#that is too sentient and feral and filled with emotions | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mdhwrites · 1 year

Text

The Owl Curse: Or How Eda Stopped Fearing the Curse and Learned to Love the Pet It Totally Always Was.

Sometimes my Discord can trigger me to want to write something. After rambling some base thoughts, someone pretty much summed up what this blog is going to say in the best way:

Eda's Curse in S1: Bit like lycanthropy, drains bearer's magic, functions well Eda's Curse in S2: "Hey guys, remember Naruto and Kurama? That was interesting."

Which is just SUCH a perfect way to describe the difference in how the curse is treated but I want to go a step further. Let’s talk about just how bat shit crazy this curse is from a narrative perspective and how many retcons Knock Knock Knocking introduces that make ZERO sense. Before I get into this though: This all effectively nitpicking. It’s not even “Oh, all these nitpicks become a genuine problem.” No, nothing like that. The Owl Beast is very effectively used emotionally and narratively and its only real problems are in lack of exploration/use of Harpy Eda and the stupidity of the plan against the Day of Unity and that’s more a plot problem than it is specifically the curse’s. So first: What is the curse shown to us in Season 1? Well, it’s actually kept pretty consistent and does a bit of back fill for why the strongest witch in the Isles doesn’t exactly do all that much magic in the first couple episodes. It seems directly tied to your magic supply and emotions, which in TOH are one and the same regardless of jokes like magic ‘coming from the heart’. If your emotions go too high or your magic goes too low, you turn into the beast. Worse yet, it chips away at your maximum magic until eventually you are always at the minimum threshold and will permanently become the beast. (Also, yes, you could claim it as a ripoff of All Might but All Might is a REALLY good idea for a mentor figure so taking from him is not exactly a bad thing.) This also frankly explains what the elixirs do. While they can’t fix the maximum mana issue, they can be a temporary reserve of mana that satiates the curse, This allows the witch to have more tolerance on both magic and emotions that might not otherwise be available, though they won’t stop a panic attack or excessive magic use from causing a transformation, at which point the mana cap is cut even harder. It’s frankly a pretty good curse and in S1 had a lot of interesting possibilities and implications. From disability allegories to possible worldbuilding explanations for why you became any sort of beast, to even the idea of soul animals seeing as both Eda’s palisman and beastial form take elements from owls. The one thing it doesn’t feel though is alive or sentient. It is feral and seemingly designed to specifically make a powerful witch into a mindless monster. To turn the intelligence and magic required to be a powerful spellcaster in most settings into a creature of pure instinct and brute force. Anytime there is any intelligence within the creature, it is explicitly stated that that is due to Eda. And a final note on the S1 elements: We do see Eda’s nightmares. She has reoccurring, lucid nightmares where she sees Lilith but shrouded in darkness. Her actions are of aggression and demands which is very fitting for Eda. This is her way of responding to something that annoys her. Something she wants answers to. Then we get the finale and Lilith takes half of Eda’s curse. Because the final stage of the curse takes ALL of your magic away though, literally any spellcasting power is taken by the curse. A possible stretch but one that works, especially since now the curse itself is halved and its floor for their magic is effectively no longer existent. It’s something that will get them without medication and in highly emotional moments but now that they have no magic, how it functions in terms of the magic they have in them is questionable. But it works well for a finale and a theoretical resolution to the curse. Except... It’s not. I’m actually going to skip Affearances. We’ll come back to it, don’t worry, but we actually first need to discuss the creation of Harpy Eda first. After all, if it’s simply a normal curse, or even mental illness because in S1 it works well enough as a disability allegory (including in Affearances frankly) the Lilith being able to gain it as well makes sense. Knock Knock Knocking makes it a literal owl beast though. It can be reasoned with, make deals and while it looks big and scary, a minor act of aggression can have you realize in your dreamscape that it’s actually tiny and pathetic. It’s just a little guy who got trapped inside you with the power of the curse. And this fucks EVERYTHING up. If aggression can have you meet with its tiny self, because Eda only shows it kindness once it’s small and effectively a baby, then why hasn’t she met the owl baby before? We literally saw that be her reaction to the Lilith dream. Also, that entire sequence is kind of awkward because Eda goes from being ready to throw hands and beat the shit out of it to “No... No. This isn’t your fault. This can be a team effort,” effectively in the span of a screen wipe. But also how about the fact that it can be reasoned with at all? Eclipse Lake straight up shows that it can communicate with its host. That it can make deals and that Eda can even understand it. Why hasn’t this ever come into play before? If it’s an active entity instead of a passive force, why does Eda have to still take the potions instead of just changing her terms with the owl baby? It didn’t seem to actually hate her at the mental beach and that immediately created Harpy Eda once Eda was willing to give it some head pats. The fact that the full Owl Beast form exists at all post Harpy Eda makes no sense. In the finale, she warns the Collector that she won’t be able to control herself before going beast form... But why? That’s not Eda. That’s the Owl Beast. And what the fuck does the Owl Beast about Luz? Instead, it should have been a true fusion of her and the beast. Put some of Eda’s red in its fur or REALLY go monstrous on Harpy Eda’s form since it’s not even as monstrous as most werewolf forms. It’s too sleek to be that frankly. But Eda and the Owl Beast are two different beings. They are not one like they were in S1 where if a fully feral Eda had protected Luz, it actually would have made sense because of the found family aspect. It’s a momma bear protecting her cub or the like. But the owl beast has no relationship to anyone in Eda’s life. It only saves Eda’s life because of the promise of food in Eclipse Lake. And all of this brings up an additional question: WHAT THE FUCK DID LILITH SPLIT!? The Owl Beast has its full form with Eda and since it is the swapping of yourself with the literal creature inside of you, not the figurative one anymore, you can’t just cut that in half. Eda’s beastial isn’t diminished after all. It comes out in full force. Why isn’t it still consuming Eda at full speed then if it’s still entirely inside Eda instead of just being a curse? Or for that matter: Why is Lilith’s beast form different? It’s a literal creature now. People can want it like the possible archivist we see in that dream which... Not gonna touch on it. The point is that Lilith just has a new creature in her that isn’t the same owl beast. When it’s just a curse that is going to have slight variations based on the host’s magic and personality, that made sense. As literal, sentient creature you can reason, NOT SO MUCH! And all of this is without getting into the fact that the plot HINGES eventually on the curse... Still being a curse. Still acting the same way it did in S1 where it just devours magic. It’s why her bard magic now destroys everything it touches. It’s where the BRILLIANT moment of “Let’s counter this spell that kills people by draining of them with their magic with a curse that turns people into monsters, effectively killing them, BY DRAINING THEIR MAGIC” comes from. It’s not good, but it is CRUCIAL to the plot that it can still work like this when we don’t even know why this beast consumes magic at all. We know it likes eating voles. If Eda caught a few voles once a week, would she need to stop taking the potions? So with all that said, with all the questions... Why don’t I condemn this like I do a lot of other half baked elements of TOH? Well... Because it actually has payoff that’s relative to the necessary suspension of disbelief. It’s a curse and it’s magic. So long as it is a detriment to the user, it can do a lot of whatever you want it to. And for S1, its arc with Eda and Lilith is powerful. It’s a lot of what makes the last two episodes of S1 as effective as they are and kind of why Affearances being the last time the two take each other seriously (and not even really that. Eda doesn’t really have a relationship with Lilith after S1 and that just sucks and plays into the utter wasting of Lilith’s character) is such a tragedy. There’s still more there to do but it’s just kind of thrown off, but the double beast battle is GREAT and Lilith’s beast form is PHENOMENAL. Even Knock Knock Knocking and all of its retcons to one big point: Eda coming to terms with the curse. Because we as an audience know how long she’s struggled with it, how much it has hurt her, her coming to find peace with it is powerful and evocative. It’s part of why I REALLY wish Eda had just mastered there and then. They never do anything with it after all and pulling back and being like “Actually, she still has little control over it and needs the elixirs,” kind of cheapens the moment. It’s in line with TOH always not allowing the climax of an episode to be fully impactful (Reaching Out with Amity and Alador, Understanding Willow with Amity and Willow, Eclipse Lake with Amity and Hunter, though that one actually works). Which, fine, but you have to have a point to an anti-climax like that and TOH doesn’t ever plan for those. It’s just another way that the show can say it’s not as twee as other kids’ media, or media in general, when in reality it’s just wasting time. Which frankly, trying to say it isn’t a problem, especially with how the plot handles it with the Day of Unity and all the ways it makes no sense, short term or long term... Yeah. It’s just bad. But it’s indicative of a deep rot at the core of the show that’s constantly eating at it so that its highs can’t ever be as they once were and their options for how to actually fix their issues become less and less. Almost like a certain curse I know. ======== I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead, If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

And finally a Twitter you can follow too!

#The Olw House Criticism #Eda #Eda the Owl Lady #The Owl Beast #TOH Critical

33 notes · View notes

gods-sugar-daddy · 2 years

Text

Characters I want to rattle like an angry maraca for an undiscerned amount of time based on how chewy they are, part 2

Sentient bounce balls

Commander Fox

Commander Fox is like, shotguns 16 cups of coffee for breakfast and his Monster Red Bull concoction the rest of the day. No one's ever seen him refill it. He has a venti cup he accidentally stole from 78's and is too ashamed to return it. He is simultaneously 12 and 85. He deserves a little therapeutic manslaughter. He forlornly tells people he is the manager then continues getting yelled at by both civilian and senator alike. He wishes he could enact Order 65, murder the Chancellor. He wears glitter nail polish under his gloves. He has 4 big brothers who will kick your ass. He'll kick your ass then turn around and sleep

Dean Winchester

He's my babygirl baby. A poor little meow meow. He tries so hard to be an alpha male but he just comes off as Rail Me with a side of Daddy Issues. He and Gabriel kin each other despite being told he's michael. He's a father of yes amount of kids. He insists on no chick flick moments despite being on Heaven's longest running soap opera. He's a monster fucker. He's dating Luci's little brother. He's a disaster bi. He's a father figure to Luci's kid. Simultaneously the best and worst babysitter in the world. Might kill you on accident. Might kill you on purpose.

That really tangy part of shirt labels

Ratchet

He is the Autobots hottest dilf 6 million years in a row. Optimus Prime calls him Sir. He will do medical malpractice if it means saving a life. What are they gonna do take his license?? He's the only bitch in the whole system that's keeping the army running. His exes are psychopaths. He speedran friends to enemies to lovers over the span of one civil war. He claims he's 8 billion years old. His hands are permanently stained gray from all the dye he's used to keep up the ruse. He can't remember his original hair color. He's 32.

Anakin

The walking, talking Cringe Fail compilation. Takes the phrase "kill what you love" literally. All the years he spent training Ahsoka was gathering dad points he never got to redeem. He never learned to properly regulate his emotions. Everyone goes to him if they want to defraud the Jedi Council. Yoda includes him in escape hijinks. He's a chaos demon. He should've been a creche teacher. He's the "just wait until my father hears about this" except worse bc his father is God and you will get smited.

Tigress

She's the prodigal daughter trying to live up to her dad's high standards. She hates your guts until you help her pass the math quiz then she ropes you in to her plan to instigate the Starbucks/Dutch Bros war. She is ride or die. Her big brother is a mass murderer. She's an orphan. She's a girlboss queen who takes no shit.

235$ chocolate protein shake

Ahsoka

I want them to do more with her. I want her to drop her backstory on side show characters and just dip. She's a healthy edgelord compared to Anakin's actual god complex. Make her a goth. Underutilized and overpowered at the same time. Filled with bad ideas bc her upbringing around Anakin and the 501st. A major accomplice to defrauding the Jedi.

Vos

He's the idw slender man. He's a cryptid. He's a murderous murderer in a group of murderers. He's dating Kaon. His previous namesake got turned into a feral turbohound. He doesn't have time to learn your language. He's a sniper rifle. Megatron held him once and Tarn has never been more upset.

#chewy boys

0 notes

lorei-writes · 5 years

Text

Kenshin x Witch!MC

For the readers of the series: No, the ending isn’t sad. None of the endings in the series will ever be.

Content Warnings:

Background: animal attack, near-death experiences, war, death, torture, blood, human trafficking

Kenshin x Witch!MC: food, alcohol mention, war, severe injury, pain, death, anxiety, blood

Background:

It was said that she was blessed by gods themselves.

When she was still a little girl, maybe three or four years old at most, she was attacked by feral dogs. Her parents thought they wouldn’t get to her in time, that she would be bitten to death. However, her injuries started to heal before their eyes - that, they could not believe.

Fearing what would happen to her, her parents decided to move out of the city instantly, leaving behind their previous lives.

They decided to live in the village from which her mother came.

To her parents’ relief, she didn’t seem to be aware of her ability, the dog incident being nothing more but a nightmare to her.

That was meant to change, as the war swept through their region.

She was fifteen when the village was pillaged. They tried to escape.

Her parents were killed - and so, she was meant to die as well. Yet, to her and the soldiers’ disbelief, the lethal injuries inflicted upon her healed within seconds, not even scars left behind.

She would not die. Once the soldiers realised that, she was brought back to the encampment with them.

The commander found her to be quite a curiosity. Carefully, the extents of her ability were examined.

Her body would heal itself from any sort of injury. Even lethal wounds would close themselves up, although she did feel exhausted after that.

The commander was interested in whether he could use her to somehow gain advantage over the other side of the conflict. However, she could not heal other people at will. Seeing that, his irritation grew.

In his mind, she was a mere object, a tool - a tool that did not fulfil its duty, at that. Unbothered by the state of her health, he demanded for another experiment to be conducted.

The injuries of soldiers that drank her blood healed almost instantly.

Soon, the rumours of a woman with blood of eternal life spread.

Throughout the years, she was stolen away, sold off and kidnapped multiple times. She couldn’t find it in herself to care - in the end, she was not able to protect a single soul dear to her.

