#tenna danae

[whiskeyworen]

“HISS!!” Cyrus: “What the-? Tenna? Oh Gods damnit... Did you have an accident in the lab again?” Tenna: *nods angrily and hisses again* Cyrus: “Let me guess... it was a bad enough accident that you had to regenerate... and now you’re starving and the Hunger is digging into you.” Tenna: “H.......hangry...” Cyrus: “Yeah, I get that. Well, you still have SOME level of coherence. You haven’t leaped on me and tried to bite me yet, so there’s that.” Tenna: “Hrrmm...” Cyrus: “Well, I clearly can’t leave you alone to go find something to eat. And you’re still thinking clearly enough that you came to ME, probably because you know you won’t be able to ask for food without drooling. That right?” Tenna: “Uh-huh.... *wipes drool from mouth. Sniffs the air*” Cyrus: “Alright alright... Let’s head down to the meal stalls down in the Apprentice carrels. You know, by the Aquatarium. We’ll see if we can get you some Maguuma-fried Moa or something.” Tenna: “Mmm.... Moa...” Cyrus: “Right. I can see that toothy smile. Let’s get going. I’m actually hungry too.”

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 16

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

May passes into June and they quietly acknowledge that it has been one year since the day Mulder walked into the autopsy bay. They spend their weekends watching movies, making love, and hanging out with the Gunmen, Missy often in attendance as she and Byers become somewhat of an item. Every other Sunday they have lunch with her mother, Mulder meeting Bill by way of an awkward phone call and a promise that they will come out to visit San Diego sometime soon. The moratorium on weekday overnights fades away and the days they spend in each other’s beds begin to outnumber those that they don’t.

One day in early August, Mulder laments how lonely Priscilla gets when he’s gone for the night, crying and following him from room to room when he comes home and plaguing him with guilt. Scully suggests that he bring her over with him, setting up a litter box and food bowl in an unused corner of the living room. Without the daily need to care for a cat, he spends more and more time at her apartment, his suits taking over half her closet and his T-shirts occupying one of her drawers. He still has his fish to feed and so they can tell themselves that they don’t technically live together, though it’s been weeks since anyone slept at his apartment. The excitement of new love gives way to the familiar comfort of domesticity, questions about their lives prior to meeting morphing into what they’re having for dinner and whether someone can pick up toilet paper on the way home from work. They each visit the doctor for a full workup and, everything coming back clear, stop using condoms, relying on the progestin shot Scully goes in for every three months to prevent pregnancy.

Far from boring, they find worthy sparring partners in one another, debating everything from whether the moon landing was a hoax to the merits of String Theory, arguing their points of view passionately before they agree to disagree and then let their clothes fall to the floor. They discover the things they love best about one another; Mulder’s unrelenting curiosity and Scully’s bottomless compassion, as well as those they like the least; his forgetfulness when he’s focused on something and her tendency to shut him out when she’s upset. Whether completing a crossword puzzle together or watching Jeopardy, they embrace the ways that they are different and how they balance one another out; his creativity to her order, her planning to his impulsivity, his acceptance to her skepticism. Yin and yang, tall and small, bold and tempered; there is a completeness in their union that makes them each feel whole.

Even in their intensity and their commitment, Mulder has never again uttered the words ‘I love you’ and Scully has never said them at all. Far from a red flag or a hesitance to be vulnerable, they simply don’t feel the need to express it aloud. She knows he loves her when he drives forty minutes out of his way to pick up her favorite donuts or reads the latest issue of JAMA just so he can discuss the articles with her. He knows she loves him when she indulges him in theoretical discussions on the mating rituals of Sasquatch, not bothering to point out that the creature doesn’t exist, or wastes entire Saturdays watching movies that were bad enough to earn Razzies because he finds poorly made films entertaining.

Scully has never met Mulder’s parents, accepting his explanation that his mother is cold and his father distant, which is why she feels caught off guard when he calls her at work on a Tuesday to tell her that his mother had a stroke, and he is on his way to the hospital. He doesn’t ask her for anything, but she leaves work anyway, approaching the reception desk of the emergency department with a level of calm only a doctor is capable of.

“I’m looking for Teena Mulder, she should have been admitted within the last few hours,” she says to the young woman behind the desk.

“Yes, she’s here,” the woman answers, “but visiting hours don’t start until 4:00 and someone is already with her now. Are you family?” The woman looks at her expectantly.

“Um, no, I’m not,” she replies, not bothering to explain that Tenna Mulder is her boyfriend’s mother, who she’s never met.

“You can take a seat then,” the woman says with a well-practiced smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

She finds an empty seat and pulls in a deep breath, taking out her cell phone in hopes she can reach Mulder, though cell reception in hospitals is notoriously bad.

“Excuse me, are you Dana?” someone says from a few seats away, and she turns to see an older man, perhaps in his sixties, with receding dark brown hair and tired bags under his eyes.

“Yes,” she replies, eyeing him skeptically as he rises from his seat and takes the one just beside her.

“I’m Bill Mulder, Fox’s father,” he says, offering his hand.

She takes it, scanning him for similarities to Mulder and finding none, other than his complexion and hair color.

“Oh, hello, it’s nice to meet you Mr. Mulder,” she stumbles, a bit confused. As Mulder tells it, his parents are divorced and not on friendly terms.

“Please, you can call me Bill,” he says with a small smile, and she nods. “Fox is with her now, though I don’t think she’s awake,” he offers.

They sit in awkward silence, Scully realizing she has absolutely no information with which to start a conversation. Mulder has told her nothing about his parents, aside from the details relevant to his sister’s abduction. She doesn’t know what Bill Mulder does, or did, for a living, or where he lives. Just when she’s considering going home, Mulder emerges from a set of double doors.

He was clearly looking for his father, but when he sees Scully his eyebrows knit and his chin puckers in relief. She stands and he scoops her up, squeezing her so tight it hurts.

“Thank you for coming,” he whispers hoarsely into her ear.

They part, hands clasped, and he addresses his father.

“Mom just woke up, you can go see her soon, but since Scully is here I’d like to take her back first.”

Scully gives him an incredulous look.

“Mulder, I’m sure your mom doesn’t want to meet me for the first time from a hospital bed,” she pleads.

“I know, but I want you to look at her chart. I just want to make sure that what the doctors are saying is accurate,” he says with desperate eyes, and she nods.

He leads her back through the double doors and into a room where a tall white-haired woman is reclining in the bed, an oxygen cannula tucked under her nose. While she saw little resemblance between Mulder and his father, the likeness to his mother is almost jarring; her stately nose and hooded eyes curating in Scully an immediate fondness for her. She blinks slowly at them, confusion furrowing her brow.

“Mom, this is Dana,” he says, and her expression shifts into one that is slightly pained.

She attempts to speak, one side of her mouth rooting for words that she can’t quite find.

“Hi Mrs. Mulder, I’m sorry we’re meeting under these circumstances,” Scully offers, “I’m a medical doctor, Fox asked me to take a look at your chart, if that’s okay?”

Teena nods and closes her eyes, and Scully goes to retrieve her chart from near the door. After she’s looked it over, they say goodbye and return to the lobby to find Mulder’s father.

“Go ahead, Dad, I’ll see you in there,” Mulder says, and then walks Scully to her car.

“So, what do you think?” he asks as they stand next to her open car door, worry crumpling his features.

“I don’t see anything out of the ordinary, Mulder. Her stroke was significant, you can see that by the degree to which it’s impacting her speech and gross motor function. It shouldn't get any worse, but she’ll need to go through rehab, and likely need some in-home care for a bit until we know the long term impact. It’s very possible that she’ll be able to continue living independently, but not right away.”

Mulder heaves a big sigh and nods. “I’m gonna stay here for a bit, but I think I’ll be home before you go to bed.”

“Of course, whatever you need,” she replies, bringing her palm to his cheek. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I think so. Thank you, again, for coming down here. You didn’t have to.”

“Mulder, of course I did,” she says with concern. “I’ll see you when you get home, okay?”

He kisses her one, two, three times, pulling her close for a beat, clinging to her for dear life.

“I love you,” he chokes out, and she hugs him tighter.

“I love you too,” she replies, her chin tucked tight into the crook of his neck.

When he releases his grip on her, she brings her hands to his jaw, brushing her thumbs over his cheeks.

“We’ll get through this, okay? We’ll figure it out,” she assures him, and he nods tersely.

———

She’s in bed reading, Priscilla curled up on her stomach, when she hears the thunk of the deadbolt.

“Mulder?” she calls out, and he pokes his head through the door.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower, I’ll be in in a minute,” he says, then disappears again.

He returns ten minutes later, shower-fresh and warm. She sets her book aside to envelop him in her arms, his head finding a home on her chest as his arms snake around her ribcage.

“How is she?” she asks as she strokes her fingers through his hair and down his neck soothingly.

“The same,” he says with a defeated tone, “they might release her to rehab tomorrow.”

“And how are you?” she asks, giving his neck a little squeeze.

He groans. “I don’t know. I’ve been thinking a lot.”

“About your mom?”

“No,” he says, propping up on his elbow to look at her, “about life, I guess.”

She lifts her eyebrows expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

“I don’t want to toil away in the BSU for the rest of my life, Scully. If I die tomorrow, what will I have to show for it?”

She frowns at him sympathetically.

“You make a difference in the BSU, Mulder. You help catch murderers, prevent further loss of life. It may not seem like it because you’re so far removed from the people it impacts, but you do.”

