#thunder fire iron steel rolling rocking riding

[theemeraldforestafterdark]

Let's ride ALL NIGHT Sons of thunder (Sons of thunder!)

[guiltiest-gear]

It has to be written and NO links

Real picky you know that anon

Jonathan Joestar, Dio Brando, Wang Chan, Robert E. O. Speedwagon, Will A. Zeppeli, Straizo, Erina Pendleton, Poco, George Joestar I, Tonpetty, Dire, Jack the Ripper, Tarkus, Bruford, Dario Brando, Joseph Joestar, Rudol von Stroheim, Caesar Anthonio Zeppeli, Kars, Esidisi, Wamuu, Santana, Lisa Lisa, Suzi Q, Messina, Loggins, Erina Joestar, Smokey Brown, Donovan, Wired Beck, Mark, Mario Zeppeli, George Joestar II, Jotaro Kujo, Mohammed Avdol, Noriaki Kakyoin, Jean Pierre Polnareff, Iggy, DIO, Hol Horse, Enya the Hag (Enya Geil), Anne, Vanilla Ice, Nukesaku, Daniel J. D’Arby, Pet Shop, N’Doul, Mariah, Alessi, Oingo, Boingo, Anubis, Telence T. D’Arby, Kenny G., Gray Fly, Impostor Captain Tennille, Forever, Devo, Rubber Soul, J. Geil, Nena, ZZ, Steely Dan, Arabia Fats, Mannish Boy, Cameo, Midler, Chaka, Khan, Josuke Higashikata, Yoshikage Kira, Koichi Hirose, Okuyasu Nijimura, Rohan Kishibe, Hayato Kawajiri, Reimi Sugimoto, Shigechi Yangu, Mikitaka Hazekura, Yukako Yamagishi, Yuya Fungami, Tamami Kobayashi, Toshikazu Hazamada, Tonio Trussardi, Aya Tsuji, Tomoko Higashikata, Ryohei Higashikata, Shinobu Kawajiri, Ninjimura’s Father, Yoshihiro Kira, Tama, Keicho Nijimura, Akira Otoishi, Anjuro Karagiri, Ken Oyanagi, Terunosuke Miyamoto, Masazo Kinoto, Giorno Giovanna, Diavolo, Bruno Bucciarati, Leone Abbacchio, Guido Mista, Pannacotta Fugo, Narancia Ghirga, Trish Una, Risotto Nero, Formaggio, Illuso, Prosciutto, Pesci, Melone, Ghiaccio, Sorbet, Gelato, Coco Jumbo, Pericolo, Vinegar Doppio, Squalo, Tiziano, Carne, Cioccolata, Secco, Polpo, Mario Zucchero, Sale, Scolippi, Jolyne Cujoh, Enrico Pucci, Hermes Costello, Weather Report, Narciso Anasui, Foo Fighters, Gwess, Irene, Annakiss, Donatello Versus, Rikiel, Ungalo, The Green Baby, Johngalli A, Sports Maxx, Miuccia Miuller, Lang Rangler, Kenzou, D an G, Guccio, Viviano Westwood, Thunder McQueen, Romeo Jisso, Perla Pucci, Loccobarocco, Gloria Costello, Johnny Joestar, Funny Valentine, Diego Brando, Gyro Zeppeli, Steven Steel, Hot Pants, Mountain Tim, Wekapipo, Pocoloco, Norisuke Higashikata I, Blackmore, Mike O., Ringo Roadagain, Axl RO, Magent Megent, Dr. Ferdinand, D-I-S-C-O, Eleven Men, Pork Pie Hat Kid, Alternate Diego Brando, Sandman, Banjamin Boom Boom, Andre Boom Boom, L. A. Boom Boom, Mrs. Robinson, Oyecomova, Sugar Mountain, Scarlet Valentine, Jesus, Gregorio Zeppeli, George Joestar I, Nicholas Joestar, Diego Brano’s Mother, Marco, Josuke Higashikata, Yasuho Hirose, Rai Mamezuku, Tooru, Joshu Higashikata, Tsurugi Higashikata, Norisuke Higashikata IV, Daiya Higashikata, Hato Higashikata, Jobin Higashikata, Mitsuba Higashikata, Kaato Higashikata, Kyo Nijumura, Josefumi Kujo, Karera Sakunami, Holy Joestar-Kira, Tamaki Damo, Yotsuyu Yagiyama, Aisho Dainenjiyama, A. Phex Brothers, Dolomite, Urban Guerrilla, Doremifasolati Do, Poor Tim, Hair Clip Rock Animal, Wu Tomoki, Satoru Akefu, Ojiro Sasame, Suzuyo Hirose, Mioru Kaigamori, Kyoka Izumi, Nanase Kishibe, Rohan’s Grandma, Noguchi, Pierre, Gaucher, Ikkyu, Naoko Osata, Gunpei Kamafusa, Mutsukabezaka, Shuichi, Mai Katahira, Mao Katahira, Obanazawa, Tomoya, Yoma Hashimoto, Miki Hayamura, Mochizuki Family, Moon Rabbit, Virgina, Dolce, Masago Ayashi, Unicorn, Nizaemon Yamamura, Female Monk, Yamaoka, Interpreter, Leather Goods Artisan, Fria Giannini, Rocky, Yoshiki, Wanted Man, Confessional Man, Servant, Asian Man, Obese Man, Michal Absalom, The Scribe Ani, Takuma Hasumi, Chiho Futaba, Akari Hirai, Hanae Orikasa, Sheila E, Cannolo Murolo, Massimo Volpe, Vladimir Kocaqi, Vittorio Cataldi, Angelica Attanasio, Heaven Ascension DIO, Stand User, Old Man Stand User, Dija Maker, Ikuro Hashizawa, Sumire, and Walken