Kenshin x Witch!MC:

The shouts of fleeing soldiers filled the air, yet she couldn’t find it in herself to move. Why would she, after all? She attempted to escape multiple times, always to no avail. At worst, she’d change her owner, for she was just a tool. Not that it meant much - she had a very limited understanding of who her previous captors were.

The wet smacks of hooves against the blood-soaked ground, the agonized screaming, the sweet scent she knew all too well, for all the wrong reasons - but oddly enough, she just sat calmly, awaiting her fate.

The flaps over the entrance to the tent moved, the bright light causing her to squint. A man flickered in her vision, just to be gone the very second she blinked. She could have sworn she saw a tinge of regret in his eyes.

By the time the soldiers came for her, a couple of hours had passed. Within week, she was transported to Kasugayama castle, where she was granted a room of her own.

She couldn’t do anything, but wait, like she did so many times before. In her mind the time was frozen still, the seconds melting into a greater body of eternity - was it the day or the night? Had she even slept - and if so, why was she waiting in the dreams as well? She didn’t know the answers to those questions.

Although reluctantly, Kenshin’s vassals had to finally inform him of her state. She hadn’t eaten anything at all, hardly moving from her place. Hearing that, a strange mixture of feelings bubbled inside of him - regret? Guilt? Shame? Rage? Who knows. Maybe something else entirely.

Seeing as nobody could do anything about her condition, Kenshin took it upon himself to force her to eat.

She recognized him as soon as he entered the room. “ What is your name?” he asked and she replied, like she did for all those years, utterly compliant.

To her surprise, he didn’t come to appoint her as “a healer”. Instead, he sat across from her, demanding her to finish her meal. She obeyed the order.

Kenshin would come to make sure she wasn’t starving everyday. Unsure of what would happen to her, she asked: “ My lord, when will I be used?” “ If you want to be of use, you can work with the other maids.” She clenched her jaw - he wasn’t aware of her ability? Possibly so. Fearing of what would happen to her, had it been discovered, she didn’t say a word. Hope welled inside of her. Perhaps that time would be different.

As soon as she found it in herself to take care of her basic needs, he stopped visiting her. With a new purpose given to her, she began working as a servant.

Having been more of a human doll than a person, she had hardly any experience at tasks she was performing, her movements clumsy and slow, rusty at best. Other people seemed to have pitied her, but that she wasn’t concerned with - she didn’t exactly feel as if she belonged there either way.

At times, she’d get lost in the labyrinth of her mind. A burning sensation was eating at her fingers. She blinked fast, returning to reality - her hand was enveloped by the hot flames of the furnace. She retracted it immediately, seemingly not bothered by the fact, the injury already starting to heal. Only then did she realise that all the people around her were watching her.

Two men gripped her by the arms and brought her before Kenshin. Terrified, they forced themselves into his private quarters, claiming she was a witch. One of them lifted up a sharp knife, aiming to demonstrate her ability, yet was stopped by the lord of the clan himself. They were dispelled.

The anxiety sneaked into her soul, causing her legs to collapse under her. She stumbled to the ground, but managed to lift her gaze. Kenshin was staring right back at her. Assuming it was the end of her, she began explaining her origins, hoping honesty would save her. Did she see compassion on his face? She wasn’t sure.

Regardless of that, her situation changed. She was assigned to care for the castle’s bunny population.

Initially, it tasted like bitter humiliation, her task being both simple and meaningless. However, with the passing of time, she realised something: the other servants were looking at her with suspicion and resentment. It was safer for her to look after the animals, than to work with humans.

The job had another benefit to it as well: at times, she could witness how the bunnies surrounded Kenshin, nuzzling into his legs and arms, effectively enveloping him in a fluffy embrace. It was endearing. Every now and again, she managed to exchange a word with him, maybe chat for a while. Finally, she found a courage in herself to ask him to drink together.

Something started to sprout inside of her heart - something she couldn’t name, still lost in her confused state. However, she didn’t fight it either.

The rumours of her whereabouts have spread and not even a notion of her being in care of the God of War himself could ward off the greedy hands of other lords. United, they attacked Kasugayama.

She begged to be put in care of the wounded, hoping it would get her closer to the battlefield, the emotion stirring inside of her. However, her request was denied. She was dragged out of the bunny garden and hidden away in the depths of the castle.

Against her will, she was locked in one of the rooms, the guards keeping watch by the door. The memories of war flooded her mind, the very thoughts that haunted her everyday life licking at the borders of her consciousness. “ You brought it upon them,” the voice inside of her mocked. “ And you won’t be able to save anybody this time either.”

Her own doubts and intrusive thoughts were drowning her alive, the sheer panic causing her to tremble.

Shouts from the corridor forced her back into her body. She looked up, realising the enemy had entered the castle. Determined, she gazed outside, the prospect of falling terrifying her - yet, a second later, she flew through the air, blood buzzing in her ears.

She winced in pain, as her legs broke on impact from landing, bending awkwardly, the bone piercing though the skin. She bit on her arm, silencing herself while her body regenerated. Healed almost completely, she hurried towards the battle.

She dragged her feet through the reddened mud, the bodies of soldiers scattered around the ground everywhere. The fears in her head started to take over, urging her to run.

Finally, she saw Kenshin - or much rather, the God of War himself. The arrows seemed to avoid him on purpose, the rifles trembling at his sight. Yet, the enemy outnumbered them gravely, flooding them wave after wave. Blood seemed to have seeped into Kenshin’s sword, as if it was slurping each and every droplet of it. Perhaps it was a sentient entity of its own - how else could one explain the way that blade moved? However, even for a God, he was painfully human. His troops vanishing before his eyes, he had to issue a retreat.

The time broke, as Kenshin disappeared from his horse, the animal bravely moving onward. She dove forward, screaming in herself that it couldn’t have been too late, that she had seen him well just a couple of seconds ago, that he couldn’t have perished.

She found him on the ground, seemingly untouched, had it not been for the red staining his clothes, the colour moist and hideously metallic in smell. Gathering all the power she had, she pulled him into one of the emptied houses, praying nobody would find them.

Why was he quiet? Was it because of the fall or the injury? She knew nothing of medicine, she didn’t know the answer. She reached for the blade at his side with trembling hands, preparing herself to open her arm to heal him.

Seemingly awoken by her intention, he stopped her, placing a hand over hers. “ Don’t,” Kenshin rasped. “ We need the God of War now,” she tried to reason with him. “ Don’t,” he repeated, the words struggling to leave his lips. “ Please, let me protect you. Just this once,” she begged. “ I can’t fail again.” A glimmer of hurt lit up in his eyes. Perhaps he shared her feelings? “ I am the one who failed to protect you. Flee immediately.”

She refused, tears spilling over her cheeks. She wasn’t able to keep them from flowing anymore. Conflicted, she threw herself at him, the droplets from her face sneaking behind his collar.

He was the first human in years that didn’t treat her like a tool, yet she couldn’t bring herself to disobey him and save him. To her surprise, he embraced her back, his arms moving to hold her. Desperate, she bit on her tongue, until she felt the blood pooling in her mouth - and then, she bit on his shoulder, clinging to him with whatever power she had left. He struggled against her, yet to no avail.

Having completed her goal, she moved away from him. “ I’m sorry. I can’t lose anybody else.” He gripped her hand. “ Never do this again. You are not the woman with blood of eternal life anymore,” Kenshin uttered, looking away from her, his wound burning, but closing up.

Kenshin mounted a discarded horse. She promised to wait for him, this time obediently, hidden in the emptied house.

Not bothered by any injuries he sustained, the cuts closing up as he swung his sword, Kenshin cut through the enemies, collecting his scattered troops. By the end of the day, the opposing army was pushed back.

Kenshin rode to her hiding. She waited for him inside and stood up to greet him. He clenched his jaw, holding her in an embrace mere seconds later. “ Never do that again,” he spoke. “ Thank you,” was all she could muster, the words turning into sobs. Perhaps she gave a different ending to one of the stories of his past.

On the following morning, they received a notice of reinforcements arriving.

Note: I may write those again one day, I’m not sure I did Kenshin justice.

#kenshin uesugi #ikesen kenshin #ikemen sengoku kenshin #ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikemen series #my hc

105 notes · View notes

gregellner · 5 years

Photo

Today, rather than writing a review, I will be going through an analytical approach to a certain element of Focus Home Interactive and Asobo Studio's A Plague Tale: Innocence.

Be fairly warned: spoilers follow regarding the latter half of the game.

The element being examined is the Prima Macula, known through the game as the blood-borne connection that Hugo de Rune and others before him have to plague-bearing creatures, most notably feral rats, enabling them to exert telepathic control over the creatures to manipulate movements in their frenzy, as well as being able to see into their minds on some level to sense them when they are near.

According to a brief exchange with Narrative Director Sébastien Renard, it seems entirely possible that while the Prima Macula in 1348 France has concentrated control over rats that spread the bubonic plague, previous wielders (and subsequent ones) may have had control over other creatures declared as vermin. To use his words exactly, "Well, swarms of animals have always be a tradition among plagues, such as in the Plagues of Egypt. I can only say that our version is the rats, and let you imagine what you'd fear more :) (yet in France today, it would definitely be mosquitos! :D)"

If taken to its logical conclusion, plenty of animals could be controlled, from birds to insects to much more. Similar to the plague rats of the original Dishonored being comparable to the bloodflies of Dishonored 2 in function for an epidemic-ridden society and how someone developing their powers in one era or another would be connected to their own time and place's source of infestation, users of the Macula in other time periods could utilize their power over infected creatures to perform acts like creating a temporary artificial darkness in the form of thousands or even millions of insects or birds (if they are not afflicted with the same light sensitivity as the rats), capsize and sink watercraft through fish, or even control larger land animals than the waves upon waves of rats encountered by the de Rune children and their friends.

Similarly, the locations where said animals live would be drastically different. The gore-filled tunnels of the rats are a hint of the kind of macabre living spaces these creatures live within, but what if they were in trees as nests, or otherwise lying in wait in places at a significant height that would make it harder to spot them until it is too late?

That said, all of this may be completely inaccurate. The main element that may make this speculation invalid is a look at the historical pathology related to the Prima Macula as known within the story. Research in-game places the earliest known account of the hosts for the Prima Macula at the time of the Plague of Justinian (541-542 CE) in the Byzantine Empire, a disease that has been since confirmed as originating from the same bacteria (Yersinia pestis) as the aforementioned Black Plague (1347-1351 CE), and thus all fitting under the collective label of "plague" in terms of epidemics.

If Mr. Renard's denotation of the Macula as for "plagues" rather than all epidemics is accurate and not just a general colloquialism, then the applicability of when and how this type of power is used would be greatly limited, mostly just to rats and perhaps fleas, as there does not seem to be direct control that bearers of the Macula have over species that are infected by said rats. However, none of this is to say that the spread of the Macula would be too inherently limited. There have been many plagues throughout history, numbering greater than forty.

The existence of such a significant element as the hosts of the Prima Macula give rise to the idea of how it could potentially alter the way in which society develops if it were to be known to higher authorities, as demonstrated by Vitalis Bénévent's goals within the game itself. First it seems prudent to go over what is known about how to control the Macula.

Control over the Prima Macula relies upon certain "thresholds" through which the host experiences a lot of pain until their body can become accustomed to the power, coupled with symptoms such as times of significant weakness and some rather high fevers. Certain alchemical concoctions are capable of controlling these thresholds, such as the ones used by Béatrice de Rune and her fellow alchemist Laurentius, but only with the help of the large book known as Sanguinis Itinera ("Voyages of the Blood") was such an elixir completed. Another component important to the Macula's progress appears to be internal, related to moments of intense emotion such as heightened fear or anger, but these elements can be worked through by having someone close by to manage said fears, and are much less important once the host passes the final threshold to the point of being able to control the rats, which also appears to allot a kind of passive immunity to the plague itself through rats' unwillingness to attack said host. Whether or not this type of issue would be a significant problem for people who are older than the five-year-old Hugo is unknown, but perhaps it is a recurring element.

As shown by the alchemical works within the Inquisition, some other scientific means have been used to transmit the Prima Macula. A blood transfusion from one who has a hereditary form of the Macula to someone who does not grants a connection through their blood. The artificial host is granted power over the infected creatures at the same rate as the natural host, even crossing the thresholds in tandem. Whether or not artificial hosts suffer from the same debilitating effects as those for natural ones is unknown, but as shown by Hugo de Rune's transfusion to Vitalis Bénévent and the eventual boss battle, not only is the natural host able to sense the Macula within the artificial one, but he or she is also capable of understanding if the Macula, which appears semi-sentient (unless Hugo is wrong) is "fighting" the artificial host in some way to prevent the use of power.

Certain elements, such as the "exsanguis" substance procured from rat-infested locations and the resultant "odoris" alchemical substance utilized to draw rats into one area or another, help to give the impression of non-carriers of the Macula having some defense nonetheless, albeit one that is rather dangerous to procure and utilize. Similarly, the specially treated white rats, which respond only to Vitalis and not to Hugo, along with being immune to bright lights or fire, show another way of controlling the use of the ability itself.

All of these elements come to a head when thinking about the implications for said developments going forward.

In terms of developments to society, such scientific works could be used to manage or even neutralize the effectiveness of potential hosts of the Macula, especially with the increase in scientific knowledge since the 14th century CE. For instance, if such a serum were created, it could help to keep such a horrific superhuman from emerging, or conversely be even worse and attempt to heighten emotional extremes to keep them down with their own sickness. Neither of these are benevolent options, to be clear, but both seem within the realm of possibility for the game.

Through the experimentation of Vitalis Bénévent, it is shown that while there are drawbacks (even excluding the difficulties with blood transfusions in general), it is entirely possible that people could create more carriers of the Macula while keeping the natural hosts safely away. Between the transfusion technique and the unusual white rats, plague-based officers are entirely within the realm of possibility for the later years or centuries of the story's narrative.