He flops back onto the bed, eyes on the ceiling.

“You’re probably right, but it still feels pretty pointless.”

“What would you rather be doing?” she asks gently, rolling on to her side to face him.

“Honestly?” he steals a glance at her before continuing, “investigating The X Files. Making progress in understanding what happened to my sister. Working to expose those who are responsible for the coverup of secret government operations.”

“Maybe you should talk to AD Skinner, try again. Maybe The X files could be reopened,” she says softly, brushing her palm over his arm.

Mulder shakes his head. “Nothing has changed, Scully. They won’t let me operate without a partner and no one wants to work with me.”

“I’d work with you, but that’s against bureau policy,” she says with a small smile, and he looks at her with an affectionate gaze.

“I’m sure you’d have a field day debunking all my work,” he says coyly.

“I would never,” she retorts sarcastically.

He rolls back towards her, pulling her close with her head tucked under his chin.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he says, his voice full of emotion.

“Well you do have me, so there’s no point in thinking about it,” she replies.

He sighs deeply, reaching past her to turn off the bedside lamp, and they sleep.

[whiskeyworen]

So yeah, I absolutely bought the Maid/Butler bundle. It was an absolute must. Sonnya looks fantastic in it. That alone makes me happy I bought it. I really like how Asura side-toes basically get their own itty bitty shoe attached to the main shoe. No squeezing toes into a human-shaped shoe. Surprisingly, I was really happy how you can see your characters’ physical build. Like, Sonnya is tall, but has some meat to her, while Tenna is just as tall, but is a gangly bean pole. With typical gear or outfits, it’s kinda handwaved for the most part. But here you can really see it and I like that. Also, don’t drink Tenna’s tea unless you got a strong stomach. And she yes, she absolutely would use HE frag grenades to ‘clean’ a room.

[whiskeyworen]

Tenna has now reached Cantha the hard way. I’m a little unnerved by the fact her eyes didn’t close after the crash. Chances are, when they tried to hook her up to the jadetech healing devices, she was already starting to regenerate. She probably scared the crap out of the medics, because she probably reached up suddenly to grab one of their arms, open her eyes, and rasp out “Meat. I...need... MEAT.” Before passing out again. I imagine the next time she awoke, there were plates of different kinds of meats waiting. They wouldn’t have known what kind she demanded, so they would have probably just fudged it and got samples of everything they could reasonably acquire. The sushi would have been her desired dish, if there wasn’t any large cuts of meat to be had. If they’d managed steaks, she’d have devoured those first. The medics probably watching in horror as she devoured it all, and then asked for seconds, because the Hunger was still too strong. They would have been unsettled that she had gone from a relatively healthy appearance while injured after the crash, to a gaunt, starved-looking thing with sunken eyes, fingers that seemed longer than the were before, tipped with claws that seemed sharper than earlier. And puzzled by her return to her original appearance, the more she ate. When she’d had her fill, she’d finally ask where she was. She wouldn’t have questioned why she was locked in a cell; not with the Hunger having just receded.

[whiskeyworen]

I never thought I'd get to see them all on the same screen, but here we are. Thanks to the Homestead, I got all three sisters in the same spot. On the left with the orange eyes is Tenna Danae, my Engineer and... well, basically mad scientist/demolitionist. Her self-experiments have rendered her into a very unique state that, unfortunately, means she needs to eat a lot. A lot. Or risk going feral. In the middle is her older sister, the middle child, Miriya Danae. Necromancer, Once-Dead, Blessed by Death. She's hesitant to use the Death Shroud, because it gives a false feeling of invincibility and a MASSIVE dopamine rush. The longer she uses it, the more she never wants to let it go. So she's gone cold turkey for a long time now. On the end on the right is Sonnya Danae; Older sister, Guardian, and damned near unkillable bulwark of holy fire. Her quest to become 'better' has led her down some immoral scientific roads, but has culminated in her body containing magitech augments of such fine construction they are indistinguishable from her own flesh. She's learned a lot over the years, and has fine-tuned her personal tech and armor to make her a real threat. Just...watch out when her eyes start glowing blue.

[whiskeyworen]

Since I can't draw to save my life, and since we just got the Bathing Suit bundle... Here's Tenna wearing the Gold Bikini! Or...well... as gold as I could make it. Turns out Guild Wars 2 doesn't have a 'highly shiny reflective gold' color that'd REALLY make it be the Gold Bikini. Tenna looked best in it though, since her sisters lean towards other colors. And she would Ab-So-Lutely wear this as a distraction in combat, before whipping out the Prime Light Beam and roasting her enemy. She looks good in it, doesn't she?

[whiskeyworen]

“Is that... Is that a microwave?” Cyrus couldn’t believe his eyes. Ever since the day he’d been ‘moved’ from his world to this one, he’d longed for the comforts of modern technology. He never found it in Kryta or Ascalon; the Charr loved their coal, oil, and steam tech, so they’d made some interesting forays into ICE technology... The Sylvari just grew everything, and the average norn was content to live in a patchwork yurt made of tanned skins. The asura had technology...after a fashion. Most of it was circuit-laden stone and wood, with metal embellishments. It still functioned like technology but.... it didn’t feel the same. Even hybridized Pact tech didn’t feel the same. But here in Cantha... In Cantha, all the trappings of home had reappeared before his tired eyes. While the others had been awestruck by things they’d viewed as impossibilities, he’d been looking for the little stuff. In place of television, they had holographic projectors, in all sizes. He’d stifled a laugh when he’d passed a kid on the street who’d had a pocket-sized projector and was watching some show. It had been some cartoon-y thing, and some part of him had perked up at the idea that maybe Cantha had a parallel version of the anime he’d loved to watch back home. He’d seen someone make a personal call to another using a similar device. Earpiece communicators were almost standard in New Kaineng, and when they weren’t, there were Jade Bots, and personal comm projectors. The moment he saw the prosethetics, the jade-powered artificial limbs some people had, he thought of all those back in Kryta who had peglegs, and of a Charr he’d met once who had a partially mechanized brace encasing his arm and hand. Of how things could now be different for them. And then he’d wandered past someone’s kitchen booth, in Bori Ward, and had seen them use two things he’d never seen -- in Tyria -- before. The cook had taken something out of a refrigerator -- for there was no mistaking that coffin-like, upright box... at least for Cyrus -- and popped it into the microwave sitting on the counter. “What’s a microwave?” Tenna asked, before spying the device. “Oh wow... what IS that?” She squinted, trying to see past the mesh on the glass of the door. “Is it doing something to the food?” Cyrus nodded. “Yeah. If it works how I think it does, it generates microwaves from an emitter inside, and when the microwaves hit the food, they warm it up by agitating the molecules. The mesh on the glass keeps the microwaves from escaping and doing the same to anyone in their path, while the inner shell of it keeps the waves bouncing until they hit the food. I don’t think it’s magic-based, except the fact they’re powering it with this Jade power but...” “That’s a neat device, but we have things like that back on the ship, don’t we?” “Yeah...we got food reheaters and things that function the same but look entirely different. Ours use modified fire-magic projectors and hard light heaters and things...” He waved a hand at the two devices, and then at the electric stove beside them. “These... I can’t explain it without sounding insane. These are so normal, it’s jarring.” Tenna looked at him oddly. They’d had plenty of conversations, most of which had sounded nuts to her, but always had that undefinable and unsettling element of truth to them. This was the first time she’d seen this particular look on his face. “What do you mean ‘normal’? This is freak Jadetech stuff.” Cyrus shook his head, and sighed. “No, I mean specifically from my perspective. You have to understand. Back in the world I was from?” He pointed at the microwave, and then the fridge. “I had both of these in my home. These look almost identical to the design, shape and size of those.” “It’s so damned strange. This is world of magic, monsters, liches, dragons, Elder dragons, Gods, ancient ruins and all kinds of weirdness. To you, it’s all normal because it’s the world you grew up in.” He waved hand again. “Those? That’s MY world there. A world I haven’t seen in nearly twenty years. And seeing it, here, now... knowing that Cantha is so advanced that it’s bordering on what my world was like technologically when I left...” He just kinda trailed off, lost in thoughts and memories. Eventually he roused himself and walked away from the booth, rubbing the back of his neck. “...They’re so close too. The dials... I guess you could still get some with dials, but I thought those went away in the 80s... I wonder if they’ve ever thought about satellites?...” Tenna just stared after him, fully confused. She looked at the amazing Jadetech devices again, trying to see them through his eyes. She wondered how she would respond if, thrown into another world with entirely new rules and technological philosophies, if she’d suddenly stumbled upon someone using something that looked distinctly Asura. How much it would stand out to her, and yeah, how jarring it would be. “....I wonder how much these things cost?...” She asked herself as she ran to catch up to Cyrus. It’d be interesting to ask him what other things were ‘familiar’ to him.

[whiskeyworen]

“It was a good idea to come to the Festival of Four Winds. It’s been a while since we got to relax. You gonna change into your bathing suit? The sun feels so good right now...”

“....Waitaminute. What’s that?... Is that a pic-recorder?? Did you just... I can’t believe you just took my picture like that. Get that smirk off your face....You better have gotten my good side with it, in any case.” “Wait, did you just take a second picture while I was talking? You jerk! I’m so burying sand later...” She says that, even as she’s smiling, of course.

