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justahopelessssromantic · 4 years

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Yesterday: One

A/N: Hey guys so I got this idea in my head for an Angel X OC story and it kind of just took off. I hope you all enjoy as I’m really excited for this. Hopefully maybe this will help me out of the slump I found myself in. I am still working on all my other stories and hope to have at least a request and the next part of Perfect done this week. Work has also picked up for me and looks like I have a long week ahead of me so I also may not get everything I want done. Thank you all so much for everything and all the support. I love you all and hope you enjoy ❤️😘

I want to thank @starrynite7114 and @carlaangel86 for listening and encouraging and helping me not only on this story but all of them! Your support means the world to me 🥰. And thank you so much Twinnie for sharing the song Yesterday by Leona Lewis for the inspiration for the title of this story. The song fits so beautifully 💖

*gif not mine*

word count: 5045

Angel sat at the picnic table outside of the clubhouse enjoying a quiet smoke alone. It was a fairly easy day at work with no club shit to occupy his mind. He also had not heard from Adelita all day so it seemed as if it was going to be a quiet night. He could use the break but at the same time he welcomed the noise. Part of the reason he took on so much was to keep his mind busy. It was in those quiet moments when his mind wondered too much, bringing with it the pain that always came when he thought about Juliet, when he thought about his wife.

It had been two years, five months, and three weeks since he had last seen her. It was a Friday morning. He had woken up with her in his arms like he always had, they had breakfast together, he gave her a kiss goodbye and told her how he couldn’t wait to see her that night. It was their three year anniversary. They were going to spend the evening together having a nice meal before heading to Vegas in the morning for a little get away.

It was all so normal, so perfect.

But then he ended up stuck on the other side of the border longer than he anticipated. He felt awful but she understood the club life and the responsibilities that came with it. He was sure she wouldn’t be upset. He left her a voicemail apologizing and promising to make it up to her and then rushed home as fast as he could.

When he got home everything seemed fine. The lights were off and the house just as he had left it. He assumed she had just gone to bed so he carefully and quietly made his way through the house to the bedroom and undressed before slipping under the covers expecting to find her there. He was going to pull her close and she was going to flip around and snuggle into his chest.

It’s what they always did.

But the bed was empty and she wasn’t there. He got up and searched the whole house but she was gone. Her purse was still hanging by the door, her car was in the driveway, all personal belongings were still there with no suitcases missing, and there was no damn note or signs of foul play.

It was as if she just vanished.

Some people said something horrible must have happened and other’s said she finally realized she deserved better than Angel and left him. Angel didn’t believe any of that. He held onto hope that she would come back, that all the searching would lead them to her, that they would find her. But they never did and eventually everyone else stopped looking, stopped hoping.

Maybe it was time for Angel to too.

“Hey, you ready to go to Pop’s?” EZ asked, stepping in front of Angel’s gaze.

Angel nodded getting up from his seat at the table. The brother’s tried to make it a point to go have lunch with Felipe at least once a week after EZ began prospecting for the club and the two had become busier.

Angel was thankful that EZ was out and had decided to stick around town. Despite all the resentment towards his younger brother he still loved him more than anything. It made him feel really good when EZ told him he wanted to prospect for the club, that he wanted to be a part of something that Angel was.

After everything that the Reyes family had been through it was just nice to have everyone together again.

The two pulled up in front of Carniceria Reyes backing their bikes up to the curb before turning the engines off and taking their helmets off. Angel stepped off his bike when he overheard the two women’s conversation across the street as they tried to act like they weren’t looking their way. He knew they were. Someone was always looking at him and his family like they were dirty, no good criminals.

“It’s honestly such a blessing Marisol isn’t around to see this and poor Felipe.” One of the women, probably in her fifties with a horrible Karen haircut said to her friend who looked almost like an exact copy of her as they sipped on their lattes outside the coffee shop. She was trying to keep her voice hushed as if that would matter. It didn’t, Angel already knew what so many people in this small town thought. “First his youngest kills that cop then Angel kills his wife, poor girl.”

There were the people who thought Juliet was dead and there were the people who thought she left him but worst of all were the people who thought Angel had killed her, like he would ever do that. He never once laid a hand on her and never would. She was his soulmate, the only woman he ever loved besides his mother. The fact that anyone thought he could do such a thing to her is what hurt the most, it’s what made him feel sick.

“Oh come on, you don’t know that.” Her friend said, trying to defend the boys. She had watched them grow up, they were good kids. Yes they were a part of the biker club now but that didn’t make them murderers. “Anything could have happened to her.”

Karen, or at least that’s what Angel was calling her sipped her coffee before meeting Angel’s eyes across the street. She looked away quickly ducking her head to respond to her friend. “Linda, everyone knows it’s always the spouse. There were no signs of foul play, no evidence. People don’t just up and vanish like that. He had to have done something to her and then buried her somewhere where no one would find her. People in those biker gangs do that shit all the time”

Angel clenched his jaw about ready to stomp over there when EZ grabbed his arm, keeping him back. “Don’t Angel. It’s not worth it.” He understood where his brother was coming from. He hated the looks he’d get around town and the ones his brother got too. People looked down on them and it fucking sucked but they couldn’t change their opinions on them. They knew what was true and that was all that mattered.

“We can't just let them get away with that, dragging our name through the mud and spreading their gossip. Someone has to set them straight EZ.” Angel kept his gaze on the woman across from them. He was sick of this, sick of the rumors. There was only so much he could take before he snapped again. Last time the fucker who wouldn’t shut up ended up in the hospital. “I can’t do this anymore. I didn’t fucking kill her.”

“I know, I know.” EZ tried to calm his brother down, to be the rational voice he needed. He wasn’t here for Angel when everything went down but he was going to have his brother’s back now. Angel met Juliet while EZ was in Stockton. EZ didn’t know her well but from the visits she would make and hearing about her he knew she was a great person. He also knew how much his brother loved her and how broken he was after her disappearance. “It doesn’t matter what they think. Everyone is always going to have an opinion on what happened. Just ignore them Angel.”

“It’s not that easy Ezekiel.” Angel snapped. He didn’t mean to take it out on his brother. “You don’t know what it’s like to have everyone look at you like you’re some fucking monster, to have to hear as people whisper all the horrible things you supposedly did to the one person who you loved more than anything. Yeah so you killed a fucking cop, a dirty cop at that. That’s not the same.” Maybe it was a low blow but EZ had no idea what Angel was going through. He couldn’t know what it was like to live with the constant reminder of that night, what it was like to have his whole relationship under a microscope like it was everybody’s business.

Angel sat in the small room staring past his reflection at whoever may be on the other side of the glass watching him. He had been in here for at least forty minutes. He was starting to get antsy as he tapped his rings against the table. Each moment wasted in here was a moment lost when he could be out looking for Juliet.

The door finally opened as an older gentleman with grey hair in a dark suit walked into the room. Angel sat back in his chair looking the man straight on. “Mr. Reyes, I’m detective Lawrence. I’ll be working the case on your wife Juliet Reyes.”

Lawrence took a seat across from Angel folding his hands on top of the table. “Now why don’t you tell me everything, starting from the beginning.”

“Look I’m willing to give you whatever the fuck you need to find my wife safe and alive but I don’t see why I’m here when I could be out there looking for her.” Angel said pointing to the door.

“Just have to follow up on all leads. The best way to find your wife is to start with you Mr. Reyes.”

“Angel.”

“Angel.” Lawrence corrected himself. “You knew her better than anyone right? So our best shot at finding her is you.” Lawrence gave him a forced smile. Angel Reyes had a record, was a known criminal and a member of the Mayans MC. Right now he was their number one suspect if foul play happened to be involved. “So start from the beginning Angel. Friday morning was your wife acting suspicious at all? Anything out of the ordinary?”

“No, everything was completely normal. We woke up, had breakfast like we always do and then I had to go to work early so I told her I loved her and would see her that night. She had about an hour left before work so she was going to finish grading some of her students' drawings before going in.” Juliet was a kindergarten teacher here in Santo Padre. She loved her job almost as much as she loved Angel.

“And that was the last time you saw her that day?”

“Yeah.”

“That night was your anniversary right? You said you had a trip planned for the weekend to celebrate?”

“Yes. We were going to have dinner at home and leave first thing in the morning.” Angel recalled. He was so excited to have a mini vacation with Juliet. They had been trying to get pregnant for a while and were hoping a relaxing vacation would be just what they needed with all the stress in their lives.

“But you didn’t make it home in time.” Lawrence sat back folding his hands in his lap. “Why was that?”

“I was working, ended up being later than I anticipated. I called her to let her know. Her cell went to voicemail.” Angel had called her when he got a moment alone to tell her he’d be running late. He didn’t want her to worry about him and felt terrible about being late. They had one rule. If he was going to be doing club shit then she needed to know where he was. She was a natural worrier. He never wanted to add to her worry so he promised he would inform her of everything so she never felt blindsided. “I left a message.”

“So it was your anniversary. How many years?”

“Three.” Angel was starting to get testy. He didn’t see what any of this had to do with anything.

“Three years,” Lawrence emphasized, “That’s a long time. Three years is a big deal and you bailed on her. You don’t think she’s just maybe upset? Maybe she left for your vacation herself or is with a friend.”

“She didn’t leave. She wouldn't just leave like that.” There was no way Juliet just left him. That wasn’t like her. Plus all her belongings were there. “Why would she leave without anything? Her fucking purse and everything was still at home. No,” Angel shook his head, “She wouldn’t just leave me like that. Trust me if she was upset with me she would have let me know.”

“Like on Thursday. We have a witness who says you and Juliet got into a little bit of a heated argument outside the school on her lunch break. What was that about?”

Angel chuckled bitterly. He couldn’t believe this was happening right now. He was already worn out enough with worry. Now this asshole was starting down a path he hoped he sure as hell wouldn’t. “If whoever your witness is thinks what we had was a heated argument” he knew who it was. It was Brenda he was sure. She never did like him and made it well known. “I don’t want to know what they think a fight is. We got into a minor disagreement. Nothing out of the ordinary for a married couple.” Yes things got a little heated that afternoon but they had made up that night. It was none of the assholes goddamn business.

Lawrence decided to let that slide, for now. “Okay so if she didn’t leave then what happened?”

“What else would have happened?!” Angel shouted, slamming his hands onto the table. He was over this now. “Someone must have grabbed her or something.”

“And who would do that?” Lawrence pressed him. Angel was starting to crack. If he was going to get a confession it would be soon. “Who and how? There were no signs of a struggle. You know what that tells me?”

“What?” Angel asked through clenched teeth squeezing his hands into fists.

“It tells me if something did happen to her, it was someone she knew, someone close to her. Someone who she shared everything with.” Lawrence leaned back onto the table towards Angel. “Someone she trusted, who she loved enough to marry.”

“What the fuck are you saying?” Angel’s chest started heaving as he did everything in his power to not deck this mother fucker right here and now. “You think I did something to her?”

“Statistically speaking it's usually the spouse. Maybe you came home, she was naturally upset, things got physical. You love her. I can see that.” He was just trying to get a reaction from Angel, anything that would make him slip up. “You didn’t mean to hurt her, it just happened.”

Angel wanted to lunge at him but instead he just stared him down never breaking the hold he had on his eyes. “I’ve never laid a fucking hand on my wife. Maybe you should look at her psychotic ex. You know the one she had to get a fucking restraining order against?”

“Mr. Reyes, we are following up on all leads. How about you let me do my damn job?” Lawrence barked back at him.

“Maybe I would if you were fucking doing it well. You’re wasting precious fucking time breathing down my neck when you could be out there, I could be out there!” Angel shouted, “Looking for my wife!”

“If you weren’t home then where exactly were you? Do you have an alibi Mr.Reyes?” Lawrence asked. Angel said he was working late but he knew the scrapyard wasn’t open that late. What else could he have possibly been doing so late? Sounded like a good excuse to Lawrence. “Where were you Angel?”

Angel couldn’t exactly say where he was or what he was doing without possibly incriminating himself and the club. They were on the other side of the border doing a drug run. That did not really provide a good alibi for Angel. Angel knew he was in a real fucking tight spot. “I want my lawyer.” He wasn’t going to give them any more, especially if they weren’t going to be helping him.

Angel sat at the table outside the Carniceria with Felipe and EZ enjoying their lunch. The sun was out only adding to the heat Santo Padre usually experienced. Angel finished his burrito wiping his mouth on his napkin and sitting back as he looked at the various shops across the street. Thankfully the two women decided to leave rather than watch the Reyes boys and their poor father.

Sometimes Angel really fucking hated living in a small town where everyone knew everyone.

“So EZ tells me you have a date tonight,” Felipe spoke, gaining Angel's attention.

“Yep,” Angel said. He didn’t really have much to say about it. Quite frankly he had debated bailing more than once but he wouldn’t do that to Sierra. Gwen, Juliet’s best friend and partner in crime had been trying to set him up for months now insisting that he should move on, that that’s what Juliet would want but he just never could. Now EZ had joined in with trying to play matchmaker. Eventually Angel gave in agreeing to one date but nothing more.

Sure he had been with other women, mostly just sex with the girls from Vicky’s but that was different. The sex was meaningless, a way to fill the empty void inside him, but an actual date that meant something more. Going on a date symbolized the start of something new, a future for him without Juliet. It felt like if he took this next step he’d be giving up on her and any hope that she was coming back.

But it has been two years now. Was it really so wrong for him to try to move on?

“How come you never dated after mom?” Angel asked Felipe. It was a question that had been on his mind, especially after he experienced a similar loss to his father.

“Your mother was the love of my life and still is,” Felipe told his boys. He didn’t often talk about Marisol to his sons. Even eight years later it was still hard but Angel needed to hear this. “It just never felt right but you’re still young Angel. You have the chance to start over, to have a family of your own. Juliet would want that for you.”

Everyone was constantly telling him what Juliet would want like they would know. The thing is they didn’t know. No one knew her like Angel did. They shared everything, told each other things they’d never tell another soul.

They were soulmates.

But maybe this time they were right. Maybe this was what she wanted.

Angel checked himself out in the full length mirror on the closet in his bedroom. He was wearing a green plaid button up and his best pair of black jeans. He felt weird standing here in his bedroom getting ready for a date with someone that wasn’t his wife. He didn’t know exactly how to feel but he knew this was the right time to start. He’d never feel completely ready. It was just something he had to do, to rip the band-aid off and get back out there.

“I always loved that shirt,” He could hear Juliet saying, could see her standing behind him in the mirror. “It’s okay baby. I’m gone and I’m not coming back. You deserve to be happy. I want you to be happy.” She smiled, the one that shined so brightly reaching all the way to her eyes, the one that always made him feel lighter.

This is what she would want.

He took a shaky breath, smiling as he fixed his hair up quickly. He would do it for her. He would do anything for her. With a spritz of his cologne he gave himself one last once over before heading out to the living room where his audience was waiting. “Well, how do I look?” He asked, holding his arms out.

“Like an ass in a green shirt,” EZ grinned from his spot on the couch. Angel flipped off his brother while Serena, Gwen’s five year old daughter whacked EZ on the arm.

“Hey you be nice to uncle Angel!” She shouted defending her favorite Uncle. Angel and Juliet were her godparents and spent a lot of time helping out as much as they could with Serena after her father bailed on her and Gwen. It wasn’t difficult, they both fell in love with the little girl instantly. The time they spent watching her grow up is what pushed them to start thinking about a family of their own. Angel only wished Juliet was here to see the sweet little girl Serena had grown into.

“Thanks princesa” Angel chuckled, leaning over and pulling her into a hug as she jumped off the couch and into his arms.

“I think you look beautiful.” She mumbled into him as she squeezed her little arms around his neck.

Once Serena pulled away from the embrace Angel stood up meeting Gwen’s smile. She stood up off the couch coming over to Angel and straightened out his shirt that her daughter had now wrinkled up. “The most beautiful man,” she teased, smoothing out the last of the wrinkles. “You look great Angel. This is going to be good for you.” She knew Angel had doubts about dating but he couldn’t go on like he was. She loved her best friend more than anything but Juliet wasn’t coming back. If she was alive out there somewhere she would have at least contacted Gwen somehow. That told her that chances were she wasn’t alive.

Angel became like family to her. She came to love him just as much as Juliet. They were family. After Juliet disappeared they became each other’s rock through the hard time. They both lost the most important person in their lives. It was good to have someone who could really relate to what they were going through.

“It’s time.” Gwen smiled up at him giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“You look good Angel.” EZ joined the three giving Angel a hug. They were all here for Angel. This was a big step he was taking. “Now you better get going before you are late. That wouldn’t look very good for your first date.”

“Right.” Angel nodded. He didn’t need to be late on his first date and he had one stop he had to make before he went. He gave them all a smile ruffling Serena’s hair before he headed for the door.

“Wait!” Serena called out chasing after him. Angel turned around taking the small tin she extended out to him. “They’re mints so your breath doesn’t smell icky with smoke.”

Angel shook his head chuckling. Serena was honest for sure and always made her displeasure with his smoking known. “Thank you.” He leaned over kissing her forehead before heading out.

On his way to his date at the bowling alley he stopped at the playground just a few blocks away from Santo Padre Elementary. Angel made his way over to the swing set on the far north side of the park. The park was one of three around town this one being the biggest one.

Angel took Juliet here for their first official date and after that night under the stars it became their spot. It was here where she first started letting her walls down around him. She came to Santo Padre to stay with Gwen after escaping her then husband, James.

That night she told him a little about James. From that day on Angel wanted to kill that asshole and swore to her and himself he would never treat her as such. With him she would always be safe. He only wished he was able to keep her safe as he had promised.

Angel sat on the swing he used to push her in twisting his wedding band around his finger. He smiled to himself remembering the carefree feeling being here together always brought. It was the little things between them. They didn’t have much but as long as they had each other they would be set for life.

“Fuck I miss you Jules.” Angel sighed, swinging lightly back and forth. “I miss you so fucking much. I’m lost without you. You were my everything. I’m not ready to let you go, not fully, but I have to do something. You’d want me to move on, right?” He looked up at the pink sky as the sun set. Sunset’s were always her favorite thing. Juliet loved sitting outside watching the colors of the sky change before the darkness took over and the stars began shining.

“I love you, mi amor,” he murmured as he slipped the band off his finger. “This isn’t goodbye, just see you later. You’ll always hold my heart but it’s time. It’s been long enough.” Angel ran his hand through his hair trying to calm the growing ache in his chest. “You aren’t going to come back, I know that. I just hope wherever you are you’re resting easy. We’ll meet again.” Angel brought the wedding ring to his lips giving it a kiss before he slipped it into the pocket of his kutte above his heart. “I can’t wait to see you again.”

****

The guy’s were all hanging around outside the clubhouse the next day towards the evening. They just got back from a short run and were enjoying a nice smoke and beer before heading home just enjoying each other’s company.

“So?” Gilly nudged Angel’s shoulder with his beer wiggling his eyebrows.

“So what?” Angel asked, giving him a look.

“How’d the date go?” They were all wondering how it went but were waiting for Angel to bring it up himself which so far he had yet to do.

“Alright,” Angel shrugged, taking a swig of his beer.

“Just alright?” Creeper asked from over at the picnic table. “That’s all we’re going to get?”

“What, you guys want to hear all the details like we’re a bunch of teenage girls at a slumber party?” Angel mocked them. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to share there just was not much to share. They hung out for a couple hours, talked a little and then said their goodbyes. There was no spark or anything making Angel want another one. At least not with her.

“Did you at least get good head or something?” Coco asked, leaning his back against the table. “I heard Sierra gives great fucking head.” He chuckled along with the others.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Angel laughed with them. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

“Really? Does that mean there’s not going to be a second date?”

“No second date.” Angel admitted. “We just didn’t click.” She just wasn’t Juliet. “She’s free game.”

“Well I’m proud of you hermano, for putting yourself back out there.” Coco said, raising his beer up in a toast to his brother. They all took a drink for Angel. It was a big step, one they thought he may never take. They were glad to see Angel at least trying.

“Fuck. Now that Angel’s back in the game we’re all going to have to step up our game.” Gilly commented.

“Like you had any game to begin with,” Angel teased, laughing with the guys.

Bishop came out of the clubhouse looking for Angel. He just got off the phone with one of their brothers from another charter with information that would change everything. He smiled watching the guys joke around and laugh. Working with the cartel added extra stress to the men. They didn’t have as many light moments as these.

“Angel,” Bishop called out from the top of the steps. “Can I have a moment?”

“Sure thing Prez,” Angel called back, releasing Gilly from the headlock he had him in now. He gave Gilly a pat on the back before following Bishop into the clubhouse and to Templo.

Bishop stood by Angel’s chair. “You might want to take a seat for this brother.” Bishop’s face was dead serious making Angel’s smile drop instantly. Angel did as was suggested as his mind began racing. His first thought was somehow Bishop found out about his deal with the rebels but then he figured he wouldn't be here if that was the case.

“What’s going on Bish?” Angel asked cautiously. Whatever it was he had a feeling it was not going to be good.

“I just got a call from one of our brothers in Arizona,” He started sitting down as well. “It’s about Juliet.” They had eyes out for her even after all these years. Until they had some solid evidence of what happened to her Bishop wasn’t going to give up. Juliet wasn’t just Angel’s wife but a part of the family. They all hurt when she went missing and they all felt for Angel and all the pain he endured the last two years. “Two hunters found her in Prescott National forest.”

Angel’s heart stopped. He knew this day would come eventually but he wasn’t ready for it so soon. He didn’t want to hear this. He didn’t want to believe it. Thinking she was dead and knowing were two very different things. With just thinking there was at least a sliver of hope that she could be alive and well out there. Angel stood up from his chair. He couldn’t hear this. “I can’t Bish.”

He went to leave when Bishop caught him by the arm. “She’s alive, Angel.”

Angel must have misheard. He turned back around, his face scrunched up. “What?”

“She’s alive. She’s in the hospital up there. I guess she took a bit of a tumble.” Bishop said recalling all the information he was given. “They are going to have a couple of the guys posted there until you get there.”

“She’s alive?” Angel still couldn’t believe it.

“She’s alive,” Bishop grinned, pulling Angel into a tight hug. Bishop pulled back holding the back of Angel’s head doing the best to keep his own tears at bay as the younger man’s tears fell off his lashes. “You go get your wife and you bring her home.”

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#angel reyes #angel reyes x oc #angel reyes fanfic #angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes fic #mayans mc #mayans mc fanfic #yesterday

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juliaisabellphoto · 3 years

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My 2020 Albums of the Year

Never requested, always provided. Here are my favorites of 2020. Here’s the playlist.

The Secret Sisters, Saturn Return

As soon as I saw “Water Witch, featuring Brandi Carlile” on this tracklist I knew that the Secret Sisters would be a favorite of 2020. In February, I was staying with a friend in Nashville and she mentioned them as a local favorite, and when I stopped at Grimey’s to shop for records I came upon a signed copy of “Saturn Return.” I had never heard the Secret Sisters before, but there is nobody I trust more to recommend music than this Nashville friend of mine, so I bought it. I made no mistake here: this record blew me away. The soft, soulful, lullaby of “Healer in the Sky” pulled me through the pain of the first month of quarantine and soothed me as the world was turned upside down. In reading more on the record, this seems to have been the point: they say, “this album is a reflection of us coming to terms with how to find our power in the face of an unfair world… our hope is that women can feel less alone in their journey through the modern world.” There is something in the caramel-thick sweetness of these sisters’ voices that makes a listener feel as though they’ve been bewitched into calm. When I think of this album, I think of the cross-country drive I took at the beginning of the pandemic to make my way home and the happy moments that can be found in darkness. No album touched my heart this year in the way that “Saturn Return” did.

Taylor Swift, Folklore and Evermore

Taylor Swift… can even be said? Somehow, while we all sat on our couches in quarantine, this woman created not one but two musical masterpieces. She begins “the 1” by stating “I’m doin good, I’m on some new shit,” and that says a lot about the album as a whole. She created the 2020 we all wish we experienced: soft, sweet, and gentle. Listening to Folklore feels like visiting a cabin in the woods, with a fireplace well lit. Swift tells winding stories of love, hardship, and mystery and tenderly walks us through the forest of her imagination. This magical feeling was amplified by her release of The Long Pond Studio Sessions, a film in which Swift, Jack Antonoff, and Aaron Dessner finally play the album together for the first time after recording it entirely remotely. The setting matches the sound: they play in an album in the middle of the woods, cozy and hidden from the snow. Evermore cuts through the delicate ice of Folklore: it is the color to Folklore’s black and white. Swift combines the soft folk sound of “willow” with some of her country and Americana roots in “no body, no crime,” drawing us in once again. She includes Bon Iver singing in his lower register in Folklore and then in his falsetto in Evermore: two sides of the same magic coin. The work in these two albums is Swift’s strongest ever, and solidifies the fact that no modern artist can really reach her.

Chris Stapleton, Starting Over

Following a three-year hiatus, all lovers of southern rock deeply needed a Chris Stapleton album. In “Starting Over,” Stapleton yet again does what he does best: combines his unique whiskey-tinged growl with the best lyricism present in country music today. This record can’t be captured in any singular fashion, neither musically nor emotionally. The title track sets a high bar for the rest of the record with a reflection on re-remembering what really matters, a message certainly relevant for this turbulent year. Stapleton’s typical outlaw-country brand is present in full with “Devil Always Made Me Think Twice,” “Arkansas,” and “Hillbilly Blood,” but other songs take him in a completely new stylistic direction. “Maggie’s Song” takes on a very classic old-time country feel, as Stapleton weaves sweet and simple stories as he processes the loss of his pup. He harnesses the energy of the Chicks as he angrily lambasts the perpetrators of the 2017 mass shooting at Route 91. The song is a Stapleton-sponsored judgment day reckoning, including the cacophonic sound of a crowd in panic and the shrieks of a gospel choir. In contrast with this energetic high, Stapleton goes deep into his blues side by finally releasing “You Should Probably Leave,” a song he has been sitting on for six years. This one feels just right to sway around the kitchen to. With each listen to “Starting Over” I find new lyrics to write down and remember, new sounds to love.

Bad Bunny, YHLQMDLG

Bad Bunny. Our unproblematic reggaeton prince. In the wake of his many popular features and his collaborative album with J Balvin, Bad Bunny makes it clear that it is time for Balvin to share the throne of popular reggaeton. He features the original reggaeton king Daddy Yankee in “La Santa,” paying tribute to the very classic reggaeton style before mixing it and transcending beyond the classics in the following tracks. “Yo Perreo Sola” is the album’s standout track, accompanied by my favorite music video of 2020. The song is an ode to gender equality and the destruction of the patriarchal norms contributing to gender-based violence. “Yo Perreo Sola,” meaning “I twerk alone,” sets the overarching theme of consent present throughout the song’s lyrics. In the video, Benito’s backdrop references the Argentinian-born “Ni Una Menos” movement, a now global movement against gender-based violence. As if this wasn’t enough to make you adore him, the video further extends its activism to the LGBTQ community, with Benito appearing in full drag, in his normal attire, and at some points held in chains by women. He makes a statement about sexuality and gender expression in the video, twerking solo. The other jawdropper track on YHLQMDLG is Safaera, a perfect display of Bad Bunny’s skill in expanding the scope of reggaeton as a genre. In the same thirty seconds of the song, he subtly samples both “Could You Be Loved” by Bob Marley and the Wailers and Missy Elliot’s “Get Ya Freak On” - a segment I just can’t get out of my head. Bad Bunny’s prowess on this record is rounded out with the aggressive and prideful “P FKN R.” What a masterpiece.

Mac Miller, Circles

A posthumous record that never should have been posthumous. A companion-piece to Mac’s 2018 record “Swimming,” Circles takes a similar tone, one of resilience through pain. The title track serves as a somber introduction, followed by the funk energy of “Complicated” and the GO:OD AM energy of “Blue World.” The song that really got to me, and many other fans of Mac, was “Good News.” It is the pinnacle of Mac’s musical insight and talent. The melody matches the melancholy of the track, as Mac sings of his desire for time and space. The melancholy is matched in “Everybody” with the lines about death feeling particularly haunting in the wake of Miller’s accidental overdose. Somehow, Miller wrote the perfect eulogy for himself prior to his passing, one that will live in the hearts of his fans forever.