Meanwhile, elements like exsanguis and odoris show how society could develop other means to control the infected creatures through a variety of inventions to redirect or otherwise neutralize them even outside of common exterminators or plague vaccines. Together with the aforementioned officers, not to mention more positive uses such as redirecting plague vectors away from population centers to limit infection, there is an enormous amount of potential at work.

Of course, all of this could be for naught, as it is not clear whether or not A Plague Tale: Innocence will have any further stories in its universe, but much like another disease-related game published by Focus Home Interactive, Vampyr, all of this serves as an interesting thought for what could potentially exist moving forward.

#focus home interactive #focus home #a plague tale #a plague tale innocence #a plague tale: innocence #hugo de rune #vitalis benevent #sebastien renard #asobo studio #vampyr #prima macula #analysis #exsanguis #odoris #inquisition #plague #epidemic #dishonored #dishonored 2

16 notes · View notes

prxfessor-membrane-blog · 5 years

Text

rules: repost, don’t reblog. just pick a muse of yours and fill it out.

muse: Professor Membrane

BASICS

▸ is your muse tall/short/average? He stands at 6′3 & id consider that taller than average.

▸ are they okay with their height? Yes! He’s glad he turned out to be tall. ▸ what’s their hair like? Greying on the sides, other than that its jet black. & his hair “spike” is a prehensile limb. ▸ do they spend a lot of time on their hair/with their grooming? Not really. This man will go a good week or more without washing or caring for it if he’s caught up in work. ▸ does your muse care about their appearance? He is...i don’t want to say self conscious. Perhaps secretive? Whatever it is, he doesn’t like showing much of his face. He also wears his gloves to conceal robotic arms & lab coat to conceal his body. So i would say that while he does CARE about it to some extent, he would rather just be seen as a brilliant scientist rather than the hot goth dad he used to once be. ▸ does your muse care about what others think about them? Yes. He wants people to know he is the smartest man on Earth. He wants people to love his inventions & recognize his brilliance. As for people who dislike him, he doesn’t care too much about that, because he knows he’s better than them.

PREFERENCES

▸ indoors or outdoors? Indoors, this man does not like being outside of his home/lab unless necessary. ▸ rain or sunshine? Rain, it makes for better atmosphere when he’s zapping things with lasers in his home lab. ▸ forest or beach? Forest, definitely. Beaches require too little clothing and he isn’t a fan of people STARING at his robotic arms or legs. ▸ precious metals or gems? Both! But he definitely prefers metals, working with them is more fun. ▸ flowers or perfumes? Does tea / coffee and fuel / chemicals count as perfume? ▸ personality or appearance? He cares about an INTELLIGENT partner. He couldn’t see himself with someone he can’t have stimulating conversations with. ▸ being alone or being in a crowd? Alone. As much as he has to go to conventions / reveals for his new experiments, he doesn’t care much for it. ▸ order or anarchy? Both. :) ▸ painful truths or white lies? Professor is...brutally honest. However he can’t handle painful truths so he much prefers people lying to him.

▸ science or magic? SCIENCE.

▸ peace or conflict? World peace! It’s what he strives for. ▸ night or day? Night. ▸ dusk or dawn? Dusk. ▸ warmth or cold? Cold. He is a professional skier after all & has an award for it. Besides, more reason to wear big, puffy clothes that conceal his stupid robotic limbs. ▸ many acquaintances or a few close friends? He isn’t the best at socializing nor is he the best as realizing emotions or social cues. He much prefers a few close friends - or acquaintances really.

▸ reading or playing a game? Both. He enjoys reading physics in his free time but he also enjoys spending time playing games with his children.

QUESTIONNAIRE

▸ what are some of your muse’s bad habits? Whew well uh. Professor is...brutally honest. To the point where he hurts his children (Dib mainly) because of it. His denial of his sons interests, and constantly trying to force him to follow his footsteps is one of his BIGGEST flaws. Not to mention he experimented on his own daughter several times (superpowers, the pig episode ect). He is, in every sense of it, a horrible parent and a feral scientist. He would do anything in the name of science regardless of who it hurts. (Sometimes even his children). He is very logic based as well, and this means he doesn’t really get emotions, which attributes to his cold, honest personality. Not to mention he is STUBBORN. ▸ has your muse lost anyone close to them? how has it affected them? Not necessarily a loss in the sense of death. But he did lose his parents, cutting off ties to them once he gained footing as a successful scientist. They most definitely did some damage to him & attributed to why he is how he is now. They contributed to his denial of the paranormal / aliens, they contributed to him constantly TRYING to be a better father (despite turning out just like them), they contributed to him not understanding feelings by them being just as scientific and cold as he is now. I mean...they did force him into science though, and while he did not go the destructive path that they did, he certainly has them to thank for his interest in it. Even if it was by...unconventional means.

▸ what are some fond memories your muse has? Creating his children was one of the happiest moments of his life. One of his fondest memories with his son was when he presented his child to the world as his ‘little scientist’, mini lab coat on the boy and everything. One of his fondest with his daughter is when she finally got good enough at videogames to beat him, he’s never been so proud of her. ▸ is it easy for your muse to kill? Yes. While Professor is a peaceful man and wants world peace. He will do anything he can to protect those he loves, And if that means slaughtering a sentient robot army, or killing another person with his own two hands, he will do it without second thought. He will do it as if it were a normal every day task. As if it were as easy as writing his name.

▸ what’s it like when your muse breaks down? Anger. Tears. He becomes an emotional mess that cant handle it. Lots of dissociating too.

▸ is your muse capable of trusting someone with their life? Maybe. If he met the right person. But his survival and his kids survival as he sees it, is in his hands.

▸ what’s your muse like when they’re in love? Love is a... tricky topic for him. It’s not something that comes easily, as he has to know a person well in order to actually be IN LOVE with them. But he is extremely clingy when he does have that person, he is also extremely protective of them. Willing to go out of his way to lay down his life for them just as he would with his children. He is also extremely affectionate... in his own way. Meaning he would constantly be creating things for them, wanting to show them off to the world. They would hold just as much importance in his life as his kids. But, his children will ALWAYS come first, even if his partner is loved just as much.

tagged by: @agentmothmxn tagging: steal it from me & tag me!

#Off Work (OOC .)#Autobiography (HEADCANONS .)

6 notes · View notes

holy-ember · 5 years

Text

Annulment

“Viscount Turo. By the rule of law and the court of man, you have been charged and convicted. Your crimes not simply against the law itself, but the rights of sentient beings across Azeroth. Your acts delivered the spirits of those whom you so condemned to a limbo without salvation. Your misuse of the trust placed upon you to ritualistically abuse those too feeble to stand your torment is beyond what any explanation may excuse. It is with this charge that the Right of Annulment has been granted. May one day, your victims grant you mercy. For the Light shall show you none.”

The hearing was today, after weeks of bureaucratic tennis between the courts and the clergy. After so many years of the two living in a false harmony, still there were days in which some dragged their feet through the paperwork and letters for personal gripes and reasons. Rarely were those reasons in the interest of the ones who suffered most.

But in this instance, the Right had been granted in but one hour. One. In her years as a Confessor she had yet to see such a swift conviction come through. What, then, was the purpose of the hearing? She felt to call it a ‘hearing’ at all was to pervert the word from it’s distinctive meeting. It was more a spectacle, designed for those in power to grant the illusion that there was always a chance for the condemned. A process.

A farce. The Clergy had already penned the guilty verdict as the courts had. Though from that writ, the hangman of Stormwind would be denied his neck to tie. This man was granted the ‘blessing’ of the Annulment. Another perverted term of many. A crooked sense of justice for those with whom death was deemed too much a mercy.

Two hands tapped to the wooden surface of her desk, eyes tracing up to peer across to the face meeting her eyes. Her own, the mirror gifting a view to a face that was neutral. There was a time, not too far in past, where the face that gazed back was filled with doubt and uncertainty. No longer. Was she so lost?

Or was it simply one part of the whole. Another piece. If it was all a spectacle as she knew it to be, was she any more an actress then the playwrights and the method players immersed so deeply into their roles?

She had little time to ponder the facets of things beyond her. ‘Confessor’, she was titled. And perhaps it for the best. Others would take pleasure in the Right. Others have. Others would. But to her, there was no pleasure. Only need. It had to be done, and she would rather it be performed by one whom felt nothing than one who derived a sense of pride and justice from the display.

The bell tolled above, a call to the trial to pass. Her hands lifted to facilitate the golden mask to her face. Fixated, the total cover blocked out her features, leaving an emotionless presentment of the Confessor’s guise. Only worn when one wished to embody what they were, a vessel for the Light.

Another chime of the bell. Time to put on the play.

“Step forward, Viscount Turo... Viscount Turo... Step forward! We shall not del- Sergeant Vaascos, grab him! So now, in the full glare of the Light and in the face of Annulment, now you wish to flee. Be given a chance at freedom, at life, the kind of life which you denied to.. how many!? This is not how your story ends, Viscount. Confessor Tallow, commence the Rite.”

After so many trials of this flavor, it was never different. Never different. In the face of the courts the men and women always varied their responses and affects. Some would smile and joke, others would weep endless, and others still spit in fury. Variation, the many crimes bringing out the deep emotions locked away within the mind.

But not here. Before the Clergy there was always one affect alone: fear. For those who played with the wills of men knew well their pleas fell to deaf ears. Deafened by the wall of separation between the holy and the feral; the wicked and the pure.

Were it so simple.

As her name was brought to surface, she moved forward. Her feet carrying her toward the center of the chamber, surrounded by the dozen golden masks of her fellow Confessors. Those entrusted with the duty of mentally diseased beings such as the one thrown to his knees before her.

Desperation plucked at his eyes, forcing them to blink away the now dry surfaces devoid of tears. Tears that had been cried already, in the bowels of a stone cell. It would do him no benefit to shed them now, the writ already applied. Yani lifted her palm to face the figure, her other upturned as to conduit the beseechment.

“Brothers and sisters, by the right granted to us by the law and the purpose bestowed upon us by the Light, we find the man before us as named Vincent Francis Turo guilty of crimes against the beings of Azeroth and beyond. By his actions, he has proven an enemy to the Living and the Dead, the balance of Order and Chaos, Shadow and Light. By unanimous decision, I act now as chamber to the Light. By my hand, and the will of us brothers and sisters, may the Light see our verdict and carry it out.”

The others knew their part to play. Though one soul always acted as vessel, not one among the Confessors would be free from the verdict. Each lifted a hand toward the priestess, adding their own muttered prayers and affirmations to call upon the Light. As they spoke, the gleam of white flooded the veins of Yani’s palm. Akin to a pathogen is spread rapidly across her flesh, spilling from the holes in her mask once suited for her eyes. All the prayers and calls drowned out the whimpering pleas of the condemned man.

Silenced he was as she pressed her palm to his face, latching down. Two became one, flesh to flesh no longer separated by barriers of physical form. An illumination bright enough to blind; enough to sear the flesh exposed to open air. Yani could feel the Light operate through her, no longer self and self alone but the fuse by which the power flowed.

Annulment. To delete. To not simply remove an entity but to issue a point as if it had never existed in the first place. She felt as his mind was erased, bleached of memory and persona. She felt as his soul was unhooked from the cycle of life and death, doomed to perish in permanence. She watched in a mixture of adoration and horror as the man was cleaned of what made him a man at all. Washed in such a pure Light as to strip him of himself.

And it was done.

Her hand retracted, the illuminations fading within a second’s tick as normalcy returned to the room. The husk once bearing the name Vincent Francis Turo dragged from the room by the two Paladins, left only with the branded imprint of a hand upon his facial features.

Suffer would he for the next few days in a cell until the natural need for water claimed his life. Upon that death, his energy would diminish and fade, removed from an afterlife. Removed from salvation. From atonement.

Yani was pleased when she could remove that mask back in her chambers, setting it to the surface of wood. Her eyes lifted to the mirror once more. Neutral. There was a time, not too far in past, where the face that gazed back was filled with doubt and uncertainty. No longer.

Was she so lost?

#Stories

7 notes · View notes

athyrabunlord · 6 years

Text

LLSHP 20 - Our Story

Arc1: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7]

Arc2: [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapter 14]

Arc3: [Chapter 15] [Chapter 16] [Chapter 17] [Chapter 18] [Chapter 19] [Chapter 20] [Chapter 21 (TBD)]

Interludes: [Carbonado (1)] [Carbonado (2)] [Of Feathers and Wind] [Delphinus (teaser blip)]

[Brief note about School Term] [other LLSHP AU stuff] [YohaMaRuby concept arts] [ChikaYouRiko concept arts] [KanaDiaMari concept arts] [Hogwarts Staff]

[FFN link] (up until ch17!) [Pixiv Link] [Translated to Chinese by plin2290]

A/N: Honestly surprised myself that I finished this chapter so quickly, but I suppose I’m just as eager to get to the last climax of this story. As this is the second last chapter and based on everything that’s happened, I’m sure many things happening here are to be expected. Still though, it was difficult even for me as the writer to complete many of the scenes. Feedback as always is greatly appreciated, and I hope you’ll look forward to the last chapter/conclusion! Words: 7,480

“Ruby-chan! Ruby-chan!!”

Yoshiko remains rooted in her place, glancing helplessly between Yohane and the chaos beside her. Each and every one of Hanamaru’s cries stab deeply in her heart, making this appalling sight more and more real. Dia has borrowed Ruby’s wand and is repeatedly casting healing spells, while Hanamaru has upturned the Expandable Pouch for all the available vials of Dittany.

But those wounds just won’t close.

Blood continues to soak through Ruby’s vest, her body limp in Dia’s arms and her chest barely rising and falling. Chika and You’s eyes are wide with horror yet they are unable to even speak due to the Body-Bind Curse. Kanan is huffing ferally, struggling in futile under those shackles, the chains already digging into the wolf’s fur and ripping open the scabs. Mari is trying to get up, breathing laboriously, her face scrunched up in sorrow and fury as she shakily points her wand.

Yohane easily brushes aside those badly-aimed spells, the white wing’s feathers not at all ruffled from the disturbance.