“*Snore*....*snore*... Zzz......Mrurglmnn...’S my cookie...” (Don’t tell her I took this pic. She’ll booby-trap my shower with frost grenades.)

“Nothing more relaxing than a little cruise in the bay, and some fishing.” “You don’t need a rod for fishing anyway. *pulls the pins on her grenade satchel* ....High explosive works far better.” .....The plume of water ended up being as tall as the Festival mesa. And Tenna was laughing too hard to actually catch any of the fish she’d ‘caught’. Festival skimmers had a delicious meal though, cleaning up the bay.

[whiskeyworen]

May I present... the Ghoulish Royal, the undying sniper.... The one... The only... Dark Rifle Princess Tenna Danae. She is most definitely NOT the good girl. If you hear her intro music and see her enter the field, you best start running and looking for cover. Between her sniper rifle with its unending ammo supply and unnatural aim, to her flamethrower and grenades, to the holographic heat weapons and whirling laser blades she can deploy, to the devastating power of the Prime Light Beam cannon she pulls out to finish off foes, Dark Rifle Princess Tenna Danae is a protagonist’s worst nightmare. Where she travels, she leaves bodies, craters, and scorched molten glass behind. With her Kintsugi Jackal, linked to her and powered by her tainted blood. If she’s given it a name, she’s kept it to herself. Every line of red, every arc of crimson in and on its body is formed from her magic-altered blood. I had thought about writing a short bit where she’s trying on the outfit as a joke and someone walks in... but I’m way too lazy. Just try to picture her in something like Black*Rock Shooter. LoL.

[whiskeyworen]

This year, Cyrus was ready. He’d had a full year to plan, and in spite of so much happening -- Alice’s emergence from the central A.I. of the Forsaken Aspect, the unexpected arrival of the spectral necromancer Novni and subsequent wardship of her, the Grothmar Valley ‘celebration’ and meeting with Bangar...as well as the hunt for him and his legion into the depths of the north and the long, arduous war of the Charr Revolution -- He’d taken time out now and then to design a Halloween costume. Thanks to the information he gained from contacts in Lion’s Arch, as well as listening to Tenna’s rather horrific, violent stories that she gleefully and wistfully recounted while drunk, about the previous Halloween, he’d thought of a great costume.

When he’d emerged from his quarters in the heavy, age-soiled duster, its upturned collar and blood-hued scarf hiding his features just as much as its hat did, he drew a few raised eyebrows among his shipmates. Moryggan expressed the most confusion about his look. He tried to explain it to her, as well as why he left Dangles onboard instead of taking him along with, but she just didn’t get it. “That’s not exactly very interesting to look at. Or scary.” She pointed out. “It’s not scary at first...but the more I fight in the Labyrinth, the scarier it’ll become.” He promised, deliberately cryptic. Verula just shrugged and went back to her calibrations; she had no interest at all in Halloween. Why everyone liked pretending to dress up as scary things, when REAL scary things existed never seemed to connect with her. Tenna just mooned over it a bit, admiring the care he’d taken to make it look so deeply aged even though she knew he bought the coat only scant months before. “It looks like you’ve been collecting dust for decades! Like, you just kind of roused from some ruined house somewhere and... I don’t know!” “Then I did well I suppose!” He grinned behind the collar. his face was almost entirely hidden, except for his shadowed eyes, barely seen between the borders of collar and hat. “I couldn’t find weapons I thought were appropriate for what I was going for, but this old steam sword works pretty well, and the Awakened torch...well, it’s just creepy to begin with.” Novni just looked at him with those eerie, wide blue eyes, and tilted her head to the side, as if hearing an odd sound. “.....it sounds like blood. And something else. Dunno how to describe the other thing. But it gives me shivers.” She told him slowly, before turning and walking towards a nearby bulkhead -- only to phase through it with a black, screaming portal like she always did. Alice took ONE look at him. She slowly walked around him, taking in every angle, running a finger down the Flamesaw on his back, rubbing her fingers after she ran the same finger over the shoulder of his outfit. She considered the rather authentic dust stain on her fingers, and smirked. “I get it.” She grinned, and tapped the side of her head lightly, referring to the cloned memories she had access to. “Pretty spot-on I think. Try not to lose your Sanity out there.” “SAN checks every five minutes.” He chuckled, as he headed out the docking port and into the city.

She was right though;  Of all people in Tyria, Alice was the only one who’d truly get his costume choice. But they’d all learn. A few rounds in the Labyrinth would help. After all, as dusty as this outfit was, it wasn’t scary enough. He needed blood for that. Lots...of blood. It was looking to be a very interesting Halloween this year...

[whiskeyworen]

“...it sounds like blood. And something else. Dunno how to describe the other thing. But it gives me shivers.” She told Cyrus as plainly as she could. It was a little hard to focus, looking at this ‘costume’ of his. Novni didn’t know what a ‘costume’ was. Without another word, she went somewhere else. There was a wall in her way, but she fixed that. She made sure not to remove it, of course. They had all asked very nicely for her not to ‘erase’ walls. And to use doors. Oh. Whoops. She glanced back as the rift she walked through closed, the squealing, screaming blackness fading away to reveal the bulkhead behind her. Novni realized she’d forgotten to find a door and use it. She had just done the usual and did the thing and walked from one room to another. Oh well. She would remember for next time. She had made a promise to her friends she would try. Novni didn’t recognize the room, but it was full of different clothes and stuff. Some of it was ornate. Some was ragged. Was this a storage room or a closet? Is this where the ‘shipment’ for the ‘theater group’ was? Whatever both those things were? Her friends used so many strange terms. She just didn’t care for them. Without debating whether she should or not, she took a few items. She traded her top for a sleeker one, with sleeve-y things. In exchange, she left her old top. That’s how it worked, right? You traded things for other things? She was about to leave when she saw a hood on a hanger. It was....cute. Yes, that was the word. Cute. Had little kitty ears, like Cyrus’s pet. Or that big Verula person. With a wave of her hand, a spectral claw brought it from across the room to her. The color was wrong; too bright. Another wave of her hand changed the color; she pulled the bright out of it, leaving a nice, quiet purple. She liked purple. The room felt empty now, so she left it, stepping into a new rift in the floor and reappearing in the Grove below. For some reason, the Aspect was parked there, instead of Lion’s Arch -- where Cyrus had said he was going ‘to have fun’ or something like that. Novni wanted to go to Lion’s Arch. She had been told she wasn’t supposed to go out alone, for reasons the others never explained and that she never cared to ask. But.... Cyrus was in Lion’s Arch, so if she went there, she wouldn’t be ‘alone’, right? He’d be in the city, and she’d be in the city, so it’d be like he was right there with her... right? The logic made sense, at least to her. She knew where the portal to Lion’s Arch was, and headed for it, ignoring the stares of the other sylvari; Wardens recognizing her, while most of the others did double-takes, since they couldn’t sense her through the connection to the Dream. Novni had heard Moryggan refer to it as ‘feeling like a ghost just went by’ when referring to her, and that was oddly pleasant to her. She didn’t mind.

Lion’s Arch was big. Very big. But it was also very open. It wasn’t tightly packed like Skrittsburg. Or all curvy and plant-y like the Grove was. It was...neat. There were pumpkins everywhere. She was going to ask someone about it, when she saw a weird man carving faces into one. He’d noticed her, and grinning broadly, slid a tall, thin pumpkin across his little table towards her. “Go ahead, little one! Carve into their flesh! Make the fears and demons within appear within the gourd! I’ll even lend you my flensing knife!” “I have a knife.” She said, pulling her long, razor-edged blade off her side. With surgical precision, she carved. For long minutes, she carved, and carved, and carved. Rind and pumpkin flesh fell from her victim in swirls and paper-thin layers. Finally, she finished, and stepped back. “There. Is that good?” The man with the grin reached over and gave the pumpkin a spin, until the section she carved faced him. He looked at her work... and stared. The grin, that manic grin, began to slide off his face. He leaned closer, his eyes wide and bright, darting back and forth over the carving. Without looking, he reached out and plucked a lit candle from the small mass of lit candles on the edge of the table. In one move, he opened the top of the pumpkin with his knife and stuck the candle inside, and then stared at what she’d made. Both hands, shaking, carefully and reverently held the pumpkin. It was a good while before he turned his gaze over to her, looking upon this petite, eerie sylvari with a look that mingled absolute terror -- and gratified elation. “.....This is the most wonderous thing I have ever seen. May I have it?” Novni shrugged, more interested in the change that had come over him than in keeping the pumpkin. “When my Mad King shows up, I shall present it to him.” The man said, his voice shuddering with terror. “I cannot possibly describe this....etching... but my dear child, I think you understand Halloween deeper than anyone I have ever encountered...” She tipped her head to the side. “....I don’t know Halloween. What is it?” That left him dumbstruck. All he could do was point to the big, boiling green cauldron across the plaza, and watch as she left, her bare feet making almost no sound against the courtyard tiles.