Kali Uchis, Sin Miedo (del Amor y Otros Demonios) ∞

I’m not quite sure what to call this record. If I just listened to “la luna enamorada,” a cover of a classic Cuban bolero, I would call it gorgeous. If I just listened to “fue mejor” featuring PARTYNEXTDOOR or “quiero sentirme bien,” I would call it sexy. If I just listened to “vaya con dios,” I would think she wrote the theme music for the next James Bond film. The bottom line of the record is Uchis’ absolute stunning use of her upper register. She hits notes that “Isolation” never would have foreshadowed, painting a dreamland for any listener. She slides back into the energy of her sophomore album in “telepatia,” but adds in moments of her new sound. She incorporates a slower reggaeton beat into no eres tu (soy yo), and dives into a heavier reggaeton sound in te pongo mal (prendelo.) My personal favorite of the record is “aqui yo mando!” with Rico Nasty: it is the perfect display of Uchis’ unique upper register combined with Rico’s trap style. Anyone passing this record up for another “Isolation” listen is missing out.

FLETCHER, The S(ex) Tapes

This record has a story like no other, coming from a woman like no other. This EP was recorded while Fletcher quarantined with her ex-girlfriend, who also happened to film all of the music videos for it. It is this messiness that makes The S(ex) Tapes absolute magic. Fletcher’s own description of the name of the release explains the situation best: “A sex tape is someone being captured in their most vulnerable, wildest, rawest form, and my ex has always captured me that way.” She captures all of the feelings of a breakup with someone you still love deeply, and the relationship relapse that comes with moving past those feelings. Fletcher’s special ability comes in representing these deeply painful experiences in an uplifting manner: this is a sexy pop EP meant to be danced to. Fletcher simultaneously validates all of the emotional tumult, but subtly nudges the listener toward blissful reckless abandon. It almost makes me wish I had a breakup to go through! The abrasive apathy of “Shh… Don’t Say It” and the flippant, angry vulnerability of “Bitter” are paired perfectly with Fletcher’s raw brand of distortion. In an interview with Nylon, Fletcher speaks to this: “Listen, I've done my fair share of just straight-up sad, crying in your bed music. I'm still going through shit, but I want to bop to it. We can still be emo and want to twerk at the same time.” Yes, Fletcher, we do.

Halsey, Manic

Prior to 2020, I wasn’t Halsey’s biggest fan. I wouldn’t have even called myself a fan. I just wasn’t that excited by her music. “I’m Not Mad” was the song that triggered a 180 for me. The heavy, dissonant kick of the drums and her raw, angry lyricism drew me in without hesitation. I suppose this was just the push I needed to fall in love with the rest of her music: the songs with similar bite, “Without Me” and “killing boys,” and the more raw side of the record in “You should be sad,” “929,” and “Graveyard.” Her vulnerability is so much of what makes this record perfect. The album fully made sense to me when I listened to her podcast feature on “Armchair Expert” with Dax Shepard. In it, she talks through the time period covered by the record and gives context to her powerful lyricism. “Manic” is a story of chasing someone she loved into drug-fueled oblivion, and then finally finding the power to leave. The album is brimming with this power, and I just can’t turn it off.

HAIM, Women In Music Pt. III

HAIM is THE soft rock band of the modern era.Women In Music Pt. III, their most mature album yet, solidified this opinion for me in a way that I didn’t expect. There is so much to be said for this record: it is innovative and skilled, with the perfect balance of softness and hardness. Though the record is one of pain and trauma, you wouldn’t know it purely from its melodies. “Don’t Wanna” is a very classic HAIM pop rock number, and “The Steps” follows suit making frustration fun to dance to. Though one may not notice at first, in this record HAIM dives deeper than ever before. “Now I’m In It” does a phenomenal job of sonically representing the feeling of being completely and utterly overwhelmed. “I Know Alone” is a beautifully intimate rainy-day account of Danielle’s struggle with depression. Then comes “3AM” - a lighthearted song about a booty call with Thundercat-type bass and an R&B vibe - just in case you didn’t already know how much range these three sisters have. Everything about this record is filled with talent.

Phoebe Bridgers, Punisher

Only Phoebe Bridgers could write a song about murdering a skinhead and fill it with nostalgia. “Garden Song,” the leading single preceding “Punisher,” foreshadowed a record that is just so very Phoebe: melancholy, vulnerable, and heart-wrenching. The eagerly awaited album certainly followed suit, with typical sad ballads “Halloween” and “Moon Song” played alongside more raucous, Better Oblivion Community Center-esque songs such as “Kyoto” and “ICU.” She goes bluegrass on “Graceland Too” with banjo, violin, and layered harmonies from boygenius collaborators Lucy Dacus and Julien Baker. In “Punisher,” Bridgers shares with us the wistful catharsis that she is so very talented at creating.

Noah Cyrus, THE END OF EVERYTHING

I always underestimated Miley’s little sister, but here I am writing about her EP before I write about Miley’s in my end of the year roundup. Every piece in this record gave me chills: Cyrus’ lower register allows her to access a somber kind of ballad that I just can’t get enough of. The record starts off at a peak with the slow burn of “Ghost” and somehow manages to get even better with “I Got So High That I Saw Jesus.” This powerful song, even better in the live version where Miley joins her younger sister, builds into an almost gospel-like ode to the idea that everything will be okay. “July,” the single featuring Leon Bridges that pushed Cyrus into the national spotlight, stands as the most beautifully layered song of the EP. The soft guitar picking and choral sound complement Cyrus’ upper register. The whole record, extending through the closing title track, is a comforting, soft emotional analgesic for 2020.

The Chicks, Gaslighter

This record is gorgeous. It is painful. The feelings Natalie Maines expresses in this record are feelings I have felt far too deeply in personal relationships, and they also are feelings everyone is feeling globally in 2020. “Gaslighter” is just straight up fun, a perfect extension of the Chicks’ energy found in “Goodbye Earl” and other older revenge numbers (but with an extra poppy Jack Antonoff twist this time.) “Tights On My Boat” is bitter, funny, and shows off Maines’ upper register with stripped guitar. “Sleep at Night” musically and lyrically embodies the pain of being betrayed. “Julianna Calm Down” is a stunning ballad of female resilience. “Texas Man” perfectly captures the bubbly feeling of moving on. “For Her” and “March March” fit in with the frustrated, betrayed, power-centered theme of the record in a very different way. The Chicks’ dualistic ability to discuss her ex-husband’s cheating alongside the band’s political views is what makes the record special: not only are we watching a woman try to move on and develop her personal strength, but we are also seeing this personal strength harnessed for political impact. They simultaneously denounce the abuse of power in both politics and relationships, while reclaiming that power for themselves in standing up for what they believe in. How very Chicks of them.

Dua Lipa, Future Nostalgia

Dua motherfucking Lipa. This woman would have been the official owner of 2020 had we been able to dance to this record at bars and clubs. This was proven ten times over by the success of the album’s first single, “Don’t Start Now,” a song that is absolutely the MOST fun. Or so I thought… until I heard “Physical,” “Levitating,” and “Break My Heart.” What poor timing for such a phenomenal dance record, but at least she gave the people some great material for Tik Tok dances! All COVID-dance-related concerns aside, this is a really well done sophomore album for Dua Lipa. The funk elements of the album most clearly seen in “Levitating” elevate Dua’s brand of pop to a new level. The all gas no brakes nature of this dance-pop record works wonders for her - she knows what the people want from her, and she delivers.

Megan Thee Stallion, Good News

THIS! RECORD! If WAP could be an album of the year, it would be, but it’s a standalone single and Megan Thee Stallion proceeded to release the next best thing. The explosion of Megan Thee Stallion has been a pleasure to watch in 2020, with both WAP and Savage leaving the charge. With an artist like her, it’s easy to get lost in the smash hits and ignore the prolific nature of her work. “Good News” is an immaculate rap album, brimming with sass and defiant bad bitch energy. “Shots Fired” kicks off the album with a Biggie sample and a diss to the man who shot her in the foot earlier in the year, personally my favorite track of the record. Other highlights of the record include “Don’t Stop” with a Young Thug feature, “Body” which is now a Tik Tok staple, and “What’s New.” Perhaps the most impressive work Megan does on “Good News” is “Girls in the Hood,” a rework of Eazy-E’s Boyz-N-The-Hood. She inverts the classic misogyny of the original song by emphasizing her control over men like Eazy-E in an indignant assertion of female power. This embodies Megan Thee Stallion’s essence: busting in on a male industry and making her presence known.

Rico Nasty, Nightmare Vacation

Nobody does it like Rico Nasty, and I’m convinced nobody ever will. I saw a New York Times headline titled “Can the Mainstream Catch Up to Rico Nasty?” the other day and I think the answer is a firm no. Rico is abrasive, rude, and outside the box in the absolute best way. Need an album to slap in the car when you’re feeling like a bad bitch? This. is. it. The record kicks off with “Candy,” a song with a wild beat and the iconic chorus line “Call me crazy, but you can never call me broke.” Following is a Don Toliver and Gucci Mane feature in “Don’t Like Me,” a song that truly should have hit the mainstream by now. She gets back to her signature scream-rap in “STFU” and “OHFR.” “OHFR” is the confident standout of the album, along with the reworked re-release of “Smack a Bitch,” making it clear that Rico Nasty is not a woman to be fucked with. In “Back and Forth” with Amine, Rico steps into Amine’s “Limbo” style and does it well. The record’s second single “Own It” is a more classic club banger that unfortunately didn’t get to see the dark of night in any clubs this year. Even if the mainstream never catches up to Rico Nasty, I’ll be following along with her self-labelled “sugar trap.”

Ariana Grande, Positions

I mean, duh. Ariana just doesn’t miss. She surprised everyone with this album’s release in Fall 2020, displaying the bliss of her relationship with later-confirmed fiance. She goes dirtier than usual in the sex-centered “34+35” and “nasty,” rounding the record out with the Craig David-reminiscent “positions.” Ariana allows herself to lust for someone and even love for them in these three, but defaults to her brimming self-confidence in “just like magic” and “west side.” The album is more R&B than pop at times, with the peak of this style visible in the groove of “my hair” and the Mariah Carey ballad-like nature of “pov.” Each album, Grande shifts just a little bit, keeping us attached: “Sweetener”’s cotton-candy pop, the savage pop-trap of “thank u, next,” and the R&B conclusion of the spectrum with Positions.

Miley Cyrus, Plastic Hearts

This year I anticipated no record more than I did “Plastic Hearts.” Its leading single, “Midnight Sky,” described by Pitchfork as a “cocaine-dusted disco track,” channels Stevie Nicks’ eighties rock-pop era in the absolute best way. Apparently this opinion was even picked up by Stevie herself, as the two collaborated on a mash-up of “Midnight Sky” and Stevie’s “Edge of Seventeen” (the excitement from which nearly led to my passing away, by the way.) Cyrus’ voice is in the perfect place on this record, with “Plastic Hearts” emphasizing her rasp and making me want to spin around a room. She dips into the pop realm in “Prisoner” with Dua Lipa, a song that Lipa clearly influences with an unforgettably sexy music video. Every song is different on this record: “Gimme What I Want” channels the grinding rock sound of Nine Inch Nails, “Bad Karma” allows Joan Jett’s punchy style to run the show, and she slips on the shoes of Billy Idol in their collaboration, Night Crawling. Somehow, Miley manages to wear the shoes well, and 80s copycat record or not, I can’t stop listening. “Never Be Me” is where she shines most deeply, baring her soul, the complicated nature of her past few years’ journey, and her knowledge of who she is and always will be for the world to hear. I’m not sure if I’m blinded to the album’s flaws by my absolute and complete love for everything about Miley’s current persona, but I am a huge fan.

Glass Animals, Dreamland

The sound of this album is such a blissful respite! Glass Animals gives us the fun and funky techno-pop that they always do, but dive into personal lyricism in a way that they never have before. Many of the songs actually have a storyline (an intentionally rare feat for Dave Bayley, first broken with the incredible “Agnes” on their last album.) This record explores trauma and pain in “Domestic Bliss” and “It’s All So Incredibly Loud,” Bayley using the soft sides of his voice to express pained desperation. The boisterous energy of the past two records is not forgotten in Dreamland’s intimacy, however: “Hot Sugar,” “Tokyo Drifting,” and “Space Ghost Coast To Coast” do the trick. “Space Ghost Coast To Coast” is the most intriguing song on the record: at first listen, I had absolutely no idea what Dave was discussing and assumed it was just his typical neuroscience-inspired ear-candy. Upon a deeper dive, the song addresses the factors that encouraged Dave’s childhood friend to bring a gun to school. He disguises a discussion of the risk factors involved in school shootings within his flowery, figurative linguistic excellence. This duality of blissful melody and solemn subject matter is the magic of Glass Animals.

Empress Of, I’m Your Empress Of

This album is an emotional electro-pop masterpiece. This record meditates on the feelings felt in the wake of a relationship’s end. She begins the album with a quote from her mother about the reality and value of struggle, then launching into a synth-filled storm of missing someone. “Love Is A Drug” is the album’s next fun dance track, addressing the addictive quality of touch after you lose someone you love and embodying the urgency of the feeling. She takes a more somber tone with the influence of Jim-E Stack in “U Give It Up,” incorporating quotes from her mother about the difficulty of womanhood and reminiscing on love lost. In “Should’ve,” the post-relationship regret is palpable in her vocal tone and production, and in “Maybe This Time” she contemplates this pain. In “Give Me Another Chance,” her emotions swing the other way, with a bouncing dance beat and pleading vocals. The album concludes with the heartfelt and pain-filled “Hold Me Like Water” and the dissonant “Awful,” leaving the listener to meditate on the mood swings of a broken relationship.

Tame Impala, The Slow Rush

This album came out so early in 2020 that it already feels like a vintage piece of music. Perhaps that was the point. Although “The Slow Rush” had a hard time living up to Kevin Parker’s last epic masterpiece “Currents,” it was the fix many fans like myself needed after five years without an LP. “Borderline,” the single that allowed anticipation of the album to build, stands out as one of the most essentially Parker tracks of the record. He introduces a little Toro y Moi style funk in “Is It True,” and highlights his voice more than usual in “Lost In Yesterday.” “Posthumous Forgiveness” builds in the wonderfully dissonant fashion that fans learned to love through “Eventually.” The bass track on “Glimmer” is so good that I never even noticed it had nearly no lyrics. This record is not groundbreaking by any standards in the way that “Currents” was, but it is intentionally jubilant and energetic in a way that still feels good. Even if he doesn’t shatter any expectations in “The Slow Rush,” Tame Impala’s tracklist still makes the perfect sunset companion.

Joji, Nectar

Joji’s “Nectar” is just that: sweet R&B nectar, from the minute the first track plays. Joji’s work here is not in the individual tracks, but in the sonic experience he creates with the album as a whole. This is not an album to pick out singles from: it is a full cinematic mood adjustment. Maybe it’s the weed I smoked when I first listened, but the record feels like a wonderful progression of gentle yet rhythmic R&B songs. The transition from the soft and contemplative “MODUS” to the more upbeat trap-infused “Tick Tock” to the full R&B ballad “Daylight” featuring Diplo raises the listener’s energy gradually to a crescendo. “Run” is a gorgeous and sad confessional of disappointment, and “Sanctuary” follows as a soft and uplifting analgesic to that pain. “Pretty Boy” and “777” mark the more upbeat section of the record, filled with Joji’s accounts of living far too fast. The tracks of this record all bleed into each other seamlessly, mixing pain and confidence in an emotional rollercoaster.

Amine, Limbo

My journey to being an Amine fan started with “Caroline,” ended with “Heebiejeebies,” and started back up again when he found depth in “ONEPOINTFIVE.” His 2020 release is exactly why I came around to his music yet again. The record is soulful and fun, with the flute and cocky lyrics in “Woodlawn” and the funky beat and Young Thug feature of “Compensating.” The two songs I absolutely can’t stop listening to however, are “Can’t Decide” and “Becky.” “Can’t Decide” highlights Amine’s singing voice and dips away from rap and trap into the more traditional R&B realm. “Becky” is an intimate account of the difficulties involved with interracial dating, both in public and in the family realm. The two sides of the album, one emphasizing rhythm and immaculate production, and the other lyricism and emotion, are found in these two songs. The punchy “Pressure In My Palms” (featuring slowthai and Vince Staples) and “Riri” round out the record’s light side. In “Limbo,” Amine finds the perfect balance.

Fleet Foxes, Shore

This album is a wave of calm. Robin Pecknold’s soothing voice is exactly what we needed more of this year. Pitchfork described his mission as “turning anxiety into euphoria,” and that is how this record feels. Each song is dynamic and filled with what makes Fleet Foxes so special. There is a choral quality to the vocals of “Shore,” as always, adding to the calm aura of the record. “A Long Way Past The Past” takes the listener on a what feels like a long walk filled with serious conversation. “Going-to-the-Sun Road,” a song that takes its name from the famous cliffside road through Glacier National Park, oozes sunshine in its Tame Impala-Bon Iver crossover sound. “Cradling Mother, Cradling Woman,” truly feels like being cradled in sound. Fleet Foxes has a knack for beginning songs by hitting the listener with a wall of sound, and that is so perfectly represented in this track. This is a seriously beautiful album.

Cam, The Otherside

Cam’s voice is irresistible. She showed her talent for sharing painful ballads in her breakthrough single “Burning House,” and in “The Otherside” she digs deeper. She writes this record in a period of change, and captures this change and dissonance in the nostalgia of “Redwood Tree.” She teamed up with Avicii for the title track before he passed away, and it shows. His signature building melodies and guitar breaks are clear, and they go perfectly with the range of Cam’s voice. She truly shows her range in this track and this record in general, from the highs in “The Otherside” and the lows of “Changes.” “Changes” is another standout of the album, co-written by Harry Styles. This record is a gorgeous account of outgrowing love and outgrowing people after the deep bliss that you felt with them in the past. “Till There’s Nothing Left” and “Classic” are the big love songs of the record, one that melts you and one that makes you want to dance in a field of flowers. The sisterly confessional “Diane” pulls Cam back to her country roots. She ends the record with what made her famous: a beautiful, sad ballad backed only by piano. Her unique vocals are on full display as the record concludes, and I couldn’t have asked for anything more.

Omar Apollo, Apolonio

Omar Apollo had his breakthrough in this record. His work spans languages and genres in a big way in “Apolonio.” “Kamikaze” and “Staybacik” stick to his typical R&B style, better produced than it ever has been. “Dos Uno Nueve (219)” goes a completely different direction, a Mexican corrido track featuring Yellow Room Music, honoring the Latinx musical styles that he expressed admiration for. Apollo also explores his sexuality in this album, fluidly discussing his bisexuality in “Kamikaze” and “I’m Amazing” in an exploratory manner. The whole album is generally quite exploratory, a quality that makes me even more excited for the work that is to come from Apollo.

Also worth mentioning:

Diplo, Diplo Presents Thomas Wesley: Snake Oil

Thundercat, It Is What It Is

Sylvan Esso, Free Love

Lauv, ~how i’m feeling~

Niall Horan, Heartbreak Weather

J Balvin, Colores

Kelsea Ballerini, kelsea

Dominic Fike, What Could Possibly Go Wrong

#music #2020

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skybound2 · 5 years

Note

David x Michael, on a road trip, arguing over music choices (or whatever permutation of that you would like to use!).

Hey, so 500 years later, I know, but I’ve written a thing! Well, several things, sorta? This is basically a series of short ficlets each focusing on a different song, but all connected, and is basically a direct follow on to the response I wrote MONTHS ago for a different prompt (You Are My Sunshine)!

THANK YOU SO MUCH for the prompt, it helped get me out of a rut, LIKE A LOT. (Also, I had a TON OF FUN thinking up songs to set each piece too :-D)

Takes place in my Walk Unafraid universe sometime after Michael has gone full vamp, and is maybe just a little bit cracky ;-P

Hope you enjoy!

Billy Idol “Rebel Yell”

Michael frowns as the first few beating notes of the song start pouring out of the speakers. Before the first line is over, he’s a freshman again, shuffling into the streamer and tinsel decorated nightmare that was his first (and last) high school homecoming dance.

He hadn’t wanted to go. Would rather have been playing chicken with his skateboard on the highway. Or at home, babysitting Sam and rewatching that movie with the talking rats for the fiftieth time.

Or working on his math homework.

Really, just about anywhere else doing anything else would have been preferable.

But he’d made junior varsity on the football team (Thanks, he’s sure, to him being a year older than the rest of the freshman class. Flunking third grade. So helpful.) and even though he hadn’t played a second of that day’s game, it had been made clear that he was expected to attend that evening’s festivities.

To support his team. And school.

Rah rah rah.

He hadn’t given a rat’s ass about any of it, not when the girl he’d been seeing (if you could call one awkward make-out session ‘seeing’) had broken things off with Michael the day before, opting to go to the dance with Michael’s friend Keith instead.

The situation might have been less of a mess, Michael suspects, if the sight of his friend and former almost-girlfriend dancing together had sparked the expected kind of jealousy for Michael.

Which of course, it hadn’t. Instead, it had dosed Michael with a confusing case of adolescent ‘what the fucks’ when he’d caught Keith and Jenny kissing mid-dance, and he’d realized just who he was jealous over.

The whole thing had gone topsy-turvy not long after, in a spectacular (sloppy, messy, pathetic) fist fight between Michael and Keith on the dance floor to the tune of that damn overplayed Billy Idol song.

Michael had been suspended for two days following the fight. Which had been fine by him, as it gave him time to first come to terms with what he’d been feeling, and then to find a careful place in his psyche to shove said feelings into, to be dealt with never.

Three years later, Michael had moved away, the bond between him and Keith forever broken.

As the memories play back in Michael’s head, Michael finds that the old agitation, that bitter ache of confusion and loss he’d always felt in the past, is muted. The scene’s a faded sort of matte gray, instead of technicolor. Like it happened to someone else, and he’s just catching the repeat on late night TV.

Which in a way, he guesses it kind of had. The person he is now so far removed from who he was then as to be unrecognizable.

Different person or not, he still hates the song. (Maybe he hasn’t changed that much.) And so Michael’s lip lifts up in a sneering approximation of the blond singer’s trademark curl as he reaches for the knob and seeks out another station.

“Hey. I was listening to that.” The complaint from the driver’s seat is annoyed but without any real heat.

Michael keeps twisting the knob, not looking at his companion, skipping over white noise in search of something - anything - else. “We’ll find something else. Can’t stand Billy Idol.”

Even though Michael knows it’s not actually possible, it feels as if the temperature inside the car drops several degrees. Shock reverberates across the link between Michael and David loud enough that it bounces Michael’s brain around inside his skull, forcing him to turn his head away from the radio towards the blond as he continues to spin the dial.

David appears downright scandalized as he stares back at Michael, eyebrows making friends with his hairline. “You can’t stand Billy Idol?”

Michael nods, head tilting at David, confused by the obvious annoyance rolling off of him.

And also a little worried by how long David has kept his eyes from the road, regretting having let the blond take over driving duties at the last gas station. “Uh, yeah. Leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Can you watch the road, David? Don’t feel like getting up close and personal with the guardrail.”

David sneers, but turns his head back to the road, grumbling incoherent words beneath his breath that, try as he might, Michael can’t pick out.

Not that it matters, as when an audible sentence finally does work its way up and out, Michael’s still as confused as when all he’d heard was gibberish. “I’ve made a mistake.”

Michael frowns. “With what?”

“Making you immortal. I can’t spend eternity with someone who doesn’t appreciate Billy Idol.”

Michael snorts, his hand dropping away from the dial when he locates something less detestable to listen to. The fast pace guitar chords and beats of Mötley Crüe playing through the speakers as a backdrop, he leans back in his seat, head angled towards David, the better to watch the exaggerated play of disgust on his lover’s face. “Too late. No take backs.”

David’s frown deepens, but there’s a twitch at the corners of his mouth, like he’s fighting the upward tug of a smile. “Never too late for anything, Michael.”

Michael smirks at him, stretching his legs out and dragging his tongue across his bottom lip in a deliberate attention grabbing move that pulls David’s eyes straight to his mouth. “Yeah. Right. After how hard and long you fought for me?” Michael drags the words out with dirty intent. Feeling playful, and eager to wash away the lingering remnants of that earlier time, of that earlier life. He draws upon more recent, much more pleasurable memories, letting them hover at the front of his mind. The spike of lust that floods the air between them all the proof he needs that David’s on the same page. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

“So damn sure of yourself, aren’t you?” The question is spoken with careful neutrality that does nothing to disguise the visceral want pouring off of David.

A growl thrums across Michael’s vocal chords. “Pull over. Let’s find out.”

David does.

And they both forget all about Billy Idol.

Abba “Fernando”

Sated and settled back in the passenger seat on the road south, David knows what song it is from just the first couple of notes. He has no intention of subjecting himself to it, so he reaches for the dial only to have his hand smacked away by Michael. Shocked, he looks up at the man behind the wheel, the driver’s blue eyes alight with mischief as he starts to sing along with the music while David watches on in horror. “No. No absolutely not. Turn it off. Right now.”

But Michael’s hand stays covering the dial as his voice gets stronger. When he hits the title lyric he leans heavily away from the wheel in David’s direction and croons it in his face. David’s frozen in place by the disturbing sight. “Why do you even know the lyrics?”

‘You’ve met my mother and my brother, you honestly think I wouldn’t know the lyrics?’ The thought jumps from Michael’s mind to David’s, but Michael’s singing voice doesn’t falter at all as he sings about crossing the Rio Grande.

Under any other circumstances, David would be damn proud of Michael that his ability for telepathic multi-tasking has come along so far, but as is, he’s too distressed to feel much of anything else.

“Is this a method of torture? Is that why you’re doing this? Testing the waters? Because if so, bravo. Very effective. But it’s time to stop now.”

Michael cackles. Cackles! As he smacks David’s hand away from the dial again, the sound bleeding into an off-key “Liberty” with a devilish grin upon his face as he turns the volume up.

David sinks as deep into the leather bench seat as is possible, all the way against the door, trying to put distance between himself and the… horror happening on the other side of the car. “Just stake me. It would hurt less.”

The gleam in Michael’s eyes is pure evil as he sways towards David again, all his earlier concern for road safety seeming forgotten in his Abba-induced haze.

He manages to keep the car between the painted lines and away from any ditches as the song comes to an end - though it weaves a considerable amount. The smile on his face when he looks David’s way on the final note is wide and brilliant and blinding. Pleasant waves of giddy happiness echoing across the bond so strongly, that David’s own treacherous emotions race to sync up with those of his tormentor.

David hates himself a little for being so far gone on the bastard, but the shared laughter that fills the car between them feels good all the same.

Deep Purple “You Keep On Moving”

Another tank, another station, another song.

Michael smiles as the beat of a tune he never hears getting radio airplay hits his ears. He drums his fingers against his knee, mouthing along to the lyrics and bouncing his leg in time. Thinking it might be fun to finally learn how to play something other than his kneecap. The drums, or the guitar even. Or hell, why not both? He’s got nothing but time now, right? Why shouldn’t he spend it learning how to play a dozen instruments if he wants?

David speaks up when the song hits the third verse and Michael’s halfway through an imaginary worldwide tour as the next biggest drummer since Bonham. “Paul had a copy of this album.” He chuckles, once, the sound dark and heavy. “Two copies, actually. One he’d worn down to nothing. Sounded like garbled shit, but it was the only one he’d play. Said he was keeping the other ‘for posterity’ or something.”

Michael returns from his European stage debut and looks to David, trying to judge the meaning behind the story. The other man offering up information on the absent boys so rare, that he figures there must be a reason for it.