“How far you have fallen… the two of you were once so difficult to subdue, but now?” Yohane smiles softly, a jarring expression that contrasts the powerful wave of magic she sent towards her struggling opponents.

Kanan and Mari are thrown back against the shelves, crashing into and shattering various bottles of potions. Mari slides down from the toppled shelf, her wand rolling away from her limp hand, while Kanan has reverted to her human form, eyes closed and breathing feebly.

Yoshiko is already running towards Yohane before she realizes it, yelling with all the rage churning in her heart. “Crucio!”

With an eyebrow raised elegantly, Yohane shifts her white wing to cover herself. The Unforgivable’s red magic dispurses upon contact, as if it were an elementary spell of no significance.

“Your emotions are delectable, O Lost One, but you do not have enough hatred to use the Cruciatus Curse,” she says calmly like she were discussing the weather. “Would you like me to show you? They were pretty good practice dummies back then.”

“No, stop-” Yoshiko hastily casts Protego at You and Chika’s direction but the sheer magic bursting from the sakura wand pierces right through her Shield Charm.

You and Chika, defenseless, could only clench their eyes shut and unable to even scream from the agony. Yohane is watching them calmly, as if everything is fine and peaceful, that no one is being tortured and bleeding to death because of her.

There’s so much anger in Yoshiko’s heart that it’s actually making her nauseous. She roars again, allowing this tremendous feeling to consume her and dig deep inside her mind. Black tendrils materialize from her arm and spear towards that despicable girl.

Yohane finally moves from her spot, frowning as she steps aside and lifts the Curse.

Yoshiko stands in front of You and Chika protectively, her body slightly hunched over as she lets out ragged gasps. With her arm still covered in black mist and stretched warningly towards Yohane, she dares to glance at the unmoving duo. Though their faces are pale and damp with sweat and their eyes are closed, they are at least breathing albeit weakly. Perhaps sheer exhaustion or those horrible past memories triggered by the shock had caused them to faint.

“Nngh...R-Ruby-chan…”

Hanamaru’s choked sobs echo in the now silent Apothecary. There are many empty vials cluttered around her and Dia is gingerly cradling Ruby while whispering comforting words. Yoshiko couldn’t tell if the wounds have been successfully closed or not, for her signature pink vest has turned into a sickening shade of maroon. Yoshiko could feel tears stinging her own eyes when she looks away from Ruby and meets Hanamaru’s gaze, which is filled with despair. Whimpering, the brunette bites her lower lip and shakes her head.

Ruby… she’s… no… no no no...

“W-Why her…I thought, it was me that you people wanted…” Dia says monotonously, her hands slick with her little sister’s blood.

“You were indeed, Kurosawa heiress. We thought you the most powerful Pureblood of your family, that you still have the potential to become even stronger. Yet, from what I saw in Lily’s mind-” Yohane pauses and smiles when Dia glares at her with bloodshot eyes. “Your Patronus and Animagus form don’t exactly match my image of a powerful Pureblood. Naturally, I got curious and concerned. All this effort, with the Fallen’s limited resources, what if we did get to you and you are the wrong one? And so I looked and pondered.”

Yohane gestures at Yoshiko, who recoils at the realization. “Ah yes, it is through you and our connection that I begin to understand the so-called failure more. That meek little Ruby Kurosawa, her Patronus is truly beautiful, that I concede. I want to make sure though, so I must get to the Kurosawa sisters, to get to all of you with one single swoop. How can I accomplish that?”

She tilts her head and says a matter-of-factly. “Well, here we are.”

Yoshiko clenches her fists, thinking back on all the events that led to this moment. The forcibly blocked-off connection back at the alleyway and the return of the vision, and her telling everyone about the assault on the Estate. It was an elaborate plan all along, with Yohane as the master puppetress stringing them onto the stage that she had designed. Luring them all here, setting up ambushes here and there to diminish the strength of their stronger members, and allowing Dia to run free so they would have to search around for her while Yohane most likely observed them.

Appraised them like livestock for slaughter.

“She has my respect. Truly unexpected, but I suppose her experiences molded her magic and soul. Her desire to protect her friends and save her dear sister makes her so much stronger,” Yohane taps the sakura wand thoughtfully, her smile dropping a little. “I know the Counter-Curse to sectumsempra of course. I could heal her… but I won’t. You’ve cost too many of my cohorts. I need compensation.”

Yoshiko laughs harshly, the rage burning and causing the black mist to condense around her arm again. “Compensation?! You dare to talk about compensation!? Why… why are you like this? Just what the fuck have you accomplished?” She gestures tearfully at her friends. “Are you happy now? Huh?! Causing all this misery, does that make you happy?!”

Yohane blinks in puzzlement, like she truly is incapable of understanding Yoshiko’s sentiment. “Of course I am happy. Do you not see, my sad other half? Can you not see the complete state of my magic, my soul?”

She spreads her wings wide, and Yoshiko could see the left wing slowly yet steadily turning from black to white as well. The atmosphere feels even heavier now that more magic has gathered and saturated in the air. Distressed, Lucifer curls up in Yoshiko’s hood, shivering.

“Truly, I am grateful to you all. See,” Yohane summons the wand from an unconscious member of Fallen nearby, casting a bright Lumos with no trouble. “I can now use any wand… perhaps, I can even obtain my own wand like the rest of you regular witches.”

“What-?” Yoshiko’s hand tightens on her own wand, reassured by the flow of magic between them.

“Because of you, silly girl. You caused so many irregularities in my core that I was unable to bond with any wand… until Lily’s.” Yohane taps the sakura wand against her palm, her thumb gently brushing over the wood. “Perhaps it’s due to Lily’s past interaction with the quill or her connection to you. Either way, this wand accepted my magic, and the rest is history.”

At Yoshiko’s silence, Yohane lowers her voice to a dangerous lilt. “I see the confusion in your eyes. It’s not something you can ever relate to, being able to use a wand like it is the most natural thing in the world. You and the rest of the wizards and witches.” Her condescending gaze then shifts over to Hanamaru, who flinches.

“I gave you a little taste of such… inconvenience. How did it feel, having magic so close without access to it? I was forced to learn to control the only thing I have at my disposal - my soul, my incomplete soul. But ah,” Yohane gives her a fanged grin. “It is much more powerful than I could’ve imagined. We Fallen, through countless research, learn more about my feathers - it can bypass Anti-Apparition Jinx, it can cause disruption in a witch or wizard’s flow of magic and thus rendering them vulnerable.”

She holds up the flask that contains the now black potion. “And now, I can grant magic to those who seek it - Squibs, Muggles, or even sentient creatures like the Acromantulas! Everyone will finally be equal, will they not?”

“You are mad…” Dia hugs Ruby close, sparks of magic cackling at the tip of the latter’s wand.

“Am I? Is it not unfair, that certain people enjoy the convenience and power of magic, while others suffer from the lack of it?”

“If you are strictly referring to that, then I have also thought of the same thing. But, never, ever, at the cost of innocent people’s lives,” Dia’s voice hitches and wavers. “R-Ruby, Riko, and all t-those people… what had they done to deserve this?!”

Yohane’s expression is the closest to remorse that Yoshiko has seen on her. “Unfortunate casualty to balance out everything. My people have suffered as well - those who had given their lives today shall be commemorated for the bright future that is to come.”

“Bright… future…?” Yoshiko glances at Ruby’s motionless body and snarls. “There’s no future! You think you can get away with all of this?! I won’t let you…”

“Just how do you plan to stop me, when I have already gotten what I wanted, hmm?” Yohane shifts her wings and tucks the potion in her pocket. “The rest of the world, the silly Ministry, they shall all see and understand the greatness of what I have accomplished. Even the so-called renowned Order of Merlin, 1st Class, is not enough to honor me. I am too worthy-”

“You are not.”

Hanamaru slowly stands up, her eyes downcast and still full of pain, yet there is something decidedly serene about her demeanor. “You don’t understand anything at all.”

“Oh? Care to elaborate?” Yohane narrows her eyes to slits, her tone lowered to a menacing octave.

“You think you’ve done an amazing thing, but you don’t understand even the simplest of emotions,” Hanamaru clutches her hand in front of her heart as tears trickle down her cheeks. “Can you even relate to our anguish? Can you even feel this loss? You call yourself complete, but how can you be complete when you don’t even understand the importance of such bonds?!”

Yohane’s cool expression shifts to one of anger. “You silly mortal. You’re the one who understands nothing. Your truly are unworthy to be by my side! Very well, I will show you…”

Grimacing, Yoshiko hastily moves to stand in front of Hanamaru and concentrates on the veil of black tendrils wrapped around her outstretched arm. Yohane scoffs at her action and merely holds up the sakura wand with a confident smile.

“Expecto Patronum!”

Yoshiko and Hanamaru cringe at that, staring with wide eyes at the beam of silver light summoned by Yohane’s spell. The Patronus begins to take a corporeal form, shaping into a pair of great wings that encompass the caster.

Yohane’s eyes flash with glee as she laughs joyously. “At last! I can cast the Patronus Charm! See, this is the proof of my worthiness, I am the great fallen angel Yohane-”

The silver light abruptly vanishes, leaving behind evanescent sparks like falling snowflakes. Yohane staggers a few steps, gasping and grasping frantically at her cloak when the whiteness in her left wing begins to recede.

“What’s-? Why… the potion-!” She desperately takes a few gulps, yet that does nothing to halt the darkening of her wings. The blackness has now spread even to her white right wing, like the unrelenting way that ink would spread across a piece of parchment.

“No… No!! W-What’s happening?!”

Perhaps it’s due to their proximity or Yohane’s inadvertently lowered defense, but Yoshiko could feel the former’s panic seeping into her cognizance. She hastily summons her own Patronus, sighing in relief when the silver coelacanth materializes easily at her call.

“Your dazzling Patronus. It comes from the caster’s heart and soul. It’s something that cannot be faked or created from nothingness. This alone proves your worthiness.”

She could almost hear the Selkie Chieftainess’ reassuring words and, judging from the spike of fury she felt, Yohane must have heard those words from her memory too.

“I am unworthy? But you’re the Horcrux! How is this possible?!” Yohane cradles the sakura wand against her chest, wheezing and panting. “This potion should have been perfect! This is supposed to be my crowning moment of glory!! No, it must be you, your existence, it’s making everything wrong, if I could just reclaim you-”

Due to their connection, Yoshiko understands that Yohane is trying to call upon the Dementor horde that probably still lingers around the area. Dia is in no state to cast a Patronus Charm, and Yoshiko herself could feel her control on the silver coelacanth slipping due to Yohane’s disbelief and anger cluttering with her own thoughts. Grimacing, Yoshiko musters her strength to send those black tendrils at Yohane to stop her.

Snarling in frustration, Yohane slaps aside the spears with her wings, though the impact causes both girls to recoil as if something has pierced through their hearts. Yoshiko sinks down on her knees, shuddering from that clash of their soul.

“Hana...maru… aim your Patronus at her wings… now!” She manages to squeeze out those words, her eyes trained on Yohane’s slouched-over form.

Though bewildered, Hanamaru’s expression is full of trust as she directs her Augurey Patronus towards the fallen girl. Yohane cringes with surprise, instinctively shielding herself with her wings, but the silver bird easily tears through the feathers as it soars past her.

Yohane cries out in pain, hugging herself tight and curling up on the ground. The shredded wings droop uselessly against her shoulders, those disintegrated feathers not reforming and the remaining ones losing the whiteness even faster.

Unlike the stabbing pain of the Cruciatus Curse, the agony in Yoshiko’s chest feels like molten lava that mercilessly spreads throughout her body. Her vision flickers out of focus and it takes a few moments for her to realize that she is slumped on the ground, coughing blood.

“Yoshiko-chan!” Hanamaru has dispelled her Patronus and is leaning over her, holding her hands and whimpering. Lucifer is also flapping its wings helplessly near her head, nudging and licking at her sweaty cheek.

Yoshiko couldn’t feel any of their warmth. That sensation of something vanishing is even worse now.

“Are you crazy!?” Yohane is trying to get up but her trembling arms are barely supporting her weight. “You want to... destroy yourself too!?”

Yoshiko knows there is blood trickling down her chin but she couldn’t even taste that coppery tang. She leans feebly against Hanamaru, finding her resolution growing at her loved one’s worried voice.

Almost there. She can end this.

Unable to wield her wand properly, Yoshiko tries to recall the feeling of summoning the Patronus all those years ago back in the background. The desire to protect Hanamaru, the desperation to prove her worth, the belief that she is truly someone special.

The silver coelacanth swims majestically through the air, bringing a small smile to Yoshiko’s face in spite of the severity of the situation. This symbol of hope, so beautiful and brilliant and free! At her slight nod, the sentient Charm then dives towards Yohane with the power of purpose.

Shaking, Yohane could only reform the wings into a condensed shield in a last ditch attempt to stop the Patronus. The black mist evaporates as soon as the coelacanth propels through it, but the silver fish also fades before it could reach her.

As soon as Yohane collapses, Yoshiko also drops her wand and retches blood again. Before her quivering hand could reclaim the wand, a pale hand firmly grips her wrist.

Dia’s cheeks are stained with dried tears but there’s a fierceness in her gaze that demands obedience. “Whatever you are doing, stop it. I want her to pay for everything she did but not through you, not at the cost of your life, Yoshiko-san.”

Hanamaru appears to have put two and two together as well and uses her sleeve to gently wipe away the blood staining Yoshiko’s chin. “It’s enough… it’s too much… no more… stop… don’t...”

Though feeling rather detached to her body in spite of the pain, Yoshiko is able to sit up with Hanamaru and Dia’s help. She glances at Lucifer, who is nestled against Ruby’s hand and crooning miserably, and then at the two girls supporting her upright.

Despite her blurring vision, she is able to meet Yohane’s furious eyes. “Just one more... hit, I’m sure... I can…”

I can end Yohane and atone for our sins.