“Halloween. What is it?” Novni asked the strange woman by the cauldron. She was the only one people seemed to be avoiding. Perhaps it was because of the fresh, dripping blood coating her mouth and chin? Or was it her black eyes? “Oh, how lovely! A first timer!” Acreni crooned, leaning down to examine the pale sylvari. She grinned, revealling a set of familiar fangs. “Are you perhaps interested in joining the Lunatic Court, little one? I don’t believe we’ve had a Sylvari join our kind yet!” She rubbed her chin, the blood seeping into her gloves. “...on the off chance, do you have an aversion to blood? Gore? Violence? How mentally stable are you, child? I won’t endorse anyone who claims to be Sane.” “I don’t care.” Novni replied with a mild shrug. “I think I’m sane, but can I actually say that and be sane?” Acreni’s smile came back. “Very true! To be sane, you must be judged sane by those around you! To be insane....is to be of the Court!” She laughed, and placed a hand on her shoulder. She leaned in, so close that Novni could smell the coppery scent on her breath and coming from her clothes. “Tell me... are you by chance alone? It’s not safe to be alone during my King’s season.” Novni’s nose crinkled at the smell of the blood. Not because it was blood. Just because it was so strong. Gross. “I’m not alone. I’m here with Cyrus. He’s... in the Labyrinth.” The Lunatic noble blinked her black eyes, straightening up. “Cyrus? As in ‘Cyrus; Tenna’s friend’? Lovely little Tenna? You’re one of her friends?” Novni nodded simply, her cat hoodie wobbling. Acreni’s expression shifted to something almost soft, and she gently turned the sylvari girl around, guiding her through the crowds. “Any friend of Tenna’s is a friend of the Court. It truly is not safe for novices, here, child. But let us go to the Labyrinth, and find your friends. We shall have ‘fun’ there, and between the three of us we will teach you of the wonders of Halloween, and the glory of the Mad King Thorn.” And with that, Novni’s first Halloween truly began.

[whiskeyworen]

Okay. So... no cute story involving these looks. But I was at work when someone in one of my social circle groups tossed up the official GW2 update notes that included this new Queensdale Academy outfit... and I had to have it. I mean, sure, first I quizzed that friend on whether Asura females actually get the skirt or if they do the gent thing, like some of the other outfits, and they let me know that yes, they do. So I KNEW I had to have it. Specifically for Sonnya, but it might have made a cool casual look for Cyrus (something I’ve been looking for, for the last little bit through armor cobbling). Oh wow. It looks great. Especially on Sonnya. I love the little round glasses on her. (One of my weaknesses). So I just wanted to show what it looked like on a few of my favorite characters. Enjoy!

[whiskeyworen]

Story Masterpost List

I finally have time for a revised masterpost! So here we are. I’ll put the Guild Wars 2 fics up top cuz they’re far more popular. But please, feel free to read my other stuff too! Guild Wars 2 fics (These are as close to chronologically aligned as I can make them. I tend to jump around the timestream a bit) Maeva - Bloodline Miriya - The Rite Miriya's Pad Fateful Encounter Miriya - Sisters Tenna - Alive Tenna - Dangerous Creatures Corvus Corvidae - The Weight of Responsibility Cyrus - Halloween Tenna - Halloween Kaleb & Miriya - The Sword Sonnya - Shatterpoint Resolutions Sonnya - Feline Friend Aspect 1 - Alternative Thinking Aspect 2 - Of Humor and Family Aspect 3 - Of Forgiveness and Justice Aspect 4 - Of Inspiration and Communication Aspect 5 - Of Confusion and Identification Aspect 6 - Inclusion Tenna and the Mystery Potion Stormy Thoughts  Alice - Historical Simulation: Zhaitan's End Alice - Historical Simulation: Fort Trinity Celebration Characters vs Whispers Sonnya and the Whisperer Non GW2 stories (Mostly prompt based) Curio Shop of Unusual Wares Insatiable Urge to Write Demon Dating

A Mediocre Superpower “They have my Daughter...” Cutepocalypse I’m an NPC The Devil came down to D&D Suburbs & SUVs Otherworldly Dating 1 (Ears) Otherworldly Dating 2 (Eyes) I was the Villain all along It came up the Stairs...and Tripped The Overly-loving Dragon Matriarch The Monster under the Bed The Silence of being Alone Conversations with a Goddess (S)Hell Station A Special Kind of Hell At 3 AM

[whiskeyworen]

Tenna and the Mystery Potion

“Wait a minute....” Tenna paused, still tasting the odd flavor of the liquid she’d poured into her chalice. “This definitely isn’t the wine I ordered.” Rolling the odd, spicy taste around in her mouth, she picked up the bottle and examined it. What she’d thought was a label for her favorite wine was instead some elaborate note written in a language she couldn’t read. What the Sprocket? I know how to read all the major languages and this isn’t any of them! Just what had she drunk? She’d ordered her wine as an after-dinner drink; a palate-cleanser before she headed out. It was one of the reasons she loved eating at this restaurant. So why had she been given...this?

When she quizzed the maitre d’, he’d expressed confusion and embarassment; it was NOT one of their collection, and he had no idea how it made it to her table. After begging her not to abandon their establishment (she wouldn’t have anyway; her meal was delicious, even if the drink was unusual), he comped her meal for her. On her way out, she left a small stack of gold on the table anyway; it was just the way she was. But just as she was leaving, Tenna was struck with a momentary wave of dizziness. Was it the drink? Before she could parse it any further, she heard it. In the distance, echoing over the city... Ḿ̵̺̟̳͎͙̣̠̋́̈́̅͂̎͜͝È̴̦̞̕O̵̻̲̬̱̙̿̏̚͝W̶̫̝̳̼͋̏͆͘.̷̧̖͓͗̽.̴̡̰̗̪͖́̋͒̉͘.̸̳̖̉̀̀͑̌͑̓

“Wha....what the heck was that?” She asked herself. She looked around, wondering if anyone else had heard the same thing. No one passing her in the street had reacted to the echoing, rumbling Ḿ̵̺̟̳͎͙̣̠̋́̈́̅͂̎͜͝È̴̦̞̕O̵̻̲̬̱̙̿̏̚͝W̶̫̝̳̼͋̏͆͘.̷̧̖͓͗̽.̴̡̰̗̪͖́̋͒̉͘.̸̳̖̉̀̀͑̌͑̓. “Uh... Aspect? Did you pick up anything... strange... near LA in the last few minutes?” Tenna asked, pulling out her comm. “Audio, physical or anything?”

“Negative, Tenna.” Aspect called back from the ship. “No audio disruption beyond the norm detected. There is however, a mild fluctuation in ley fields. I cannot account for it, but I presume it to be natural.” “Where... uh where about would that fluctuation be?” She asked unsurely, casting a glance at the harbor. “Just asking. I might go get some closer readings if it’s nearby?” Ḿ̵̺̟̳͎͙̣̠̋́̈́̅͂̎͜͝È̴̦̞̕O̵̻̲̬̱̙̿̏̚͝W̶̫̝̳̼͋̏͆͘.̷̧̖͓͗̽.̴̡̰̗̪͖́̋͒̉͘.̸̳̖̉̀̀͑̌͑̓ She twitched at the rumble. Oh yeah. It definitely came from the harbor area. Whatever it was, it sounded as big as a Dragon Champion. Like Tequatl or one of the Shatterers. Her unease grew when Aspect replied, completely oblivious to the echoing Ḿ̵̺̟̳͎͙̣̠̋́̈́̅͂̎͜͝È̴̦̞̕O̵̻̲̬̱̙̿̏̚͝W̶̫̝̳̼͋̏͆͘.̷̧̖͓͗̽.̴̡̰̗̪͖́̋͒̉͘.̸̳̖̉̀̀͑̌͑̓. “The fluctuation is in the mouth of the bay, near the lighthouse. Shall I dispatch Jagad to pick you up?” Jagad was the name of her Axejaw skyscale. “Yeah...and if you could send Ceto to the lighthouse, I’d appreciate it. Jagad is great, but I don’t want to keep him over the bay. We might end up taking a bath.” Ceto was her “They are on their way. Let me know if you need anything else, Tenna.” Aspect replied, before disconnecting. It would only be a few minutes before Jagad arrived. She’d use that time to try to get her racing heart under control.

It didn’t take long. For anything. Ḿ̵̺̟̳͎͙̣̠̋́̈́̅͂̎͜͝È̴̦̞̕O̵̻̲̬̱̙̿̏̚͝W̶̫̝̳̼͋̏͆͘.̷̧̖͓͗̽.̴̡̰̗̪͖́̋͒̉͘.̸̳̖̉̀̀͑̌͑̓ Tenna shuddered as Jagad flew her over the bay. The fog was thick this evening, so she couldn’t really see much but... No... there was definitely something in the bay. “Jagad... Do you see that?”  She asked her mount. The Axejaw just glanced back at her, puzzled, for a moment before looking forward again. Just by the way he’d set his head and neck, the relaxed way he moved, she could tell he didn’t see what she was seeing. Or he did, but he was entirely used to it, and it was just that she was finally seeing it. Ḿ̵̺̟̳͎͙̣̠̋́̈́̅͂̎͜͝È̴̦̞̕O̵̻̲̬̱̙̿̏̚͝W̶̫̝̳̼͋̏͆͘.̷̧̖͓͗̽.̴̡̰̗̪͖́̋͒̉͘.̸̳̖̉̀̀͑̌͑̓ “T-take me down near the lighthouse. I can see Ceto down there.” She pointed with a shaky finger. “You wait nearby, okay? I...I think I’m gonna need you pretty soon.” The skyscale made a dismissive grunt noise, and wheeled down to the rocks below. There, Tenna hopped onto Ceto’s saddle, and steered the Skimmer out into the bay.... towards... It. Ḿ̵̺̟̳͎͙̣̠̋́̈́̅͂̎͜͝È̴̦̞̕O̵̻̲̬̱̙̿̏̚͝W̶̫̝̳̼͋̏͆͘.̷̧̖͓͗̽.̴̡̰̗̪͖́̋͒̉͘.̸̳̖̉̀̀͑̌͑̓