There’s not much light to illuminate him, the dash on the old vehicle mostly dark, but Michael’s eyes don’t need much light to see by these days. Not that it matters, as there’s nothing to read on the blond’s face, his expression that disconnected mask that Michael’s grown so familiar with in the past year.

“Think he bought the first one on account of the cover, but turned out he liked the music too.” David’s voice is muted - not so soft as to be wistful, but a next door neighbor to it maybe.

Michael digs through his brain, trying to recall what the cover looked like, but comes up empty. He prods at David for some help, snorting when David reproduces in Michael’s mind the image of the band’s disembodied heads floating in a wine glass of dark red liquid, with the tagline ‘Come Taste the Band’ scrolled over the top. He guffaws at the sight. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Paul was always easily amused.” The comment is said with a quiet intensity that peters out to a heavy silence, despite the song still rocking through the car.

It leaves Michael feeling like he’s intruding on something he shouldn’t be. He inches back and forth in his seat, tapping the leather seating between the two of them instead of his knee. “You, uh, you want me to change it?”

David glances at Michael, the expression on his face a little mournful, but not despondent or angry as it may have been in the past. “Nah. It’s a good song. Let it play.”

Michael nods once, and the song plays on.

Fleetwood Mac “Landslide”

“…”

“I - you can change it if you want.”

“Course I can.”

“…”

“Are you gonna change it or…”

“Nah. Took too long to find this station. Probably just be static everywhere else.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right. So…we leave it then?”

“Might as well. It’ll be over soon.”

“Okay.“ Michael takes a deep breath, uncertain about what he’s about to say, but unable to stop himself. “This was Star’s-”

“I know.”

“And you still don’t mind-”

“No. Should I?” The questions is flat. Unconcerned, but Michael doesn’t miss the way David’s face tightens when he asks it.

Michael moves his right shoulder in an awkward shrug. “Just got the impression you didn’t care for her much.”

David makes a low humming sound. “Liked her well enough at first. Liked her a whole lot less later on.”

Michael doesn’t have a ready response for that, knowing damn good and well why David’s feelings towards Star changed.

“You heard from her lately?”

Michael whips his head towards David, surprised by the question.“No. I haven’t.“

David hums again, fingers flexing on the steering wheel as he does. “Sure about that?”

“When exactly do you think I would have talked to her, David?”

“No clue. It’s why I asked.”

Michael thinks that’s a lie, but doesn’t call David on it. Instead, he settles back, letting Stevie Nicks serenade them for a few verses before offering what little he does know. “She calls my Mom sometimes. They…talk.” David’s gaze stays firmly on the road, though Michael can feel the way tension thrums through his frame. “Think she’s still with Laddie, wherever they went. I don’t - I haven’t spoken to her since she left.” It’s the truth, but for some reason it feels like a lie.

“She took Laddie back to his father I take it?”

Michael gives a noncommittal bounce of his head. “Think so.”

“Hmm. Maybe we should pay them a visit.”

Michael lets out a low laugh at the comment. “Doubt we’d be welcome.”

A sly smile that Michael knows can’t mean anything good lifts the corner’s of David’s mouth. “Never know if we don’t try. Could pencil it sometime after Phoenix.”

Michael rolls his eyes, knowing he’s being baited and not about to be caught. “Yeah sure. Why the hell not?” Michael smirks at the way David’s forehead scrunches up at the easy agreement. He means it - he’s curious enough about where Star ended up and what she’s been doing that visiting her isn’t the worst idea he’s ever heard - though he’s not so much of an idiot that he doesn’t know that David’s reasons for wanting to see her are far from benign.

No longer in the mood for the song, Michael changes the station.

Billie Holiday “You’re My Thrill”

David hums as he twists the dial through station after station of white noise. He spins it past an old jazz tune, but then twirls it back again, making an appreciative noise as a crooning female voice starts to spill from the speakers.

Satisfied with his find, he slouches back into the leather upholstery, eyes closed and an almost dream-like smile on his face.

From his spot in the driver’s seat, Michael goggles at him. “Seriously?”

“Michael Emerson, if the next words out of your mouth are that you don’t like Billie Holiday either, I’m leaving you at the next truck stop and you can find your own way back to Santa Carla. I don’t care how close to sunrise it is.”

The way his voice doesn’t falter when he says it brings Michael up short, making him think that it may be more than just an idle threat. (Not that Michael would let him leave him behind without a fight, but that’s beside the point).

Michael manages to keep his mouth shut for a cool twenty seconds, during which he watches David out of the corner of his eye. Watches as the bleached-blond, spiky-haired murderous vampire clad all in black - not a small amount of it leather, hell, there are spurs on his boots for Chrissakes - quietly enjoys the old-fashioned song. The disconnect between the image he presents and the one the song evokes makes Michael laugh. “Damn, what decade are you from, Old Man?”

“The seventies, Michael.”

Michael snorts, rolling his eyes. Not that David can see him with his own eyes enjoying the view behind their lids. “Yeah sure. You’re younger than me. Explains the occasional tendency to throw tantrums still.”

“The eighteen-seventies, Michael.” David says, calm and cool and not at all joking.

Michael’s hands on the wheel jerk sideways in surprise, sending the car swerving over the line before he can yank it back where it belongs. David’s eyes crack open at the disturbance, leveling a glare at Michael, but he doesn’t react otherwise. “Seriously?”

David smirks at him, slipping the cigarette he had stowed behind his ear down and to his mouth. He doesn’t give Michael an answer, just flicks his lighter open and sets flame to the stick, puffing on the end to get it to light, and settles back into his seat, eyes half-closed.

Michael molls the unexpected tidbit of information over in the space between verses. One particular thought standing out in greater relief against the rest. “Shit…you’re older than my Grandpa. By a lot.”

“I am. And if you want to be too one day, shut it and let me enjoy the song!”

It’s only the lingering shock of the information that keeps Michael quiet. It has nothing to do with the amber gleam in David’s eyes.

Really.

Besides, as far as old-as-sin songs go, it’s not half-bad.

Starland Vocal Band “Afternoon Delight”

Approximately one point five seconds into the song, David’s hand meets Michael’s as they both reach for the dial. David growls, fangs dropping. “I will break your hand, your arm, and all your fingers if you try and stop me from changing the station, Michael.”

Michael’s hand raises up in the air in a placating gesture that David doesn’t trust. At all. “Hey! I was trying to change it too.”

“Sure you were.” David twists the dial, spinning it through endless seas of static and snowstorms and a whole lot of absolutely nothing else.

“I was.” Michael’s voice is pleading, but there’s mischievous glint in his eyes that doesn’t match the sound.

David gives him a sideways glare. “Somehow, I don’t believe you.”

Michael breathes out a heavy-handed sigh. “So little trust. And here I thought we’d really been getting somewhere this past year.”

David rolls his eyes. “You forfeited all rights to musical trust after that horrendous ‘Mamma Mia’ sing-along.

“Hey! First off, it was ‘Fernando’, and second: you enjoyed that. You were smiling. I saw you.”

“That was a defense mechanism, Michael.”

“Liar.”

Which is true, but David’s not about to admit it. So he ignores him, and stops the dial on a patch of white noise; settling back in his seat to enjoy the scratchy sound of absence.

Less than a minute of quiet passes between them before Michael’s hand inches for the radio. David’s voice is curated calm when he says: “Try me, Michael.”

“Idle threat.”

“When have you ever known me to be idle, hmm?”

Michael scoffs, giving David a tilted smile that tells the elder vampire just how little Michael thinks of David’s threats. “Go ahead, tell me all the ways that you’re gonna torture me if I change the station. What’s it gonna be this time? Something more creative than holy water dipped knives, I hope?”

“You ever heard of ‘torpor,’ Michael?” David asks, dipping into the darker part of his psyche. To the blackened memories of his early life under Max’s so-called-care. Fully intending to shower Michael with the visual of being trapped - buried - deep beneath the earth in a impenetrable box, screaming for his maker to let him out. To let him go. Screaming until his throat runs dry, and the blood in his veins slows to a trickle. Skin gone paper-thin, and ashen. So desperate to be released that he’ll say anything. Do anything.

David doesn’t plan to exact such a punishment on Michael of course, but he’s not above a little mental torment. Especially not after being trapped in a car for two-hundred plus miles with Michael and his previously undocumented love of country music and disco.

But before David can so much as conjure up an image of a box or a handful of dirt, Michael frowns in his direction. “Don’t think so. That a New Wave group or something?”

A surprised bark of laughter bursts out of David, amused eyes latching onto Michael. “What? No, it’s-” He shakes his head, small peels of laughter leaking out of him as he does. David’s laughter grows in time with Michael’s confusion. The uncertain look upon the younger vampire’s face endearing to David in a way that it has no right to be.

David shakes his head, his plans to teach Michael a lesson forgotten. “You know what, never mind.”

A frown stays planted on Michael’s face for a while longer, the confusion fading at a snail’s pace. But he drops the subject, and the two of them drive on in silence.

A silence that lasts for the length of time it takes Michael to forget why the radio was off in the first place.

But David hasn’t. So really, it’s Michael’s fault that David launches at him, teeth bared, and the car is sent skidding off the road.

At least there aren’t any guardrails to hit.

And if the only casualty of the accident ends up being the radio, well, they were do for an upgrade anyway.

Preferably one with a cassette deck.

~End

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imagine-loki · 6 years

Text

The Shadow Of Your Heart

TITLE: The Shadow Of Your Heart

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 5

AUTHOR: FadingCoast

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you are Sigyn who saves Loki from torture.

RATING: Mature.

NOTES/WARNINGS: Sexual innuendos (no explicit sex) / blood / violence / torture.

Loki and Sigyn have known eachother since childhood. Tired of waiting, she gets engaged to another man, but Loki won’t accept it, and tricks Sigyn into marrying him instead. Will they get through married life, children and Ragnarok?

Chapter notes: This is where everything goes to Hel. Be warned for DEATH. Also, I don’t think I could’ve ever been completely happy with this chapter, so I had to stop myself from tinkering with it and just let it go.

Recommended song: My Boy Builds Coffins - Florence and the Machine

Also on Ao3

Ch. 5: Some say it’s a blessing, some say it’s a curse

Terror.

If Loki had to resume the past few years in one word, it would be terror.

As he watched his kids playing in the gardens, he realized he was the happiest he had ever been: he had a family. A family, all to himself. And Loki was terrified that someone could take that away from him.

Right now though, he couldn’t help but smile at his children: they were currently going at each other using sparkles.

Narfi and Vàli might have been twins, but they were far from identical. Vàli was the living copy of Sigyn: golden hair and bright green eyes, while Narfi’s raven black hair and greyish blue eyes made him look like a miniature Loki, a fact that Frigga had pointed out more than once.

Of course both had inherited some raw magic. Narfi had his mother’s foresight and Vàli had already managed to successfully morph into a tiny wolf pup a couple of times much to his brother’s terror and his dad’s amusement.

Sigyn was forced to block their magic to keep the twins from destroying their chambers (again), Loki thought about sending them to school, but they were still too young. Frigga was the one to solve the issue and started tutoring them in the palace.

“I would say I don’t know how you do it, but after raising Loki and Thor, I’m sure you can handle anything.” Sigyn said to Frigga, while watching the twins train.

“They’re just kids. What is motherhood without a little destruction?” Frigga said with a wink.

Soon, too soon for their parents liking, the young princes were old enough to take upon most tasks: sorcery school, combat training, weaponry and literature. Narfi had even taken an interest in healing and it wasn’t strange to see him hiding behind Sigyn’s robes when they were in the Healers Ward.

By all means, their life was as close to perfection as it could be.

Why did Loki keep feeling so terrified?

On the twins 21st name day, people of all the neighbouring realms came to celebrate. Games and feasts were thrown in their honor. All sort of competitions would be held, just to show off, as Sigyn would put it.

One of the most interesting competitions was the sword fighting event, not because it was fun, but because the prizes the champions could win: not only fame and honor, but Æsir gold. Every realm had their own champions, and obviously Thor and Sif would enter for Asgard. Other famous names and old asgardian friends entering were Baldr and his brother Höor, Heimdall, Bragi, Ullr, Siegfried, and the sisters Var and Vör.

The first few matches were predictable and not very entertaining, but when the time came for the 4th match of the day, people got really excited. Baldr and Höor were going against each other.

Bets were going over the roof, and Loki was more than happy to win everything, placing a huge amount in Höor’s behalf.

Maybe that’s why everyone was so suspicious when that particular fight was so short. Baldr and Höor hadn’t been sparring for more than 10 minutes, when Höor managed to draw blood from his brother’s forearm with his spear.

Before his body even touched the ground, Baldr was dead.

The ball had been suspended, as had been most of the other competitions. Höor was being held in one of the dungeons and Baldr’s wife, Nanna, was in conference with the King and Queen demanding justice for her deceased husband.

The words poison and conspiracy had spread through Asgard like wildfire, and the rumors involved Loki. It was no wonder that Sigyn’s skin was pricking uncomfortably while she paced in her chambers, trying to bond with Loki.

Loki?

No answer.

Loki, stop blocking me or I’ll smack you.

I’m in the throne room being accused of murder, I’ll let you in on the details shortly.

Loki blocked the communication again, leaving Sigyn worried and rattled. She had no other option but to wait until Loki came back to their room.

“What happened? Why was Nanna there?” She inquired.

“Nanna is convinced that I had something to do with Baldr’s death, she came to demand punishment for me. But, it’s not my fault that Höor is such a dimwitted oaf.” Loki said dismissively.

“And you father did nothing?” Sigyn was still worried, even when she knew Loki could talk his way out of almost everything. Almost.

“He said Nanna had no proof, so he wouldn’t do a thing.” He shrugged.

Sigyn wished she could shake the uneasy feeling that lingered after Nanna left the palace. That feeling of impending doom it followed her the rest of the evening, leading her to an uneasy sleep.

Next morning, she woke with a start. Something’s wrong.

Sigyn ran to the twins room, only to find it empty. The oppression in her chest didn’t allow her to breathe, yet somehow she managed to run back to her room where an alarmed Loki was waiting for her.

“The twins are gone.” Sigyn said, her breath short and shallow, as she clutched her chest.

“Sigyn, what–” Loki couldn’t finish, when a guard entered their bedroom.

“Your majesties, I’m sorry to disturb you–”

“Where are my children?!” Sigyn started panicking. She got off the bed and sauntered over the guard. Loki started on her tail and held her close.

“We found only one of them.” The guard said softly, looking at the ground.

Sigyn didn’t need to hear anything else. She knew. She could feel it.

Her legs gave in and she crumbled to the ground, her eyes swelling up with tears. Loki was immediately by her side, holding her shaking body firmly against his chest, fighting tears of his own.

Sigyn screamed.

A piercing scream that shattered Loki’s heart.

I am aware that this doesn’t follow the Norse Lore. I’m taking many artistic licenses in order to make my story work, so please bear with me. Furthermore, I am aware that this chapter sucked xD the good news is I finally got to where I’ve been wanting to get since I started writing this.

#Loki #Lover #Angst #God of Mischief #Father #Submitted fic #submission #the shadow of your heart #FadingCoast #chapter 5 #sigyn #torture

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preservationandruin · 7 years

Text

Words of Radiance Part 2

Viewpoints here are a weirder spread--Shallan, Kaladin, Adolin, and Sadeas. Not sure how long this will take me to get through or how many sub-parts the liveblog is gonna be, so bear with me!

Shallan takes control, Kaladin tries to work with what he has and meets a worldhopper, Renarin jumps off a roof, and people talk way too much about Amaram for either my or Kaladin’s liking.

Epigraphs here are snippets of the Listener songs, which is probably why we had to get the Eshonai chapters first--so we could tell what they were talking about. In any case, Shallan is travelling with Tvklav’s crew--who I’m pretty sure are coincidentally the slavers who sold Kaladin. Because sometimes I feel like Sanderson’s world operates on the Dickensian premise of “everyone knows each other by coincidence.” Shallan is curious about the Frostlands’ natural vegetation. She also tries having conversation, but it doesn’t really work, in party because (rightly, given the situation) people don’t trust her.

We also learn that Jasnah kept, in her personal trunk, a drawing that Shallan had done of her. Shallan ends up mourning both Jasnah and the fact that all of her sketchpads--something she dismisses, but essentially her life’s work--are gone as well.

More sketches--this time of various fighting stances. Nazh has written that he had to steal the scroll these were on and that the bottom half was eaten by an axehound. Nazh leads an interesting and fraught life.

Cut to Adolin talking to his blade, something I still think might be significant. At the very least, I hope that spren can hear him and takes some comfort from having a human talk to them and trust them? We also get the story that nobody took Adolin seriously and that the guy he won the Blade from wanted to duel Adolin to embarrass Dalinar. Didn’t quite work that way. The Plate Adolin got from his mom’s side. Also, Adolin refusing to name his Blade is also important. Also, this: “I appreciate what you’ve done for me. I know you’d do it for anyone who held you, but I still appreciate it. I...I want you to know: I believe in Father. I believe he’s right...”

Okay, I know I’ve gone on about Edgedancer Adolin before, but one of the things for the Edgedancers definitely seems to be paying attention to the people and things people take for granted. Like, say, the fact that your shardblade fights with you.

Anyway, immediately after that we get the fact that Adolin can’t fucking read, not even glyphs. Navani voice: please get married so that I stop worrying about you not being able to fucking read. Also, Adolin is worried because they haven’t heard anything from Jasnah’s ship--WITH GOOD REASON. Also, Adolin insists that breaking up with Danlan wasn’t his fault--apparently she’d been saying something to her friends--but given that it’s Adolin it’s kind of hard to tell.

Also, Renarin and Adolin run through Adolin’s list of good-luck charms for duels---talk to the sword, eat chicken before you duel, wear mother’s chain--and Navani is skeptical and the boys are Highly Indignant that Navani is skeptical. Also also, Adolin likes pissing off the guards because he doesn’t like Kaladin--thinks something is “off” about Kaladin. As always, he’s not wrong. But he is being petty.

And then Adolin just crushes the other dude because he’s Adolin Kholin. He beats him so badly that the judge tries to stop them, but Adolin points out he didn’t break any rules. On the other hand, this probably didn’t endear Adolin to people--meaning that they were more likely to let slide that fucking 4-on-1 that Sadeas attempts later. Renarin thinks it was awesome, and Adolin gives him the blade. Which, uh, I mean, from Adolin’s point of view it was the best thing to do, but reading this again a) Renarin is notably hesitant to take the blade (Glys talking to him?) and also grimaces when he takes it and holds it (it’s screaming). But, unlike Dalinar or Kaladin later, he keeps holding it.

Also, Adolin’s brutality here wasn’t planned, it was just something that happened and that he’s confused about later, feeling drained. He did get the Thrill. I’m not sure what’s going on there, but it might not be good.

Back to Shallan, where she’s using Pattern to spy on the slavers to try to figure out how to deal with them. She also notes that these people don’t treat her like a real person, but instead as a means to an end, much like Kabsal, and she loses a bit of her temper and also mildly terrifies Tvklav. She realizes that Tvklav and the others don’t know she’s a timid rural lighteyes, and she also realizes that she can make them see her in certain ways, not just by copying Jasnah.

Honestly, this entire trip to the Shattered Plains does a lot more for Shallan’s lightweaving than studying with Jasnah, I think. Nothing like being thrown into a fire to teach you to deal with it? Anyway, the deserters show up, and we cut over to Kaladin. The lighteyes sparring grounds is somewhat disappointing to the bridgemen, who expected something cooler.

Also, Kaladin is plotting to kill Amaram already, which is THE MOST RELATEABLE but also not good for his oaths i guess. Anyway, Kaladin and the gang with him are supposed to be protecting the Kholin bros while they’re training, they get some backsass from Ardents, Kaladin backsasses back, and it works out. Kaladin is also left standing with Moash, which...okay, knowing where Moash’s character arc goes, I’m just going to be side-eyeing him the whole book, I apologize. We get a note that the numbers are still appearing--honestly Dalinar tell Kaladin it’s probably someone in there already so he stops panicking over intruders--and Kaladin starts getting irritated about Dalinar and Amaram again and Syl makes him admit that he does know that Dalinar, at least, is honorable. Amaram just has him fooled.

Also, Kaladin is backsassing Adolin, and uses “Brightlord” for him--the title used for people he doesn’t respect as much. Adolin says that the only reason he hasn’t thrown Kaladin through a window is because he owes Kaladin his life. Renarin is just standing there, being awkward, holding his Blade--he had to hold that thing for five days. Yikes.

Anyway, Syl doesn’t like the brothers, but only because they carry Shards (I hope. They’re good boys Brent). And we run into Vasher--I mean, Zahel, but it’s Vasher. Also, Adolin waited to bring Renarin until he knew Zahel was there so he could pressure Zahel into taking Renarin under his wing, and Syl drops the fact that she’s a tiny piece of a god, although it’s unclear how seriously Kaladin takes that. Back to Shallan, who is covering anxiety about the deserters with scholarship. She also sketches Bluth here--first a more true to life version, and then an idealized one with him in a proper uniform with a good weapon. Pattern asks about why people shit and Shallan does not want to be having that conversation. Pattern also says that Shallan--and presumably this is a Lightweaver thing--lives lies to make herself strong, but must speak truths to progress.

Back to Kaladin, who’s talking with Lopen. Also, Kaladin uses the word “greenvines” to mean new recruits. And there’s another highstorm coming--meaning Kaladin is paranoid about the numbers again. Also they watch Adolin training, and we get this absolutely amazing exchange:

“I’ve seen him summon that weapon before.” “Yeah, gancho, on the battlefield, when we saved his sorry ass from Sadeas.” I LOVE LOPEN. Also, Renarin’s training is beginning--he hasn’t been trained to fight, so there aren’t any bad habits for him to unlearn. And also this is the part where Zahel just tells Renarin to jump off the roof a bunch of times and also uses idioms that make absolutely no sense translated literally in Rosharan. Example: “I’m old, son. Repeating myself makes me eat the wrong flower.” I’m sorry Zahel that literally just sounds like a shitpost.

And then Kaladin and Zahel have a conversation while, in the background, Renarin is throwing himself off a building again and again. Fun digression story, this part reminds me of a story from my mom’s family? She had 8 brothers and little to no parental supervision so some hijinks went down including the boys, at one point, deciding to play “who can jump off the highest object” which ended in the youngest jumping off the shed and breaking his leg. Don’t do these things unless you’re in Shardplate, kids. Kaladin discredits how well Renarin will do, but Zahel’s got a better idea of it.

And also Zahel starts berating Kaladin for some of his nonchalance--like assuming he knows how to fight Shardbearers just because he got lucky against two. It’s turning into Sparring Bantertime. And then Adolin makes the mistake of further antagonizing Kaladin, they get in a fight, and Zahel calls Adolin the fuck out for challenging someone without shardplate when Adolin is in Shardplate because what the actual fuck, you could kill people. Zahel also says that Kaladin reminds him of Adolin, to which Kaladin Is Very Offended, and Zahel starts laughing at him. Kaladin also notes that the stormlight drained from him, and Syl points out that he wasn’t protecting anyone.

Shallan flashback time--we get the fact that when Shallan thinks about her mother her brain shuts down. She also hasn’t spoken for five months, apparently--since her mother was killed. Helaran gives Shallan a drawing pad and charcoals and says that he needs her to come back because he’s going to be gone for a few years, and he’s worried about the others. And of course what Shallan automatically draws is the murder scene, which worries Helaran as well and he tells her to draw safe things instead of dwelling on the past. Shallan spoke for the first time in months to stop Helaran from killing their father. And Shallan sees her father in a furious rage, but he stops himself before he hurts her. I still wonder--did he just care about her more, or was he scared of her abilities and didn’t want to provoke them? Well, there’s not much way to know now.

Shallan, again. The listener song quoted here does mention artform as a thing that exists. Anyway, we’ve just run into Shallan taking control of her caravan and leading them down to help another group against the bandits, because we’ve hit another moment where Shallan’s back’s against the wall and she becomes certain--and flat-up offers the deserters redemption if they help her help the other people. The leader doesn’t listen, but the others--including Gaz, everyone runs into everyone else out on the Shattered Plains, huh--do. Another new Listener form is mentioned--meditationform, meant for teaching and consolation, used by the gods for lies and desolation.

Also, we meet Tyn here. Also, the leader of the deserters--Vathah--attempts to threaten Shallan, and Pattern spooks the living shit out of him by saying “you should let her go” while Shallan pretends to hear nothing. Also, Shallan frees Tvklav’s slaves, including using the line “I saved your life, you oily little man.” And Shallan also sees that the caravan survivors burned a prayer of thanks for the deserters who saved their lives, which is great.

Back to Kaladin. Also, the listener song mentions stormform here, including the phrases “beware its powers” and “beware its end.” And it also says it “brings the gods their night.” So we’re getting heavy hints that stormform is really bad news. Also, Kaladin sees a red light out in the highstorm and thinks it looks like eyes. Creepy. Adolin is looking at fashions, Renarin is stimming, Elhokar is fretting. Kaladin is trying to unobtrusively be nosy.

Also, Renarin geeks out about fabrials to Kaladin, and Kaladin wonders why Adolin is looking at fashion and Adolin gets defensive. No numbers appear--probably because Renarin is in a room with other people the whole time. Adolin mentions that the only Shardbearer in Sadeas’ camp other than Sadeas is Amaram, Dalinar jokingly comments that Adolin won’t be dueling him, certainly, while I am in the background yelling “KICK HIS ASS, ADOLIN! KICK HIS MISERABLE ASS!”

Anyway now they’re talking more about Amaram. Can we stop talking about Amaram. You’re not going to get him to secede from Sadeas’s side. He’s a piece of shit. Kaladin also notices that when people mention Amaram, he gets upset and tense, UNDERSTANDABLY.

And so Kaladin goes to tell Dalinar about Amaram, and Dalinar points out that Kaladin doesn’t have any proof. Syl is optimistic, saying that Dalinar listened--and she’s actually right in the end, Syl is always right, she’s the best--but Kaladin says that he didn’t. Syl is also very upset at the thought of Kaladin “finding his own justice,” as he puts it, and points out that this is not what he’s supposed to be like as a Windrunner.

Also, Shen confronts Kaladin--which is an early sign that Shen is not a normal Parshman--and says that he isn’t really treated as Bridge Four, and that he’s basically still a slave, and Kaladin can’t argue with that and hates it. And then one of the palace guards runs in, panicking, and I’m pretty sure this is the Szeth attack.

Listener song talking about “Nightform” which apparently predicts the future--there is the whole “Voidbringers see the future” thing. In any case, the “attack” was someone sabotaging the railing and balcony where Elhokar stands. Kaladin points out that whoever tried it was an idiot--or, more precisely, a coward, if they’re the same person who was behind the drained stormlight in the Plate. They want to make Elhokar’s death look like an accident, but they tipped their hand here--because the only tool that could have cut away at the balcony like that was a Shardblade. Kaladin also swears, here, that Dalinar can trust him--one half of the conflicting oaths that tear him apart in this book. Dalinar also assumes that bridgemen have no part in warcamp politics, which is...a bit naive. Kaladin does, as does Moash--lighteyes can engender deep antagonism in darkeyes without realizing.

I’ll cut this here and get the rest of Part Two in another post.

#stormlight archive liveblog #roshar #adolin kholin can't fucking read #edgedancer adolin musing #renarin kholin foreshadowing #i loathe meridas amaram #FUCK YEAH BRIDGE FOUR

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haprilona · 7 years

Text

Descendit Lunaticus, Chapter 3

Title: Descendit Lunaticus Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Genre: Hurt/comfort Rating: T Note: This is a ‘music fic’. Each musical note symbol ( ♫ ) links to a FFXV song that adds to the mood and reading experience. You’re not required to listen to the links while reading, but I highly recommend it! This story was written mostly for the sake of playing with the atmosphere and mood, not for the plot.