Coughing weakly, Yohane claws at the wall behind her to try to get up. “If you want to die so badly, I’ll help you with that! The inferno of hell shall be the perfect mausoleum for the great fallen angel!”

A bitter and manic grin lights up on her dark expression as she holds up the sakura wand. “Let’s perish together then, my sad clone!”

Pouring forth from the tip of the wand is a terrible stream of fire, which roars like a sentient beast as it consumes everything around it. The shelves instantly crumble into soot and become part of this uncontrollable rampage.

Fiendfyre. The vague knowledge of the Curse trickles into Yoshiko’s mind as Dia shakily points Ruby’s wand and croaks out. “Partis Temporus!”

Even as Dia’s Charm causes it to part ways, the furious flame continues to spread around the Apothecary, hungry to incinerate and destroy, barely halting. The fire swerves around the spell, ready to converge and feast upon them and their vulnerable friends.

Yohane’s broken laughter reverberates within Yoshiko’s mind, the sheer despair almost making her just surrender and allow the hell fire to burn everything away. However, in spite of being unable to relish in Hanamaru’s warmth, she sees and vaguely feels her cold tears falling upon her skin.

Similar to how Yohane did it earlier, Yoshiko summons the black tendrils to form a condensed shield of blackness to block the fiendfyre just as it is about to reach them.

From her peripheral vision, she notices the sakura wand fracturing, followed by magic scalding her nerves, and everything whitens out.

==========================

Yoshiko blinks.

The atmosphere feels familiar and comforting, and she soon realizes that she is back at the Hogwarts Castle. This is the lavatory that masquerades as the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, the place where so many things had happened. The beginning of an end.

Perplexed, she approaches one of the mirrors and sees her reflection staring back at her. She’s not covered in dirt and blood, and her school uniform is immaculate and complete with the Slytherin scarf wrapped cozily around her. She doesn’t hurt anywhere, and she feels better than she’s felt for a long time.

She hesitantly pinches herself, startled by the pain.

This isn’t a dream. But what happened? Wasn’t she at the Apothecary on the Kurosawa Estate?

“Yocchan.”

Her heart thuds rapidly in her chest, the pang growing as she turns around to find a familiar girl smiling softly at her.

“L-Lily…?”

She wobbles towards Riko, unable to believe the wonderful sight before her. She raises her hand, not daring to touch the Ravenclaw in case this is all just an illusion. The last time she saw Riko, she was so frail on the hospital bed, those amber eyes so lifeless, unaware of the events around her, still confined to the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo’s-

“Is it… really you, Lily?”

Riko smiles sadly and gently holds her hand. It feels warm, yet there’s also something off about it. “Yes and no.”

“Eh-?”

“I am a construct of your conscience and the remnants of Riko Sakurauchi’s magic,” the burgundy-haired girl slowly lets go and allows Yoshiko’s hand to drop to her side. “Magic is full of possibilities and, while the Curse had destroyed Riko’s wand, its previous owner’s feelings remained strong and answered your call before the magic fades. I am here because of the lingering regret in your heart.”

“Regret…?” Yoshiko chuckles humorlessly, unable to tear her gaze away from the older girl before her. Real or not, it makes her so happy to see Riko healthy and well. It’s been so long since she heard her voice. Come to think of it, this lavatory was the last place where they had a heart to heart conversation, wasn’t it?

“Yes, regret,” the Riko replica says quietly, her expression just as kind as the original’s. “You wish to speak to Riko, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. Ever since that day. I want to say how sorry I am. I want to say how much I appreciate her being there for me. No, not only those. There are so, so damn much I want to talk about with Lily, and Dia-san too,” Yoshiko’s voice cracks and she has to swallow down her sobs. “H-Hanamaru, Ruby, everyone! I want to speak with them more. I want to keep spending time with them. I-I don’t want to leave…”

As always, a mere duplicate or not, this Riko patiently waits for her to gather her composure.

“I want all of us to be together even longer, all nine of us. But, that’s not possible, not anymore.” Yoshiko breathes deeply and clasps her hands together, smiling wryly at the realistic sensation she could feel even though she knows it will not last. “Because... I’m dying.”

There, it is out in the open. Saying it aloud doesn’t feel as terrible as she had expected. This sense of finality is calming even, and having this Riko as the witness somehow gives her more courage. She’s been vaguely aware of this fact since she intercepted that Killing Curse, and everything Yohane did with the potion as well as that clash of Patronus and the wings only sped up the progress.

“I can cry and whine about it, but that’s not gonna change the fact that I’m… disappearing. I’m just a Horcrux, yet I was able to experience a pretty awesome life as a human, finding people who cares about me, loves me,” Yoshiko places her hand against her heart, lowering her gaze at the reassuring sensation of heartbeats. “And I love them too.”

The burgundy-haired girl tilts her head morosely. “Riko cares about you. She is still in shock, still recovering from what she had suffered in the Chamber of Secrets, but deep down, she knows the truth. At least, the truth that you, Yoshiko Tsushima, are not the one who hurt her. Given time, she will accept the truth. Believe me, I’m a corporeal form of her magic after all.”

“That’s relieving to hear,” Yoshiko wipes at her eyes and grins. “Well then, I have no more unfinished business. Thank you for speaking with me. I needed that… I needed that one last push.”

She steps forward and embraces the taller girl, smiling when she feels familiar magic enveloping her even as the replica fades away. The scenery around her begins to dissolve as well, along with the wholesome sensation of being a regular student.

Closing her eyes, she pours her emotions along with the flow of magic.

“I hope you will recover soon. Thank you for everything, and goodbye... sister.”

===============================

“Hanamaru…”

Yoshiko blearily opens her eyes, not surprised to find herself back at the Apothecary. The pungent odor of smoke almost throws her into a coughing fit, but she feels too weak to even exhale properly. Hanamaru and Dia are still seated around her, and a quick glance tells her that the others are nearby as well. Though unconscious, Kanan and Mari, You and Chika, the four of them have been Levitated and placed close together and far from the licking flames of the fiendfyre.

Indeed, walls of the nightmarish fire trap them in this little space. Everything else appears to be ablaze and there is no way out as far as she could see. Perhaps the shield she had created earlier was the only reason why they have yet to be consumed by this magical inferno. At the time being, the flames have skirted around this area, similar to how a river current could be diverted by a formidable rock in its path.

Once certain of everyone’s whereabouts, she finally forces herself to gaze at Ruby, who is still lying behind Dia. Lucifer is curled up against the motionless girl’s hand, as if its tiny body could help preserve warmth.

“...Ruby, how is she-?”

“S-She’s not breathing…” Hanamaru chokes out, and Dia clenches her eyes shut. “S-She’s already...”

“Could you… bring me c-closer?”

Hanamaru and Dia share an uncertain glance but do as requested. Grunting, Yoshiko reaches for Ruby’s wrist, unable to feel any pulse but unable to feel the coldness either. She couldn’t feel anything, not anymore.

“... Ruby, no amount of apologies would be enough… but maybe, if I could only…” Yoshiko grits her teeth and concentrates. Black mist slowly forms around her arm though, with it, comes a dizzying sensation.

“Yoshiko-san-?”

“If these tendrils can maim… it might be able to heal too. It’s the magic of my soul, so if I could only make it…” She ignores Dia’s worried gaze and tries to guide the mist over to the vicious wounds all over Ruby’s body. However, unlike the gentle glow of healing magic, the black mist is fluctuating, as if struggling to break free of the veil form she is keeping it.

“L-Let me help…” Hanamaru reaches for Yoshiko’s hand before the latter could stop her. Instead of hurting her, the black mist recedes a little to give space so that her hand covers Yoshiko’s larger one. Though unable to feel another’s person’s warmth, she could faintly feel the trickle of magic mingling with hers.

Before their wide eyes, the black mist stabilizes and descends upon Ruby, shifting into a soft glow. The maroon of the drenched vest lightens a little and the wounds begin to mend.

“W-what?” Dia doesn’t dare to blink, carefully touching her sister’s cheek and gasping when Ruby lets out a weak breath.

“Maybe… it’s because Yohane knows how to heal her so I somehow know too… or maybe, it’s because Hanamaru’s been connected to us since so long ago…” Yoshiko wheezes, her vision flickering precariously again. What she just did has drained her what little of energy she has left. She would’ve fallen backwards if Hanamaru hadn’t been holding her.

“Ruby…” Dia hugs her sister close, her voice strangled with emotions. “She… she will fine?”

“At least she won’t bleed to death,” Yoshiko gives her a weak grin and struggles to reach for her pocket. “Now, Dia-san, please get everyone out of here.”

“Yoshiko-chan-?” Hanamaru blinks as Yoshiko pushes a black feather in her palm and then drops another in Dia’s hand.

“You heard what Yohane said earlier. These feathers, they should help you Apparate,” Yoshiko pauses and allows herself a moment to sweep her gaze over her friends one last time. She tries to etch their images into her mind, hoping that would help her remember them forever, though she finds such logic ridiculous since she’s the one who would not remain.

“Yoshiko-san, just what are you-?”

“Lily is waiting for you.” She caresses Lucifer’s head before depositing the protesting bat in the older girl’s lap. “I’m counting on you, my greatest little demon, be good to Dia-san okay? Watch over them.”

“I don’t like this… why are you saying all these things,” Hanamaru wraps her arms around Yoshiko’s, refusing to budge even as the latter weakly attempts to tug free. “Let’s all go back to Hogwarts… let’s all go home zura.”

“It’d upset me if I hear anything were to happen to you. I want you to take care of yourself too, Yoshiko-chan.” She could almost hear Grandma Kunikida’s kind words, so she guiltily apologizes to the elder in her mind.

She glances at Ruby, comforted by the feeble but steady rise and fall of her chest, and recalls her worried voice from their conversation by the Black Lake. “Yoshiko-chan, d-don’t leave us, okay?”

“That’s a promise I can no longer keep, my friend.” She sadly looks away and stares at the roaring flames. “Hanamaru, I’m… just returning to the sky for a bit…. I’ll be back…”

“Yoshiko-chan-?”

She cups Hanamaru’s cheek and kisses her deeply, pouring all the feelings she had in this one intimate gesture. Though stunned at first, the petite girl soon melts against her and returns the kiss just as tenderly.

Yoshiko smiles. She couldn’t feel anything, but she could sense the girl’s love and that is more than enough for her. Though reluctant, she pulls away and whispers against Hanamaru’s ear.

“Please don’t forget me…”

Mustering all the remaining strength she had, she shoves Hanamaru away and abruptly stands up. With one arm around Ruby and the other steadying the startled Hanamaru, Dia is unable to move from her spot and could only watch as Yoshiko gives her one last pleading look.

Before any of them could react, Yoshiko quickly summons the black mist to cover herself and walks into the fiendfyre. The magical flames is tickling at her skin, threatening to consume her, and she finds it utterly ironic how she was able to feel the heat from this Curse and nothing else. She glances back, noticing Hanamaru’s silhouette and flashes of magic. She must be trying to get through this destructive fire, to get to her.

“... promised!” The girl’s heartrending cry is nearly muffled by the cackling inferno. “You promised … when you return to the sky, you would take me with you! Yoshiko-chan!”

Yoshiko turns away and resumes walking. Even though she knows Hanamaru couldn’t hear her, she still finds herself murmuring at the fire.

“I’ll always love you.”

=================================

After what feels like an eternity, Yoshiko finally reaches a similar area within the fiendfyre where the flames have left untouched. Yohane is hugging her legs, in fetal position, the vestiges of her torn black wings draped over her shoulders and are steadily crumbling to dust.

She doesn’t move even as Yoshiko sits down beside her.

“What? Do you pity me?”

“I suppose.”

Yohane laughs shakily, tearfully. “... you knew we are dying.”

Yoshiko nods. “I wasn’t fully sure… but yes, I knew. I just didn’t want to believe it.”

“Then why are you here? Didn’t tell your friends, did you? Wouldn’t you rather die with them around you?” Yohane shifts and turns to face her. If it had been any other circumstances, Yoshiko would have felt sympathy at the sight of such raw helplessness on her mirror image’s expression.

Alas, as it is, she feels nothing. “I don’t want them to see me… go, not like this.” She looks down at her hands, unsurprised that her fingertips are becoming translucent. Her feet are already disintegrating into black mist, into an intangible form. This certainly doesn’t feel like her body anymore. “Besides, in the end… you’re me. I want you to know that you’re not alone.”

Yohane recoils. “Even after everything I have done?”

Scowling, Yoshiko grabs Yohane by the scruff of her cloak and yanks her close so that she’s glaring into those wide eyes. “I will never forgive you. If only I could make you pay, if only I could make you apologize… except, you couldn’t, could you?”

Yohane blinks, still startled and bewildered. Sighing, Yoshiko loosens her grip and shakes her head. “You’re incapable of remorse, just as you’re incapable of many other emotions.”

“... you’re right, I don’t.” Despite the bite of her words, Yohane’s visage flickers with what appears to be lament before the characteristic aloofness returns. “So what. Instead of staying with your beloved friends, you’ve come to me, so we can happily die together, is that it?”

“Yeah, that’s right. Like you said a while back, it’d be too sad if I remain ignorant before I go,” Yoshiko interlaces her fingers together, smiling wistfully. “I want to know. I want to understand why you are this way. Tell me… tell me your story.”

Yohane scoffs half-heartedly as she looks over at Yoshiko’s condition. “There’s not much to tell, but I suppose I could share it. It’s your story as much as it is mine and, well, we got nothing else to do to pass this time anyway, waiting for the inevitable death.”

After a moment’s deliberation, Yohane takes out a familiar quill and places it in Yoshiko’s palm. The object falls through the latter’s translucent hand, landing softly in her lap. The former flinches while the latter doesn’t react.

“Er… yeah, this was you. The quill. It’s made from an Augurey actually, quite unlike any other quills.”

“So I was right,” Yoshiko’s lips quirk with slight humor. “I sensed the connection. It’s a given though, since I … used to be this thing.”