Much to her surprise, or lack there of it, she was not the only one there. Tenna wondered how many of the people gathered in the bay, in boats and on skimmers, had been given a mysterious potion today. It didn’t matter though. Nothing mattered except the mystery before her. It was bigger than a galleon. Twice as big, in fact. Treading water slowly in the bay, completely at peace and relaxed. As it bobbed in the waves, she felt its gaze passing over everyone in front of it, and with it, a thrill of terror and pleasure. Smoky grey with faint striping, it was, in truth... an enormous cat. Ḿ̵̺̟̳͎͙̣̠̋́̈́̅͂̎͜͝È̴̦̞̕O̵̻̲̬̱̙̿̏̚͝W̶̫̝̳̼͋̏͆͘.̷̧̖͓͗̽.̴̡̰̗̪͖́̋͒̉͘.̸̳̖̉̀̀͑̌͑̓ She expected the meow to be deafening at this range, but it was muted. It was more like an ambient noise, leaking through all of reality itself, almost without direction. What WAS this thing? That’s when it bobbed a bit higher in the water, and she caught sight of something. Even as the enormous household cat bobbed, a smile seeming to form on its face, Tenna reeled back, pulling herself and Ceto away, heading for the cliffs where Jagad sat and preened his scales. She pulled her comm out and called Aspect urgently. “Aspect. I’m leaving my comm open for the next few hours. I need to go, but I want to be monitored. Is there any other disturbances like this one that your sensors can feel?” “Acknowledged, Tenna. I’ll keep the channel open. I’m counting five more ley fluctuations that match this one’s scale. They are nowhere near danger levels, but they are somewhat noticable if you you know what to look for.” “Where’s the nearest one?” Tenna leapt onto Jagad’s saddle, while signalling Ceto to go back ‘home’. “Divinity’s Reach. Somewhere near the Dwayna plaza. I cannot tell precisely though. Will you be able to find it?” The asura glanced back at the giant cat swimming in the bay, and nodded to herself. “Oh... I think I’ll find it fairly easily.”

Ducking through the Lion’s Arch gate to the Reach on a skyscale was reckless, but simple for Tenna. Hopping off, she let him roost on a rooftop while she looked around. It did not take long. Ḿ̵̺̟̳͎͙̣̠̋́̈́̅͂̎͜͝È̴̦̞̕O̵̻̲̬̱̙̿̏̚͝W̶̫̝̳̼͋̏͆͘.̷̧̖͓͗̽.̴̡̰̗̪͖́̋͒̉͘.̸̳̖̉̀̀͑̌͑̓ There, looming over the protective barrier wall outside the Western Commons... was another cat. This one she couldn’t even imagine how big it was. How high was the city wall? There were entire miniature towns lining the top of the wall, micro-cities of noble housing stuck like mushrooms onto the sides rising into the sky. And this cat towered above it. Ḿ̵̺̟̳͎͙̣̠̋́̈́̅͂̎͜͝È̴̦̞̕O̵̻̲̬̱̙̿̏̚͝W̶̫̝̳̼͋̏͆͘.̷̧̖͓͗̽.̴̡̰̗̪͖́̋͒̉͘.̸̳̖̉̀̀͑̌͑̓ From the way it was leaning, Tenna guessed that it was standing on the ground outside, with its front paws on the wall itself. And yet, no one was freaking out. She called Jagad down and flew him over for a closer look. Once again, the giant cat looked around and over her, and just being in its presence, she felt that thrill again. Now she recognized it; it was the feeling of fondness when a family pet sat on your lap. That happy sensation. And there, on this big tomcat was... Ḿ̵̺̟̳͎͙̣̠̋́̈́̅͂̎͜͝È̴̦̞̕O̵̻̲̬̱̙̿̏̚͝W̶̫̝̳̼͋̏͆͘.̷̧̖͓͗̽.̴̡̰̗̪͖́̋͒̉͘.̸̳̖̉̀̀͑̌͑̓ She reeled Jagad back, heading for the asura gate. It was quicker and cheaper to use the gate than to pay the fee to use the Waypoints to get where she was going....

“Tenna, just what are you encountering?” Cyrus asked over the comm. Apparently Aspect had notified him of what was going on. Of her odd behaviour. “Cyrus, I don’t know if you’re gonna believe me.” She said slowly, staring at the sad-faced, stub-tailed tabby floating beside the College of Dynamics. The giant cat that was floating there, treading air like it should be treading water, and looking entirely comfortable there. Ḿ̵̺̟̳͎͙̣̠̋́̈́̅͂̎͜͝È̴̦̞̕O̵̻̲̬̱̙̿̏̚͝W̶̫̝̳̼͋̏͆͘.̷̧̖͓͗̽.̴̡̰̗̪͖́̋͒̉͘.̸̳̖̉̀̀͑̌͑̓ “...I’m seeing giant cats, Cyrus. Giant, very real cats. I think there’s one in each capital.” Ḿ̵̺̟̳͎͙̣̠̋́̈́̅͂̎͜͝È̴̦̞̕O̵̻̲̬̱̙̿̏̚͝W̶̫̝̳̼͋̏͆͘.̷̧̖͓͗̽.̴̡̰̗̪͖́̋͒̉͘.̸̳̖̉̀̀͑̌͑̓ “....and I’m hearing them no matter where I go. When they meow, it’s like the world flexes a little.” She paused, and sighed. “I’m butchering this explanation.” There was silence from the other end of the comm. When Cyrus came back, he was a bit more serious, which surprised her. He should have been laughing, or at least sighing in frustration. “Tenna, we are reading disturbances at each spot you’ve gone to, where you’ve seen a ‘giant cat’. It’s possible that...well...maybe they are real? But for some reason you can see them where the rest of us can’t.” “I was given a weird potion instead of wine by accident at dinner tonight.” She pointed out. “If it affects vision and causes hallucinations... I don’t feel messed up or anything.” “What if it wasn’t meant to be hallucinatory, but the opposite?” Cyrus pointed out. “What if... run with me here... what if you’re seeing some aspect of reality that’s just denied to the rest of us?” “....I’m gonna head to the Black Citadel.” She replied flatly. A few minutes later, she was walking out of the gate in Charr lands.

“It’s here too.” She called back tiredly. The stress of all of this was getting to her. Even though she could see that some few people could see the same thing she was looking at... no one was talking about it at all. They just... stared at it, and murmured. It didn’t help that this one was wearing a witch’s hat for some reason. “...if I see one in Hoelbrak, Cyrus, I’m coming back to the ship, and I’m gonna lock myself in my room for a while.”

“My ears be damned.... There’s one here too.” She sighed. She stared at the proud, orange tabby. It lorded over Hoelbrak with a confidence that was kind of adorable when one thought of it in terms of a housecat, and not a Dragon-sized cat. Ḿ̵̺̟̳͎͙̣̠̋́̈́̅͂̎͜͝È̴̦̞̕O̵̻̲̬̱̙̿̏̚͝W̶̫̝̳̼͋̏͆͘.̷̧̖͓͗̽.̴̡̰̗̪͖́̋͒̉͘.̸̳̖̉̀̀͑̌͑̓ Around it’s neck was.... “That’s it. I’m coming home and going to bed. I’ve had enough.”

Back on the Forsaken Aspect, Tenna brushed off everyone’s questions, and headed for her quarters. She locked the door, turned off Aspect’s comm connection in her room, and went to flop into bed. Before she did though, she paused, picked up a dataslate, and quickly entered a few notes into it. Satisfied she’d written enough, she tossed it onto a pile of papers, and flopped onto the bed, pulling a pillow over her head in a vain attempt to block out the inevitable echoing... Ḿ̵̺̟̳͎͙̣̠̋́̈́̅͂̎͜͝È̴̦̞̕O̵̻̲̬̱̙̿̏̚͝W̶̫̝̳̼͋̏͆͘.̷̧̖͓͗̽.̴̡̰̗̪͖́̋͒̉͘.̸̳̖̉̀̀͑̌͑̓ Of all the things she’d noticed while gaping at those giant cats, there were a few things that bothered her. Really bothered her. She’d recorded her questions on the slate, which still glowed from the pile of papers she’d discarded it on. Question 1: Why are they housecats? Every single one, without fail, even the one with the witch hat, was a domesticated animal. No wild lynx. No tiger. Nothing like that. Just...housecats. Question 2: Where are they from? Were they, as Cyrus tenatively suggested, part of some level of reality completely unknown? Some side dimension that lived alongside the regular? It wouldn’t be so surprising, given the Mists and the vagaries thereof. They lived in a world of magic, phantoms, demons, dragons and gods. Who knew how deep the layer cake of the world could slice? and finally, the question that had bothered her the most. Question 3: WHO collared them and NAMED them? Each cat had been collared. The one in Rata Sum had a bauble bangle. Others just had simple leather collars. The first one, in Lion’s Arch? It had a tag that, after showing Cyrus the letters she’d seen, he’d declared with some surprise that it read ‘BURGER’ in a language he was familiar with. As big as these cats were... someone had collared and named them. Someone much bigger than them. Ḿ̵̺̟̳͎͙̣̠̋́̈́̅͂̎͜͝È̴̦̞̕O̵̻̲̬̱̙̿̏̚͝W̶̫̝̳̼͋̏͆͘.̷̧̖͓͗̽.̴̡̰̗̪͖́̋͒̉͘.̸̳̖̉̀̀͑̌͑̓