I recommend you read this in AO3 as it has drawings, correct formatting etc. to enhance the reading experience. Characters: Noctis Lucis Caelum, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, Prompto Argentum, Ignis Scientia, Gladiolus Amiticia, Aranea Highwind, Cid Sophiar, Cor Leonis, Libertus Ostium, Iris Amicitia Relationships: Noctis/Lunafreya, Ignis/Aranea, Prompto/Cindy Word count: 16187 Summary: When Ardyn makes Noctis choose between the Crystal and his friends, Noctis chooses his friends out of brotherly love and dooms the world. A decade later Noctis is no longer the Chosen King fighting to reclaim his throne, but a common hunter whose only purpose in life is his friends and protecting the remaining Lucian civilians from the horrors of the eternal night. One day he is reunited with someone he thought was forever out of his reach, but not in a manner he would’ve wanted.

Also at AO3 & FF.net

♫

Noctis sat on the stairs leading up to the wall and sharpened his Engine Blade with a whetstone.

Today was the annual market day which meant merchants from both former Niff bases – Fort Highwind and Meldacio Stronghold – as well as Tenebrae and Accordo would put up booths in Lestallum. The fort’s inner and outer yards were filled with folk of all ages. Over five thousand people were itching to get out of the depressing environment to enjoy a day filled with bright colourful lights, lively music, good food and fun, or to sell their wares and make a profit. Vans and buses were overloaded and the noise level was nearly unbearable, which is why Noctis had decided to take refuge by the south wall to avoid the north gate’s hassle.

Prompto and Gladio were helping Iris and Talcott put up their booth. Noctis had offered to go with them, but received a message through a walkie-talkie telling him to remain within the fort. Aranea was no doubt about to put him to work again.

He checked his sword’s blade and deemed it sharp enough. His walkie-talkie buzzed.

‘Noct, meet me at the garage. Cid and I have something to discuss with you.’ It was Ignis.

“Copy that.”

He tied his sword to his belt and briskly made his way past the masses. During times like these he wished he could warp; he was not a fan of crowds of any size.

“About time ya came. I ain’t getting any younger”, Cid complained in his typical manner. Noctis took comfort in that; it meant the old man was still in good enough health to complain. He feared the surly mechanic didn’t have many years left in him. His health was gradually worsening to the point where he couldn’t stay out of bed for longer than a few hours at a time.

Talcott did his best to assist the elderly man whenever he could, but he already had his hands full helping Iris and Wiz at the farm. Prompto had offered to take Talcott’s place at Cid’s side, but he had been bluntly turned down. Cid hadn’t been too pleased when he first witnessed Prompto making advances at his granddaughter. He wasn’t quite convinced the freckled young man was up to his standards. And every potential suitor knew that it wasn’t Cindy’s standards they had to meet, but her grandfather’s.

That had been some years back, and Noctis believed that were Prompto to renew his offer, he wouldn’t be turned down a second time. Cid had been not-so-subtly probing information from the former king about his best friend. Noctis had made sure to mention his skills with machinery and paint a positive picture of Prompto’s characteristics; amazing gunner, kind-hearted, great sense of humour, passionate and committed towards the people he loved. Cid took an interest in the blond’s capabilities, but had huffed at the mention of humour – something about having had enough of that with Reggie’s quirkiness. In the end when Noctis pointed out how ready and eager Prompto was to be of service to the man he considered a living legend, Cid had given up and grumbled about his current full-time caretaker being a ditz and needing a replacement.

Now if only Prompto had the balls to approach Cindy without needing Noctis for moral support.

“Not getting any younger? Could’ve fooled me.”

“Speak up, boy! Ya know I’m deaf in one ear.”

Noctis smirked to himself. Yes, he knew. And he would take advantage of the fact whenever he could. It was quite satisfying to talk back to Cid without having to worry about offending him in the process.

“So, what’s this all about?”

“The Commander has requested us to take one of these elemental cannon prototypes to Meldacio Stronghold”, Ignis replied.

“Aren’t you too busy to leave the fort?”

“Actually, I have other business to attend to while there. I am merely taking this chance to spend more time with you while performing my duty simultaneously.”

Noctis grinned. “Efficient as always.”

He approached one of the cannons. Attached to it were several see-through objects that reminded him of drum magazines. Inside the magazines were crystal cartridges filled with raw elemental energy similar to the flasks he carried on his person. He recognised some components as parts taken from the MA-X Cuirasses as well as the junk he had retrieved from Caem. He couldn’t really tell much based on its appearance alone. That was more of Prompto’s area of expertise.

“So, is this the cannon they used during the daemon raid?”

“The one that nearly killed you, yes.” Although he put up a calm and collected front, Noctis could tell from the way the muscles around Ignis’ throat tightened that the tactician had been extremely worried for his health.

Not wanting to wallow in what could’ve been – he was an expert at that by now – he quickly changed the subject. “How many rounds do those magazines contain?”

“Exactly one hundred”, Cid proudly declared. “That oughta ensure them Meldacio folks are supplied fer more than one invasion and keep the fiends in check.”

“Impressive”, the hunter complimented. Cid grunted nonchalantly, but Noctis didn’t miss the smug turn of his lips.

“Now get off yer asses and push ‘er to the trailer. Cor’s waitin’ fer y’all.”

♫

It had been many years since Noctis had taken the wheel while Ignis sat in the passenger seat. After Regalia’s service came to an end, the four men had trekked all the way from Gralea to Tenebrae to lick their wounds. It had been especially painful for Ignis who had yet to learn to move about unaided. Aranea had offered to fly them along with a hundred homeless Tenebraean civilians back to Lucis. The men had attempted to reclaim the Crystal when rumours spread of its new location in Insomnia. They had stood no chance armed with only regular Meldacio Hunter HQ provided weapons and without Noctis’ powers.

After their humiliating retreat from Insomnia, Noctis had parted from his companions. He needed time to reflect and to come to terms with the reality of his situation. He had failed his people and annulled his forefathers’ and Luna’s sacrifice to nothing. He needed to find a way to make things right.

‘I don’t expect you guys to understand, but I need to do this on my own.’

‘No way am I leaving you, Noct! You’re my best friend!’

‘Prompto, I need to find a way to get my powers back, but I have a duty to my people. Please. Ignis, Gladio. Take care of the civilians while I’m away.‘

‘Don’t take too long. My sister will get gross otherwise.‘

‘We’ll be waiting.‘

Four years Noctis had searched for a way to reclaim his powers. He revisited each tomb, but nothing helped. He poured over old tomes in Accordo’s libraries and researched history in hopes of finding a solution. After those long, lonely years, he found himself at the gate of Fort Vaulleroy where Aranea had built a safe haven for refugees. Civilians from as far as Galahd and Calcano inhabited its dull grey cement walls. It took some persuasion until the former Niflheimian Captain and Lucian King came to an understanding and agreed he would stay as long as his identity remained hidden from everyone within and without the fort.

An exaggerated inhale beside him brought Noctis back from his musings.

“New fragrance?”

“Huh?”

“You smell not unlike Iris.” There was no accusation in his soft timbre, just a neutral remark.

“I do?” Noctis brought his collar to his nose, but all he could smell besides his usual odour was the sweet scent of the sylleblossom hidden in his vest. Shrugging, he took a swig from his water canteen.

“Have you told Gladio of your courtship?”

The water went down the wrong way. Noctis pulled the van to a stop and waited until the violent coughing had subdued.

“I take that as a ‘no’”, Ignis calmly stated and patted the younger man’s back.

“Take it as a ‘no, I’m definitely not dating Iris’”, the hunter managed to correct between hacks and coughs.

“I sincerely hope you’re not implying you had a one night stand.”

Noctis sputtered. “What? No! I just borrowed her soap when me and Prompto ran out.”

Ignis smirked to himself. “If you say so.”

“You don’t see me commenting on your scent. If anyone here smells like a girl, it’s you.”

“Yes, well, that’s to be expected when the Commander has given me permanent nightly order of ‘get to bed or drop dead’.”

Noctis grinned. “Oh, so you have no say in your relationship? Ouch.”

Ignis kept his tone indifferent, but Noctis could tell by the way he fingered his gloves and cleared his throat that the older man was slightly embarrassed. “She does like to remind me of her superior rank from time to time.”

They had never outright announced it, but it was common knowledge that the blind brunet shared quarters with the bossy dragoon. They had been together for four years more or less. Sometimes Noctis wondered if Ignis had any secret desire to become a father. Aranea was forty and didn’t have many years left before her biological clock stopped ticking altogether. Noctis hadn’t even dreamed of becoming a father after his wedding was permanently cancelled – not until he had held Little Luna, freshly scrubbed from dirt and blood, in his arms. He yearned for a life he could never have now more than ever.

While Prompto hadn’t been able to successfully catch Cindy’s attention due to her inhumanly tight schedule, Gladio had been popular among the ladies since day one. He hadn’t found his special someone yet, but it was only a matter of time. He went through lady friends faster than Noctis went through gun polish.

Even Iris, who still hoped to turn his head, had dated other men. He had heard from Talcott that the brunette had had a long-distance relationship with a Lestallumian man before said man perished in a daemon attack while on his way to visit her. They hadn’t been together for more than few months. That was two years ago. He was glad Iris had taken friends and family with her to Lestallum to keep herself distracted from painful memories.

He sometimes wondered if she truly loved him that much or if she was merely in love with an idealised version of him. She hadn’t seen him at his worst and wasn’t aware of how deep his scars ran. She had always seen him as The Crown Prince and like most girls, she dreamed of a fairy tale ending in the arms of a prince who would sweep her off her feet and ride them into the sunset on a white chocobo. He liked to think she had outgrown such childish fantasies by now. He had no crown. Only the ring of the Lucii kept in his breast pocket was a proof of his lineage.

The van’s CD-player played traditional Tenebraean folk songs in a low volume. Prompto had found the undamaged record in one of the deserted Coernix gas stations during their reconnaissance scouting. There weren’t many working music players in the fort. Noctis jealously guarded this rare gem from the other inhabitants, because it was one of the only links he had to Luna and his childhood.

“Haven’t heard these tunes in a while”, Ignis commented. Most people knew Ignis had a radio in the command tower, but what they didn’t know was that Aranea herself had it bought for him specifically as a token of her affection. Noctis knew; he had been the delivery boy.

“Don’t think Radio Ravatogh has a record of it.”

“Ah. That would explain it.”

Even with the radio station’s impressive music library, repetition couldn’t be helped. Hardly any new songs were recorded and no new instruments were made. The only music available were songs from the past or few remaining street artists who tended to gather large crowds in Lestallum and Altissia. Singing and drums were the only available instruments along with guitars with missing cords.

“So, what business do you have in Meldacio Stronghold?” Noctis absently eyed the gleaming eyes of nocturnal beasts they passed by. The hallowed headlights discouraged them from attempting to attack the van and its occupants.

“I’m to hire seasoned hunters to teach each civilian above the age of eighteen living in Fort Highwind basic self-defence and training with arms. After the recent raid we are sorely outnumbered. I am hoping to get a couple of hunters to stay permanently, but for now I have to concentrate on training a new batch. According to the Commander, the Marshal has whipped the hunters into top shape since he repurposed Formouth Garrison.

“He’ll whip my ass if he sees me.”

“Undoubtedly.”

Noctis pulled the van to a stop in front of the stronghold’s gate.

“Inspection!” a man wearing the standardised Meldacio Hunter HQ’s uniform called.

♫

For all its similarities, Meldacio Stronghold felt like a completely different civilisation. The population slept above the surface in a repurposed garage as opposed to the underground dwelling of Fort Highwind. There were no MTs or other independent machines in sight. Everything was operated and performed by humans. A large training ground was occupied by hunters. Even children and the elderly were sporting the brown vests and carrying weapons.

Noctis pulled the van to a stop in front of one of the garages and stepped out. The scent of machine oil mixed with Leiden spices hit his nose in full force. The stronghold’s main exports were spices, herbal and medical plants, wildlife meat and cotton according to Ignis. There had even been talk about reopening the Balouve Mines and clearing it from pests with the hallowed lights and Cid’s elemental machinery technology.

“Glad ya’ll made it safe.” The two men turned around towards the familiar voice. Dave, now sporting strands of grey amidst his brown hair from years of stress and worry, made his way past a grim looking group of armed teenagers towards the two Crown citizens. Pronounced eye bags hung beneath his grey eyes and permanent worry lines creased his forehead. “Been a while.”

“Sure has.”

Dave offered Noctis his hand in greeting. Dirt coated the older man’s fingernails and his hands looked like they required stronger chemicals than just hand soap to get them clean. He smelled of smoke and machine oil. His hand felt coarse to the touch.

“We sure could use that cannon. The Marshal will be pleased.”

“Is he about? I have something I wish to discuss with him”, Ignis interjected.

“He’s overseeing the training. I’ll let him know ya’ll arrived.”

“’Appriciate it”, Noctis offered a final smile before turning back to Ignis while Dave quietly talked into his walkie-talkie.

“Nervous, Noct?”

The hunter chuckled. “You bet I am. That man is not easily pleased and I’m pretty sure he’s not happy with me being missing in action for half a decade.”

“Closer to a full decade considering you had the Commander keep your location hidden even from the Marshal.”

“Don’t remind me.”

A stern man with a katana holstered on his hip approached the duo with swift long strides. His short brown hair was the same military-cut style it had been a decade back, but the colour had turned a shade or two lighter and his hairline had moved closer to the top of his head. The creases on his forehead and around his eyes were more pronounced and only highlighted his discernible displeasure. His brows were creased in a scowl and his lips were stretched to a thin, unhappy line. Were it any other man, Noctis would’ve described him as looking royally pissed. Not even Ignis’ disapproving frown could compete with that of Cor Leonis.

“You’re late.” Cor’s steely blue gaze scrutinized Noctis. “I expected your arrival an hour ago.”

Ignis stepped forward. “Apologies, Marshal. We were stuck in traffic due to the crowds leaving for Lestallum. It is the market day, if you recall.”

“A wise man plans ahead and leaves with ample time to spare.” His eyes never left Noctis’. The younger man did his best not to squirm and shifted his weight in discomfort. “And what is your excuse?”

“I-“, he began, but found it difficult to speak through the lump that had formed in his throat. “I needed time to come to terms with everything that’s happened; Dad, Luna, the daemons…” Revenge against the Empire had long fuelled his perseverance, but when it had been robbed from him due to the daemon outbreak, he had lost his sight on what truly mattered. Prophesies, darkness… All vague concepts that he had no true knowledge of outside his contact with the Starscourge virus as a child. The Empire was something tangible and something he could hold responsible for the loss of his home, throne and love.

“For ten years?”

Noctis couldn’t help flinching at the unforgiving tone. Ignis took pity on him and cut in: “Four. His Highness has been working under the Commander for the rest.”

“Moping in seclusion and hiding beneath the Dragoon’s skirts is ill-befit behaviour for a king. You have a duty to your people first and foremost.”

Noctis lifted his chin in defiance and held the Marshal’s hardened gaze. “I made a terrible mistake in Gralea, I know that now. I’ve tried to put on the ring, but the Lucii couldn’t or wouldn’t grant me their power. The Astrals have forsaken me and my only link to the Six-“, his voice trembled slightly as he remembered the corpse he had fished from the ocean. “My only hope to make things right is waiting for burial in the fort’s morgue.”

A familiar burning sensation behind his eyes warned him of the incoming tears, but he didn’t allow them fall. He wouldn’t show weakness in front of the man who had no sympathy for sob stories. All of them had to deal with loss.

“I’ve worked every day since to make sure my people have a safe place to stay.” He pointed at the hallowed floodlights. “If it weren’t for me, Cindy wouldn’t have been able to recreate the lights and this settlement along with all the others wouldn’t be as safe as they are now.” His voice exuded quiet determination. “I may not be the King of Light the prophecies foretold, but I will give my all to rebel the darkness and keep my people safe with the skillset that I have.”

Cor’s scowl softened to a frown. “There is the resolve I had hoped you still harboured.” He clasped the younger man’s shoulder, something resembling approval in his gruff voice. “And you shall further help your people today. You will accompany me to the Balouve Mines. If we are to arm every man and woman, they will need weapons. And to make weapons we need the resources the mine has to offer.”

He left Noctis little choice, but if a trip to the mines was all it took to be forgiven in the Marshal’s eyes, he would gladly do it. “That all?”

“Don’t get cocky. Our attempts to reclaim it from the daemons haven’t been successful. Miss Aurum is preparing a new weapon for us to utilise, specifically made for this operation. She still needs time to fine-tune it. In the meantime I would have you take the cannon out for a test run.”

“Marshal-“, Ignis began.

“I’ve handpicked three of my finest trainers to accompany you back to the Fort once we’re done in the mines.”

‘That Cor… Always three steps ahead of us’, Noctis mused.

Noctis walked back to the van to unload the cannon.

“Ignis, how do I do thi-?” He glanced around him. The blind brunet was nowhere to be seen. “Now where did he go?”

♫

“Do you have the goods?”

“Got ‘em right here. What about you? Do you have the cards?”

Ignis pulled out fifty ration cards out of his pocket. While gil was still used, fresh vegetables were far more valuable. Ration cards were used by the people of Fort Highwind to partake in daily food provisions to ensure there was enough for everyone and no-one would take more than their share.

The shady Meldacio merchant let out a low whistle. “That’s ten more than last time you checked in.”

“Consider it a bonus after six years of partnership.”

The merchant signalled his accomplice to push forward a cart filled with labelled boxes that read either ‘Leiden pepper’ or ‘Quality cotton’.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Scientia. Your need for quality coffee will keep me and my mates’ families sustained for years to come!”

“Tell your men to unload the cargo to the trailer once my companion unloads the cannon and is out of sight. And be subtle about it.”

“You got it.”

Ignis adjusted his clouded shades. A gesture the merchant had learnt to signal impatience or nervousness. “And be sure to put them in the back so my companion won’t find out.”

The merchant stuffed the ration cards in his coat’s inner pocket. “Doesn’t Highwind ever wonder why you buy so much pepper and cotton whenever you visit us?”

“I need only remind her of the blandness of the food-quality and how fast she goes through her capes when battling red giants.”

“I dunno, man. I have a feeling she might be looking through her fingers, just ‘cause it’s you.”

Ignis said nothing and briskly left before the man could voice more inane comments.

♫

No matter how many times Noctis had ridden the ancient elevator, it didn’t get any easier. He hated having to depend on something so unreliable. It creaked forebodingly as it slowly descended the men deep underground.

Dave fingered the nozzle of his flamethrower. As eager as the hunters had been to put the new cannon to use and clear the mines from fiends for good, they had to take the highway and use something less destructive. The last thing they needed was to accidentally destroy one of the walls holding up the structure and get buried alive.

The backpack of Dave’s incendiary device consisted of three cylinders; the first two similar to a traditional flamethrower for holding compressed, inert propellant gas and flammable liquid, while the third had a tortuous tube made of crystal filled with magical fire in its raw form. Should he run out of the more potent firepower, he’d still have the regular version as a backup.

Cindy never ceased to impress Noctis with her creations. He could definitely see what appealed to Prompto – besides her rather obvious, uh, assets. Cid had sent his granddaughter a copy of the blueprints for the cannon’s cartridges to be used in different weapons, such as the newly made flamethrower. It was still a prototype and hadn’t been tested, but she was confident it would do the job.

Noctis twirled one of the crystal flasks between his fingers nervously. If the mines were anywhere near as dangerous as the last time he had been here, they’d be tightly pressed.

A heavy-built man with a traditional Galahdan hairstyle – Libertus, if he remembered correctly – elbowed him. “Put that away before you cause an accident.” Noctis rolled his eyes and made the mistake to glance Cor’s way. It took only a stern glare from the Marshal to make him obediently shove the flask back in his vest pocket. He opted to tap the hilt of his sword instead. Ignis sighed in irritation beside him, but Noctis paid him no mind.

Umbra’s ears were flat against his head and his jaw was tightly clenched shut. He put up a brave front, but it was obvious he wasn’t keen on going so far underground. Mines are no place for a dog, Cor had said as much. Noctis had ordered the canine to stay outside, but for some reason he had ignored him, cantered to the lift and refused to budge. One of the battle-hardened veteran hunters, Richard, had threatened to shoot the dog himself if the canine turned out to be a liability. Safe to say, Noctis had a thundaga flask with the hunter’s name on it just itching to be used.

There were seven of them in total in the mine cage, excluding Umbra; Noctis, Ignis, Cor, Dave, Libertus, Richard and William. It was a somewhat tight fit, but they managed just about. The hallowed spotlight the size of his nightstand cast a pale blue light over their grim faces. William had taken the task to carry the heavy torch on his back.

Noctis hadn’t had much chance to get to know the two hunters. What they seemed to lack in manners and charm, they most likely made up for with skills at arms. They had been personally trained by Cor, after all. Both carried a revolver, a flare gun, knives and a short sword.

Libertus, on the other hand, didn’t appear ill-willed, merely reserved. He wasn’t wearing the browns and greys of Meldacio Hunter HQ; instead he wore what appeared to be a modified Kingsglaive uniform. A breastplate in the shape of the symbol of Galahdan province protected his front. His face was covered in several pale scars which Noctis suspected were received from the numerous battles he had fought in the name of Lucis. Two holsters hung from his belt, each meant for a kukri of a different size.

Noctis shifted and turned to face the Galahdan. “You were part of the Kingsglaive?”

“Aye. What of it?” He warily eyed at the former king.

“Where were you the day your king died?” Noctis knew it served no purpose to open old wounds, but he truly wanted to know what had really happened during the destruction of Insomnia. The only eyewitness he had spoken with was Iris.

“Escorting the Lady Lunafreya outside the city”, the Galahdan gruffly replied.

His heart skipped a beat.

“Really?”

The glaive crossed his arms. “I don’t have any reason to lie. The kings of Lucis are dead and I have no-one left to answer to.”

Noctis could feel Cor’s cool gaze on the back of his head. “I see.”

Libertus’ suspicion seemed to fade when he saw the hunter’s shoulders hunch. “I can tell you wanna ask me something. Spill.”

Noctis inhaled and exhaled slowly to calm himself. He had never expected to find another link to the past in a daemon infested mine of all places. “How was she? Was she hurt during the escape?”

“She got few bumps and bruises, but she made it out in one piece.” His eyes crinkled in good humour. “I could tell she was a fighter. She might not have carried a weapon on her, but she sure knew how to make the best out of a sticky situation. Reminds me of someone else I knew.” He fingered the smaller kukri with a fond smile.

“Thank you.”

Libertus’ brow lifted in question.

“For keeping her safe”, Noctis specified.

Richard snorted. “You her secret ex-lover or something? Too bad it’s late to cash-in on that scandal.”

Noctis’ hand was already removing the Engine Blade from his belt by the time Libertus butted in: “Knock it off, Dick.”

With a final creak the lift reached its destination.

“I won’t have any spats in my squad. Spare your aggression for the daemons”, Cor barked. “The fiends have made their nest deep within this tunnel. Be on your guard.”

He took point, his hand readily resting on his katana’s hilt. Noctis followed his example. William removed the heavy spotlight from his back and held it against his hip to point the light forward. They followed the rails, all the while keeping a watchful eye for any incoming carts. Goblins were known to ambush any fools brave enough to wander through their claimed home territory. It was eerily quiet. Only the clanking of booted feet against the iron rails and Umbra’s nails scratching the rocky path broke the silence. They reached a large room branching out in several smaller tunnels. There were still no signs of life.

The men turned to follow a narrow tunnel further down. Water trickled down from above them. Noctis lost his balance on several occasions as his feet slipped on the wet rocky ground. Thankfully Ignis was behind him and kept him upright and from making himself look like a fool in front of Cor and his men. Swallowing his pride, Noctis let his hand follow the cold rock wall for support. The sound of moving rocks alerted the men.

“The structure doesn’t sound stable”, Ignis commented.

“It’s not”, Richard confirmed.

“Just great”, Noctis muttered under his breath.

Umbra barked sharply in warning. A steady rumble and squeaking of wheels increased in volume.

“Watch out!”

♫

A mine cart came out of the darkness and knocked William over who was at the rear and hadn’t heard the warning. Several goblins jumped out of the cart and swarmed him. Cor was already engaging the meddlesome fiends while Richard pulled William to safety. The wounded hunter grunted in pain; he had hurt his leg badly from the crash and couldn’t stay up on his feet. The spotlight had taken the brunt of the blow and was damaged beyond repair. Only the men’s pocket torches lit up the tunnel.

Umbra turned to the opposite direction of the goblins and growled. Heavy footsteps alerted the hunters to a new presence. A tall, pale figure fearlessly walked beneath the shaft of Noctis’ torchlight. Seeing its mutilated face and lidless onyx black eyes up close sent chills down the former king’s spine. It held its long katana in a lazy hold, the blade resting against its shoulder. It bode its time as if waiting for something.

Another horde of goblins approached from behind it. Then, without a warning, the tall daemon lunged forward and swiped its long blade to where Libertus’ neck was just a split second ago. Anticipating the attack, Cor had rushed forward to parry the aramusha’s strike. The Galahdan backed off from the duel and joined Ignis in dispatching the goblins.

“More coming from the rear!” Dave called. The air sizzled as magical flames burst out from the nozzle of the flamethrower. The stench of melting skin and boiling blood was nigh overwhelming. The goblins’ loud screeches of pain seemed to only summon more fiends. The five hunters and a glaive had their hands full. Even Umbra joined the fray. With his jaws he snapped any wandering goblin’s neck that dared to come too close to his master. Foul tasting black blood coated his fangs.

The aramusha took Cor by surprise and rushed past him straight towards Dave’s unguarded back. Noctis hurried to protect the older man. Sparks flew as metal clashed with metal. His booted feet skidded backwards on the rocky floor from the force of the daemon’s blow. Cor took the chance to slash at the daemon’s back, but it was too quick; it kicked Noctis right in the stomach and sent him flying before turning around to parry the Marshal’s attack.

Noctis landed next to Dave who immediately extinguished the flames to avoid burning his ally. The goblins rushed forward to overwhelm the defenceless flamethrower operator. Noctis pulled out his thundaga flask and let it fly among the pack of goblins. The whole tunnel lit up in blinding white light as lightning crackled and killed a dozen goblins, momentarily paralysing the rest of the daemons and allowing Noctis time to roll out of the flamethrower’s line of fire. Dave continued his assault. Electricity continued to sizzle from where Noctis’ flask had landed and killed any goblins that made the mistake to step too close.

Richard and William had pushed the mining cart sideways and used it as cover to fire at the horde. Ignis joined Cor in engaging the aramusha while Libertus covered Dave’s back. A familiar sound of high pitched gurgling came from behind the daemon leader.

Bombs.

Not good.

Noctis scrambled to his feet and ran past the tall daemon. The bombs were already increasing size at an alarming rate. He cleaved the closest bomb in half with his Engine Blade. It fell with a heavy thud, its dying flame illuminating the tunnel in hellish red light. Another three continued to grow. He managed to kill one more and engage another, but the last one evaded his slash and made its way to its master. Noctis wished now more than ever that he had his warping abilities.

With nothing else at hand, he took out his last magic flask – a leftover low-potency blizzard grenade – and threw it towards the daemon. The blizzard spell did little damage, but it slowed the bomb’s advance enough for it to go off prematurely. The explosion destroyed the fragile structures keeping the roof supported. The last remaining bomb next to him followed the previous one’s example and detonated. Noctis jumped for cover, but was thrown into air by the force of the blast. He landed painfully on the hard ground.

Rubble and jagged rocks fell and blocked the tunnel, separating him from the rest of the group. He lay still as dust and loose rocks showered down on him and waited for the loud rumble to come to a stop. The loose dirt covered the corpses of the bombs, hiding the light of their dying flames and encasing the tunnel in complete darkness once more.

♫

Noctis couldn’t hear the sound of fighting anymore. He couldn’t hear anything at all besides his own ragged breathing and the sound of his racing heart. He inhaled the dusty air and coughed. He could hardly see through the haze even with the aid of his torchlight. He waited for the dust to settle before he shakily stood up and attempted to wipe the excess dirt from his clothes. His hair and face were covered in grainy sand. Even his mouth and ears hadn’t been spared from the dirt shower. He spat out the muck and wiped his dirty face with an equally dirty sleeve. Some mess he had gotten himself in.