Star Platinum, Magician’s Red, Hermit Purple, Hierophant Green, Silver Chariot, The Fool, The World, Tower of Gray, Dark Blue Moon, Strength, Ebony Devil, Yellow Temperance, Hanged Man, Emperor, Empress, Wheel of Fortune, Justice, Lovers, Sun, Death Thirteen, Judgement, High Priestess, Geb, Khnum, Tohth, Anubis, Baset, Sethan, Osiris, Horus, Atum, Tenore Sax, Cream, Holy’s Stand, Joestar Stand, Crazy Diamond, The Hand, Echoes, Heaven’s Door, Love Deluxe, Harvest, Killer Queen, Sheer Heart Attack, Bites the Dust, Aqua Necklace, Bad Company, Red Hot Chili Pepper, The Lock, Surface, Pearl Jam, Achtung Baby, Ratt, Cinderella, Atom Heart Father, Boy II Man, Earth Wind and Fire, Highway Star, Stray Cat, Super Fly, Enigma, Cheap Trick, Nijimura’s Father’s Stand, Gold Experience, Sticky Fingers, Moody Blues, Sex Pistols, Aerosmith, Purple Haze, Spice Girl, Chariot Requiem, Gold Experience Requiem, King Crimson, Black Sabbath, Soft Machine, Kraft Work, Little Feet, Man in the Mirror, Mr. President, Beach Boy, The Grateful Dead, Baby Face, White Album, Clash, Talking Head, Notorious B.I.G., Metalica, Green Day, Oasis, Rolling Stones, Sorbet & Gelato’s Stands, Resource Worker’s Stand, Stone Free, Kiss, Burning Down the House, Foo Fighters, Diver Down, Weather Report, Whitesnake, C-Moon, Made in Heaven, Goo Goo Dolls, Manhattan Transder, Highway to Hell, Marilyn Manso, Jumpin’ Jack Flash, Limp Bizkit, Survivor, Planet Waves, Dragon’s Dream, Yo-Yo Ma, Green Green Grass of Home, Jail House Lock, Bohemian Rhapsody, Sky High, Under World, Boiling Water Stand, Emporio’s Mother’s Stand, Stand Collection, Tusk, Ball Breaker, Oh! Lonesome Me, Scary Monsters, Cream Starter, Ticket to Ride, Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap, D4C Love Train, In a Silent Way, Hey Ya!, Tomb of the Boom 1 2 3, Boku no Rhythm wo Kiitekure, Wired, Mandom, Catch the Rainbow, Sugar Mountain, Tatoo You!, Tubular Bells, 20th Century Boy, Civil War, Chocolate Disco, THE WORLD, Emerald Searcher’s Stand, Soft & Wet, Paisley Park, Nut King Call, Paper Moon King, King Nothing, Speed King, Fun Fun Fun, California King Bed, Born This Way, Les Feuilles, I Am a Rock, Doobie Wah!, Love Love Deluxe, Schott Key No. 1, Schott Key No. 2, Vitamin C, Walking Heart, Milagro Man, Blue Hawaii, Doggy Style, Brain Storm, Ozon Baby, Doctor Wu, Awaking III Leaves, Wonder of U, Kaato’s Stand, Dark Mirage, Satanic Coupler, Ptah, The Book, Memory of Jet, The Cure, Public Image Limited, Joy Division, Purple Haze Distortion, Voodoo Child, All Along Watchtower, Manic Depression, Rainy Day Dream Away, Dolly Dagger, Night Bird Flying, U-Boat, Grand Blue, NYPD Blue, Blue Thunder, The Passion, Cube House, Arro Cross House, Videodrome, The Iron Ladies, Stepmom, Rear Windo, Singing in the Rain, Stray Dog, Face/Off, Blob, Evil Dead, Twister, Fugo’s Stand, Doppio’s Stand, The World Ultimate, Ultimate D4C, U-Boat Ultimate, Whitesnake Utimate, C-Moon Ultimate Requiem, Made in Heaven Ultimate Requiem, Molting, Coulrophobia, Dream Manipulation, Wings, Dune, Dune Ultimate, The Trinity, Stand User’s Stand, Strange Relation, Charmy Green, Kaoru’s Stand, Love Note, Gigant Stomach, Gucci Bag Stand, Remote Distance, Berry Berry Skull, Assy the Horse, The World Over Heaven, JoJosapiens, and The Shelter