[whiskeyworen]

“Tenna. What did you DO?” She glanced at her comm and shrugged. “Well, I wanted to see that new construction at the base of the city-cube. I couldn’t get a good look at it through a telescope, so I took one of the chair-riders down to it.” There was no reply from Cyrus for a moment. “So basically you tried to break into a classified area?” “In my defense, I wasn’t going TO it. I was gonna land on a ridge nearby and just....get a closer look!” She shrugged, crossing her arms smugly. Cyrus’s sigh sounded remarkably like static. “...did you at least see anything?” ”Oh yeah. Plenty. Got new ideas from it and everything.” She grinned, looking around at the cell walls she was now trapped in. “Gotta admit, their security is pretty good; caught me within five minutes of landing. Immediate teleport-to-cell.” ”...And second; can you get out? It’s gonna be pretty hard for me if I have to walk into Peacemaker Central. They don’t tend to take a high view of humans, you know.” ”Easily.” She reached back into her pony tail and pulled out a small device, activating it. A very small, very intense energy thorn began to glow from the tip. “I’m not going anywhere without a shield-popper. I might not be a thief, but I always like to have something in case I’m stuck behind an energy wall.” ”Be glad your people choose that, and not iron bars.” Cyrus admonished, though there was a chuckle in his voice. “Get back to the ship when you can. There’s a storm rolling in and we don’t want to be anywhere near where someone could spy the ship. You got two days by my reckon.” ”I’ll be back before noon tomorrow.” Tenna stepped over to the energy barrier’s edge, and began to lean in, her ‘shield-popper’ at full power. “Just going to pay my sister a visit while she’s in town.” She paused, considering. “I’ll have to show her this toy. She might like it.” And then she went to work.

[whiskeyworen]

Stormy Thoughts

The storm was raging outside. Two days ago, they had seen the rising, roiling clouds coming off the Sea of Sorrow, and decided to break port. The Forsaken Aspect's cloak and Illusion generators were powerful... but they would not be able to hide her physical shape against the rain. It wouldn't do for some dockworker to look out over the bay and see a Pact airship that somehow was shielded from the rain by something much bigger-- and cloaked -- to boot.

So rather than avoiding it, a course was set for the middle of nowhere out on the sea. There, the ship dropped its anchors; heavy Asuran geomagnetic anchors tethered to the ship by self-repairing Sylvari-tech vine chains. It wasn't a new design, but it was something being used in a novel fashion; the vines were a modification of the barrier vines the Pact used back in Fort Trinity, only on a far larger scale. Even if the anchors didn't physically hit bottom, their field projectors latched onto the ores in the sea bottom with their powerful magnets, becoming almost immobile in the water.

Thus docked, the crew decided to wait out the storm. It was almost a... vacation of sorts. They couldn't even jump the ship through a Mist portal because of the distortion the hurricane was creating not just in the atmosphere, but in the local magical fields.

It was somewhere on the second night, when things started to happen.

***

Moryggan started awake for the fifth time, shooting up in bed in terror, before groaning in frustration. Outside the lightning flashed yet again, and the rumble rolled through the ship. She glared at the large picture window that ran the length of her quarters; it was her fault really, for choosing THIS particular room as hers. She'd wanted to see the sea and sky passing by, and the big window seemed perfect for that.

The problem was, it put her on the edge of the ship on the upper decks somewhere below the bridge; though the hull was thick around there, it wasn't soundproof. So the lightning flashed angrily, and the thunder rolled menacingly, and once again, she was denied sleep.

"Pale Tree damn it." She muttered, tossing the covers off in irritation. Moryggan climbed out of bed, grumpily sliding a pair of deck shoes on and a housecoat over her night slip. "...never going to get any sleep in this room."

As if to taunt her, the lightning arced outside, striking the ship's energy barrier, dispersing with a noisy bang and an electric squeal from the shield. Moryggan's eyes narrowed and she ground her teeth, a sound of frustration hissing from her as she headed for the door. She'd have to find sleep elsewhere.

***

On the other side of the ship, in quarters that mirrored Moryggan's, the storm was having a negative effect on someone else as well. Though for a significantly different reason.

Tenna whimpered quietly in her sleep. The lightning didn't bother her...but the thunder did. And the rain. She'd fallen asleep alright earlier in the night, but as the storm worsened, the sound of the rain and the thunder woke ugly memories that then infiltrated her dreams.

The roar of the Jungle Dragon. The gunshot. The explosions rocking the fleet.

The hot dampness she felt when she woke, that burning inside and the fetid air of the gullet of the Stonehead.

"Submit and die!" Mordremoth's stone-grating voice grumbled out of the darkness, carried on the voice of thunder from the real world. "You will never escape me!"

She could see the great prow of an airship coming down at her as she fell, the gleam of the razor-sharp metal as it plunged towards her chest...

Tenna woke with a start as another thundercrack rolled over the hull, clutching her kingfisher griffon plush tightly. Her eyes darted around, thinking that somehow the horrors of her dream had followed her into waking, before she let out a pent up breath explosively.

"....I hate these dreams." She muttered, and flopped out of bed, pulling the plushie with her as she wobbled towards the door. Her oversized Disintegrating Gourds T-shirt hung almost to her ankles; she'd deliberately bought a human-sized version specifically for the size, and because the image printed on it was bigger.

Not that any of that mattered to her as she sleepily scratched at it as she trudged out into the hall. There was only one thing on her mind; the one place she'd be able to get some rest.

***

Cyrus lay awake, staring up at the skylight. Compared to other cabins on the same deck, he actually had the most window space of them all. He just didn't like having the shutters open at all times. So instead of the long, curved wall of portholes that would have been the side of his cabin, he had the sliding armor shutters closed, leaving only a relatively small skylight near the top exposed.

His cabin actually extended out onto the forward, upper hull slightly, so instead of having a vertical wall and porthole, his was a curved, half-egg shaped window lattice. On good days, with the shutters up, he could almost look up and see the bubble of the bridge's viewport from his room.

For now though, with the storm raging outside and the ship's shields up, it was just easier to have the shutters closed. He could still hear the rain pummelling the shutters and the roof, and see a little bit of the storm through the skylight, so that was nice. But he didn't want to be blinded by lightning flashes either, or woken by the squeal of the shield as it took electrical hits.

Cyrus just couldn't seem to drift off though. Not for any particular reason, but sometimes he just...couldn't relax enough to sleep. He'd always had an issue with internalized tension, and sometimes it caused him insomnia.

Just looked to be one of those nights.

"....tomorrow is going to suck if I can't get any sleep." He muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He sighed. "Maybe I should see if there's a sedative in the infirmary I can take."

But that would require getting out of bed. He was comfy, as it was. Getting up would mean pulling on some pants, maybe boots, and heading below decks. So much trouble just to sleep.

He was about to lever himself out of bed when there was a knock on his door. Who could it be at this hour? Cyrus took a moment to check if he was decent (he was), before calling out. "Who is it?" "Moryggan." Came the reply.

Moryggan was up too? "Come on in. Don't worry, I'm decent." She opened the door and stepped in, closing it behind her. To his surprise, she seemed kinda reluctant, but it might be the fact she was just wearing a simple nightgown and robe.

In his quarters.

While he was in his own night clothes.

Some part of him entertained the idea that maybe, just maybe, that was a hint of a little green blushing glow on her face that she was trying to surpress.

"Sorry for bothering you so late, Cyrus. I was... having trouble sleeping."

He nodded, sitting up completely. "That's alright... I was kind of awake anyway. Was there something you wanted?"

She nodded, approaching the bed. Sitting on the edge she awkwardly rubbed her arm with a hand, before reaching up to gingerly touch the scar on her forehead, her eyes going distant for a moment. Before he could ask, she shook herself back to reality, and looked at him.

"I was wondering... hoping you'd let me rest here for the night." She glanced up at the skylight, wincing as lightning flashed, but thankful the thunder was muted by plate armor thicker than that around her own cabin. The flash too, had been dimmer because of the small size of the window. "...The storm. It's, uh... it's brought up a lot of bad memories, and I kind of don't want to be alone."

Cyrus blinked dumbly for a moment, and then shimmied aside, offering her more of the bed. "Uh, yeah. Sure. If that's what you want. Do you want a separate blanket or anything?"

Moryggan shook her head and shed the robe, turning and flopping onto her side, facing away from him. "No...thank you."

After a moment, she shifted and pulled some of the blanket over herself. Cyrus just lay back down, and rolled onto his side -- facing away from her of course. It felt awkward to him; the idea of laying on his back next to his teammate and friend like this. At least facing away was acceptable. It wasn't like they hadn't shared close quarters before; in their travels they'd had to share tents and inn rooms before.

It was just the fact that normally he'd be wearing more than he was. Even those stays at the inns, he usually had a long-sleeved tunic on, along with loose leggings. The concept of accidental contact, let alone accidental skin-contact just wasn't a thing when he dressed like that for bed. Thinking about it, he was pretty sure that Moryggan too, had worn more to bed. He just couldn't for the life of him remember what.