He was trapped. He moved to the rubble blocking his way to his friends and attempted to push, but nothing moved. It was as impassable as the sealed doors of old he had read about in stories. He felt sick. Sweat formed on his brow and upper lip. Blood gushed loudly in his ears and his breathing grew erratic. He instinctively clutched to his pained chest and fought against the panic attack that threatened to take hold of him.

I’mgonnagetburiedaliveI’mgonnagetburiedalive-

‘Keep calm, Noct’, he ordered himself. Funnily enough his inner rational voice sounded like Ignis.

His head felt light. He couldn’t breathe properly and only managed to inhale short gasps of thick grainy air.

‘Breathe in, breathe out. That’s it.’

He took in a long shuddering breath and exhaled it as slowly and calmly as he could. He continued his breathing exercise until he was certain the hyperventilating had passed.

Noctis leant against the wall. What was he to do now? He took out his walkie-talkie to inform his companions of his current situation. There wasn’t even any static crackling in response, only dead silence. With few options available, Noctis turned to face the opposite side and searched for a way out of the enclosed space. His torchlight found a rock formation that looked loose enough to be moved. Carefully he pushed and was rewarded with a low peal as rocks tumbled and formed a small hole. He slipped his sword through it before crawling out of the death trap.

He took a long whiff of the stale underground air. His headache lessened as his lungs got their fill of oxygen. Rocks crumbled ominously above him. The structure was still unstable.

He walked in silence for good five minutes before the sound of squealing stopped him in his tracks. He covered his torchlight with the palm of his gloved hand and held his breath while standing completely still. A small pack of goblins emerged from a junction. They halted as if sensing his presence and sniffed the air dubiously. They crept closer to his hiding spot. Once they were only a spear’s length away, Noctis uncovered the torchlight and killed the momentarily blinded goblins.

Two goblins had stayed far enough to avoid getting blinded and sneaked in from the side to assault him. Noctis blocked the first one’s attack and send it flying back with a hard push from the flat side of his blade, but not before the goblin successfully snatched one of the two remaining potion bottles he carried on his person. The daemon stumbled briefly from the blow, but didn’t let go of its prize. It chugged down the contents of his potion and cackled gleefully. Stunned by the dirty trick, Noctis failed to react on time as the second goblin reached him, its poisonous fangs digging through the fabric of his sleeve into his arm. With a yelp of pain, Noctis kicked off the creature. Its sharp teeth ripped his flesh as it was forcefully dislodged from its prey. Not wasting any time, the hunter impaled the off-balanced goblin.

The last remaining goblin squeaked and fled with his empty potion bottle clutched between its bony hands.

The poison worked surprisingly fast. Already Noctis was feeling its affects; his breathing grew laborious and his limbs felt heavy as lead. His head swam as he stumbled forward, his hold on the Engine Blade slackening until the blade’s tip scraped the dusty ground. He tripped and fell heavily on his side. The sylleblossom fell from his pocket and landed in front of him. He couldn’t summon the strength to even lift his head. He was so tired. He wanted badly to take a nap.

Just five minutes.

His eyes drifted shut.

♫

Somebody was crying. Noctis opened his heavy eyelids and blinked at the blurry image of something blue in front of him. The sweet smell of the sylleblossom gradually helped clear the fog from his head. Sitting up, he noted he was still in the mines and separated from his friends. His arm was sore from where the goblin had bitten him. He took the last remaining potion bottle on him and emptied its content on the wound. He ripped a strip of cloth from his undershirt and wiped it clean from the dirt and dust before wrapping it around the swollen limb. He had no antidotes on him; Ignis carried most of their medical supplies. He could only hope the potion was enough. He took the fallen flower and put it back in his pocket. Curiously enough his limbs didn’t feel nearly as heavy as they had before, even if he was still wobbly and unfocused.

A sharp sob reminded him of an unseen presence. Picking up his Engine Blade, Noctis staggered towards the sound. Was someone else stuck down here? How long had they been here?

“It’s okay, I won’t hurt you”, he slurred. His tongue felt unusually thick in his mouth.

He came to a crossroad and paused to listen. The sniffling and sobbing was muffled as if the crying person was hiding under a thick blanket. He followed the sounds to an empty room and stumbled over discarded mining equipment. The shaft of his torchlight found its target huddled against the stone wall. He instantly recognised the faded white dress, now covered in dust.

“Luna?”

The crying quieted down. She lifted her head and warily watched him.

“How did you get down here?” His head buzzed and he nearly lost his balance as he made his way beside her. His feet were numb and he couldn’t trust any of his senses to guide him safely. His eyesight occasionally blurred, his ears rang as if he had stood next to a firing turret for too long and he constantly felt like he was free-falling and about to phase through the floor. That poison must’ve done a number on him. His current condition reminded him of his 18th birthday when Prompto had taken him to a sleazy bar in the outskirts of the city to celebrate. He hadn’t realised how drunk he was until it was too late.

Ungracefully he slumped down next to her.

“You let me die.”

His eyes widened. He could hardly believe his ears. She was actually talking! All he managed was a clever “Huh?” in reply.

“You let me die”, she repeated. She dropped her hands from her tearstained cheeks to her lap and glared at him insistently. “You let me die for nothing.”

Words failed him. He could only gape at her and stutter incomprehensibly.

“I showed you by example what it meant to sacrifice everything for the good of all of Eos. Yet here you are, doing nothing to stop the Scourge and end all suffering. You made a promise to me!”

His heart thudded rapidly against his ribcage, his hands were clammy and he could feel adrenaline rush through his veins. Suddenly he was hyper aware of his surroundings and of her smallest movements. In the back of his mind he wondered what caused this abrupt alertness when just a moment ago he had felt so sluggish.

Little Luna continued her relentless accusing. “I thought you loved me! I thought you wanted to be with me, forever!” she cried hysterically. Tears welled in her bright blue eyes as she wrinkled the hem of her dress between her small hands in distress.

Noctis cradled her head between his palms. “I do love you. I do want to be with you.”

Her eyes focused on his in an intense stare. “Then why?” She lifted her hands to clutch his vest. “Why won’t you join me in death?”

Dread gnawed at his insides. Kill himself? And leave his friends and the people who depend on him?

“I still have people here who need me.” He stroked her icy cheek with his thumb and rested his forehead against hers. “Please. Wait for me, Luna.”

She lowered her gaze, her hold on his collar tightening. “I’m done waiting.”

Her eyes gleamed yellow. Something oozed from the seams of her layered face. A trail of black blood trickled down from her hairline and over her eye, all the way down to her dress’ neckline. She unsteadily stood up as more blood dripped from her nostrils, mouth, ears and eye sockets. Soon her whole face was covered in the foul fluid and the top of her white dress was soaked from it. Noctis scrambled on his feet and backed away from her.

“If you won’t do your duty and would have me die in vain, then grant me this one satisfaction.” She cornered him against the wall. He had nowhere to run. “Share my suffering!”

The bones of her small fingers crunched and popped as they stretched and grew into long sharp claws similar to an arachne’s and tore his vest and shirt open. She ripped his skin with ease and dug into his meat. His stomach lurched as her twitching fingers wiggled between his muscles. He wanted to scream, but his parched throat managed only a guttural gasp. She let go of his collar and scrabbled at his meat. He felt faint and was certain he would’ve collapsed had she not held him put with the hand that twitched between his muscles.

Seemingly happy with herself, she removed her bloodied pawing hand and punched hard enough for his ribcage to shatter. She split the bones and carelessly tossed them over her shoulder before pausing to admire her work. She looked like a child celebrating her birthday as she pulled his heart out from his chest. His veins were still attached to the pulsing organ. Seeing them stretch made his stomach churn from nausea. He heard a sickening, wet squelch as his veins snapped from the tension and released his heart. She held the still beating heart in front of his eyes. He heaved uncontrollably and vomited bile on her white bony arms. She didn’t appear bothered by the stinking body fluid in the slightest and merely cooed at him.

“Don’t worry, dear Noctis.” Her voice was eerily soft, almost like a sweet lullaby. “I will safeguard your heart just as you have kept mine safe for all these years.”

His numb hands found the hilt of his sword. The blade punctured her lungs. With a raspy wheeze she collapsed to the ground after he dislodged the blackened blade from her petite body. He staggered backwards and dropped the sword, horror written all over his shell-shocked face. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he fainted next to her still body.

♫

With a startled gasp Noctis sat up, his hand clutching his chest. He dropped his gaze to his breast and was relieved to see his clothes intact and his body hale and healthy. He was drenched in cold sweat and his clothes clung to him like a second skin. The calming scent of a sylleblossom invaded his nostrils. It was like a breath of fresh air compared to the stuffy and still air of the mines. But it wasn’t the only scent he could smell; a familiar stale stench crept up his nose. Noctis turned his torchlight to point towards its source.

His blood ran cold and the torchlight fell from his trembling hand.

Next to his bloodied Engine Blade lay a pair of bony white feet. Even with the upper body shrouded in shadows, he could tell the limbs were twisted in an unnatural angle.

Had he truly…?

A dry sob wrecked his frame. He attempted to stand up, but his legs were barely responsive. With a frustrated gnarl, he forced himself on all fours and crawled towards the small body. Just as he was within arm’s reach, the pale legs began to move. He halted and watched with bated breath. Was she alive? A quiet scraping of flesh across the hard floor was the only sound he could hear. Something dragged the body further away into the darkness, leaving behind a black-blooded trail.

“No!”

Picking his torchlight, he lost his balance and collapsed. With only his arms mobile, he dragged his body forward. He followed the trail until he came to a small hole, just large enough to fit a goblin or a child’s body inside. He stuck his arm into the hole and felt around. A layer of something sticky covered the floor and squelched between his fingers. His hand enclosed around something solid. He withdrew his hand and held it next to his torchlight. His hand and arm were covered in wet slosh that consisted of foul smelling daemon manure mixed with rotten black blood. In his hand he held a broken piece of a goblin skull. With a repulsed shudder, he tossed it away.

He peeked into the hole, but couldn’t see anything. His only reward was the disgusting stench of daemon waste. He heard a wet snap as if a limb was pulled out of its socket. Quiet gnawing and munching echoed from within the daemon nest followed by an occasional pleased hiss. He pulled out of the hole and threw up. Yellow liquid trickled down his chin even after he had finished emptying his stomach. He wiped the drops of bile from his beard. His throat felt like it was burning and tears blurred his vision. He had killed her and left her remains to be defiled.

Not wanting to listen to the sickening symphony, he crawled back to where he had left his sword.

As he reached his soiled weapon, his torchlight hit something reflective. He forced himself to sit upright and picked up the see-through item. It was a potion bottle. And not just any potion bottle, but the very same one the goblin had stolen from him. How did it get here? Why hadn’t the goblin brought its buddies to finish him off while he had been unconscious?

He held his head as the familiar buzzing intensified. His body was still fighting against the poison.

He hadn’t felt so utterly alone for a long time. Ever since he had discovered his friendly ghost, he had felt like he always had someone following him and watching his back. She had saved him from getting ambushed during the daemon raid and she showed him where the injured chocobo was. He was fairly certain he had her to thank for his swift recovery from the elemental cannon’s blizzard blast as well.

How come she wanted him to kill himself? Was it truly her or had he been hallucinating thanks to the goblin poison? He desperately wanted to believe it had been just the figment of his messed up imagination, but the lifeless body and the fresh blood on his blade were evidence he had hard time ignoring.

♫

But what if…?

He glanced at the empty potion bottle and the black trail leading to the unknown creature’s nest.

Little Luna never spoke when he was conscious. The only time he had spoken with her was when he was knocked out from the blizzard blast, and even then she had only told him to get better for his friends’ sake. She never accused him of his failures or demanded him to pay a blood price. On the contrary, she always made sure he stayed alive.

With a trembling hand, he took out the fragile blue flower out of his pocket and inhaled its aromatic scent. The throbbing lessened and he could feel the numbness of his legs gradually fade away. Maybe the flower had some kind of healing properties against venom? It seemed to be slowing down the poison from taking over. He distantly recalled Luna telling him that sylleblossoms were used in hygiene products such as soaps as well as in medicine. They grew everywhere in Tenebrae and were therefore cheap ingredients.

His hope rekindled, Noctis wrapped his scarf around his lower face and placed the flower beneath the makeshift mask. He breathed in its sweet fragrance. He sat and waited for the buzzing to stop. Once he was confident he could stay on his feet, he stood up using his sword as support.

Even now Little Luna was saving him. Had she not placed the flower in his vest, he would’ve succumbed to the poison hours ago.

♫

He left the room and stopped at the crossroad to listen. He could barely hear distant tumbling of rocks and high-pitched squealing of goblins coming from the opposite tunnel. It might lead him back to the fight and back to his companions, but he was in no condition to fight endless hordes of daemons. His mind made up, he took a turn to the right.

The tunnel led up and away from the stale stench of daemon waste. The further he went, the clearer the air smelt. A sudden loud static made him jump and nearly hit his head on the roof.

‘-oct. Come in, Noct.’ The wave of relief was nearly overwhelming after hours of constant tension.

He quickly brought his hand to his walkie-talkie. He took a calming breath and readied his aloof pretence. “Present. I’m alright, just took a detour down in daemon latrine. Amazing stuff.”

‘Glad to hear your humour is still intact’, the strategist dryly commented.

“How’re you guys? All still in one piece?”

There was a brief silence on Ignis’ end. ‘I’m afraid we lost Richard during the cave in. He was crushed under heavy debris while he tried to carry William to safety. He tripped over a goblin corpse and William fell from his back. Thankfully Libertus managed to pull William out of the danger, but we couldn’t do anything for Richard. He died instantly.’

Noctis sent a silent prayer for the hunter’s soul. He might’ve not liked the man, but he didn’t wish death for anyone.

“I see.”

♫

The sight of torchlight shafts had never been so welcome in his life. Umbra ran to him without restraint. Noctis chuckled and allowed the dog to fawn over him.

“Good to see you, too. Was lonely without you.” He patted the dark-furred head affectionately.

Ignis held his nose. “You truly smell like you’ve been living in the sewers for the past week.” Like all of the men, the blind brunet was covered in dust. The hems of his glaive uniform were burnt, presumably from friendly-fire.

Libertus, who was carrying an unconscious William on his back, halted when his torchlight illuminated the dark-haired hunter. “Damn, you look like you’ve been through hell.”

Noctis looked down at himself. His dominant arm was caked in black stinking slosh while the other had a soaked-through rag covering his wound. He looked like someone had rolled him in tar and thrown him into a pit of dirt. Prompto would kill for that photo.

Cor eyed the rag wrapped around Noctis’ arm. “Ignis, take out your medical kit. He is injured.” Unsurprisingly the grim Marshal was the least injured out of all of them. Only indication of a struggle was the dirt and sweat covering his skin. Noctis was a little disappointed he didn’t get to see the showdown between the aramusha and former Crownsguard. He would’ve preferred that by far to what he had to witness while separated from his companions. He forced the images, sounds and smells out of his mind with a shake of his head and concentrated on what was before him.

Ignis immediately took his kit from his rucksack. “What happened? Where are you hurt?”

“A goblin bit me on the arm. I feel a little woozy, but otherwise I’m okay.”

The tactician frowned as he fumbled to find the injured arm. He removed his gloves and discarded Noctis’ makeshift bandage to feel the wound with his fingertips.

“Ow! No need to press it. It hurts enough without you adding to it.”

Ignis ignored him and cleaned the wound. He had Noctis drink an antidote while he wrapped his arm in a fresh bandage.

“I’m impressed ya’ll made it this far on your own and while injured”, Dave commented. His voice was gruff yet warm. “Doesn’t take more than one bite from a goblin for a man to kick the bucket.” Noctis noted the older man was favouring his other leg as he stood. If he squinted, he could see the outlines of a bandage hugging his injured thigh beneath his grey hunter slacks. Scratch marks covered his bare arms. His other sleeve was ripped from where the aramusha’s katana had grazed him.

Libertus lowered William down and straightened his back. “Sounds like he’s got the favour of one of the Six”, he lightly joked. The Galahdan’s breastplate was falling apart. He must’ve taken a heavy hit sometime during the fight. He had a bandage wrapped around his forehead where he had received a new gash to add to his scar collection.

“Wouldn’t count on that”, Noctis mumbled.

Once his wound was taken care of and Ignis had made sure Dave and Libertus drank another potion to keep their wounds from reopening, the men trekked to the elevator and returned to the surface. Noctis couldn’t help but notice how spacious the mine cage felt with Richard’s absence. William woke up, but refused to acknowledge any of them. Libertus quietly explained to Noctis that Richard had been William’s step-brother and the only family he had left. It was best to let him grieve in peace for now.

The ride back up went by in a flash as Noctis mulled over all that had happened down in the mines. He would have to ask Prompto if he had seen Little Luna while he’d been away. He still felt unsure about relying on his senses, even as the sylleblossom kept him sober and the antidote continued to purge the poison from his bloodstream. He wasn’t sure he could tell the difference between sleep and awake anymore. He could only hope it was a temporary state.

The rusty cage-doors opened. He hurried out into the open space and deeply inhaled the cool air. He had no idea how long they had been down there, but it felt like days. He had almost given up on smelling fresh air ever again when he had stumbled alone in the darkness, poison weighing his limbs down.

“We have cleared most of the mines”, Cor informed him. “Libertus, take him and William to the Stronghold’s medic. Ignis, Dave. Get yourselves looked after as well. I will bring another team tomorrow to wipe out the leftover daemons.”

“Yes, sir!”

Noctis made to follow the rest of the men back to the car when Cor’s hand on his shoulder halted him. He glanced quizzically at the older man.

“You did well, Majesty. You saved us from getting buried alive.”

Noctis lowered his gaze. “Hardly. Richard’s dead thanks to me. Had I been faster, the bombs wouldn’t have gone off.”

“No use mulling over what ifs. You can waste away years thinking what could’ve been.” His steely blue eyes softened. “I should know. I’ve carried the weight of your father’s death on my shoulders all these years. For three years I searched for you, Majesty. I thought I had failed you as well and that the line of Lucis had ended.”

Noctis lifted his hand to clasp Cor’s coarse one. “You’ve never failed me, Marshal. You did your best to ensure the people of Leide had a safe place to stay. I couldn’t ask for more.”

Cor briefly squeezed his shoulder before briskly making his way to the vehicle. He was already contacting the Stronghold to make sure the medical staff was ready to receive them.

They stayed in Meldacio Stronghold overnight. It was quite a different experience from his time in the Fort’s infirmary. For one, they had actual beds instead of having tables posing as beds. An elderly lady came every hour to check on him and the monitor plugged to him. So far everything seemed good. The antidotes were doing their job to cleanse his blood and the medical herb tea she had prepared for him helped him to calm down. Umbra was allowed to lie next to his bed. Libertus, Dave and William were also recovering in the same building, but kept in separate rooms. Ignis had suffered no serious injuries and had decided to sleep among civilians.

Noctis fingered the bright blue flower. He had kept it hidden from everyone, including his companions and the medical staff. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to hide it. It wasn’t like anybody would take it from him and demand to make it into an antidote. He switched off the lights and cradled the bloom next to his face.

♫

The first thing Noctis did once he arrived to Fort Highwind was to find Prompto. He found the blond at Cid’s garage, staring intently at a blueprint as if he was trying to make heads or tails out of it. Cid might be a genius, but deciphering his hieroglyphs was another matter entirely.

“Hey, Noct. Did Cor roughen you up good?” He grinned.

“He didn’t need to. The daemons did that for him.” Noctis replied dryly. “He took us to clear the Balouve mines with Cindy’s newest creation.”

Prompto instantly perked up and set the papers down. “What did she invent this time? Anything cool? I tell you, man, she’s amazing! Can you imagine a romantic date in the garage; surrounded by machinery and the smell of chemicals and armed with a tool box? The things we could teach each other-“

“A flamethrower using elemental energy”, Noctis interrupted his gushing. As endearing as it was, he really didn’t need to know all the juicy details of Prompto’s Cindy-related fantasies.

“Did it work?”

“Yeah, we got the place cleared up.” No need to tell him of the more gruesome details. They all had their own demons to deal with. No pun intended.

“Listen, Prompto.” Noctis scratched the back of his neck as he tried to keep himself calm. “Have you seen Little Luna while I was away?”

“Nope. But the real deal is still kept in the morgue. The rest of the hunters were buried outside the fort, but since she doesn’t stink like a corpse should, they let her chill.”

Noctis sighed in relief. He wanted to be there when it came time to say his final goodbye.

“Apparently Aranea got some phone-calls from Tenebrae’s ambassador requesting her to be brought back to her homeland to be buried. They want to give her a proper ceremony fit for an Oracle.”

“Do you have any idea when it’s scheduled to take place?”

Prompto shrugged. “In a few weeks. They’re making a fancy pall for the coffin and everything. Dunno much about funerals, but apparently they require a lot of work and the Tenebraeans wanna make it the best they can or something.”

“Thanks.”

So Little Luna was missing. No big deal, he had been away only two days. He refused to entertain the thought that he had truly killed her in the mines. She was just busy. Doing ghostly things.

His excuses did little to ease the knot of dread that had formed in his belly.

♫

Noctis woke up with a startled gasp. His pulse was racing and his heart felt like it was about to tear itself out of his chest. His whole body was drenched in cold sweat and trembling like a leaf. He glanced at the green digits of Prompto’s newly purchased alarm clock. The freckled blond had bought it as a souvenir from Lestallum. It was shaped like a chocobo’s head. Noctis wasn’t sure if it was meant for him or Prompto. He liked to think he had outgrown his youth’s habit of sleeping in. Normally the goofy clock made him smile, but tonight he could only remember a chocobo with a bloodied rag covering her eyes and how she had slumped down like a ragdoll when he put a bullet through her brain.

His sheets were damp. It was his third night terror that night. Thankfully Noctis had managed to persuade Prompto to go visit Cindy and therefore wasn’t present to witness what a mess he was. He had let Umbra out after waking from his second night terror. Sometimes Umbra took it on himself to make rounds around the fort as if he was serving as eyes for someone. Gentiana, perhaps? It was almost comforting to think one of the Six still cared about the decaying remains of humanity. Almost.

Noctis kicked off his covers and sat up. He couldn’t take this anymore. He was under constant strain from anxiety attacks and plagued by images of the past few weeks. He felt like he was stuck watching a never-ending loop of a shitty home video. He saw the mutilated faces of the hunters that had died in the daemon raid. He saw himself killing an innocent animal as an act of mercy, the chocobo’s blood splattering over the embodiment of his most precious memories.

He saw Luna and Ardyn. He could still vividly recall every detail from that day; how her light blue eyes had widened in surprise as a knife dug into her flesh, how she had bled black blood as the corruption within her frail body threatened to eat her from the inside, how her hair had come free from the elegant braids, how she had defiantly stood her ground in the face of death and attempted to free her killer from the curse of his own making.

But most of all, he saw Little Luna. He saw her getting strangled by imps and heard her terrified scream. He saw her widened glassy eyes as he betrayed her trust and attempted to rip her mask off. He heard the faint gurgle as his sword impaled her plague-ridden body. He heard the distant munching of daemons feasting on her remains.

He hurried out of his dorm to the restroom and emptied what little was left of the contents of his stomach. Shivering, he spat the foul taste from his mouth and washed his face. His pale reflection stared back at him from the dirty mirror. His sunken eyes were bloodshot and his shirt had visible sweat patches. He looked like hell.

Noctis staggered out of the restroom and made his way to the infirmary. He needed something to calm his nerves. Only a single nurse was on duty at this time of night. It was easy enough to sneak past her to the storage room where the drugs were kept. He found the pill dispenser with ease – he had stolen from it three times that week. He didn’t know much about drugs, but he had become acquainted with oxymorphone during his stay in the infirmary and found out it was easy to get high as a kite from them.

Without hesitation, he popped a handful of pills in his mouth and replaced the dispenser in its shelf. Carefully he cracked the door open and made sure the coast was clear before sneaking back to the corridor. Now all he needed was to get back to his dorm and enjoy the brief break from his nightmares.

“Noct?”

Fuck.

He froze in his tracks. He toyed with the thought of making a run for it, but realised he’d just postpone the inevitable. Iris caught up with him. She was wearing nothing but a long-hemmed faded shirt as a nightgown and her farmer-boots. Her long brown tresses were tied to a loose braid that rested over her shoulder. Her hands were damp from a recent wash. She must’ve come from the restroom and spied on him. It would seem he wasn’t the only one with sleeping problems.

“So it was you.” She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him sternly. “I heard the nurses talk about drugs disappearing. I didn’t expect you to be our resident junkie.”

“Leave me alone.”

She grabbed his arm before he could turn his back on her. “Noct, I can see you’re hurting. Let me help you. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I can’t sleep when I keep seeing her die”, he slurred. His eyes were glazing over from the drugs. “I killed her and now she won’t visit me anymore.”

Iris frowned in confusion. “Who are you talking about? Who won’t visit you?”

“Littl’un”, he mumbled.

“Little one?” Iris echoed. “Noct, you’re not making any sense.”

He pulled his arm free from her hold and pushed past her. He reached his dorm’s door and opened it only to have Iris slam it shut.

“Noct, you’ve been like this over a week. You’re distant and hurting. Your actions don’t make any sense to me!”

Irritated, he grabbed her by the wrist, opened the door and shoved her inside. He closed the door behind him and staggered to his bunk. Iris sat down next to him. Her sylleblossom scented shampoo only reminded him of the fleeting moments of happiness he had shared with Little Luna. Had he known his days with her were numbered, he would’ve done something more. He wouldn’t have let her out of his sight.

He snapped out of his melancholic musings when Iris shyly took his hand in hers. Her sincere hazel eyes were so different from Luna’s pale blue ones. They were warm and easily approachable, just like her brother’s, yet they seemed to lack something.

Whereas Iris’ eyes seemed to always shine with admiration and awe, Luna’s cool blue gaze had regarded him as an equal – even when he had felt inferior as a crippled, plague-ridden boy. The four year age gap had done little to help him feel like he could one day stand as her equal, but time and time again she managed to push such insecure thoughts away with a mere turn of her lips. When she smiled, the very air surrounding them had felt warmer. Only Luna could melt his heart so effortlessly, even when his only window to her soul had been the vacant, glassy eyes of Little Luna. His heart ached as he remembered how Little Luna had laughed and smiled when they danced. He’d never see that sunny smile again.

“I’m here for you, Noct. If there’s anything at all that I can do to help, I will.”

Iris’ bare thigh lightly pressed against his as she leant closer. Her smooth hand felt warm around his. It was nothing like the small chilled hand of Little Luna.

Iris was alive.

Luna was gone.

“Anything?” His voice was husky and his throat felt dry.

“Anything.” She squeezed his hand, her lips parting in anticipation.

“I want to forget.” He dropped his gaze to his lap and took a shuddering breath. “For one night, I want to forget everything.”

His head swam. He could already feel the first wave of euphoria from the pills hitting him in full force. He barely registered as the clothes came off and her small pink mouth covered his.

♫

Something soft and warm was pressed against him. He could hear cries of seagulls and smell sea salt. Was he in Altissia? Drowsily he opened his fogged eyes and looked down to see his wife’s golden head resting against his chest. Their thin blanket was tangled between their feet. He saw her wedding dress hanging next to the wardrobe while his suit had been lazily tossed over the back of a chair. Noctis found his wife’s hand and fingered her wedding band. How come he had no recollection of the day before? Had he been drinking too much in the after party?

She stirred, but remained asleep. Her bare skin glowed under the morning sun. They lay in the bed for what felt like hours, but she showed no signs of waking up. Deciding he wanted to surprise her by bringing her breakfast to the bed, he carefully disentangled his limbs from hers and sat up.