[fierypen37]

Virtue a Veil, Vice a Mask Chapter 6

Chapter 6

 Jon floated up toward wakefulness, muddled by sleepy confusion. Where . . . ? This was not his room in the Red Keep, and—he breathed deeply of the musky-sweet smell of her. Daenerys. He rolled over, finding her sprawled on her belly. Her tangled braids coming undone, pale hair gleamed in the dull orange pulse of a dying fire. Jon watched her chest rise and fall, limbs loose and relaxed in sleep. A band tightened around his heart. Love had ambushed him. Here he was, smote by it, drowning in it. Only a few days in her presence and he knew he would kill or die for her. Follow her anywhere.

A kernel of hope wished to point their horses north, show her the Riverlands and his lady aunt’s home of Riverrun, then north again until Winterfell. Home. Uncle and Lady Catelyn would give them a prince’s welcome. Cousin Sansa would twitter around Daenerys happily, flatter her with her fine manners, offer to braid flowers in her hair. Cousin Arya would pilfer honeycakes from the kitchens and chatter about the goings-on in the castle—she always had a talent for making swift friends. Jon had loved her immediately. Once he heard word of dragons, Cousin Bran would pounce. Little Rickon would be too shy at first, and Robb . . . Jon breathed a sigh. Jon and Robb were natural good-natured rivals. Both could ride and fight and hunt as well as the other, though Robb could jest and sing. More like Rhaegar than Jon himself was. He hated the jealous weed in his heart, but it remained, clinging by stubborn roots. A nagging whisper wondered if Daenerys would take more to his handsome, erudite cousin.