“Right. Well then, where should I even start?” Yohane closes her eyes briefly before opening them again. Her husky voice now has a distant quality to it as she taps her fingers against her knee. “Ah, the playground. I assume you don’t know what happened after Mother saved us?”

Yoshiko could only remember being hugged by Father while Mother was speaking to the Ministry officials that arrived. As if sensing her thoughts, Yohane nods curtly. “They screwed up, y’know? The Dementors were chasing an escaped convict from Nurmengard - that’s a wizarding prison - because the transfer to Azkaban didn’t happen smoothly. During the chase, the Dementors took a detour because they sensed two delectable children with developing magic. Yup, Hanamaru and I.”

Yoshiko carefully watches Yohane’s expression, which appears to be forcibly stoic at the mention of the brunette.

“Father and Mother took me home while the Ministry dealt with the aftermath for Hanamaru. I don’t know. I never saw her again until that day at King’s Cross Station,” she trails off, frowning, and her voice becomes flat again as she touches her chest. “That incident caused my magic to become unstable. Something was desperately trying to break free, and it wasn’t my Patronus or anything.”

Yoshiko exhales tiredly. “... Me?”

“Probably. I know I call you a Horcrux because that’s the only terminology closest to describing you, but who knows what you really are?” Yohane shrugs. “Father was a Muggle descendant of a Squib from a notable Pureblood family, and he’s kept in contact with a distant relative ever since I was born. That relative, an old man who’s also a Squib, have always been helpful in terms of knowledge from the magical world. Mother was a Half-blood who grew up in the Muggle world, so she didn’t know what was happening to me either.”

Even though everything is in the past tense and despite knowing what was coming, Yoshiko is rather pleased at learning about her parents, no matter how trivial the information seems. Yohane snorts at that but she continues speaking.

“So, Father called for the old man to see if he knows what can be done… alas, he wasn’t able to make it to our place in time. Like I said back then, there was a burst of accidental magic and you killed Father. My soul split off, and you were able to latch onto the family quill as some sort of Horcrux.”

In spite of already hearing it once before, Yoshiko still winces and lowers her head. Unlike last time, Yohane’s tone isn’t accusing as she adds. “I believe our magic was very unstable then, and that’s why when Mother tried to help me, save me, she remained too close to the quill and her life force was drained so rapidly.”

Yohane’s composure crumbles a little, displaying a rare moment of pain and sadness.

“That old man discovered me in the ruins of the apartment and quickly took me away under his protection before the Muggle authorities arrived. We went far away, as he didn’t want the Ministry to discover me and possibly take me away for experimentation. We lost our faith in the Ministry since that botched transfer, see? And that’s why neither of us knew of your existence, that an orphan was found at the ruins and identified as Yoshiko Tsushima, an orphan who lived like a Muggle for ten years before receiving Hogwarts’ letter.”

Yoshiko furrows her brows. “I think you’ve seen it in my mind. I… did live like a Muggle, but it was definitely not normal. You have no idea how happy I was, when I found out I was a witch.”

Yohane laughs callously. “It is still better than mine. I grew up with only that old man to rely on. He taught me everything about magic, despite being unable to use it himself. He… was the leader of Fallen. The Fallen’s been around for centuries but it’s only due to my presence that they had such breakthroughs. His distant ancestor was a Squib from the Kurosawa family actually, hence my cohorts’ obsession with this particular Pureblood family.”

Yoshiko isn’t surprised to learn that she’s very, very distantly related to Dia and Ruby. All the Pureblood families are related in one way or another through intermarriage after all, and some Muggleborns do have Pureblood ancestry. Still, hearing such connection gives her a sense of peace.

Yohane chuckles dryly. “She’ll live, that Ruby Kurosawa. Kudos to you on that bastardized healing spell. I’ll have you know that I didn’t aim at any vital spots, otherwise she would have died for certain.”

“Why?”

“Why indeed. I could have killed Lily. I could have killed Ruby. But, like I said, maybe your silly mortal emotions did influence me to an extent,” Yohane sneers, though her voice is subdued and no longer has that vicious edge. “Anyway, within the Fallen, there are many other Squibs and magical relatives tormented by discrimination. Yes, even more Squibs distantly related to the Kurosawas, those who were burned off the family tree. That man who used a suicide bomb, he was actually the brother of that wizard who I had the Dementor Kissed.”

Yoshiko cringes at recalling those aforementioned men. “But all the members of Fallen we had encountered, they all used magic so well-?”

“They were temporarily granted the ability to use magic through the many versions of incomplete potions we have developed. Why do you think it was so difficult for us to capture a Pureblood? The old man passed away three years ago and so, under my leadership, I pushed forward our agenda by risking casualties and exposure. I’m not conservative like him, and I was fucking sick of being idle and hiding, like I’m some sort of abomination.” Yohane takes out the nearly empty flask of the potion that had briefly granted her a white wing. “I still believe this potion is truly complete. It should work on the Squibs, Muggles and other potential candidates, just not me. I suppose, nothing can ever fill the void of my missing soul.”

She raises the flask as if she is about to hurl it into the flames, but she lowers it tiredly a moment later. “There, satisfied now? That’s my pathetic little story, you silly girl.”

Yoshiko gazes contemplatively at the ground for a while, with only the cackling flame and Yohane’s ragged breathing as background noise. She morbidly tries to prickle her finger at a piece of sharp rock but her now transparent finger just goes right through the object.

“Your story doesn’t excuse you for what you’ve done.”

“Of course it doesn’t, and I don’t intend it to anyway, I only-”

“But I still can’t help but sympathize with you.”

“Ha?” Yohane’s visage is full of incredulity. “Did your brain disappear too?”

Yoshiko rolls her eyes. In so many aspects, it’s ludicrous how they’re bantering like this in the middle of this deadly inferno while steadily vanishing into oblivion. Yet, it also feels right, like some sort of closure that the two pieces of the same soul owe to themselves. Perhaps it is exactly because they’re dying that they’re able to reach such moment of truce.

“Had I gone down the wrong path, I might have ended up like you. There were some pretty dark moments while growing up. All those talk about conquering the world and acquiring little demons, there were times when I genuinely wished it, maliciously too. It was brief and quickly forgotten, but it was there,” Yoshiko pauses and watches as the quill falls through her lap onto the ground, the black mist now spreading up her legs and have reached her waist. She could barely see the shape of her feet anymore.

Yohane is watching her, her expression a mixture of fear and morbid fascination at her condition. In comparison, the only sign of her declining health is that bead of cold sweat trickling down her deathly pale cheek.

“I just want to say… you weren’t always evil, Yohane. We… you… you saved Hanamaru back then. You did it because you wanted to save her, right?”

Yohane sighs and rubs her temple. “... yeah. She was my first friend. I remember what happened, but I don’t remember my reasoning behind it… or my emotions back then.”

“I think, when our souls split, it just so happens that I’m the part that retained the feeling, deep in my subconscious,” Yoshiko finds herself smiling, though it isn’t a happy smile. “You hold the memories of that event, but not the emotions associated with it. You were only left with the negative feelings, while I was capable of learning more. I still had hope.”

“Hope, huh?” Yohane returns her smile, and it appears just as forlorn. “That’s certainly a foreign feeling… but it sounds pleasant, Yoshiko.”

“Yeah, hope, along with many other emotions, allowed me to summon the Patronus that you originally did to save Hanamaru.” With a strained grunt, she reaches for Yohane and drapes her arm around the latter’s shoulder in an awkward hug.

“What the hell?” Yohane freezes but doesn’t push away, especially when she notices how Yoshiko is barely hanging on with her semi-transparent arms. “You-”

“Just shut up and listen to me… no, rather, go ahead and look into my mind,” Yoshiko grits her teeth and tries to gather her thoughts. Everything seems to be slipping away, like it never existed in the first place.

Kanan’s playful grin as she chases her around the Room of Requirement

That twinkle in Mari’s eyes as she teases her about her feelings at the courtyard.

Chika’s sunny laughter as she persistently shoves mikans towards her mouth at the library.

The protective gleam in You’s blue eyes as she ruffles her hair in the Aviary.

Dia’s understanding smile as she attentively listens to her in the Slytherin Dorm.

The softness of Riko’s voice as she speaks to the Thestrals with her at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Ruby gently holding her hand and telling her that she is family.

The sheer love in Hanamaru’s kiss earlier before they parted ways.

“Everything I’ve experienced, the good and the bad, all the fun times at Hogwarts, all those precious moments of my life as Yoshiko Tsushima, I want you to feel those too. This is my story… I want to share it, at least, before I… before we…”

Yohane closes her eyes, allowing Yoshiko to lean against her as she stiffly returns the hug. “It’s warm.”

“It is.”

“It’s… nice…” Yohane whispers despondently, her breaths light and wispy. “Heh, you are a good girl, Yoshiko. Being a mortal isn’t all bad. This way, dying isn’t so bad.”

Yoshiko smiles at the acknowledgement, unable to think anymore. The fiendfyre continues to blaze around them while the black mist of her body leaks away into nothingness. She may be disappearing, but she’s surrounded by all these wonderful memories and feelings.

Indeed, this isn’t so bad.

83 notes · View notes

silvallydallying · 3 years

Text

Quick note and reminder

This Silvally, in spite of being a klutz and functioning on high aggression + fear and anxiety + catastrophic mindset, or rather, because of it- is astoundingly emotionally intelligent and, since his very birth- was woken up extremely early if we’re going to talk robots becoming sentient and abandoning their cold-blooded purposes.

This is pushed deeper in the paradox of animalistic instincts functioning on the most feral and simplistic emotion (f.e.a.r) alone. It was mostly fear and confusion that triggered this robot into a surprising development of a sophisticated mind- and how this lasting outlook of things damaged his innocence into something bizarre and so on.

When he was frozen solid and being prodded into with metal and pins, it didn’t hurt, not really enough, but he found it very scary and disgusting. There was no way to explain It but he knew it was secretly Wrong. Downright immoral. The casual dehumanizing comments that proved him right, and his first emotions were firmly negative- and as you can guess, that is not good for a creature being created.

I’ll maybe write a more coherent headcanon about it soon enough but after his abuse he kinda is disappointed with the world- and is made worse for living in aloha for its extreme carefree vibes and finds it very manipulative. He only focuses on the present for the most part, and the fact that his joy and other people’s joy never lives long is NOT a mere coincidence to him and he makes it important to start to believe ALL things, including him are the source of evil and hurt and if another person is confirmed to be evil that only justifies that everything he thinks is right and that can go downhill very quickly for others, not just alien beasts. It’s enough to drive him to insanity, really.

It already lead to his distaste of manufactured creatures OR any thing made out of steel. The Type: Full doesn’t really harm himself in this either, it causes him to react to others, and it could get nasty if he’s not in a particularly good mood.

Don’t underestimate, he’s a very self interested and focused character, downright envious of things. Though he’s often filled with sympathy and kind enough to alert others of danger, he might fight himself on his own established morals, and they are strict. This sours his neutral stance.

Obviously, on such a paranoid creature who justifies himself as right in every way getting to befriend him involves a lack of privacy of yourself. If you feel he is analyzing your face and body language and investigating everything about you too closely it’s because it’s a easier reading and a way to make him feel safer. He especially prefers scouting for passion, and is a very good listener regardless of situation. Then finally, he will make up his mind on what kind of person you are.

It’s very hard to change it back. First impressions matter.

I hesitate to call his upbringing a child soldier way since... it’s not like this ‘naivety’ actually hinders him? Makes him abnormally open to vulnerabilities from others? Nor to ruin the point that all of his emotions and morals suddenly clicked into him. A key part of his character is that he early on recognizes basic rights from wrongs- he just thinks it’s better to view everything as wrong and with the potential to be wrong like many paranoid people, which is why he places more focus on himself.

I believe that a small part of him thinks this is not really a healthy or correct mindset but hidey ho he’s not ready for that at all! This mindset (in a basic way) also protects him in the only way he knows.

He has no obligation to follow his actual duties (ie. destroying ultra beasts)... This doesn’t negate that he thinks all Ultra beasts are better off dead and gone. In every situation, he encourages it and may initiate it if..

0 notes

wingedbears · 7 years

Text

Gains

Kind Readers,

This story has Bodhi lose an arm. I am not an amputee. I tried to write this with respect and love to amputees, but if I have failed in either of those categories, please do let me know.

This is also not a work in progress, but I might take this story and stretch it out at a later date.

It’s a lot fluffier than you think it would be.

Can also be read here

After Scarif, they try to piece their lives together. They all lost something of themselves. A homeworld, a father, a sense of self, and for Bodhi, the additional loss of his arm. For reasons unknown but accepted by their crew, has refused a cybernetic replacement.

He wears his sleeve pinned up and empty on his right side, and fumbles with his tools using his non dominant hand. His work and his mind seemingly deteriorate.

Cassian, not knowing what else to do, grounds him from missions.

Bodhi doesn’t react to this, just accepts it like he knew this was coming, and that he knows what’s coming next too.

But Cassian refuses to let Bodhi go.

Kay approaches him during the cleanup of a battle a few missions after Bodhi is grounded, and gestures for him to follow.

Curious, Cassian follows.

Kay leads him to an irreparable labor droid, a BLX-4. “For Bodhi,” he says after a moment of silence.

“Buddy, that droid is never coming back.”

Kay does not have eyes to roll, but the lights shining out of his faceplate look like they want to do so. Kay leans over and rips the right arm off. “For Bodhi,” he repeats, then drags the arm behind him as he stalks back to the ship.

When they get back to the base, Kay presents the arm to Bodhi. “It will be useful for repairs,” Kay explains.

Bodhi looks hesitant, but takes it anyway.

Cassian takes it as a good sign.

The arm, after Bodhi fixes the inner wiring, is attached to Bodhi.

It’s a week later that the arm starts to develop a personality.