He caught his reflection on the mirror of the vanity table. He was suffering from a serious case of bed hair, but it wasn’t anything a brush and hair gel couldn’t fix. He approached the mirror and rubbed his smooth chin. Something was off and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Somehow his face felt foreign, like he was seeing someone else’s face. But it was clearly him, so why-?

Shrugging, he opened the blinders. The morning sun suddenly vanished behind the horizon and the previously warm sea breeze dropped in temperature. With a shudder, Noctis closed the balcony door and went to retrieve clothes from the wardrobe. It was so dark he had to switch the lights on. Instead of the expected yellow glow, the room was illuminated in hallowed blue light.

What was going on?

He sat down next to his wife and gently shook her to wake her up. Her healthy, slightly tanned skin from the Altissian sun had turned to a sickly pale white. Seaweed was tangled between her wet locks.

“Luna?”

She rolled over to lie on her back. Her single lifeless eye stared blankly into oblivion. The skin on her cheek and arm stretched until it tore to form holes from which he could see bones and rotten flesh. Something moved underneath her skin and made its way up her throat to her mouth. A shellfish poked its head out between her parted lips, another from her open cheek. Water trickled down from her nostrils and the corners of her mouth.

Her clouded eye turned to stare at him as she lay paralyzed. All he could do was watch as the critters multiplied and feasted on her flesh.

♫

Noctis sat up and stared at his trembling hands. Another nightmare. It had begun pleasantly enough, but it didn’t last. They never did. Nothing seemed to work. Not sleeping pills, not drugs, not even-

He turned to stare at Iris’ curled up body beside him. He felt sick. He couldn’t believe he had slept with her just to distract himself from his guilt and grief. Carefully he climbed off the bed as not to wake her up and put on his clothes. He needed a shower. Badly. He snatched his towel, faded black jeans and clean skull-printed shirt that still faintly smelled of his soap – of Little Luna – from the wardrobe and silently left the dorm.

He undressed in the locker room and made his way to the showers. Dozen other people were already there when he arrived. The dorms were assigned to groups and each group had timed food serving and showers to avoid overcrowding. His assigned showering time wasn’t due for another hour. Not paying any mind to the people or the occasional confused glance cast his way, he made his way to a shower stand, turned on the water and adjusted the temperature to freezing cold. He closed his eyes.

He couldn’t remember anything coherent from last night with Iris; just detached sounds and sensations. He suspected he had kept his eyes closed throughout the affair. Perhaps he had even tried to convince his drugged mind that he was in Luna’s arms. Would explain the dream he had had afterwards. He was glad for his hazy memory, but he couldn’t erase the night completely from his mind. Removing all evidence from his filthy skin and bed sheets was one thing, but what about Iris? She would remember everything without a doubt. What would she think? Gladio was going to skin him alive if he found out.

To think just before he arrived to Meldacio Stronghold he had been vehemently denying sleeping with Iris to Ignis. How much could happen in a week.

He scrubbed his skin until it was red and raw. The cold water numbed him to the pain. It was the same soap he had used to clean Little Luna. He turned off the water and wiped his eyes, but his vision remained blurry. Was he crying? His clogged nose confirmed his suspicion.

He dried and dressed himself in his clean spare clothes before leaving and heading upstairs to the surface. He needed fresh air and he didn’t want to deal with Iris right now. He’d go back to his dorm and wash the sheets when Prompto returned from Hammerhead to save his sorry hide from the brunette’s wrath.

“Hey, Prince!”

Noctis sharply turned to glare at the dragoon. “Shout that a little louder, will you.”

“What’s gotten your boxers in a twist?” Aranea arched an eyebrow at him, her hand resting on her hip.

He pointedly ignored her remark. “Do you have work for me?”

“My, you sound almost eager.” She teased. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m only here on Specs’ behalf. You weren’t answering your HT.”

The walkie-talkie was clipped to his vest and he had left said vest in his dorm. He sincerely hoped Iris hadn’t answered it. He really didn’t want to go through the drama this early in the morning.

“Lead the way, Boss-lady.”

Aranea took him to the command tower’s elevator and placed a key card on the reader before choosing the top floor as their destination. No bumbling civilians were allowed anywhere near the sensitive computers and equipment. They found Ignis at his work desk, sipping Ebony as he listened to the pre-recorded female voice go through the MT-reports. Noctis suspected it had to be annoying listening to the monotonous voice all day long, but the blind man had little choice if he wanted to work on his own. And if Noctis knew Ignis at all, he dared to claim the ambassador preferred to not rely on other people if given the choice.

“Not like you to ignore a call, Noct”, Ignis commented and set his coffee mug down.

Aranea walked to him and leant down to peck him on the lips. “I’ll leave you boys to it.” With a final caress across his jaw, she left the room, the heels of her leather boots clicking loudly against the concrete floor.

They waited until she had disappeared inside the elevator.

“So what’s this about?” Noctis settled down in a worn leather office chair.

“Something has been bothering me for a while now. You recall the incident in the mines? The poison you suffered from was highly potent and should’ve rendered you unconscious within minutes. Yet we found you wide awake – sober even – hours after you got poisoned.”

Noctis uncomfortably shifted in his seat and rubbed the still healing skin of his arm. He wondered if he would have to carry goblin-fang shaped scars for the rest of his life. “I did put a potion on the wound.”

Ignis leant forward and rested his elbows on the desk. “Noct, I can tell when you’re withholding information.”

He should’ve known by now. Nothing went past Ignis. “I might’ve carried a sylleblossom in my pocket.”

The brunet straightened in surprise. “Ah, I was wondering how come you smelled like Iris’ shampoo. That would explain it. You were aware of its medical properties, I take it?”

“No, I-“ He scratched the back of his neck as he searched for the correct words. “I carried it for sentimental reasons.”

Ignis furrowed his brows in bafflement. “So you didn’t make fine powder of its petals and mix it with water or a potion to drink it?”

“Ah, no.” He was in for it now.

“May I ask where you received a sylleblossom? As far as I’m aware, the Tenebraeans sell only finished products, not raw ingredients.”

How could he explain? He had no proof of Little Luna’s existence, not anymore. Except for the vase-

Oh shit!

Iris was in his dorm. She’d notice the flowers without a doubt. Not only would he have to explain to Ignis how he murdered the embodiment of his lover’s soul – he didn’t really know how else to describe her, she didn’t exactly fit the ‘ghost’ -category – he would also have to explain to Iris why he had flowers not native to Lucis in his dorm. He was already in deep enough mess. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings further by admitting he had bedded her just to forget about the person who owned his heart.

“Noct?”

He flinched. “It’s a long story.”

“We have time, don’t we?” Ignis leant back on his leather chair and crossed his gloved hands across his abdomen, his coffee forgotten.

“You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

Noctis sighed. “You remember how I was searching for something that I wasn’t sure if it existed?”

Ignis hummed in confirmation.

“I’ve been seeing Luna a lot ever since I found her body. She gave me the flower.”

The older man inhaled sharply. “My word.”

Noctis dropped his gaze to his single motorcycle glove, his shoulder slumping under the heavy burden of guilt and shame. He wasn’t ready to talk about Little Luna.

“Have you thanked her for saving you?” He could hear the smile in the blind brunet’s voice.

He lifted his head. “Huh?”

“Surely you haven’t lost your manners.”

Of course. He still had the notebook. Maybe, just maybe-!

“I gotta go!” he announced and dashed to the elevator.

He found Umbra waiting for him outside the command tower. The dog barked in greeting.

“Hey, boy.” Noctis knelt and scratched behind the canine’s ears. “You didn’t come keep me company last night.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Maybe that’s for the best.”

Umbra’s presence might have prevented him from doing what he did, but in the end he had no-one but himself to blame. The dog hadn’t saved him from his night terrors or his night-time visits to the infirmary.

Noctis took the notebook from its casing and flipped it open to a blank spread. He tapped the end of his pen against the page in thought. This was Luna, he reminded himself. He didn’t need to dress his gratitude in fancy words. She would understand. She had told him a long time ago to be himself and not care about royal protocol. It was between only the two of them. He wrote in slow and precise penmanship. Only his best handwriting would suffice.

‘Thank you for your thoughtful gift, Luna. It saved my life. I hope this message reaches you, wherever you are. I miss you.’

He read and reread his words before glancing at Umbra. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, for her words to just magically appear next to his? He had to be patient. Noctis closed the book and put it back in its holster.

“Deliver that for me, will you?”

Umbra wagged his tail, but made no move to follow his request. Was it because there was no-one to deliver it to anymore? Or did he simply not need to move when Luna wasn’t physically bound to this world? Maybe she had already written her answer?

He took the notebook and checked his entry. The page next to it remained blank. His heart fell in disappointment. With a sad sigh he left to assist Cid while waiting for Prompto to return.

♫

Noctis lay in bed and went through the photos Prompto had taken. Hammerhead garage hadn’t changed much since he last visited. The diner had gone through drastic interior changes as it no longer served as a resting place for weary travellers but as a last line of defence against invaders from Insomnia.

Cindy had let her blond curly locks grow past her shoulders and kept them in low pigtails. Her formerly tanned skin had lost its healthy colour from lack of sun, just like the rest of the population. With the post-apocalyptic climate to take into consideration, she had abandoned her hotpants and replaced them with faded jeans. She wore a red and black flannel shirt beneath her old custom-made Hammerhead jacket. Curiously enough, her ever-present cap had changed owners and sat snugly on Prompto’s blond head.

Noctis glanced at the nightstand. Previously absent from any items, it now held Little Luna’s sylleblossom arrangement, his handheld radio, Prompto’s alarm clock and Cindy’s cap.

There were plenty of pictures of Cindy working on hallowed lamps. He even found a picture of Dave getting the cylinder of his flamethrower refilled. A dark-skinned boy wearing Hammerhead’s cap appeared in several photos. Prompto had told him Cindy had taken Takka’s son as her apprentice to ensure her knowledge would be passed on to the next generation.

The two blonds seemed happy, surrounded by gadgets, tools and machinery. Prompto had told him how he had repurposed his Drillbreaker to a drill that could efficiently harvest elemental energy from deposits. Apparently that had been the ice-breaker and earned him Cindy’s undivided attention. Noctis was happy for his friend. It had taken the shy blond a decade to get to Cid’s good graces and muster the courage to approach Cindy without relying on the former king’s support.

As he absently browsed through the photos, he came across several pictures of himself making strange poses in the dorm. He was laughing and holding his skull-printed shirt in one hand and holding air with the other. It seemed like he was swaying from side to side. On closer inspection he noticed the sylleblossom arrangement was missing from the background. The pictures were taken when he had been dancing with Little Luna.

He turned the camera around in his hands and snapped a photo of the nightstand. Surely enough he could see only the radio, alarm clock and cap on top of it. Did it mean only he and Prompto could see the flowers?

Well, if nothing else, it meant he didn’t have to explain their existence to Iris. He almost wished he had to, if only to prove he wasn’t going crazy. He still hadn’t come up with a sound theory as to why only he and Prompto could see Little Luna. Prompto had suggested it might’ve been because she was responsible for bringing the two friends together, but it didn’t really make any sense in Noctis’ mind. Personally he suspected the Starscourge had something to do with it. Besides him and Prompto, only the daemons seemed to be able to sense her. He wasn’t sure about Prompto, but it felt safe to assume the blond had been in some kind of contact with the plague when he had been nothing but a babe in Verstael’s laboratory. Noctis himself had been infected by it when the marilith had attacked him and his entourage. But it was all speculation.

Scratching on the door alerted him to Umbra’s return from his rounds. The hunter opened the door to let the dog in and removed the notebook and its casing from his back. Umbra jumped on the bed to his usual spot and settled down for the night. Not able to help himself, Noctis checked the notebook. Still nothing. With a heavy sigh, he put the camera and notebook down on the nightstand and switched off the lights.

Prompto had already fallen asleep. It was a long drive from Hammerhead to Cleigne. He wondered how much longer he would share his dorm with Prompto before Cindy’s siren song had him packing his things for good.

♫

Noctis blearily opened his eyes and squinted at the green digits hovering over the nightstand. 4 am.

He lay still and listened. All he could hear was the steady hum of the radiator and Prompto’s soft, barely audible snoring. Umbra slept soundlessly at his feet, his warm fur comforting against his toes. What had woken him up so early? He felt his neck for dampness, but found no evidence suggesting he had suffered from another night terror. Just as Noctis was about to be lulled back to sleep by the familiar nightly sounds, he felt the mattress of his bed dip under additional weight.

Had someone sneaked in?

Quietly sitting up as not to alarm the intruder, he waited for his eyes to get adjusted to the dim light of the alarm clock. His heart skipped a beat when he recognised the familiar thin legs and newly mended and washed summer dress. She sat at the edge of the bed, her back facing him as she ran her bony fingers through the sleeping dog’s fur. She was clutching something in her other hand.

Luna.

Startled, she turned around, her body tense. She had clearly expected her visit to go unnoticed. It was only then that he realised he had said her name out loud.

Before he realised what he was doing, he had leant forward and pulled the girl to sit in his lap, arms wrapped around her small frame in a tight embrace. He buried his nose in her blond locks and inhaled deeply – she faintly smelled of his soap and Iris’ shampoo and nothing else. She had no odour of her own, just what was artificially given to her.

While it secretly made him delighted that she smelled of his soap and made him feel like he owned her, at the same time smelling Iris’ shampoo only reminded him of what he had done the previous night. How quick had he been to replace Luna after thinking he had lost her for good. He had been so eager to distract himself from his grief by any means possible. Guilt throbbed painfully within his chest.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to- I didn’t want to-“, his voice was raspy from lack of use.

She interrupted him by playfully pinching his bicep and pulled back enough for him to see the understanding in her pale gaze, her lips curving in a wan smile. Reaper, he had missed that smile. As she reached up to wipe away his tears, her glassy eyes caught the faint green light of the alarm clock and reflected it like a coeurl’s. She dropped her hands to his and held his fingers, squeezing them reassuringly.

There was nothing to forgive.

She let go of his hands and moved out of his lap before pushing him to lie back. He frowned, but grudgingly complied. She stroked the side of his face as a final parting before making to stand up.

He wasn’t about to let her disappear on him again.

He snatched her wrist and forcefully pulled her to lie on top of him. Her sharp hip bone dug into his abdomen painfully, but he managed to help her settle to a more comfortable position with his free hand. Her bangs hung like a curtain over her eyes, hiding half of her immature features in shadows.

He tugged the locks framing her face behind her ear and dropped his hand to the chilly cardboard-like skin of her face. He found the familiar seam of her layered face, but made no move to try and uncover its secrets. Instead, he let his fingers trail down to cup her chin. Her face was a blank mask as he pulled her head down to his and captured her lips in a chaste kiss. There was no warm breath against his face, no frantically thudding heartbeat within her breast. The realisation cut his insides like a knife. She wasn’t alive – she was only as real as he made her out to be.

In the back of his mind he knew what he was doing was wrong on so many levels, but at this moment he couldn’t find the voice of reason within himself and let his instincts and morbid fascination take over. He stroked his thumb across her chapped lips and let it trail down to her pale neck. He watched her face for any reaction as he carefully pressed the bruised skin, but received none. Her vacant stare only confirmed what he had suspected ever since she first denied feeling any pain – she was physically completely numb, and perhaps even emotionally to some extent. He had seen brief flickers of emotions here and there, but most of the time she reminded him of a marionette without a guiding hand or a broken mirror that reflected his emotions back at him in distortion.

Feeling slightly guilty for intentionally trying to cause her pain, he lightly brushed his lips over the bruises. Without his hand to support her head, she let it drop to rest in the crook of his neck, her unmoving lips pressed against his sensitive flesh in a feather-light touch. She was completely still as she lay draped across his chest, and like an unfeeling doll, she let him have his way with her. Greedily he ran his hand across the bare skin of her upper back and traced her sharp shoulder blades, while simultaneously combing her blond tresses with the other hand. He made it a game to himself to count the tiny scars decorating her uncovered skin.

His limbs gradually grew heavy. He was emotionally drained and overall beyond exhausted after everything he had gone through for the past week. Sleep weighed his eyelids down, but he refused to let himself rest. He didn’t want to lose her, not when he just got her back. His hold on the limp girl tightened possessively.

Stirring, Little Luna brought her small hand to caress his bearded chin. Thrilled by her unexpected movement, his arms immediately loosened their hold and allowed her to sit up. Cool fingertips gently closed his droopy eyelids. He mumbled a half-hearted protest, but quieted down when strands of her hair tickled his face and her lips graced his forehead in a ghostly caress. He fell asleep to the scent of sylleblossoms after summer rain.

The next morning he found something small and light blue sitting next to his pillow. On closer inspection he realised it was the very same Carbuncle figurine his father had given to him as a child to watch over him. The paintwork was peeling off the wooden surface and the colours were washed after a decade of rolling in rubble and dust. He wondered how she had known where to find it. Maybe that was why he hadn’t seen her all this time? He couldn’t imagine it being easy to find even if she could bend some rules of nature to her advantage.

He placed it next to the wooden vase. The sylleblossoms were still in full bloom. He had checked the vase to make sure the flowers didn’t run out of water, but the water level hadn’t dipped in the slightest ever since receiving the thoughtful gift. It was as if the vase and its contents were suspended in animation.

His notebook was open. Had Prompto looked through it? Or had Luna…?

He quickly took it from the nightstand. Next to his message had appeared a sticker of a moogle wearing an arm cast. He recognised it from flyers he had seen back in his school days. It was the mascot of IPCHC – Insomnia’s public children’s healthcare centre. Beneath it read ‘You need to take better care of yourself, so I won’t have to!’

He let out a strangled laugh.

As he traced the words with his fingertips, he noticed a drop of ink smearing the page. Curious. For as long as he had known her, she had never left even the smallest of smudges. It was definitely Luna’s handwriting, so it wasn’t like Prompto had left him a fake message.

He brought the book close to his nose and smelled the paper. There was no mistaking the stale smell of daemon blood. Was Little Luna hurt? Had she bled over their notebook? Better yet, what was she? So far he had been content on letting her existence remain a mystery if only to enjoy a stolen moment or two before she was permanently taken from him. Ever the pessimist, he only deemed it a matter of time before she would disappear for good. He prayed to the Reaper that day would never come.

As he closed the notebook, he noticed his left arm was devoid of teeth marks. Had she healed him again? Due to her calling as an Oracle, Luna’s body had been corrupted from within when she healed others from the plague. Was something similar happening again? Was Little Luna killing herself to keep him healed?

He silently vowed he wouldn’t let her die again. Not even for his sake.

Special thanks to @yelde917 for beta-reading. ^^

#ffxv fanfiction #noctis lucis caelum #lunafreya nox fleuret #noctis x luna #noctluna

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blankpagesofmine · 5 years

Text

This past Friday, I had the pleasure of e-chatting on Instagram with a friend and fellow writer by the name of Craig Atkinson. I could spend time pre-ambling by saying just how great of a wordsman/sketch artist he is, but I’ll let the writer chat speak for itself. Mind you, this was kind of a laidback conversation between two fans of literature, creating literature, and general passion project fiends, so apart from a few corrected typos during the live talk, the majority of this is unedited. Also be sure to stop by Iron Lung Press and order a copy of Craig’s chapbook titled “The Longest Weekend.” It’s currently out of stock (because it’s that wonderful), but I’m sure the reprint will be making its way webside very soon. You can also find two of my chapbooks on the ILP website, titled “The House of Wander en Crone” and “Regection.”

Blankpagesofmine: So first off, good morning. I find it interesting that when you and I chat on Instagram it’s on completely opposite schedules.

Craig: Haha. Good morning.

Blankpagesofmine: It’s funny because I’ll be up at the crack of dawn and we’ll chat for a bit, then I’ll go to work, you’re out for the night, then by the time I’m leaving you’re up again. Not sure it gets much more backwards than that haha. Anyway, thanks for taking the time to chat with me a little about our beloved craft.

Craig: You’re welcome. It works the same for me too. While I’m at work, the US is quiet. But I’ve always lived in this time zone, so nothing new to me. Australia is a hour ahead of Japan.

Blankpagesofmine: Makes sense, it’s become your normal day-to-day routine. How long have you been out in Tokyo now? What brought you out there from Australia in the first place?

Craig: It’s a little complicated, but I first landed in Tokyo in 2007 on a working holiday visa, after a year and a half in London. I lived here for another year and a half, and in that time a met my wife. We’d been together a year when my visa ended, so she decided to move to Australia with me. We lived there for 5 years, then 2013 we moved back to Tokyo.

Blankpagesofmine: That’s a very interesting movement back and forth between a few places! And also a very cool romantic story, by the way. No wonder you’re a writer, the backstory of Craig is easily something I could picture reading in an engaging novel. I’m jealous of the relocation aspect of your career because it’s something I’ve never experienced personally. I’m sure it’s had a fair share of work and effort put behind it as well, but I imagine you’re pleased with how everything turned out since first leaving Australia. I also find it fascinating because as writers, I believe that our words and stories are products of the environments we’ve lived and roamed around in. How do you draw on those locations in the chapbooks, zines, etc. that you’ve written?

Craig: My whole childhood is broken up into moving houses. I moved so many times within the same town, then in my 20s involved a lot of moves too.

A lot of my work is drawn and about the past. A certain memory will be linked to one of the places I lived.

The story sounds interesting now, but to a confused 22 year old, it was hell.

Blankpagesofmine: Wow, you’re a dude on the move for sure. I can relate, in my twenties I moved five times leading up to where I live today. And let me say for the record, the more books you buy, the more books you have to move up and down flights of stairs. The last place I relocated to, the mover actually almost threw out his back when carrying my box of espionage books! Whew. I did warn him in advance though haha. Anyway, that’s very cool! It’s interesting how your twenties, for many of us at least, were confusing and disorientating, but make for some of the best writing material one could possibly conjure up. Moving, puddle jumping from place-to-place, I can definitely pinpoint some of that in the works I’ve read of yours. Let’s get to some of your amazing publications. Between Coffee & People and The Longest Weekend, I can’t choose which one I enjoyed more. I also am drawn to the way you mesh art with writing, which isn’t something you see blended with such finesse. What inspired you to be so bold and creative with it?

Craig: Firstly, thanks.

I always considered myself terrible at drawing. And the first two Coffee & People I used photos. Then I heard on a podcast how important it is to just play for 5 minutes each day, so I bought a small notebook and started drawing, and what has came out of that is all sorts of things, including zine covers. If my writing has taught me anything, it’s by doing something every day improvement will usually follow, and that’s happening in my drawing. And for bold….

I’m 39 now, so one thing I’ve realized is that you just have to pick one or two things, you don’t even need to be good at it. Just pick something you like and are interested in, and go all in. You never know what might come of it. Also, throw some of your past in there. In my late teens I was into diy punk rock stuff. I might have lost touch in my late 20s and early 30s, but it’s never too late to return to your true love.

Blankpagesofmine: Probably one of the best tips that an artist could get, to practice for small windows of time each day just to see how the experience ups the ante a little. I agree, my sketches aren’t what I or anyone would call pieces worthy of an art gallery, but I try to spend time with it each day in the manner that you suggest. And in your case, it’s easy to see how it’s payed off. You designed one heck of a catchy logo for Iron Lung Press recently and did a mockup for the brand that I’m developing as well. Would you say that there’s a simplistic beauty to drawing and sketching that manages to see the light of day because of the wonderful world of zine and chapbook writing?

Craig: Totally. I used to have a blog, and felt so limited due to my very limited computer skills.

Blankpagesofmine: I’m inspired just to read how you feel about sticking to the passion projects that a person holds sacred. No matter the age, these things are vital to who we are and personally I couldn’t imagine a day without writing/sketching/creating. If the world has some intangible system of checks and balances, responsibilities and routine lay on one side, while being an artist/creator course corrects the other side to an even level. Glad to hear that you’re working hard at it! What’s next for you in terms of projects? What can your fans and fans-to-be expect in the upcoming months?

Craig: I just wrote a very short book review that I made into a mini zine. I want to do more of them. I’m also in the middle (and struggling) of a longer story that I’m trying to write. In the past few months. I’ve made 5 or 6 mini zines as they are easy to do in my down time at work, and also fit well while I’m working on a longer piece of writing.

Blankpagesofmine: I remember you mentioning the book review mini zine before, that’s going to the top of my queue if you end up pushing it out into a bigger release. It’s like they say in baseball, “these are the dog days.” The intro to a story or novel usually starts with a bang and then it’s surviving those hallowing dog days through to the end. I wish you luck with that, I’m sure you’ll find a way to see through it. That’s a versatile approach which I dig very much, not putting all your eggs in one basket and piecing together a few works at once. On a side and complete unrelated note, I’ve been wanting to ask for awhile now. 1) Are you big into music/what bands and songs get the creatively motivational wheels churning for you? 2) What’s a big to-do in your region for fun? Going to a theater to see films? Outdoors time? Exercise? All of the above?

Craig: Yeah, writing is a weird beast. I fight with it for months, then in some random place I get the answer of how to end the story, and I’ll have to scribble it down on a piece of paper there and then.

I used to be heavily into music.

Since 95 when I was 15 and heard Dookie for the first time. I was also learning the drums at that time, so a few years later I met some friends and we decided to start a band.

We played together for 3 years, also practicing daily.

I moved away from music when I was 25 (2005) when I started traveling. I didn’t, and still don’t have a computer (write on my phone or iPad), and just started reading.

Now, I listen to a bit of music, but currently focused on books. (I know some people will be mind blown)

Fun things??? Hmmm…. Drinking good coffee, writing, and reading.

Blankpagesofmine: To shamelessly quote one of the greats, “when the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.” And here’s the living proof! Dookie was a crazy addictive album, I’m with you there. Between that and a few other 90s rock/punk/grunge boppers, it’s all I wanted to listen to. That must have been a heck of a time, what instrument did you play? Any vocals? And of course, the most prominent and important question here…what was the name of the band?? Haha. If there was ever a more perfect substitute based on the circumstances, you can’t go wrong with reading. NO WAY! We love those things over here too! I guess the world is smaller than I originally thought 🙂 nice to see that opposite ends of the world share similar interests.

Craig: I played drums. I wrote one song, and sang it. I’d drummed for 2 years and the other two just started learning their instruments the week we started. We were friends first. You can find an album we recorded on Spotify. We were called Mondo Pest. I had very little to do with words and reading back then, but the lead singer (who is still playing live shows) did introduce me to my favorite zinester, Cometbus.

We recorded on a number of things (comps and alike), but the album is the only thing I can find online.

Blankpagesofmine: Get out of here, an album on Spotify? How insane is that, I never would’ve known. I know exactly what I’ll be listening to come Monday on my commute to work. Drumming is one of the most skilled instruments out there and I think that’s awesome. Never had a knack for it, but I did play the trumpet for awhile. I do dabble in the fine art of Guitar Hero every now and again though (insert rock on emoji). This has been a really great chat man and I appreciate you taking the time out on an early weekend morning to do so! We will have to rally again for a Part II to this discussion, because I didn’t get a chance to get through a chunk of what I wanted to because the topics just transpired into an incredible realm of their own.

Craig: Haha. I was terrible, and still are. Seriously.

Thanks man.

Diorama Society – Writer Chat w/ Craig Atkinson – 4/12/2019 This past Friday, I had the pleasure of e-chatting on Instagram with a friend and fellow writer by the name of Craig Atkinson.

#author #blogging #interview #literature #reading #self-published #writing

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aion-rsa · 7 years

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Rap’s Czarface Comes to Life Through Throwback Vinyl-Comic Combo

In “First Weapon Drawn,” debuting Saturday for Record Store Day, rap and comics fans finally learn the secret origin of the dastardly hip-hop heel Czarface in an immersive audio-visual experience that resurrects a nearly forgotten storytelling format, to impressive effect.