Jon nestled closer, draping his arm around her. Mm, so warm and she smelled so good. He twined his finger around the white silk ribbon threaded in one of her unraveling braids. Their wedding ribbon. It touched him that she wore it in her hair. No, Daenerys loved him, pledged herself to him.

“I love you,” Jon whispered into the stillness. With a snuffle, she rolled over. Nestled into his chest with a sound of contentment. Jon’s heart melted, hands combing the snarls from her wild hair. Like silver-gold silk between his fingers, warm and wavy. The press of her naked skin was a thrill, though without the usual urgency of arousal. Her warm, solid weight was a comfort. The cadence of her snores soothed him, and Jon whiled away a pleasant hour drifting in and out of sleep. His mysterious aunt, watching her blather in Dothraki astride her silver mount was startling. There was so much of her life that he didn’t know. We have time to learn. I’ll tell her about Winterfell and the Wall and the godswood, King’s Landing and Blackwater Bay. The idea of crossing the sea appealed to him. Adventures they could make together. And dragons! Gods, to see a living dragon!

Jon dreamed of dragons. Gliding through the sky on powerful wings. Gleaming scales in half a hundred colors. Red and black like the Targaryen sigil, pale blue like Rhaena’s Dreamfyre, silver and green and bronze. Beautiful and terrible as the skulls in the Red Keep, cloaked in flesh once more. Fire and Blood. Welcome, they said in voices like thunder. Welcome, cousin. Daenerys appeared in his mind’s eye, moonspun colors soft against the vivid scales of their brethren. She should have looked small, frail in the face of their might, but she did not. She shone. Daughter of dragons, bride of fire. Mine. Fire was in their blood, tracing all the way back to the dragonlords of Old Valyria. He woke slicked with sweat and hard as iron. The fire had died, leaving the room in complete darkness. Daenerys slept on, draped on his chest. The need for her was a fever inside him. Jon eased her onto her back, peeling his trapped arm from beneath her head.

“Dany,” he whispered, nuzzling her ear, “nyke jorrāela ao.” {I need you.} Jon peeled back sheet and coverlet. He would rouse her. Slow and gentle, until she was drenched in honey and whimpering for him. Jon adored the strength and steel in her, but loved the taste of her surrender even more. Jon lay on his side, his cock throbbing against her hip. He leaned close, nuzzling the soft skin of her upper chest. One hand cupped the ripe weight of her breast, teasing the nipple with his thumb. Feeling it pebble under his touch delighted him. Gods, her skin was so soft, so warm. His hand smoothed down, stroking her belly, tracing her hipbones, petting the coarse hair of her sex. Jon’s mouth filled with water. So wet already. Slick from their earlier loving. One finger gently parted her folds. The softness and heat of her stirred an ache deep in his gut. A whimper answered him as his finger grazed her pearl.

“Jon?” He loved the sound of his name spoken in her sleep-slurred voice.

“Dany. Come here to me, love.”

Jon groped for her chin and tilted her head toward him with his free hand. He kissed her as his fingers delved and stroked in a rhythm. That soft mouth was pliant beneath his, though not for long. Her thighs clenched around his hand, her own grasping his cock. Jon growled against the seal of her mouth. Gods, would it always be like this? Passion sweetened by a knowing touch? Craving her more than the breath in his lungs? Jon persisted, teasing her pearl with his fingers despite the near-overwhelming twin pleasures of her hand milking his cock, her tongue plunging into his mouth. She would fall first. Soft little cries vibrated against his lips, her hips bucked and squirmed and—yessss Daenerys broke the kiss to moan as her pleasure washed over her. Jon breathed deep of her scent, wishing for even the faintest hint of light. He wanted to look into her violet eyes, delight in her kiss-puffed lips. Jon sucked her honey from his fingers. Gods, he loved how she tasted!