“The BLX-4 labor droid is unique in that when not given regular memory wipes can develop personalities,” Jyn reads from the holopad as Bodhi — or Bodhi’s arm — reaches out without his looking to open the seat bench next to him and starts rummaging. She shrugs. “It’s not that unusual.”

“It does what I want it to,” Bodhi says, watching his new arm, “It just, does things that I don’t think about?”

“Cybernetic enhancements are still relatively new,” Nurse Gabrik says, reaching out for the holopad Jyn grabbed from him. He looks nervous with his patient suddenly developing a sentient droid arm and the factor of four extra people in the examination room. “Family only,” he said when he first saw them all standing there. Cassian crossed his arms but no one else moved. Kay’s head could be seen over the flimsy divider, but he was, technically, out of the room.

“And your surgery is still fresh. If it’s not exhibiting feral droid characteristics, then I would suggest that you wait it out,” the nurse concludes. “If your arm starts doing things you don’t want, then we can set you up with a surgeon as soon as possible.”

Bodhi frowns. “Can’t I,” he pauses. “Train it? Or train the synapses that are connected?”

“All the synapses are connected,” Gabrik insists. “The arm either has retained memory from it’s previous — incarnation — or it’s developing a personality from the behavioral circuitry matrices embedded in the arm. We can’t wipe the memory from an arm.”

“So your solution is to either live with it or remove it,” Cassian says flatly. The actual urge to punch someone in the face doesn’t come along often for Cassian, at least not in noncombat, so he’s not sure if he should savor or swallow the feeling.

Gabrik doesn’t shrug, but he does sheepishly look down at his holopad. “I’ll look into it further. This is only a first examination.”

“But nothing is wrong with it, right?” Bodhi asks.

Baze puts his hand on Bodhi’s shoulder. “There is nothing wrong with any part of you, little brother. We will accept you as you accept you.”

Bodhi blushes, but sits up a little straighter. Bodhi’s arm comes out of the bench with a bacta pack that it places on top of Baze’s hand.

Two weeks in with the new arm and Cassian lifts the ban.

Cassian is running over diagnostics in the U-wing with Bodhi tinkering under the dash. Cassian’s holopad will occasionally blink and spew our new stats, but he’s learned it’s better not to ask Bodhi the technical details of what he’s up to, because Bodhi will sputter and go off on a trail of what is needed, and Bodhi won’t get any work done at all.

The holopad blinks again, and Cassian wants to hit the side of it, even though he knows that’s not how the wiring works. He waits for it to settle and his eyes drift downward to Bodhi. His left arm is up in the dashboard’s guts, and his right is groping for the hydrospanner, just out of reach. Cassian toes it over to the droid arm. It latches on, but not before giving Cassian’s ankle a soft squeeze.

“Bodhi,” Cassian asks after a minute, “did you see the doctor about your arm again?”

“No,” Bodhi says, sounding resigned. “Nurse Gabrik says the arm isn’t going feral, so it should be fine.” He pauses, then, “Are you about to pull rank on me to make me see the doctor?”

“No, if you think it’s fine; it’s fine,” he says. “I was just asking for an update.”

“Oh,” Bodhi says, and continues working.

They sit in silence, and Cassian knows there’s a million other things he could be — should be — doing, but being here with Bodhi feels so peaceful, and his counselor insists that he needs to take personal moments. So he watches his holopad blink at him and listens to Bodhi’s breathing.

“Cassian?” Bodhi asks after a minute.

“Yeah?”

“I think my arm is an extension of me.”

Cassian doesn’t say anything. Bodhi will fill the gaps.

“I mean, I think it knows what I feel, even though I can’t feel it. I still feel my arm, my old arm, but this arm, I don’t know.”

“You mean it collects memories in the matrices that are yours?”

“I think so,” Bodhi says, but adds, “I think it’s collecting my experiences, and it uses them to read my emotions. It— it’s like my arm has no inhibitions.”

“So it does what you want to do.”

“Right. Do you think I still need to see the doctor?”

“No,” Cassian says slowly, “But don’t tell Nurse Gabrik, he’ll be even more scared.”

Bodhi laughs.

With this newfound information, Bodhi starts treating his arm not as other, but rather like a impish part of himself. He will sneak bites off other’s trays, twirl his hair mindlessly during important meetings, and talks with his right hand, but not his left. It makes an odd picture, but everyone just accepts it.

Cassian and Bodhi are standing next to each other in the hangar discussing the final diagnostics when Leia approaches them. It’s a little unusual, she’s normally dealing with Mon Mothma or shouting at Han Solo.

“Major Andor I have a new mission for you,” she says, and Cassian straightens.

“Yes, Princess,” he replies. His eyes shift over to Bodhi, still looking distracted about the U-wing.

He’s about to dismiss Bodhi, but before he say “Lieutenant,” or pull away, Bodhi’s right hand slips into his left. The hand is absurdly cold, but Cassian holds on, and Leia notices. Bodhi isn’t even paying attention, and Cassian knows he can’t feel his hand, so Cassian, in Bodhi’s view brings up their entwined hands and kisses the back of the plating in full view of his superior officer.

Bodhi blushes, and tries to tug his hand away. Cassian smiles and sticks both hands in his pocket to keep them warm.

Leia looks exasperated and amused, but continues like nothing has happened.

“Sorry,” Bodhi says after Leia leaves.

“About what?” Cassian tries, trying to be blase that Bodhi, some deep part of him, wants to hold Cassian’s hand.

“You’re right. I mean,” Bodhi smiles slowly and wickedly, and says, “You’re really taking it in hand.”

Cassian groans while Bodhi cackles. He pulls their hands out of his pocket and lets go, perfectly perfunctory.

“I just didn’t mean to disarm you,” Bodhi continues, delighted.

“Bodhi, please.”

“Sorry,” Bodhi says, still smiling. “You’ve got to hand it to me, though…”

Cassian rolls his eyes. “Just go get everyone and tell them we leave tomorrow at oh six hundred,” he says.

“Don’t worry, I can handle it!”

Cassian growls, and taking a lesson from Bodhi’s arm, grabs onto Bodhi’s collar and smashes his lips onto Bodhi’s, effectively shutting him up.

Bodhi just blinks at him when Cassian pulls away.

Cassian is horrified. What if —

“That’s probably just going to encourage me to make more bad jokes if that’s your punishment, you know that, right?”

Cassian sighs, and rests his forehead against Bodhi’s.

“I can’t really stop you,” he says instead.

Bodhi has modified his arm to detach just past his shoulder. “It hurts to sleep with it,” he explains the first time.

Cassian grows used to waking up to the sounds of Bodhi’s arm clicking back on, and makes sure to sleep on the right side of the bed, because Bodhi will play with his hair on that side, but not on the left.

Bodhi accommodates him lovingly, as Cassian will mumble how he loves every part of him into the pillow when Bodhi starts to comb through Cassian's hair.

"I love all your pieces, too."

#bodhicassian week #day 1 #recovery #sniperpilot #my fic

28 notes · View notes

dreadhaus-literature · 6 years

Text

{Research} Who...or What am I?

I know, that title is like...totes dramatic and probably a little out of character for myself since I’m the queen of chill, but it’s a question I’ve been asking for the last couple years, in terms of fantasy life and where I, Dot Dreadful, fit in with everything. My family are a family of Shapeshifters, but they all know what they are whereas I do not.

And it’s about time I figure it out.

I’ve mentioned it a few times, but the idea of just being a human with alter-egos doesn’t sit well with me. I’m fine being taken care of and being 100% submissive but I still don’t want to feel...plain in a Family of Supers. So at the risk of being a Sue with this, I decided the only way to really be 100% happy is to just bite the bullet and let my Alters be whatever I want them to be, even if that makes me five different types of supernatural, or a Shapeshifter with five forms, I suppose is a better way of wording that.

I have five Alters that make me whole, and I’ll list them in terms of Dominance and strength:

Maîtresse/Dame

Anadrette

Sione

Tiny

Misi

If I added myself to that list I’d go right between Anadrette and Sione. And there’s a lot I don’t really talk about in terms of myself, because I don’t like doing things for myself, but...the flip-side of that, is I get to enjoy things I can’t IRL if I do this. I mean, that’s the beauty of FL to begin with, right? To do things I can’t, and to have things I can’t IRL.

My Alters exist to fill an emotional need. Meaning, like, Misi came to be because I wanted to feel completely dependent on the Family. Sie’s incapable of taking care of hirself, and sie allows me to be 100% submissive. That’s an emotional need sie fulfills for me. Same as like with Sione, wanting to explore a male perspective, or Drette, allowing myself to feel whatever I want to feel no matter how “crazy” it might seem.

So it seemed...a logical step that they fill a physical need for me, too. i have supernatural types I gravitate towards or that I like, so my Alters can take those forms, filling the physical need just as they do the emotional. Make sense? ...I sure hope it does, lol.

Essentially, each of my Alters will be a different supernatural being, and I shift into them, and when we’re all sharing one body, I can use those forms at will. The only exception to this is if the Alter’s body type is different from me, then I won’t assume their traits.

I.E. - Dame is taller than Dot is, so Dot will remain her same height and will not get Dame’s height advantage when using Her Shifted form.

If I explain this dumbly and it doesn’t make sense, haha, just ask. It uh, it makes sense in my head, so hopefully I’m putting it down on paper properly.

I went through and assigned a supernatural being to each of my Alters, and I...think I’m happy with it. It feels...right, finally. I’ll still remain a Shapeshifter, and if there’s a need to be specific I’ll even call myself a Skinwalker. I simply trade out abilities with my Altered forms, like how my brothers can shift into their Altered form--which, for most of them, is a wolf. I simply have more cards in my deck.

They get to be 17 feet tall, I get to have more forms. It all works out.

Once I run through all the forms, I’ll try and tie this up in a pretty bow at the end, and make sure I don’t miss any loose ends. I feel kind of...out of my element talking about myself so it’s making me nervous. 😗

Anyway, let’s start with the top of the food chain.

Maîtresse / Dame | Gorgon

Overview

Maîtresse represents my Dominant side; She is a Domme, 100% of the time, and She is also the strongest part of me. She was the Protector of all of us before W/we merged with the Family, and out of all the Alters She is the strongest, emotionally and physically--yes, even stronger than Sione. I like to think of Her as my powerhouse. My heavy hitter.

Maîtresse has my IRL height, standing at 6′2 barefoot in Her resting form. She makes no attempt to shrink; in fact, She displays Her height proudly and even to Her advantage. She will not shy away from wearing high heels and there is no shame in Her for Her height. She cares very little if it makes anyone uncomfortable.

Unlike Anadrette, Maîtresse is not mean, She is simply strict. She expects and demands respect and is used to getting it, but She is Motherly and protective; She is used to taking care of others and does so happily, willingly, day after day as any good Domme should.

Shifter Form

Maîtresse is a Gorgon; which is essentially half-woman, half-snake. She has a full head of writhing, sentient snakes that serve as Her hair. There are smaller snakes at the top of her head, serving as her bangs, and then longer snakes trail down Her back to Her waist. Each serpent is capable of independent thought and personality, however they are in tune with Her moods and Her thoughts. They do not speak, but communicate with Her through hissing or telepathy, and will grow back if cut off.

Maîtresse is 20 feet in length from the top of Her head to the tip of Her tail; when She sits up using Her long form to balance, She usually “sits” at about seven feet tall, but due to Her length She can rise up higher if need be. Her torso is still the same height as Her resting form, with her additional height all coming from Her tail. Maîtresse’s snake tail begins below Her navel, where Her flesh begins to blacken at Her hips to meet Her scales. The scales themselves are black and gold; black on top, gold underneath, and Her tail ends in a gold rattle with a vicious black stinger at the tip.

Maîtresse is bare from the waist up when She shifts, and even Her upper torso resembles the black and gold of Her scales, only to a much lesser degree. Her hair serpents share the same coloring as She does.

Normally, in this form, Maîtresse’s face doesn’t appear much different, with the exception of slitted snake eyes and a forked tongue. However, when angered, threatened, or when using Her Gorgon Vision, Her features will become more bestial, and She will resemble a serpent with a prominent brow ridge, the faint appearance of scales along her forehead, cheeks, and jaw, and inches long fangs that drip with venom.

Like other Gorgons, Maîtresse has a gaze that’s meant to be feared, but She doesn’t turn people to stone. As a Domme, Maîtresse needs the ability to be able to know those beneath Her. She has the natural ability to read others, and this is further amplified by Her Gorgon Vision, or Seeking Vision. It’s similar to telepathy but much harder to avoid; while some can train to put mental blocks in place to stop telepaths from reading their minds, most wouldn’t be able to stop Her from reading every single thing inside their head once She’s staring directly into their eyes. She uses this to manipulate others, to read their truest intentions and desires and can then, of course, use them again them. It’s how She can either earn or force submission, blackmail, or simply rot the person’s mind from the inside out, using their own fear against them. This vision operates in two forms; either She will stare into Her victim’s eyes and read their thoughts, or She can force them to say aloud whatever they’re thinking.

Additionally, as with most snakes, Maîtresse is venomous, both Herself and Her hair serpents, and the strength of Her venom will either (temporarily or permanently) paralyze or kill Her victims. The sting from Her tail is also venomous, but because of it’s size, victims usually bleed out before any ill effects from the venom itself.

Maîtresse has supernatural strength in Her arms and Her bite, but Her real strength and speed come from Her tail. Not only can it make Her impressively tall, but it can propel Her forward either on land or in water with incredible speed, and She can most certainly constrict or crush someone to death with it. It’s also advised to not be on the receiving end of a smack from it.

Maîtresse also has a tell that She can’t control; like with rattlesnakes, if She’s beginning to lose Her temper or about to strike, Her tail will rattle. It’s a good way for others to know they’ve crossed a line and should probably...get back on the other side of it.

Anadrette | Banshee

Overview

Anadrette, or Drette as she’s more commonly known, is the manifestation of all my extreme personality traits. She’s unstable, homicidal, maniacal--whatever you wanna label it as, she’s not all there and she’s completely fine with that. Like me, she’s a S/switch, but only recently began submitting for the Family; she was purely a Dominant before. That explains why she sometimes...struggles with authority--that, and she likes a fight.