Moryggan on the other hand -- while Cyrus' mind went down a rabbit hole -- stared out across the room to where his desk was installed along the wall. She found her gaze caught by the rack of small paint bottles, and the badly stained ceramic cup resting near the lamp. Did he have a hobby? She wondered, frowning a bit and looking around without moving. She'd never thought of it before, but in the last few years travelling with him, she'd never paid attention to things like that. Did he have a hobby? The few times they stopped by his place in Divinity's Reach, there'd been times he'd retreated to his room for hours while she wandered the city.

Moryggan never asked what he'd done in there; just assumed he was plotting out more of his Plan. The one that led to the revival of the Home Base, and the creation of the Forsaken Aspect. Even after the ship launched, there'd be days when he'd disappear to his quarters for hours, sometimes days, without talking to anyone except the Aspect.

"Cyrus?" She asked quietly.

"Mm?"

"Do you..." Moryggan paused, unsure how to proceed. It was the middle of the night. Maybe it wasn't the best time to probe. "Ah, nevermind..."

"....Okay."

An awkward silence filled the room as they both tried to fall asleep. Every time the lightning flashed above, though, Moryggan flinched a bit, a sensation that Cyrus could feel through the bed every time she did it.

"Mory?" He eventually asked, not rolling over. Instead he stared at the far wall, where the armor plate shutters covered his grand window. He felt her grow still, where she had been fidgetting slightly inbetween flinches.

"Yes?"

"...Are you okay over there? It kind of feels like you're on edge."

"Yes... I mean no. I'm not. Okay, I mean." She replied, mixing up her response by accident. She sighed. "It's the storm. Lightning makes me...edgy, I suppose you could call it."

"Is it the sight, or the sound?" Cyrus asked carefully. He didn't like pushing into people's personal space. Not unless he had to.

"Sight. I don't really have an issue with thunder. But the lightning flashes..." She flinched as another bolt lit up the skylight above. A hiss of frustration left her and she drew the blankets up closer to her head. "...I don't like the flash. For reasons."

Cyrus thought for a moment, before sitting up and reaching over to a shelf built into the wall near the bed on his side. From inside, he pulled a length of dark cloth, carefully folded. Item retrieved, he lay back down, but he reached back to dangle the cloth before her, on her side. "... If you want you can try this. I'm a bit of an insomniac, and can be light-sensitive sometimes, so I bought a few blindfolds to use for sleep."

Moryggan blinked at the length of material as it slid from his fingers, exposing the entire length of it. It was only a few inches across, but it was more than two feet long; plenty of material to make an adequate blindfold. She carefully took it from his fingers, and let hers play over the material; to her surprise, it was high-quality silk. Holding it against her eyes, she couldn't see even a bit of light come through; the weave was quite intricate, and the silk itself was multiple layers thick. It was thick, but it was also unbelievably light and soft.

"Thank you." She said softly, considering it, before a thought came to her and a smile quirked her face. "...Never knew you were into that, Cyrus. Sometimes you learn the most interesting things about people."

His response was an exasperated sigh, and she giggled a bit, before sitting up and tying the blindfold on and laying back down.

She waited to see if it'd work, only to smile again when the sound of thunder reached her ears...but the flash had not. "It works. Thank you."

"Not a problem. Just let me know if you need anything else." He sighed tiredly, and closed his eyes, once again trying to sleep.

It wasn't long at all before he felt her shift in the bed again. To his surprise, she shifted backward until her back touched his. It was only the lightest of touches, but he couldn't hold back from moving. It was really more like a spasm, honestly; he hadn't expected skin contact and it surprised the hell out of him. "Uh?..."

"If it's okay..." He heard her say slowly. "Could I ask you to... rub my back, until I fall asleep?"

"Rub. Your back?" Cyrus repeated quietly. "Would that... would that actually help?"

Without looking, he could hear her head shift on the pillow, apparently nodding. "I've always thought about it as reassuring. But I never had anyone who'd do it for me, so..." "Well, if it'll help." He turned over in place, reaching out with one hand. Cyrus paused for a moment, staring at her bare back and neck. He knew on a strictly medical, clinical level that sylvari were essentially plants, but ones that fluoresced in the dark. It was common knowledge, as well as the fact that their skin patterning tended to reflect those of plants as well. It just never occured to him directly, because he'd never been in this situation before. He only stared for a few seconds, but it was enough to set his mind rolling with thought. Moryggan's skin was still the familiar magenta hue, but now he could see that, at least across her back, she had darker, spot-like patterns of deep green, like that of her hair. Or the fact that the sylvari bioluminscence (in her case a gentle mint green) didn't illuminate those spots, instead following pathways both on the surface of her skin, and beneath. Dang. He thought, as he watched her glow pulse slowly in the darkness. That's actually really pretty. Kinda reminds me of some pitcher plants, or something. Or some flowers. His fingers finally touched her back, between her shoulder blades, and to his surprise she shivered a bit, and her glow sped up for a moment. "Ah, sorry. Did I touch the wrong spot?"

"No." Moryggan replied, and shook her head. "No, you just caught me a little off guard, even though I was trying to be prepared for it. Your fingers are a little cool."

"Oh." Cyrus chuckled and then rubbed his fingers, getting them warm, before putting them back on her spine and gently brushing from between her shoulder blades up to the base of her neck. ".... Is that good?"

Moryggan's only response was a quiet, non-verbal mumble of assent, almost a sigh. That made him smirk, as he continued the stroking.

"....back of the neck too..." She eventually murmured, clearly starting to drowse. " 'S'feels nice..." "Glad you're enjoying it." He told her softly.

Over the next few minutes, he continued stroking her back, softly running his fingers up and down, her spine, her neck. At her nonverbal suggestion, he also added a bit of a shoulder rub to what he was doing, eliciting a few more pleasant sighs and murmurs from her. She's almost asleep... He thought, smiling a bit. Maybe when she does I can roll over and get some sleep mys-

That's when the door to his quarters banged open loudly, startling them both. Cyrus snapped up in bed, one hand already reaching for the axe he kept by the bedside in its mount, while Moryggan scrambled to pull the blindfold off, spectral butterflies already floating around her as she prepared to teleport away.

The room was dark, and the doorway was even darker, but it was clear that a small figure was standing in it, foot outstretched in a flat kick. Sleepy, semi-luminscent orange-gold eyes blinked tiredly in the darkness of the doorframe, before a lightning flash cast just enough illumination to reveal the bedraggled asura.

"...Tenna?!" Cyrus was confused. "What the hell?"

Tenna stumbled into the room, scratching at her shirt and blinking dully. She looked around a bit, eyes casting over Moryggan but only lingering for a second or two, before coming back to him.

"....Dreams." She muttered, and shuffled her way to the bed, on the side opposite of where the sylvari lay. The plushie kingfisher griffon in her hand was hooked onto the blanket before she pulled herself onto the bed beside an increasingly confused Cyrus and an alarmed Mory. "Can't sleep...Bad Dreams."

Cyrus's confusion was swept away in an instant, and he scooted away from the edge, giving her room. Immediately he understood, and felt a flash of pity for the little Asura, who proceeded to dig herself under the blankets and wrap both arms around his forearm, burying her face in his upper arm. "Oh.... Right. The dreams."

"Cyrus?" There was a note of irritation in Moryggan's voice, though she tried to hide it. Alarm, confusion, and possibly jealousy warred in her expression as she looked between him and the small being clinging to his arm. "Care to explain this?"

He sighed as he laid back down, propping a pillow under his head as he got comfortable, and gestured for her to do the same. When she'd settled in, turned so she was facing him, that expression still on her face, he shrugged. "Kind of the same story as you...but from a different angle."

"Oh?"

Cyrus reached over to give Tenna's hair a stroke while she continued to bury her face in his arm. "She gets bad dreams. Has had them ever since our days in the Priory. I only found out about them when we ended up on a research mission together and she approached me about it."

Moryggan's expression softened a little. Quietly she asked "Dreams?..."

He nodded, looking up at the skylight as he thought back to the first day an exhausted Tenna finally told him about her problems. "She gets Night Terrors. I won't speak for her about them, but they're for pretty legitimate reasons." His eyes clouded a little as he thought. "Given what the world's gone through in the last few years, it's surprising we don't all suffer from Night Terrors and PTSD." That got a chuckle from Moryggan, where she was resting her cheek on his shoulder. "Well, from the sounds of it, everyone in here right now is suffering from some kind of night ailment."

"Night Terrors, astrapophobia, PTSD, insomnia..." Tenna recited tiredly, eyes closed. "...All'v'us need ther'py."

"So we all end up clinging to each other like wreckage in a storm." Moryggan giggled a bit, and then eyed the plushie Tenna had brought in. "...much like you cling to that cute little toy. It's very cute."

One of Tenna's eyes opened, and she squinted at the sylvari across the bed. "... You makin' fun of me?"

"Not at all! It's adorable." Moryggan's stage smile was clear. "For a moment I forgot you were an adult!"

"...You realize I'm older than you, right?"  Tenna riposted. "As the eight-year-old in the room, by all rights you should be the one with the stuffed toy. Right?...Miss 'Single-Digit-Year-Old'?"

Cyrus winced, not just at the friction between the two, but because both of them were now digging their nails into his arms unconsciously. "Alright, enough of that...Come on you two; just cool down and try and get some sleep."

"Right..."

"Sorry..."

There was some shuffling in the dark as everyone got comfortable. The blindfold went back on Moryggan's face, Cyrus propped up more pillow for himself, and Tenna proceeded to make herself more of an attachment to his arm by tightening her grip.

