and juts out his chin defiantly.

“woah there, kid, i’m not trying to start a fight with you,” the teacher says gruffly. “don’t you have anything better to do than picking fights all the time?”

he shakes his head. swallows the metallic taste in his mouth bitterly. the teacher lets out a harumph, and only now does he realize it’s the quidditch coach.

iv.

quidditch is exhilarating. he lets out a loud whoop as he spins in the air on a secondhand broom and closes his eyes, letting the wind blow through his hair and make his shirt billow out behind him.

coach tells him to channel his anger into something else and be useful for once. that he could be a good quidditch player if he puts his effort into it.

for once, siwoo sees a bright future ahead of him.

v.

it ends like this: with a full moon overhead, heedless chattering as his mother asks how he’s doing at school, as they walk home during christmas break.

he’s in the middle of explaining to his mother how he almost fell off his broom during a game, a near miss with a bludger, when he hears a low growl. something inhuman.

it’s the middle of the night, and he’s walking home with his mom arm in arm after eating some delicious ddeokbokki when they’re both being pulled into a dark alleyway.

it’s dark, but the image is unmistakable. snarling, baring teeth as saliva trickles down through matted fur and the one single minded thought of werewolf.

he’s too caught off guard, doesn’t have his wand on him and-

they both get bitten.

he survives.

his mother does not.

vi.

he gets bitten at the age of seventeen, and his whole world is thrown into a loop.

he’s walking down the street, hands in his pockets, when he hears a plea for help. and he stops, because this scene reminds him exactly of what happened a few months ago, and he can’t help but compare the voice to his mother.

suddenly he’s running towards the back of a shady bar to find a girl surrounded by leery looking men. he doesn’t even think, just taps one of them on the shoulder, and when they turn around, punches them square in the nose.

it’s a moonless night and suddenly he’s thirteen again fighting school bullies, vision filled with red, until he and the girl are the only ones standing.

he looks up, barely registers that his head is bleeding. tries to get the words out as his chest heaves up and down. “are you okay?” he finally asks, voice sounding foreign to his own ears. but she’s looking at him like she’s scared.

like he’s a monster.

vii.

the national korean magical council get wind of his “accident.”

they summon him before them to talk about it.

and he’s scared, downright terrified of what they might do. but perhaps, he looks too sorry in the state he’s in right now: right eye swelled shut, the downtrodden look of his general appearance- someone who has clearly given up. but perhaps, because this is his first major offense, they won’t throw him into prison right away. he doesn’t know why he thinks this. doesn’t know why he’s clinging onto that small glimmer of hope right now. clearly he’s a lost cause.

but perhaps, they don’t think so, because instead of locking him up behind bars, they recommend him a psychiatrist he’s required to see once a week. like they think he can get better before he can get worse.

it’s better than nothing.

on the first meeting, they sit in silence. the psychiatrist attempts to ask him questions, but it is soon too evident that he doesn’t want to be there. his thoughts are too tumultuous, too restless, that he doesn’t even know where to start if he wanted to.

siwoo wonders who will crack first.

viii.

he laughs wetly, curled up in a fetal position on his bathroom floor. relishes the feeling of the cool tile against his cheek.

days start to blur into each other and potion bottles and an empty goblet are strewn around him. reflexively, he digs his nails into his own palms hard enough to make him bleed. a reminder that he is still alive. still human.

he doesn’t know how to fix himself.

he doesn’t know if he cares enough to try.

ix.

siwoo drops out of silhak shortly thereafter. cites chronic illness as an excuse. he doesn’t know what’s the point anymore- years of learning down the drain when he can barely perform a simple healing spell without breaking into a sweat. his magic thrives off his emotions, but nowadays his mind is too clouded, like he’s wading through a never ending pool of water.

but, slowly, bit by bit, siwoo reveals small truths.

he used to go meetings without saying a word, but lately he has been talking about everything and nothing all at once. quidditch. the small stray cat that hangs out at the bottom of the steps to his apartment. how he’s scared someone might unveil his secrets.

they’re making progress, his psychiatrist says.

regardless, even if he does tell his shrink about his fears, he is still lying to himself. lying to himself that maybe it will get better, that one day he won’t go to sleep and wake up with nightmares.

because even though he can tell his pyschiatrist the truth, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to tell anyone else.

no matter how many sessions he attends and the slow progress of stiching himself back together until he can look at himself in the mirror without seeing someone else, he is still terrified of losing control.

it is like any other day when he finds himself with a potion in hand. draught of peace. taken to relieve agitation. 

daily, he decides, just to be safe. 

x.

one day, he’s contacted out of the blue. his coach back from primary school, the one who gave him his dream, sends his stats to a manager. a manager for the dashing dokkaebi who gives him an offer to try out. see what he’s made of.

he’s twenty-two and he hasn’t played quidditch in years, but his heart starts to beat faster when he gets on the broom. his wand work may be abysmal now, but this is body memory. he places a hand over his chest and listens to the steady thud like it might mean something.

they like how he plays. fast with reckless abandon like he’s not afraid to fall, like he doesn’t care if he does.

he’s rusty, but it’s something.

(somewhere,

a wolf howls.)