It’s no surprise or secret that Drette isn’t very nice--at least, to the other Alters or anyone she isn’t in love with. She’s almost black and white; she’s obsessively devoted to Family and would do anything for anyone she loves, but if you fall outside of that bracket...well, as the meme goes. {Chuckles.} You’re in danger.

Drette is taller than me, but only by an inch; she’s 5′10 barefoot, but is almost always in heels. Like Dame, she enjoys being taller than outsiders and using that to make them uncomfortable...and you can pretty much bet she likes making anyone uncomfortable. She is unapologetically who she is, with all her quirks, kinks, and obsessive tendencies on full display. She stalks, she devours, she kills, she claims--Drette plays for keeps. Always.

Shifter Form

Drette is not a Banshee in the traditional sense of the word; she’s not a ghost, but she is a manifestation of evil or malicious intent. She is the feral aspect of my personality, something that walks the line right between life and death. She consumes fear hand over fist just like she does flesh, and the longer she’s alive, the worse her “condition” gets because she thrives on possession in all forms--like one might assume a demonic spirit or ghost would.

It remains something of a mystery, a point of confusion as to how Drette walks the line she does; she seems to exist right in the middle between the corporeal and incorporeal dimensions, so that she can teleport or hop locations using the same paths that ghosts do, she knows things she shouldn’t, and her body seems built to withstand even lethal injury so she can snap back like a doll popping it’s joints back into place.

Drette can sustain insane amounts of damage without succumbing to her injuries. Her body is almost like that of a voodoo doll, because while the damage is being done, she doesn’t seem to notice it, almost as if it’s happening to someone else, and yet the more pain she’s in, the more powerful, the worse she gets. Because of her toeing the line between the corporeal and incorporeal dimensions, her body will keep going even against seemingly lethal wounds; broken bones? She’ll walk on broken ankles, she’ll still stab with broken wrists. Snap her neck? She’ll still dismember you with her head at that awful, twisted angle. Load her up with bullets? Watch her laugh through bloodied teeth as the bullets are pushed out of open wounds and she’s still chasing you down with that meat cleaver.

Drette’s Shifter or Banshee form is different from her resting form, beginning with her skin. Her skin loses all pigment and goes paper white (haha, throwback to my monochrome days on IMVU); her eyes also lose all color. They go feral black, and she moves with more obvious, bone-wrenching tic’cing than she normally does. Her nails and teeth elongate, she no longer gives off a scent, and her body heat cannot be registered through thermal means. In this form, she’s harder to track, or trace, to see, and thus she has a much easier time stalking without being discovered.

One common trait that Drette shares with other Banshees is their shrieking voice. Her voice is powerful, and if used against a person with a weak constitution or heart, she can actually shriek a person to death as the sound is so terrifying their heart stops. Her shriek can manifest damage on it’s own--for example, if she were to shriek in a person’s direction, if she’s at full strength her voice can knock them over. It’s meant to induce fear--seemingly everything about Drette is meant to incite fear. To her, it’s all a means to an end; if she hates you and you’re afraid of her, she can torment you to death. If she loves you and you’re afraid of her, you’ll be too afraid to leave her and she’ll keep you forever.

Unsurprisingly, Drette is extremely skilled in fear manipulation. It’s another common trait she shares with Banshees; she isn’t heralding a bad omen, she is the bad omen. She’ll stalk you, follow your every move, get inside your life, your head, and learn what you fear the most--and then she’ll use it to destroy you or own you. Whichever she prefers to do on that particular day.

Sione | Werecat

Overview

Sione is, out of all my Alters, the most like me. The only difference between the two of us is that he’s a male, and I’m female. We’re literally just gender-swapped; he’s a S/switch, he shares in the same personality traits that I do, and if I’m the Mom friend, he’s the Dad friend.

Sione is the tallest of all my Alters at 6′5″ barefoot, and he does have some muscle mass on him. He’s nowhere near the other Dreadful men (sadly, because he comes from a female, he can only bulk up so much) but he could still own the title Daddy if he (or someone else) wants to call him that. Sione carries his height with an easy-going smile and a head full of dreadlocks.

While Dame is the Protector of all the Alters, Sione more closely looks after Misi. As Misi straddles the gender line, Sione acts as a guiding “big brother” to the weak Alter, but given his size if he needs to step in and take over for Dame he’s more than happy to do so. He’s pretty happy, pretty much all the time.

Shifter Form

Sione, like the other men in the Dreadful line, is an animal Shifter, a Were with an affinity for cats. Unlike Atamu, who is a pureblood Werelion, Sione has mixed genes and can shift between any of the large jungle cats; lion, tiger, panther, jaguar, and cheetah.

Sione’s height doubles in size in his Were form; he goes from 6′5″ to 8′5″, and like other animal Shifters he does have three forms; his resting form, his Were form (bipedal, anthropomorphic form) or his animal form (four-legged form that is larger than the wild cat counterparts). He makes use of these forms liberally, as he went through the same training the rest of the Shifters did when he was younger and has full control over his forms.

Like all Shifters, Sione has exceptional gifts in all of his forms, but each Cat specializes in different things, similar to their wild counterparts. Sione can use a panther for stealth, cheetah for speed, lion for power, etc. Sione is as most Shifters are expected to be; he has lifemates and needs to be with them often to prevent Shifter Sickness, and if he hasn’t fed on flesh recently he does tend to lean on the more feral side--something the other Alters are more resistant to. Sione is most susceptible thanks to the testosterone.

Similar to other Weres, Sione shares personality traits with the animals he can embody--these traits come out stronger when he’s in his shifted forms. He will display territorial behavior, extreme possessiveness, or even be more playful depending on the form he’s in and which Big Cat he’s embodying. Sione also actively enjoys Pet Play in all his forms, and will engage in it readily with anyone willing to participate with him; that means collars, leashes, or being on the submissive end and being openly stalked by the leopard with hazel eyes.

Tiny | Pixie

Overview

Tiny is my submissive side--however, she’s not 100% submissive. Well, she is, but she’s a brat. If Misi is 100% submissive, then Tiny is 97%; there’s that 3% of her that’s gonna need a swat on the ass to do what she’s told, but hey, that’s part of the fun of being a sub, a little, a brat, right?

Tiny is exactly what her name says. She’s much shorter than me, and she’s fine to use that to her advantage, in whatever way she can. Underestimate her? She’ll walk all over you. Want to treat her like she’s a doll? She’ll cling to you. Tiny’s a bratty submissive and with that comes knowing exactly how to get what you want, and she’s a girl who knows what she wants.

Tiny’s a brat, but she’s a sensitive brat. She knows to be nice, and she knows to be respectful. She’s been taught well by the Family’s Bigs, and she knows her place and is happiest when she’s in it.

Shifter Form

Tiny is a Pixie, a cheerful, mischievous sprite who admittedly has some Nymph tendencies thrown in for good measure. Like the rest of her kind she can vary her size, but usually is fine to stay her natural height--unless she’s wanting to be really little, in which case she might drop down to a foot or two...or if she’s up to no good, in which case you might want to be on the lookout for a winged brat less than 12 inches tall.

Appearance-wise, as a Pixie Tiny has short, pointed ears, her sharpened teeth, and thin, delicate wings reminiscent of butterflies. They’re fanned, with three separate wing tips on each side (one pointed up, one pointed slightly horizontal, and one pointed down), and they’re amethyst in color to match Tiny’s birthstone. To match her wings, her eyes change from hazel to amethyst, and they fairly sparkle with mischief, especially when she’s really up to no good.

Tiny can retract her wings if she’d like, and when she’s in flight they glitter and yes, she does have pixie dust. Though her wings are good for hovering, and flitting from short distance to short distance, she’s not really built for extended flight or long distances, and she can only carry someone thanks to her natural strength as a supernatural creature. She really isn’t designed for it, though.

Due to her zodiac and her affinity for water, Tiny is technically a water pixie, and thus her wings can be use in water same as air--and unlike her short flights in air, she’s an exceptional swimmer and can use her wings to swim for near as much as she’d like. She has a heavy preference for saltwater, though, and likely won’t much enjoy freshwater, and may even pout if she’s taken there instead of the ocean.

Tiny is a Pixie, and Pixies are known for magic, but really what Tiny is known for is just trying to make others happy. Her Pixie Dust brings good luck and can incite smiles and laughter, and her “pranks” are usually not pranks at all, but little shows of helpfulness because she much prefers others around her to be happy...unless of course you mean outside the Family, and then it’s a little different. But, Tiny just wants to be happy, and she wants her loved ones to be happy, too.

Misi | Mermaid

Overview

Misi is the weakest part of me, and we’re going to talk about hir a little more than the others as there’s a lot more to unpack about hir. Sie was created for that purpose, to be weak, and in the Family the creation story or, as superheroes might say, Misi’s “origin story” came when the other Alters and I decided to try and get rid of anything we perceived as “weak” or that made us “vulnerable”. Drette wanted to be able to do whatever she wanted without these traits, Dame didn’t think the traits suited Her as a Domme, and I thought I’d be better off without them. We created Misi with the intent to kill hir as soon as sie was “born”...but we couldn’t bring ourselves to do it once sie was here. And so, here sie is.

Misi is androgynous, straddling the gender line right down the middle. Sie has both male and female genitalia, with small, perky little breasts that you might miss if you’re not actually looking for them. Hir features won’t tip one way or the other in terms of gender, and sie answers to both male and female pronouns, and terms of endearments. Really, sie’ll answer to anything you call hir; sie’s literally the most people-pleasing person on the planet because sie’ll never tell you no.

Sie is incredibly small, both height-wise (think Tiny) and body weight-wise. Because sie was created with everything we Alters perceived as weak, sie’s often sick as hir immune system is extremely compromised, and thus sie’s extremely thin. Hir left arm barely has any motor function in it, as that is our cutting arm and we transferred all scars and damage done to hir as we thought we’d get rid of it when we got rid of hir. Since that didn’t happen, sie lives with the bum limb either by putting it in a sling...or others remove it, and keep it, as it does eventually grow back.

Personality-wise, Misi is 100% submissive. Sie never acts out, sie never defies or says no, and sie will literally go along with anything. Sie has no backbone, no defenses; sie’s extremely vulnerable and that leads to one of two things; either someone wants to protect hir, or they want to take advantage of hir--and Misi is designed to enjoy it either way. Sie’s fully masochistic, enjoying any and all treatment as sie perceives it to be love no matter how it’s shown, and sie craves it, like a wilted flower in need of constant sunlight.

Shifter Form

Misi is a mermaid...or merman, or merperson? Haha. Well, sie’s a Mer. Like most aquatic animals outside of water, sie’s not exceptionally graceful on land. Sie only has three working limbs, after all, and gravity’s kinda tough on you when you weigh 90 pounds soaking wet with bricks in your pocket--but in the water, Misi is incredibly agile, and it becomes pretty apparent that’s hir element when sie’s in it.

Because of Misi’s modest endowments, sie doesn’t wear a top when sie’s in hir Mer form; like all mermaids hir tail starts at hir hips, and...for those curious, like other aquatic animals hir “parts” are tucked neatly into a little fold on the underside of hir tail--so yes, sie still has all hir working parts in this form.

Misi’s tail is a rainbow in an ombre pattern that simply repeats itself from hir hip scales down to the feathery tip of hir tail. Hir gills are the same color as hir tail and flutter visibly along hir neck, and sie has finned ears in the same color pattern. Sie also has webbed fingers for swimming, and fins that run up from hir wrist to hir elbow, to help hir move easily in water. Hir rainbow scales bridge along hir cheekbones and over hir forehead, and in this form sie is able to breathe both air and in water.

Like Tiny, Misi prefers the ocean, and won’t be very happy in freshwater unless it’s a pool, or an in-land lagoon or waterfall. Ponds are icky and sie’s afraid of them. Despite hir bum arm sie excels at swimming simply because of hir tail, and feels most at home when sie is in water. Sie can see clearly in all water types, and sie can see in the dark when in water as well.

While the majority of mermaids are known for their mystical voices, Misi is too timid for singing. Sie has an awful stammer from being so fearful of so many things (happens when nearly everything is a threat) and so instead of a mystical voice, Misi’s “power” comes in hir eyes. Sie wears hir heart visibly in hir gaze, which is often full of love or longing for love, and same as mermaids often lure sailors to their deaths with beautiful songs, Misi can entice hir desired one into the water with a forlorn glance. It isn’t coming from a place of seduction, Misi’s too shy for that, but sie’s open and honest about what sie wants and if it’s you, you’ll know it, and sie’ll show you open devotion if it means you’ll come play for a little while.

That all leads you back to me, to Dot. And I hope it’s clear now, what I said above; when we are all sharing a body I can shift into any of these forms, be it Gorgon, Banshee, Werecat, Pixie, or Mermaid. I simply shift into them as myself, as Dot, rather than my Alter egos. I’m still Dot, I’m just a Shapeshifter, a Skinwalker with Alters that can separate from me and they take their Shifter form when they go.

I.E. - If Sione is independent from my body, I cannot shift into a Werecat or Sione until he merges with me again.

Despite Dame being my Domme side, I am the dominant personality. The Alters are just physical manifestations of my persona, which I suppose can circle to me being a specific type of Skinwalker. I can’t shift to look like other people, like Markus can, I shift internally, using facets of my own personality.

And I’m sorry if this is all confusing, or even if this is doing the most, and not in a good way, haha. i just...well, I guess I don’t need to make excuses for myself. We do this FL stuff so we can have fun with it, so we can enjoy things we’ll never have IRL and this is a rare show of something for me.

This...is me. After two years, I finally know who Dot Dreadful is in New Senzannini.

So there you have it. You now know, and I now know, who and what I am.

#{theme} : writing research #{character} : dot dreadful

0 notes