It’s a scheme as visionary as any a mad scientist might concoct. In the real world, Czarface is the name of the hip-hop supergroup comprised of legendary Wu-Tang Clan rapper Inspectah Deck and veteran underground DJ/MC duo 7L & Esoteric, whose music blends vivid lyrical sparring with equally lavish head-nodding beats. On the page, Czarface is a nefarious antihero akin to the colorful archenemies of comic book and wrestling good guys.

DJ 7L compares the Czarface character to Eddy, Black Sabbath’s mascot, inspiration and avatar. Plainly inspired by classic Jack Kirby heavies like Doctor Doom and Darkseid, artist L’Amour Supreme’s depictions of Czarface have adorned the covers of all of the group’s albums and singles. Czarface’s metallic visage, signature red glove and cape primarily function as conceptual and thematic unifying elements to the music, but the character has been realized in action figures, tie-in comics and even a real-life armor set.

Until now, however, no one has truly known the character’s canonical beginning. And to tell that secret origin, the group wanted to find a way to not only share the tale but bask in its influences.

“Czarface: First Weapon Drawn,” written by Esoteric and drawn by Gilberto Aguirre Mata. Cover, Page 1.

Instead of Inspectah Deck and Esoteric trading barbs over 7L beats, their newest project sees Czarface taking a run at multimedia storytelling. Specially offered as part of the national vinyl-appreciation retail initiative Record Store Day, Czarface’s “First Weapon Drawn” is a throwback-style book and record set that packages a treasury comic detailing the character’s rise (or fall) from a career as a professional wrestler to an energy-crackling supervillain along with a vinyl album that dramatizes and scores the adventure.

CBR has an exclusive preview of the first six pages of the comic, written by Esoteric and illustrated by Gilberto Aguirre Mata, along with a preview of Side A of the Record Store Day release.

The project was modeled after the Power Records albums of the 1970s, which adapted Marvel and DC comics into bombastic read-along stories, with radio-style effects and voice actors. Long before fans could expect to regularly see their favorite super-powered titans in theaters, these albums were what brought characters to life in many readers’ imaginations. To achieve the intended effect, listen to the “First Weapon Drawn” audio while reading the pages, and feel the Czar-force wash over you.

Year One

Almost every supervillain’s origin begins with a slight — or at least a perceived one — and Czarface is no different. 7L & Esoteric had collaborated with Inspectah Deck in the past, but it was 7L who initially suggested they formalize the partnership. Esoteric was skeptical that he and his creative partner of 20 years would be able to land the famed Wu-Tang rapper for an album-length project, but given the chemistry they had all enjoyed on previous tracks, Deck agreed. Then, after Esoteric pitched the Shaolin rhymer on his idea for the group’s potential name and didn’t hear back, he got spooked.

Pages 2-3.

“I remember just talking to him about these different names. I had ‘Czarhead,’ I just wanted to go with something ‘Czar,'” Esoteric told CBR. He grew concerned that he might have offended the rapper he’d admired since hearing the iconic lyric “Swinging through your town like the neighborhood Spider-Man” on Wu-Tang’s “Protect Ya Neck” by suggesting a name too close to a contemporary.

Pages 4-5.

“[Czarface] was the one that we thought best fit, and I was like, ‘It kind of sounds like ‘Ghostface,'” Esoteric said, referring to Wu-Tang’s Ghostface Killah. “And I’m thinking, [if] it kind of sounds like Ghostface and he’s not hitting me back … Is he mad?”

But Deck loved it. “It never even crossed his mind,” Esoteric laughed. Ghostface would even go on to be featured on the group’s eponymous first album.

The Physical Challenge

Czarface’s 7L & Esoteric at Hub Comics in Somerville, Mass. (Photo by Sam Williams)

Now, three studio albums later, and Czarface is a phenomenon. After releasing the “A Fistful of Peril” LP in November, the group set sights on their creation’s next chapter. For guidance, 7L & Esoteric looked back to the roots of their friendship. “One of the first things that we connected on, when we first started making records in the early ’90s, was [7L’s] collection of Power Records,” Esoteric said.

They decided to recreate the Power Records sonics-meet-sequential-art experience that they had mutually dug in their youths. “We kind of always toyed with the idea that it would be a cool idea to do one of those,” 7L told CBR. When they began work on what would become “First Weapon Draw,” they had their model. “We tried to craft it, pattern it, model it after the things that inspired us back then.”

As with the action figures and limited-edition CDs they’ve made in the past, the project’s physical element held particular appeal. “We come from that,” 7L explained. “Collecting things and having things, you know — the latest issue comes out, the newest release, or just finding back issues or finding old records. That’s like in our fabric.”

While they understand the realities and conveniences of digital media and delivery, the Czarface guys are decidedly the types to appreciate a good dig in the crates, and the rare treasures that can turn up.

Page 6.

“Me, personally,” Esoteric said, “I don’t want to do anything if it doesn’t come with the physical copy.” Both his music and his comics have their places. “I want to have it and put it in the vault next to the other ones.”

A limited release aimed at drawing people’s focus off their digital devices and toward something decidedly more analogue held special appeal to the group, who had considered limiting their early music to underground, unofficial releases. 7L, the team’s resident vinyl-head, realized Record Store Day would present a unique opportunity to release something their diehards would truly appreciate.

Photo by Sam Williams.

“When we talked about the idea, [we realized] it’d be cool to do something that’s so limited that’s kind of different and specific that it’ll be this collector’s item,” he explained. To craft something worthy of the attention, they split the duties. Esoteric would pen the comic and radio script that told Czarface’s backstory (and lend his voice to the cast), 7L would compose the accompaniment, including a signature “Czarface Theme,” and all three would executive produce the effort.

If any musicians’ work lent itself to such play, it’s Czarface. Their songs are not only littered with shout-outs to the Spandex set, they’re punctuated with audio clips from old records and cartoons and otherwise. 7L cites De La Soul producer Prince Paul as an influence, noting an appreciation for his use of interesting vocal samples. “I think the humor of it with the seriousness of it is a little bit of, not a template, but an inspiration for me as far as approaching certain things,” he explained.

They committed to capturing an authentic feel for the story. “Musically, we really wanted to nail that element of it sounding like it was from back then,” 7L said. “And not being your typical rap beat — more like the source of what people would sample in hip-hop.”

Marvel honored the cover to Czarface’s “Every Hero Needs A Villain,” left, with a hip-hop variant to “Thanos” #1 by Mike Del Mundo

A Hero’s Return

Already at work on their next album, the members of Czarface were given reason to reflect recently when they were included among Marvel’s Black Panther Nation initiative, which saw them profiled in the pages of Ta-Nahesi Coates’ “Black Panther,” and released an accordingly themed song, “All In Together Now.” Not long after, Marvel paid homage to the cover to their second album, “Every Hero Needs A Villain,” with Mike Del Mundo’s hip-hop variant to “Thanos” #1. For a group who grew up loving Marvel comics, it was a significant recognition. Marvel Assistant Editor Chris Robinson even told Esoteric that with the exception of a possible Kid ‘n Play interview in the ’90s, theirs was the first hip-hop artist interview in a Marvel comic.

Appearing in a Marvel comic, and especially having the opportunity to see his son find his father among the the pages, struck a resonant chord with Esoteric. Long before his musical success, the lifelong comics fan had parted with portions of his prized collection to further his creative dreams. “I sold ‘X-Men’ #94, #95, #96 and #97 to pay for studio time,” he shared, referring to the first four issues of writer Chris Claremont’s seminal run on the title.

Then last week, following a European tour, Esoteric returned home to find a box from Marvel containing “X-Men: Blue” #1, “X-Men: Gold” #1 and “Weapon X” #1. The MC said it felt like his creative life had come full circle. Maybe the new issues weren’t worth quite as much as the ones the he sold all those years ago, but it’s difficult to imagine anything more mint and valuable than the way they got there. Better still, his super co-creation could take on those puny X-Men, any day.

Czarface’s “First Weapon Drawn” Book and Record Set can be found through participating Record Store Day retailers.

The post Rap’s Czarface Comes to Life Through Throwback Vinyl-Comic Combo appeared first on CBR.

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haprilona · 7 years

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Descendit Lunaticus, Chapter 2

I recommend you read this in AO3 as it has drawings, correct formatting etc. to enhance the reading experience. Characters: Noctis Lucis Caelum, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, Prompto Argentum, Ignis Scientia, Gladiolus Amiticia, Aranea Highwind, Cid Sophiar, Iris Amicitia Relationships: Noctis/Lunafreya, Ignis/Aranea, Prompto/Cindy Word count: 9934 Summary: When Ardyn makes Noctis choose between the Crystal and his friends, Noctis chooses his friends out of brotherly love and dooms the world. A decade later Noctis is no longer the Chosen King fighting to reclaim his throne, but a common hunter whose only purpose in life is his friends and protecting the remaining Lucian civilians from the horrors of the eternal night. One day he is reunited with someone he thought was forever out of his reach, but not in a manner he would’ve wanted.

Also at AO3 & FF.net

♫

Noctis woke up to the sound of air raid sirens blasting. Hurriedly he scrambled off the bed, but tripped thanks to his sheet-tangled feet. Cursing, he kicked off the bothersome cloth and hastily pulled on his boots and vest before strapping on his Engine Blade and Cerberus. The walkie-talkie clipped to his hunter’s vest buzzed as hunters exchanged daemon location coordinates.

The door to his room burst open. A wild-eyed Prompto stood there with a half-eaten ration bar in his hand.

“Noct, we’re under attack!” He disappeared as quickly as he had appeared.

“I can hear that”, the alarmed hunter muttered under his breath and ran after his friend.

Civilians rushed further down to the lower levels and the bomb shelter. The sounds of crying and screaming for loved ones’ names drowned under the sirens’ wailing. Noctis pushed through the sea of people and up the stairs. He could hear the rattling of a machine gun coming from outside.

He saw MTs running across the wall, their unsettling red eyes staring into the darkness as they sent coordinates to the main computer which in turn forwarded them to the hunters. A group of armed men dubbed the ‘elite melee force’ and also known as Unit 1 stood by the gates, ready to engage. Among them was Gladiolus with an improved Force Stealer in hand. Ignis was within the central command giving out orders. His background as royal tactician had come in handy during chaotic raids such as this. His knowledge and past experiences with the different types of daemons was crucial when defending the fort.

Prompto stood at the wall, a gun in each hand and with night vision goggles on. Noctis hurried up the stairs to his friend and briefly clasped his shoulder in greeting.

Aranea’s commanding voice crackled from the walkie-talkies. ‘Unit 2: dozen arachnae and bombs coming from the west. Stand by until you are within range. Unit 3: ready the big guns. We have red giants heading your way. Fire at will.’

“Copy that. Unit 2 standing by”, Noctis replied to his walkie-talkie. He took Cerberus from his back and rested the sniper rifle’s barrel against the top of the wall. He could clearly see the different elemental bombs floating towards the fort even without the aid of his scope. The machine gun kept firing from the other side of the fort. He could distantly hear the clinking of bullets bouncing back from armoured skin.

‘Unit 3: stop wasting goddamn bullets on the giants! Only advanced machinery works on those bastards. Take care of the small fry with the regular guns!’ Nothing went past Aranea, it seemed.

‘C-copy that!’ By the sound of it, they had a greenhorn on the machine gun. Just great.

The sounds of manic squealing and screaming grew in volume as the pack of arachnae approached the wall.

‘Unit 2: open fire!’

“Here we go”, Noctis muttered and closed one eye to aim through the scope. An arachne fell. Then another.

“Noct, get the bombs! They’re growing too fast!” Prompto shouted over the sound of shooting.

Noctis turned to face the bombs and shot. The bullet pierced the closest bomb, but the daemon refused to back down and only increased its size further.

“Get down, it’s gonna blow!”

Noctis shot one last bullet through the enormous bomb before throwing himself to the concrete floor. The bomb shrunk and fell to the ground with a low moan, its flame extinguished. An arachne took the chance to climb up the wall without having to worry about bullet rain and jumped on the defenceless hunters who were still recovering from the false alarm.

With the Engine Blade in hand, Noctis struck the disgusting creature’s side. The daemon screamed in outrage and attacked. He parried the blow, but the arachne was too fast for him. One of its powerful spider-legs disarmed him with a quick strike. Seeing its prey stripped from his only line of defence, the feminine creature made to lunge at him again. Noctis barely managed to evade by jumping sideways, the pointy ends of the spider-legs grazing his vulnerable side. The arachne was already at his back before he got on his feet, one of its legs pressing him against the hard floor and feminine clawed hands reaching to slash at his vulnerable occiput. He would’ve likely died had Prompto not opened fire and killed it.

Gasping in relief as the pressure from his back lessened, Noctis picked up his weapon and staggered to his feet. “Nice save!”

“It’s nothing.” Prompto had already returned to lean over the wall and killed any daemons attempting to float or climb up the wall.

A resounding explosion shook the ground.

‘Several bombs managed to penetrate the north gate. Unit 1 engaging.’ It was Gladio’s voice.

“Oh no”, Prompto breathed.

“Concentrate on the fight, Prompto”, Noctis barked. The blond snapped to attention and continued to fire. Goblins that had climbed the wall from the northwestern corner took the gunmen by surprise and swarmed them. Noctis rushed to engage them in melee combat and tried to keep them occupied long enough for the hunters to recover and reposition themselves. The walkie-talkies buzzed, but Noctis couldn’t concentrate on what was being said.

‘Aranea, more giants coming from the north. They mean business this time.’

‘Copy that. Ignis, is our newest toy ready yet?’

‘Cid’s making final adjustments. We’ll be ready in five.’

‘Make it two. We’re running out of time!’

From the corner of his eye, the former king could see Aranea jumping high up in the air and diving down on an iron giant. Her magitek lance pierced the armoured hide and ended the horror film reject in its tracks.

Noctis was struggling to keep the overwhelming number of daemons under control. “Prompto, little help here?”

“One Prompto Special coming right up!” He removed Gravity Well from his back, aimed and fired. The small magitek vacuum sucked in the pack of goblins. Noctis took out a magic flask from his pocket and tossed it. The goblins screeched in agony as they burst up in flames. The magical fire melted their sickly skin until nothing but charred bones remained. The stench of burnt flesh was enough to make a lesser man faint.

“Sweet!” Prompto exclaimed and turned back to empty another clip on the wall-climbing arachnae. The tide was slowly turning in their favour. The western wall was nearly clear from daemons.

‘The cannon is loaded, Commander. Ready to engage.’

‘About time. Unit 1, fall back to the courtyard. Unit 2, assist Unit 3.’

Noctis waited until his entire unit had left before making his way to the northern wall. As he was about to leave his post, he spotted something outside the fort. He paused and looked through his scope. It couldn’t be…

“Luna!” His shout drowned under sounds of screaming, guns firing, daemons roaring and sirens blasting.

She’s going to get hit by the blast if I don’t get her to safety!

Without giving it any more thought, he tossed a rope ladder over the wall and climbed down. Little Luna stood motionlessly in the darkness. Her dirtied white dress and pale skin seemed to almost radiate with faint light. Most daemons were engaging Unit 1 within the fort, but few stragglers remained behind and spotted her. She didn’t even lift her gaze as three imps squealed in delight, their dim yellow eyes gleaming with bloodlust. The closest one jumped on her and wrapped its bony fingers around her throat. She let out a terrified scream as if suddenly realising the danger she was in. His blood ran cold.

With an enraged roar, Noctis thrust his blade through the harassing imp. He dislodged the sword from its small body and cleaved its head off. Black blood stained the grass.

“Luna, get behind me!” The girl scampered to her feet and hid behind the older man.

Another imp shot magical draining beams, but Noctis easily blocked them and struck down the daemon along with its remaining friend. His walkie-talkie buzzed.

‘Fire the cannon!’

Before he could register what was said, a shockwave knocked him over and he knew no more.

♫

I need to get him to a doctor, he’s bleeding fast!

I’m sorry I tricked you.

The infirmary is already packed and we have our hands full with the previous lot.

What do you mean?

But he’s the leader of Unit 2!

I needed to get you away from the ronins.

I don’t care if he was the bloody king of old Lucis! He is no more important than the men in there.

I didn’t even notice them…

Noct! Noct, buddy, can you hear me? He’s freezing!

They snuck inside from a crack one of the red giants made.

His heart is slowing down. We need to get him to warmth. Help me carry him. Aranea’s fetching Ignis.

Thank you...

Gladio, do you have the thermal blanket and medical supplies?

You need to get better, Noctis. Your friends still need you.

Got them right here.

Can’t I stay here with you?

Take off his clothes. Prompto, I need you to be my eyes and help me clean his wounds.

Why would you want to stay here?

Just need to wrap the wounds now...

I miss you.

Now all there is left to do is wrap him in the blanket and make sure he stays warm.

I’ll be there for you when you wake up.

Will he be all right?

Promise?

He should be, but best to have a doctor examine him. Afraid there’s only so much I can do without vision.

I promise.

♫

Noctis slowly woke up to the pungent scent of herbs and potions mixed with the stench of blood and vomit. He was lying on a hard surface. His whole body felt heavy and numb from an unnatural cold. He was chilled to the bone, but at the same time he felt feverish and his face was burning up. He winced as the bright lights above him chased the remaining sleep from his sore eyes. He must’ve been taken to the infirmary. Groaning, he tossed his arm to cover his aching eyes.

A shadow loomed over him and shielded him from the lights. Noctis carefully lifted his arm to peek at the newcomer. A blurry image of Prompto’s worried face stared back at him. Slowly his frown melted into a wide grin and he turned to the two men behind him. “Ignis! Gladio! He’s awake!”

“Thank the Reaper”, he heard Ignis breathe in relief.

All three came to hover over him.

Brown strands poked out from Ignis’ usual styled-back hair. His clouded shades sat crookedly on his nose as if he was too distracted to notice it. His scarred lips looked a little swollen – probably from a brief reunion with Aranea after the battle.

Gladio’s clothes had burnt holes from close combat with the bombs and red giants from before. The fine hairs on his tattooed arms had burnt off and the worst burns were covered in cooling gel patches. His jaw was clenched in worry, but his hazel eyes were full of relief seeing his liege alive and well.

Prompto’s eyes and nose were red and puffy. If Noctis squinted, he could make out dried tear stains on his freckled cheeks. Fresh tears were already welling and glinting in his blond lashes. His lips quivered as he tried to keep a smile on. His hunter’s vest was dirty and his bare arms were covered in scratches and bruises. His night vision goggles were damaged, presumably from when they had jumped for cover from the bombs.

“How are you feeling?” Ignis gently lifted the blanket covering his torso to check the bandages with his fingertips.

Noctis’ voice was wheezy and weak. “Like I’ve been stomped over by a rampaging behemoth and received a kiss from Shiva herself.” He was already out of breath. Gasping, he clutched to his painfully constricting chest.

Gladio huffed and helped the younger man down a warm drink mixed with a potion. The Leiden spices did little to hide the potion’s bitter taste, but Noctis was glad to note that the chest pain was fading until it was nothing but a dull throb. “You’re lucky you’re alive. Had you been any closer to the gate, there wouldn’t have been anything left of you to put together. The hell were you doing outside the fort, anyway?”

“Thought I saw a civilian”, Noctis ambiguously mumbled.

“Did you hit your head? How would a civilian get outside the fort? Was probably just one of those creepy samurai daemons. From a distance they appear human enough.”

A clicking of heels alerted the men to a new presence.

“To be fair, had he been at the wall instead of outside, he would’ve been ambushed by the ronins that sneaked in from the east.” Aranea approached the quartet with a barely noticeable limp. Her famed dragoon’s battle gear carried a stench of burnt human flesh and a peculiar stale smell Noctis had learnt to associate with spilled daemon blood. It had seen better days; the remains of her ruined leg guard were barely hanging together. While her armour was of the finest quality all of Eos currently had available, even it couldn’t withstand the brutal might of a red giant’s humongous blade. She sported several cooling gel patches for burns she had suffered on her unprotected abdomen and chest. “Good to see you among the living, Highness.”

“Likewise. I take it we won?”

The dragoon smirked. “Wouldn’t be here if we hadn’t.”

“Thought as much.”

“The walls took quite the beating and we’re currently working on repairs. No civilians were harmed during the conflict, but we lost a good number of hunters.” She closed her eyes briefly in a silent prayer. “All good men and women.”

Noctis lowered his gaze. Even if it wasn’t directly his fault, he still felt every death heavily on his shoulders. Had he not been selfish, all of this might’ve been avoided. Had he done what Ardyn wanted, those hunters might still be alive.

“I know that look.” Aranea interrupted his self-piteous thoughts. “No use moping over something you can’t change. Just concentrate on getting better. We need all the hunters available. We’re not out of danger yet.”

“Will do.”

She gave him a final pat on his uninjured arm before leaving.

An awkward silence hung over the four men. Noctis looked around him. A curtain separated him from the other patients, but he could hear a quiet chorus of groaning echoing in the cold room. The daemon raid had taken a lot out of them.

Gladio cleared his throat. “Iris and Talcott are coming back. When the MTs sounded the alarm, I told them to stay in Lestallum for another day. Should be safe to return now. They’ll be happy to know you’re still in one piece.”

Noctis absently hummed in reply. The blessed numbness from sleep began to fade. The skin on his face, arms and hands felt like it was on fire. He licked his dry lips and winced when his tongue touched the raw skin of his split lower lip.

“Wonder what made the daemons try raiding this place”, Prompto thought aloud. “I mean, they’re supposed to be scared of the lights, right?”

“Correct”, Ignis agreed. “There were unusually many of them in one place at the same time. It was as if they were organised and driven by a common purpose.”

Gladio crossed his tattooed arms and leant his back on the nearby wall. “Might be Ardyn. He likes to toy with us. He’s the one who’s behind all of our problems.”

“He sent just enough forces to make us struggle, but not enough to wipe us out.” Noctis’ voice was hoarse and his expression grim. “That son of a bitch.” It went without saying that Ardyn’s daemon assault was meant as a mere reminder of his failure, but it was also a sign of impatience, a demand for him to fulfil his calling and grant the immortal man satisfaction.

Noctis’ stomach growled mournfully. He hadn’t eaten anything for over a day.

“Want us to go get you something to eat, buddy? The kitchen’s using a flexible ration serving schedule thanks to the raid.”

Noctis offered a grateful smile. “You’re the best.”

“Aw right! Let’s go get all of us something to eat before the best parts get taken!”

The three men took their leave. Noctis carefully sat up in order to not open any healing wounds. The skin on his arms was raw and red from healing frostbites. His right hand which hadn’t had the protection of a glove was wrapped in a bandage. Curious, he carefully unrolled it to reveal frozen and hardened fingertips. Disturbingly bluish and black blisters covered his pinky and ring finger while his index finger was bright red and swollen. And it itched, badly. Not able to resist the temptation, he scratched the waxy skin. The fragile skin tore open. He hurriedly wiped the fresh blood with the bandage.

A passing nurse came over to him, kindly cleaned the mess and applied salve before rewrapping his hand in a fresh bandage and moving on to check on the other patients. He sighed in relief as the itching subdued. He leant his elbows on his knees and looked around the bleak room thoughtfully. The infirmary had been a laboratory before it had been repurposed. The tables posing as beds were highly uncomfortable, but he supposed most of the patients were pumped so full of morphine that they didn’t even notice the discomfort.

♫

The sound of nails scratching against the concrete floor brought the former king back to the present from his musings. Umbra sat down next to his bed and wagged his tail in greeting.

“Umbra, what’re you doing here? Thought they wouldn’t let dogs inside.”

There weren’t many pets in Fort Highwind. A few hunters had canine companions, but most civilians had to leave their pets behind when moving here. There was simply no room for them. Only hunters were allowed to have pets and only if said pets were trained to hunt or fight.

Umbra stood up on his hind legs and leant against the bed. It was then that Noctis noticed the red notebook sticking out from the case that was specifically made for it. His heart beat rapidly as he pulled the book from the case with his healthy hand and flipped to the most recent entry. On the next spread after the pressed flower he had found after Luna’s death in Altissia was a sticker depicting the mythical being known as Carbuncle. Underneath the sticker it read in Luna’s elegant handwriting: ‘Get well soon!’

It was as if she was still alive.

A tear fell from his eye and stained the notebook’s page. He managed to wipe his eyes before more fell and ruined the inked words. Umbra let out a sympathetic whine.

She still looked after him.

With a shuddering breath, Noctis carefully turned around and let his warmly clad feet touch the cold stone floor. Slowly, he stood up and supported himself against the wall. He pulled the thermal blanket from the bed and with some slight help from Umbra he managed to wrap it around his shivering frame. The silver-hued material rustled with every movement he made.

He needed to find Luna. Umbra took the notebook between his teeth and dutifully followed after the hobbling hunter. The few nurses he came across were too busy checking the patients to pay him any mind. All of them looked tired, like they hadn’t had any rest since the sirens first sounded the alarm.

He halted when he caught his reflection in a mirror above a sink. His skin looked as if someone had tried to peel him like an orange. Dark and bloodied open cracks of skin blemished his forehead, cheek and chin. His chapped lips were a faint shade of blue and his ear tips were as dark purple as his frostbitten fingertips. The skin on the tip of his nose was literally peeling off. And it smarted like hell. Whatever it was that he had been caught in must’ve been some sort of high-potency blizzard spell. He’d have to ask Cid about it later.

Noctis found Luna in a body bag in an old storage room-turned-morgue. There hadn’t been any need for morgues when the base had been under Niflheim command. The only casualties they suffered were machines which could be dismantled to pieces and thrown to scrap metal. Now the room had two dozen fresh bodies from the daemon raid waiting to be buried.

Noctis opened the body bag. Luna’s single lifeless eye stared blankly past him.

“I got your message.”

He dropped his hand to caress her unmarred cheek. It was cold and damp to the touch just as he had expected.

“I don’t know how you’re doing what you do, but… thank you. Not just for saving my life, but for being there for me.” He lifted his hand and gently combed her messy bangs with his fingers to cover her missing eye. He sensed someone standing behind him. He zipped the body bag shut and turned around.

Little Luna stood silently next to Umbra. She had put the red notebook back to its holster.

With great effort, Noctis knelt down in front of her and lifted his hand to push her dirty blond hair aside and reveal her pale neck. Bruises from where the imp had attempted to strangle her tainted her skin. “Does it hurt?”

She shook her head.

Chuckling, Noctis dropped his hand to take her small hands in his. Her skin was slightly chilled and its texture was coarse and similar to cardboard. Chilblains covered her fingertips and toes, but she seemed otherwise unaffected by the blizzard blast. His body must’ve shielded her from the worst of it.

“Still as talkative as ever.”

Her only reply was a coy smile. As he attempted to stand up, she supported him until he was safely back on his feet. She slipped her hand into his and led him back towards the infirmary with Umbra in tow.

♫

By the time his friends returned to the infirmary with food, Little Luna had disappeared, but he wasn’t worried anymore. She had promised to stay by him while he had been knocked out cold. He liked to think he could contact her whenever he wanted through the notebook, even if he wasn’t sure how Umbra would deliver it, considering he didn’t seem to acknowledge Little Luna’s existence. There was also the matter of him not being able to write with his dominant hand for the time being. He wasn’t about to ask Prompto to write for him.

They ate and talked in hushed voices as to not disturb the other patients. According to the nurses Noctis would be out of bed within ten days, perhaps even sooner. His wounds were healing unusually fast. Ignis figured it might have something to do with the Lucian royalty’s blood, but Noctis knew there was nothing left of the Astrals’ or the Crystal’s blessing within him. Only Prompto cast him a knowing look, but said nothing.

The next day Iris and Talcott arrived and wasted no time in visiting their friend. Iris fussed over him like a mother hen and did her best to make his stay in the depressing environment as pleasant as possible. She even brought him a handheld radio she had purchased from Lestallum. She switched it on and let it play on low volume. She had happily beamed when she received plenty of praise and thanks for her deed from the other patients. The music calmed down even the most restless patients and helped their healing process.