Because of the change of position, he realized he couldn't stroke Mory's back anymore. At least, that's what he thought until she worked her way under his arm to snuggle against him.

"....Sorry, but I still want that back rub." She admitted, her cheeks luminescing in the dark a little. "This is the only way I could think of that'd free your arm up."

"Uh, that's okay." Cyrus replied, wrong-footed. He hadn't expected her to get in that close at all. I can smell her fragrance. He thought. She smells like...jasmine flowers. "I don't mind."

She smiled, and rest her head against his shoulder while he resumed stroking her back.

"I bet you don't." Came a teasing response from Tenna. "Y'got two ladies all snuggled up to ya. You're as happy as a skritt in a treasure trove."

Cyrus had no answer for that at all, and could only stammer a bit, which made both women laugh quietly.

They were all left to their own thoughts after that.

Moryggan still puzzled over what Cyrus might do for a hobby...or what kind of nightmares Tenna actually had. Come to think of it, just how many times over the last few years had Tenna visited him like this? How often has she been here? She wondered, a tinge of jealousy working its way into her thoughts. For some reason, the thought of those two sharing a bed -- even if it was for clinical, theraputic reasons, and entirely non-romantic -- aggravated her.

What hold did Tenna hold over him, that he would unquestioningly let her in like that? She barely said two words, and he moved over to make room for her!

And why was it making her jealous? It's not like she and Cyrus had any kind of relationship. Well... except for that one time, right after the end of Kralkatorrik... and before that, the time when Mordremoth had tried to use her as a puppet... Come to think of it, do we have any kind of relationship? Her thoughts froze as she tried to puzzle out her feelings.

On the other side of the bed, Tenna just groused internally. She'd all but made herself a permanent attachement to Cyrus, feeling the warmth of his arm, her face buried into it as she tried to drift off. She could even smell him; if anything, thanks to her 'adjustment', her sense of smell was pretty darned powerful these days. It felt like bragging, but she privately bet herself she could identify the soap he'd used, and how long it'd been since his last meal or shower.

Still. Sleep. She was so tired, but it was just not coming.

Stupid nightmares. Stupid Dragon. Stupid anxiety. Stupid sylvari already being here. She grumbled harshly, before sighing. No. Not stupid sylvari. Got no right to say that. Mory is a good sylvari. Shouldn't be mad she's here. And Cyrus is nice and warm...

Stop thinking. Just blank the mind and go to sleep. That's what she needed to do.

Stuck right in the middle, Cyrus really was not going to be able to fall asleep. On the one hand, it felt really nice to have them snuggled up against him like this. Tenna hadn't been far off in her statement -- He WAS happy, in a way. But... he was so very, very anxious. He hadn't remotely prepared for a situation like this, or planned for it, because it... it simply wasn't something that ever happened! How do you prepare for two of your companions, both women, both immensely powerful and deadly, cuddling up to you like you're a teddy bear?!

At the same time he was thinking that, his mind was also whirling with every little thing it could see, smell, feel -- all of it. He was keenly aware of Moryggan against him, of the feel of her skin under his still-stroking hand. Cyrus was very much aware of her luminescence, and how it was waxing and waning. The scent of jasmine flowers -- her scent -- was all he could smell.

On the other side, he was also aware of just how much of his arm Tenna was immobilizing, where his hand and fingers were, and for the Gods' sake, not to even attempt to move any of it at all. From wrist to shoulder on that side, he was effectively pinned down by a warm, grumbly asuran engineer.

Yep. He was not going to be able to sleep tonight. Could tonight get any more absurd? He wondered bleakly.

There was a double-knock on his door frame, right before Verula leaned into view. She wasn't looking into the room as she entered; instead consulting a dataslate as she wedged herself into the door frame.

"Hey Cyrus, I saw your door open, so I figured you got insomnia again. I was wondering if I could talk to you about..." That was when she looked into the room, and blinked in surprise. "...about...?....Uh?"

Of course. Cyrus muttered in his own head, even as Tenna grumbled and buried her head more into his shoulder. Moryggan just raised the blindfold with one hand, before sighing and pulling it back down, resuming her sleep spot.

"Hey Verula." He said tiredly.

"Uh. Yeah. Hey." The charr put the slate away, and leaned in looking closer at the scene. There was a supremely perplexed look on her face. "Am... I interrupting something here? Exactly what's going on?"

Cyrus just shook his head and smiled weakly. "Tonight seems to be a bad night for everyone. And for some reason... we're all gravitating here, I suppose."

"....Seriously?"

He nodded. "I did have insomnia."

Moryggan raised her hand loosely, before letting it drop back to the bed. "Lightning wasn't letting me sleep in my own quarters."

"Bad DREAMS." Tenna offered tersely, not even raising her head. "Tryin'a sleep skritt-dammit!"

Cyrus just shrugged a little. "...So yeah. It kinda turned into a therapy-session-slash-sleepover somehow."

Verula just looked at all of them, staring at them oddly, before stepping backward, slowly, out of the doorframe. "Right.... okay. Tell you what... I'll be right back."

They listened to her tromp off in her heavy plate, before it faded from earshot. A few minutes later, they could hear her coming back, but at a far faster rate. And the sound of heavy armor was missing entirely. "Oh no. What is she...?" Cyrus began, before the charr dam burst into the room, arms filled with extra blankets and pillows. She peeked over the top of the pile, grinning. "You should have invited me! I haven't been to a sleepover since I was a cub in the fahrar!"

"Verula?!"

But it was too late. While chattering about her time at the fahrar and how one of her best memories was a group-sleep during basic training, where the cubs all cuddled together for warmth, she laid out some oversized pillows on either side of the head of the bed. On the side Moryggan was on, she grabbed Cyrus' desk chair and used it to prop some of the pillows up, while on Tenna's side, she just left them piled on the floor until they reached the height of the mattress.

"Okay! Now, everyone sit up!" Verula waved her clawed hands at them. "Come on! Make some room! Scoot forward if you have to! You can lay back down in a moment!"

It was only when they did so that they realized she no longer had her armour on; Verula had a simple black-grey tunic on, exposing her rarely seen pale fur. She clambered onto the bed behind their heads, laying down with her head on the chair-supported pillows. With one hand she pulled one of the blankets she brought over her, while with the other she propped up their pillows against her body. "There we go! You can all lay back now!" She grinned, stretching out.

"O-okay..." They all laid back carefully, gingerly resting their heads on their pillows. To be truthful, it was only Cyrus that had the pillows; Moryggan was using his shoulder as her pillow, and Tenna his other arm. "Are you sure you're okay with this, Verula?"

"Absolutely." She nodded sharply, closing her eyes. "Nothing builds camaraderie like being close together. I would have suggested it a long time ago, but I honestly didn't know how you all would react."

"Well, charr aren't usually this...close to people." Moryggan pointed out, fidgetting to get comfortable. "I mean, I can understand the fahrar, but afterwards, all of you seem to be rather solo."

"Yeah... We are." Verula sounded wistful. "I'll admit that it's something that never stopped bugging me in the Legions. I looked around at all the other races -- all of you -- and saw all these weird, close-knit units. Living together, sleeping together, fraternizing... the whole thing." She shrugged a bit, putting her hands behind her head and staring at the ceiling. "I always wanted to find out what it was like, but being charr... opportunity just wasn't there."

She chuckled, and curled her tail around to tickle Tenna's ear. "At least, not until now I suppose."

Moryggan craned her neck back to 'look' at Verula, despite the blindfold. "I never expected something like that from you, Verula...no offense."

"None taken."

"To think that the big, tough, resolute, serious charr in our midst has a soft side is... Well, it's surprising, but in a pleasant way."

The charr reached down to give her a matronly pat on the head... before reaching over to ruffle Cyrus's hair a bit more roughly. "I'm glad to hear that. But keep it to yourselves, alright? There's reasons I never ever mentioned it among my own kind."

"Duly noted." Cyrus grumbled, unable to reach up and fix his hair. He sighed in resignation. "It's not hard to see why you'd keep that a secret. Anyone that knows anything about Legion charr would get it."

"That said, the next time you all decide to be all collective like this..." Verula yawned and smirked as Tenna grabbed at her tail, pinning it along with Cyrus's arm in her vice-like embrace. "...We'll have to arrange it for in my quarters. No offense, Cy, but your bed is way too small. And since we have no Norn in crew, mine is the biggest bed by far."

"Agreed!" Moryggan nodded primly, snuggling in a bit closer and adjusting the blankets.

"'Nuff talk!" Tenna hissed. She opened one golden eye to glare at the others. "'Nuff talk, more sleepy. Skritting gabby-gums..."

The others chuckled, but the talking finally began to cease.

As they slowly dropped off to sleep, one by one, Cyrus lay there, staring at the skylight, listening to the thunder. The storm was already passing; the thunder was farther off now. In a few hours, it'd be over the mainland.

He listened to the soft sigh of the sylvari next to him. To the tight-lipped murmurs of the asura, that he could feel her lips moving where she pressed her face against his arm. He could feel the rise and fall of Verula's breathing somewhere behind his head, though his pillow was basically on her stomach.

This still feels like some kind of silly joke. He told himself as he started to drift off. A joke of the Gods on me. What are the chances everyone just happened to be here tonight? That we're all okay with this situation?

A small smile made its way to his lips, as he finally felt sleep come upon him. He could live with that, he supposed. It wasn't bad at all. What dreams would this create, though?