Iris made it her job to visit Noctis every morning in the infirmary and deliver breakfast for him before going to the farm with Talcott. She happily chattered to him about her visit in Lestallum, how her crops were fairing and how she was proceeding with mending his old prince’s fatigues. While Noctis was truly grateful, he silently wished she wouldn’t bother with the clothes. Most of the denizens of Fort Highwind weren’t aware of his former status and he preferred to keep it that way. He had failed his people and he wasn’t ready to shoulder the accusations and anger that were sure to follow if his identity was to become known.

Within eight days he was allowed to return to his and Prompto’s room.

His friend had had the sheets and their single rug washed for his triumphant return. A single elegantly carved wooden vase filled with sylleblossoms stood on the nightstand.

“Guess who paid me a visit”, he grinned at the dark-haired hunter.

“Cindy?”

Prompto’s hand shot up to cover his heart. They both knew Cindy didn’t have time to visit her ‘Paw-paw’, let alone Prompto. “Now that’s uncalled for!”

Noctis grinned in return and patted the freckled man’s shoulder. “Were you actually around when she came?”

“Yup! I showed her the pictures we took near Caem. She really liked them.”

Mortified, Noctis cleared his throat and retrieved the vase before settling down on the edge of the bed. The flowers were freshly picked, which under normal circumstances would have raised the question how she could’ve brought them from another continent to here in less than a day, and on foot no less. He had stopped questioning logic long since he first met Little Luna. Rules of nature didn’t seem to apply to her. Her mere existence was an unexplainable anomaly. The flowers were as vibrant as he remembered and they brought much needed colour to the bland grey room. Their sweet smell rekindled memories from a time when sunlight still existed in the world.

“And guess what! She let me take her picture!”

Noctis glanced up at the excited blond in interest. Prompto flopped down next to him with his camera.

“Didn’t have time to check the picture yet myself. Wanted to get the bed ready for you.”

“Thanks, by the way.” Noctis affectionately bumped shoulders with his friend.

“Hey, no prob.” Prompto grinned as he browsed through the pictures. His expression fell as he found what he was looking for. “Huh?”

“What is it?” Noctis peered over Prompto’s shoulder.

“I can’t find it. There’s just a picture of the wall.”

Curious. He had seen Little Luna’s reflection in the van’s rear mirror. And it wasn’t like only he could see her. How was it that Prompto hadn’t been able to capture her on camera?

“Maybe she’s camera shy?” Noctis lightly jested.

“Didn’t seem like it. Did a cute little pose for it and everything.” He shrugged and deleted the picture. “Maybe next time I’ll get you both on camera. Might work then.”

♫

“Prompto, c’mon. I’d like to get this over with before Luna mistakes me for her grandfather.”

“There in a jiffy!”

Noctis drummed his fingers against the van’s wheel impatiently. He had been bedridden for only eight days and he was already itching to get back into action. Most of the hunters injured in the daemon raid were still expected to recover for another three weeks. He knew he was privileged, but being stuck between four walls had slowly driven him towards insanity. His friends had taken turns on looking after him, which had helped him pass the time, but at the same time he wasn’t allowed to leave the infirmary. Umbra had guarded his sleep until the nurses requested him to be removed for hygienic reasons. The next night Noctis had briefly gained consciousness and seen Little Luna’s silhouette sitting in the faint light on the edge of his bed and swaying to the quiet music coming from his radio. He didn’t recall sleeping so soundly for a long time. In the morning he found Iris sitting in Little Luna’s place and he wondered if his tired brain had conjured up the pleasant image from a subconscious wish.

“I’m leaving with Umbra if you don’t hop to it!”

The door on the van’s passenger side opened as Prompto rushed inside. The stench of gysahl greens nearly made Noctis gag.

“What’s up with the extra equipment?” Noctis held his nose and eyed his friend’s vest pockets that bulged with greens. A belt hung from his waist with several pouches. Noctis could see a bandage roll sticking out from one of them.

“Iris got a call from old Wiz.” Prompto’s voice was heavy with worry. “One of the chocobos from the farm freaked out and fled while Talcott was leaving through the gate.”

“Guess we better find her, then. We can leave the daemon scouting for later.” Noctis drove the van to the recently repaired north gate where an old all-purpose MT unit halted them for inspection before opening the gate for them.

“Shouldn’t take long with Umbra helping us.” Prompto did his best to stay positive. He glanced to the backseat where the dog sat. The canine woofed affirmatively.

“If there’s anything to find”, Noctis replied grimly. “The daemon activity has increased in Maidenwater.”

Prompto’s blue eyes widened as countless horror images ran through his overactive mind. “Don’t say that!”

“I’m just being realistic.”

“Nuh-huh. You’re jinxing it.”

♫

Noctis shook his head, but kept his gaze on the bumpy and poorly maintained road. His reflexes kicked in when a figure became visible under the hallowed headlights. With a startled gasp, he hit the brakes and steered the van past the roadblock.

“What was that?” Prompto rubbed his neck where the seatbelt had dug into his skin from the sudden jerk.

Noctis checked the wing mirror, but saw nothing in the darkness. “Stay here. I’ll investigate.” He took his Engine Blade from the backseat and switched his torch on. Carefully he crept to where the van tracks had went off-road.

The shaft of his torch illuminated the unmoving figure’s pale skin and ragged clothes. Noctis sighed in relief.

“It’s okay. It’s just Luna”, he called back to Prompto before lowering himself to his knees and toning his voice down. “I could’ve run over you. What were you thinking?”

The van’s door opened and Prompto made his way towards them. “Everything cool?”

Without any warning Little Luna grabbed Noctis’ hand and pulled him to his feet.

“H-hey!”

She was surprisingly strong for such a petite creature. His hand was held in an iron grip as she dragged him away from the van. Noctis could hear Umbra barking and Prompto struggling to keep up with all of his equipment weighing him down.

“Where are you taking us?”

They ran for a good fifteen minutes. When they reached the forest’s edge, she slowed down and pulled Noctis back before he could stumble past her. He looked behind him and saw Prompto’s torchlight move faintly in the distance. Umbra had remained behind with him and watched his flank for any surprise attacks.

An insistent tug on his sleeve brought Noctis’ attention back to the girl. She lifted a finger to her lips to signal silence. Her pale blue eyes were serious as she beckoned him to quietly follow. They crawled on all fours through the thick vegetation. Noctis could hear distant growls of sabertusks and squeals of goblins. Beasts and daemons were fighting over the ownership of the hunting grounds. Prompto finally caught up with them. He collapsed on the forest ground and wheezed loudly. Little Luna visibly tensed along with Umbra. She zipped unnaturally fast to Prompto’s side and covered his mouth with her small cold hand. He stiffened in surprise; it was the first time he was in physical contact with what he had speculated to be a ghost of some sort.

Noctis hovered over his friend and informed him of the lurking danger nearby using hand signs. Nodding, Prompto quietly turned to lie on his stomach before kneeling up to crawl after the two. Little Luna took point and led the men past the beasts and daemons to a giant’s kettle. She pointed down and disappeared into the darkness. Noctis removed a coil of rope from his belt and tied its other end to a nearby pine tree. He was about to climb down when Prompto placed a hand on his shoulder and halted him.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he whispered. “I mean, we don’t know what’s down there.” He peered nervously into the nature-made hole.

“She wouldn’t risk having me drive over her if it wasn’t important”, Noctis argued.

“Uhh, Noct? She’s kinda dead, remember? I don’t think you could actually hurt her.”

Noctis’ gaze fell from his friend to the rope in his hands. “She was injured during the daemon attack. She denies feeling any pain, but I’m not about to go out of my way to find out if she can fall to a sword.” He tied the rope around his waist and checked if it was secure. “You can stay here with Umbra if you prefer.”

Prompto didn’t appear any happier with that suggestion. “With a pack of beasts a stone’s throw away?”

“Or you can follow me.”

The agitated blond ran a hand through his messy locks. “You know how much I hate deep dark places.”

Noctis cast his friend an impish grin. “Think about the treasure.”

“I bet all the treasure’s been pillaged by now. If there were any, there’d be some kinda superboss guarding it!”

“I’ll go check it out, then. Watch my back. I’ll tug the rope twice when it’s safe.”

Prompto quietly groaned in protest, but helped his friend lower himself down.

The cavern wall was slippery from a recent downpour. Noctis lost his hold a couple of times, but the rope kept him from plunging to his death. He cursed as his boot slipped and he hit his hip painfully on the hard rock wall. Regaining his hold on the rope once more, he found his footing and continued his slow descent into the abyss. He could breathe freely again when his feet finally found solid ground. The torchlight felt harsh for his eyes in the heavy darkness.

“Luna?” His whisper was loud in the enclosed space. He untied the rope from his waist, placed his hand on the damp rock wall and followed it. Just as he spotted Little Luna’s dirtied pale feet, he heard a weak kweh. He hurried to the kneeling girl’s side.

The chocobo’s feet were bent in an unnatural angle. He suspected she had broken them from the fall. She lay on her side, crushing her right wing underneath her full body weight. The chocobo was missing feathers on the neck. Angry red claw marks peeked underneath a strip of dirtied white cloth. Noctis dropped his gaze to Luna’s dress. It was only then that he noticed that its hem had shortened drastically since he last saw her in the infirmary. It was closer to a long-hemmed top than a dress. Modesty seemed to be the last of her worries. The strip of cloth had managed to staunch the bleeding, but it was nearly soaked through.

“Wait here.” Noctis went back to the rope and pulled it twice.

“Noct?” Prompto’s voice bounced from wall to wall until the echo was an incoherent noise.

No good.

Noctis activated his walkie-talkie. “Prompto, I need you down here. Luna found our missing friend and she’s not looking good.”

The transmitter crackled with static, but he could make out something resembling a ‘coming’. He hoped the noise hadn’t alerted the beasts and daemons.

The bird whimpered pitifully. Little Luna had pulled the chocobo’s head to rest in her bare lap. She silently stroked her bloodied feathers.

“It’s gonna be okay, girl”, Noctis murmured.

A sharp yelp alerted Noctis to his friend’s presence. He hurried back to the gap and managed to catch Prompto just in time as he fell the last few feet. The wind was knocked out of his lungs from the impact.

“Oof!”

The two men lay motionlessly for a second as they recovered from the fright.

“So this is what it feels like to be saved by a prince”, Prompto wheezed.

“Get off me.” Noctis pushed his friend and greedily gulped in air. “Did they hear you?”

“Don’t think so. Think they took their fight deeper into the forest.”

Noctis helped his friend on his feet and noted the rope was missing from his waist. “Did you even tie the rope around you?”

“I did! I’m just not good with knots”, Prompto mumbled and averted his gaze as he scratched the back of his head.

“I’ll have Gladio give you a thorough survivalist’s training course when we get back.”

“In my defence I didn’t sign up for extreme sports. I’m a scout, not an archaeologist!”

A raspy kweh reminded Noctis of what was at hand. Without needing any encouragement from his friend, Prompto rushed to the chocobo’s side and began to unpack his first aid kit.

The two men worked in silence. They changed Luna’s rags to a fresh bandage and attempted to reset the legs to their natural angle, but even with the two of them they couldn’t do it. Her legs were simply too thick and big. She thrashed and warked in pain.

“What’re we gonna do, Noct?”

“She’s way too heavy. We can’t pull her up.” He rubbed his sweaty face in frustration. He knew there was little they could do. A chocobo with a broken leg had little hope for survival. Iris would be devastated. Prompto began to pace as he tried to brainstorm for a solution.

“Maybe if we could tie the rope around her and the other end to the van-”

“Prompto.” The dark-haired hunter interrupted him. “The van can’t get through the bushes and trees. And there’s the beasts to think of.”

The freckled man’s shoulders sagged. “Are you saying we have to-“, his voice trailed off and his eyes filled with grief as he gazed upon the suffering bird.

“Yes.” Noctis took the discarded cloth ripped from Luna’s dress and tied it around the chocobo’s head to cover her eyes. Little Luna took a few steps aside to give Noctis a clear shot. Prompto stood in stunned silence as his friend took one of his handguns. Noctis had left his Cerberus in the van. “I’m sorry.”

Prompto averted his eyes as Noctis cocked and aimed. The gunshot nearly deafened the two men as its volume doubled in the enclosed space. With a final cry of pain, the majestic bird slumped down. The bullet hole appeared clean from the front, but the back of the bird’s head was a mess. Blood had splattered on the rock wall behind the chocobo as well as on Little Luna who had been standing too close. Dread twisted Noctis’ guts as he saw her with fresh blood covering the remains of her dress and coating her unhealthily pale skin and tangled hair. She remained completely unmoved by the violence and only gazed back at him in mild curiosity.

“W-we should leave.” Noctis visibly shivered and handed back the gun to Prompto with a trembling hand.

♫

Neither Iris nor Wiz took the news well. The chocobo had been an offspring of Iris’ first race chocobo. Seeing her hazel-brown eyes shine with tears made Noctis feel even worse. Maybe he could have done something more if he had stopped to think for a moment longer. He awkwardly held Iris and patted her back, unsure of what to do. Old Wiz had sat down and leant his head against his palms. As an animal lover himself, Noctis sympathised with the old man. But it was different for Iris and Wiz. They lived with these animals and worked with them on a daily basis. To them it was as if they had lost a family member.

Hesitantly Noctis pulled away from the young woman and affectionately tugged at her ponytail. Her hair had grown as long as her brother’s. She had tied the top half of her hair up in a ponytail while letting the lower half drape over her shoulders. Her face was devoid of the childlike roundness of her teenage years and replaced by a strong feminine jaw and cheekbones. She reminded him of how Mrs Amicitia had looked back when he was barely fifteen and visiting Gladio’s home for the first time. Iris was still as lively as she had been as a teenager, but she had toned down her mannerisms. Her girly skirt and shirt had been replaced by a farmer’s overalls. Underneath she wore Gladio’s old Crownsguard tank top which she had modified to fit her much slighter frame. She had visibly gained more muscle on her arms from the heavy labour and looked more similar to her brother than ever. There was no mistake the two came from the same family.

She weakly smiled at him and wiped her eyes.

“Thanks for ending her suffering, Noct. I can’t imagine how horrible it would’ve been if she were to starve to death or if a beast had followed her down there.”

“Sorry I couldn’t do more.”

♫

Noctis spotted Little Luna sitting next to Wiz. He could see her bare upper thighs peeking out underneath the ripped hem of her dress. She was still covered in chocobo blood. A chill ran through him and he had to resist a shudder. She looked lost and confused as she stared at her bloodied hands and picked at the dry blood coating underneath her fingernails. Her white skin looked paler than ever in the hallowed light of outdoor lamps. He could clearly see the bruises on her neck.

Iris lifted her hand as if to touch Noctis’ arm, but withdrew when she noticed he was looking past her. She followed his gaze. Noctis held his breath and studied Iris’ expression for any signs of recognition. She turned and furrowed her brow in confusion.

“What are you staring at? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He turned to check his wrist watch, only to remember he never wore one. Prompto was the one who cared about passage of time, not him. “I, uh, just remembered there’s something I have to do. I’ll see you later!” He hurried back to the van.

He leant his back against the car and closed his eyes. What was going on? Didn’t she realise she was freaking him out with her strange apathy towards her appearance? It was one thing to have a loved one’s friendly ghost following you around, but completely another when said ghost looked like nightmare fuel.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when Prompto patted him.

“Dude, it’s just me! No need to test your hunter reflexes on me.”

Noctis ran his hand through his long ebony hair and took a few calming breaths. “Sorry. Guess I’m a bit jumpy today.” He slid down until he was sitting on the ground, his back resting against the van’s wheel. Prompto settled down across from him.

“You’ve been a little shaken even since you shot the chocobo.”

Noctis absently picked at the grass and kept silent.

Prompto bit his lower lip and restlessly fumbled with his hands. “There’s nothing else we could’ve done for her. That’s what you said yourself.”

“I know.” Noctis tossed the blades of ripped grass.

“Then… What’s up?”

Noctis’ hand found another patch of grass to rip. “I keep seeing her.”

Prompto chewed the inside of his cheek as he recalled the cold skin of a ghostly hand covering his mouth. “Luna?”

The dark-haired hunter nodded without lifting his gaze.

“Thought you wanted to see her.”

“Not all bloodied and dirty. She looks like a rape victim.”

With a thoughtful hum, Prompto crossed his arms and eyed the ground between them. He kicked the sole of Noctis’ boot as an idea dawned on him. “What if you take her to shower? And if we ask Iris to make her a new dress?”

“How would that work? She can’t see her and it’d be super weird if I cleaned her.”

“Well, if nobody else can see her then it won’t matter, right? I could guard the door while you do it.”

Noctis sighed and bumped the back of his head against the van in frustration. “Still need to find her a new dress.”

Prompto pulled a blood-soaked rag that might’ve once been faded white from his vest pocket. “Could just mend her current dress with this and have it washed?” It was the cloth Noctis had used to cover the chocobo’s eyes. He hadn’t even noticed Prompto retrieving it.

“Didn’t realise you knew how to.”

Prompto awkwardly chuckled and scratched the back of his head. “I don’t, but Ignis does. He might teach me how if I tell him it’s an emergency.”

Noctis crossed his arms. “Okay, fair enough. What will she wear while you mend and clean the dress?”

“Iris finished mending your shirt, right? She could wear that.”

The image of Little Luna dressed in his old skull-printed shirt brought a slow smile to his face. It was big enough to reach her knees.

“Fine. That’s a sound plan, I guess.”

“’Course it is. I came up with it.” Prompto grinned and dusted his hands off as he stood up. “I’ll go get Umbra.”

“Guess I’ll go find Luna, then.” He got up on his feet and backtracked to the barn. Wiz had left to tend to the chocobos and Iris had gone inside. Little Luna had disappeared. Maybe he could try contacting her through the notebook Umbra carried around?

“Is it too much to ask for you to stay put?” he mumbled and kicked a rock from his path.

He found Little Luna waiting for him between Umbra and Prompto. His friend looked disturbed as he awkwardly made small talk to the silent girl. Noctis rubbed his temple in exasperation. Figures.

♫

“Remind me, how did you talk me into this again?” Noctis grunted as he carried a bucket filled with a sponge, a hair brush, a towel, his mended skull-printed shirt, a soap bar and even a schnapps glass filled with shampoo stolen from Iris.

“Oh, you know. Besides referring to your fear of horror film girls, I might have threatened to tell Luna about the time when you drew hearts with Noct+Luna all over your school notebooks and how you practised your best cursive by writing her full name over and over.”

Noctis ducked his head in embarrassment. He was glad Luna was waiting in the shower room instead of walking with them. He had seen name carvings of various couples in the public school’s restroom and ended up doing the same in a less permanent way. It had been oddly satisfying at the time, somehow. He had never been one to give voice to his feelings.

The men entered the empty shower room. It was the middle of the night and the next person returning from sentry duty shouldn’t be arriving for another hour or two. Little Luna sat patiently on a wooden stool and poked her finger through a hole near the torn hem of her dress. The cloth was practically tearing itself apart.

Noctis awkwardly cleared his throat and set the bucket next to her.

“All right. We need you to change out of your clothes.” He unfolded the towel and held it in front of her to preserve her modesty. He turned his head away and closed his eyes for extra measure. Prompto held back a snicker. The dirty remains of the dress fell to the floor. She kicked it and sent it flying right into Prompto’s face. Her small hands covered her open mouth and her normally glazed eyes were wide open in embarrassment and surprise.

A small, barely audible snigger escaped her. Noctis opened his eyes and snorted when he saw Prompto fumbling to get the dress off his head. Soon his clear laughter joined Little Luna’s muffled giggles.

Prompto pulled the dress from his head. His hair reminded Noctis of a chocobo now more than ever. “Yeah, all right. Very funny.”

Noctis grinned at the blond and turned back to the girl in front of him. Immediately sobering when he remembered her nude state, he lifted the towel further up to shield his vision.

“Uh… So. How am I supposed to be doing this without coming across as a creep, exactly?”

“You could start by turning the shower on.”

Noctis kicked off his boots and made his way to the shower stand. He turned the water on and yelped when he got hit by cold water. Prompto scratched his head and watched his friend fumble around.

“You’re getting the towel wet.”

“You’re not helping!”

Little Luna crossed her arms over her adolescent chest and eyed at the older men in amusement. With a roll of her eyes she turned the water’s temperature to warm and took the soap bar and sponge from the bucket.

“Hey, I think she’s managing on her own.”

“You better not be watching her, Prompto!” Noctis growled, but firmly kept his head facing away from the girl.

“I’ll, uh, get the dress fixed!” the flustered man called and left.

Luna switched off the water and began to scrub her filthy skin. Noctis squeezed his eyes shut to make sure he wouldn’t even accidentally peep at her. Only the steady sound of sponge-on-skin let him know he wasn’t alone in the shower room making a fool of himself. Wouldn’t it be embarrassing if someone was to walk in on him now and they could only see him kneeling next to the shower stand and holding a towel in front of him? Then again, maybe that would be better considering what the alternative was. Maybe he could claim Luna was his daughter? But a father wouldn’t act so flustered in front of his daughter, would he? His nanny hadn’t made a big deal out of seeing him in his birthday suit.

A poke on his side snapped his eyes open. He glanced down at the girl who held the sponge in her left hand as an offering. Puzzled, he took it from her and watched her turn around and gather her hair over her shoulder to expose her back. Oh.

Not having enough hands, he dropped the towel and scrubbed the dirt and blood from her back. Tiny scratches and cuts covered her skin. It was as if she had dived through a thorn bush and escaped goblin claws while she was at it. For such an unnatural being, she sure seemed to be affected by her surroundings. Noctis set the sponge aside and took the small glass and emptied its contents on her head. With tender fingers he washed her filthy hair.

“I’m sure Iris wouldn’t mind even if she knew. I mean, if she could see you, I wouldn’t have stolen it in the first place. Kinda hard to explain why I need her shampoo of all things if I’m not going to use it myself”, he rambled. “Would be easier if she did see you and I could’ve just asked her to do this for me.”

Her wiggling toes and clenching and unclenching hands implied discomfort. He rushed to correct himself.

“Don’t get me wrong. I don’t mind doing this. I mean, I do. That is, I want to help you and take care of you, but it kinda feels wrong. Just a regular geezer washing a little girl. Totally normal. Nothing wrong with that. Nope. Nothing at all.”

He turned on the water and rinsed the foam from her hair and skin.

“All right. All nice and squeaky clean.” He picked up the discarded towel and wrapped it around her small frame. It was big enough to cover her whole body. She gave him a sunny smile in gratitude and hugged his waist. A low chuckle escaped him as he stroked her wet hair. “Guess it’s been a while since you felt clean.”

She rested her cheek against his stomach and closed her eyes.

“If you promise not to disappear on me for a day, I could show you the handheld radio Iris brought me. Could see if we find a song or two to dance to.” It was so strange yet heart-warming at the same time to suggest something as silly as dancing to a dead person.

To hell with logic, he thought. I’ll take what I can get.

“I still remember, you know. You said you loved to dance and that you would’ve danced with me had my leg not been hurt. You danced with Ravus whenever you could and you didn’t let the height difference hold you back. Kinda like us now.”

Little Luna let go of him and took a step back. She nodded and grinned. He couldn’t help but return the grin. He motioned for the girl to turn around and dried her hair. He held his skull-printed shirt above her and helped her into it. As he had speculated, the shirt engulfed her whole body. The neckline revealed her small shoulders and the baggy sleeves reached past her elbows. She did a little twirl as her seal of approval.

Dead or not, it was definitely the Luna he remembered from his time in Tenebrae.

♫

“You can keep switching the stations as much as you like. Won’t do a thing.”

Little Luna pouted.

“I did tell you there’s only the one radio station in Lestallum broadcasting. We’re stuck with whatever they’re willing to play for us.”

She set the radio back on the nightstand and took a single sylleblossom from the wooden vase before sitting down next to him on the bed. She hid the vibrant flower in his vest’s inner pocket and turned to stare at the wall and kick the air with her feet restlessly.

Umbra lay in his usual spot. The notebook and its casing had been removed from him for the night.

Not wanting to ruin her night, Noctis took the notebook in one hand and wrapped his other arm around her. It reminded him of the times when his own father had read him stories. He had felt warm and safe tugged under his arm.

“Wanna know a secret?”

Her eyes instantly lit up as she eagerly stared up at him.

He flipped the notebook open to the last entry. “That Carbuncle sticker you got me was pretty fitting. I never told anyone, but I saw him in my dreams when I was sick. And when I woke up, my dad had left a Carbuncle figurine to guard my sleep.”

♫

The droning of the radio hosts came to an end and a traditional Accordian waltz began to play.

“Sounds like our cue.” Noctis put the book aside and stood up. Little Luna hopped to her feet and lifted the oversized shirt’s hem to curtsy just like she had been taught in the manor. With a humorous gleam in his eye, Noctis bowed in return, took her small hand in his and placed his other around her skinny waist. She in turn stepped on his booted feet to reach him better while holding onto his arm to keep herself steady.

It was utterly ridiculous and yet the former monarch couldn’t recall having this much fun in years. Their dancing was closer to a slow dance than a waltz since there wasn’t much room to work with in his and Prompto’s quarters.

Little Luna’s recently brushed hair swung with each movement. Her normally sickly pale skin seemed healthier than ever. The bruises on her neck were still visible, but didn’t stick out nearly as badly as before. Even her cold skin didn’t feel as icy anymore. Noctis could barely remember the fact that she was deceased. She looked and felt so real. He could even smell her soap and shampoo whereas before he hadn’t smelled anything; no dirt, no blood, nothing. She had yet to utter a word to him, but her facial expressions and body language were more expressive than ever.

The door creaked open, but neither of them paid any mind. Prompto quickly switched on his camera and snapped a photo. He had barely expected to see Luna, let alone see his best friend smiling and laughing as the unlikely pair swayed to the music. The blond hurriedly closed the door behind him and placed Luna’s mended dress over the bed’s headboard before taking more pictures. This time he’d have her photo for sure.

♫

Prompto had danced with Luna through a few livelier Lestallumian songs before the radio hosts continued on about the state of the world. At that point Noctis had switched the radio off. It was nearing three in the morning. They would have to wake up early in order to not miss breakfast. His friend had already passed out and slept soundly in the top bunk. The dark-haired hunter hadn’t even gotten the chance to argue about having Luna take one of the beds for herself. He supposed it wasn’t so bad. He had already seen her nude, more or less. He couldn’t do anything worse. What was sharing a bed with a prepubescent girl?

He pulled the blanket up to Little Luna’s chin and let his arm cradle her small frame against his side. Her head rested against his chest while her blonde crown lightly tickled his bearded chin.

Perhaps he was looking at this from the wrong perspective. True, they were betrothed once upon a time and true, he had loved her like a husband loves his wife. But things were different now. It was almost as if he was experiencing paternal love for the first time. He had felt something similar when he first set his eyes on Talcott and his cactuar collection. He had been so eager to fulfil the child’s wish and gathered all the cactuar statues he had come across, just to please the boy. Sort of what he had done that night; he had danced and told Little Luna stories when normally he wouldn’t consider doing either, not even to the fort’s other children. He would merely watch from afar and smile to himself as the young ones played with what little they had available.

It was nothing short of a strange feeling, but it warmed his heart and brought him a sense of peace. Turning his head, he placed a soft kiss on the girl’s temple. She looked up at him with an unreadable expression. As he brought his hand to caress her cheek, he noticed something strange.

There were seams at the sides of her head; as if an additional layer had been placed on top of her face. He traced the barely noticeable edge. It felt like she had a life-like mask glued to her face. His short nails scratched at the seam and gently attempted to remove the outer layer. Suddenly her small hands shot up and pushed his hand off the seam. Her glassy eyes were wide with panic.

“Luna?”

She vanished before his very eyes. The shirt sagged as the body inhabiting it disappeared. He sat up in surprise and lifted the shirt. He could faintly smell the scent of her soap from it.

The mended and washed dress had disappeared from the headboard as well.

She was gone.

#ffxv fanfiction #noctis lucis caelum #lunafreya nox fleuret #noctluna #noctis x luna

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