Daenerys reached for him, groping for his face. A squeak of the bed-ropes and she fumbled astride him. Jon hummed in approval, kneading ripe handfuls of her arse. His cock lay heavy against his belly, hard and leaking.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Daenerys asked with a hint of laughter in her voice. Jon chuckled, adjusting her weight with a shift of his hips. She slid down to press a string of hot, open-mouthed kisses on his chest. Jon gasped at the suction of her mouth on his nipple. Sensation swamped him, her mouth, the press of her weight, the wet kiss of her cunt on his thigh.

“D—Dreamed of dragons. And you. I woke hungry for you.”

“Jon,” she whispered. Jon pumped his cock, shuddering a little at the pleasure of it. He held it up, offering it to her. Daenerys’ hand covered his and she teased him, rubbing the slick head with her thumb. Jon sucked in a breath through his teeth. With a soft cry, Daenerys sheathed herself on him. Jon’s head thumped back on the mattress. Sweat dewed on his skin. Fire surged to life between them, heat and bottomless hunger.

“So sweet. Oh fuck . . .” he said. Deprived of his sight, the feel of her was so vivid and vibrant. Slick and hot and soft . . . Jon’s hands smoothed greedily over the sleek shape of her body. My wife, my blood, my dragon.

Daenerys rocked above him, sinuous and slow, her nipples taut against his palms. Eager for her mouth, Jon rose on his elbows and drew her down to him. The kiss was deep and messy, their tongues tangling. Jon took her lower lip in his mouth and nipped it. Daenerys hummed, rocking faster.

“Oh yes,” Jon hissed against her mouth, “Ride me, love. Fuck me.” Daenerys moaned at the words, taking him deeper. Jon matched her rhythm with upward thrusts of his hips. The pleasure built in his chest, his gut, his balls. The bed squeaked beneath them. The sounds of wet flesh slapping together was almost obscene. The smell of her filled his nose. He felt the tension building, heard the shakiness of her cries. She was close.      

“W—When my dragons are grown, we will ride together. And no one in this world will stand in—in our way,” she said. Jon couldn’t hold it back. His spine arched, pleasure burst behind his eyes and he was spilling his seed inside her. Another couple strokes and she followed him with a thin cry. They writhed together, mindless in the throes of it. Daenerys slid off him, crawling close to lay her head on his chest, panting against his neck. Blindly, he sought her mouth. This kiss was sweeter. Pleasure unfurled and meandered through his veins as they rocked, sweaty and sated. Jon gathered her to his side as the sweat cooled and the thunder of his heartbeat mellowed. Jon breathed deep of her scent, petting her hopelessly tangled hair.  

“Truly? Do you mean it?” he asked.

“Hmm? What, Jon?” Daenerys said, pressing a glancing kiss to his collarbone. “About me and your dragons.” Despite the dark, he could feel the press of her gaze.

“Of course. You are Targaryen. My blood, my husband. I’m sure one of my children will take to you. And we will be unstoppable.” Jon remembered the sheer power of the dragons of his dream, and thought uncomfortably of his father and kin in the Red Keep.

“But--” he said. Daenerys cut him off with a swift kiss. Daenerys bumped her forehead to his, pressed so close he felt the ghosting tickle of her eyelashes.

“Husband, I have no desire for a throne, especially your father’s. Rhaegar can keep his Seven Kingdoms, and give them to that pretty Dornish son of his. I will never make war with him, I swear that to you.” Some secret tension in him dissolved and fell away in relief. Jon tilted his chin to kiss her.

“Thank you, my wonder.” Daenerys nuzzled his cheek with her nose.

“I only meant that once my dragons are grown, we can do as we please. Neither magister nor king nor god can tell us otherwise.”

“’Like their dragons, Targaryens answered to neither gods nor men,’” Jon quoted.

“Where did you hear that?” she asked. There was a certain smugness in her tone that made him smile.

“Some dusty book of Lord Tyrion’s at the Red Keep. He has a particular fascination with dragons.”

“I knew he was a clever man,” Daenerys said, curling beside him. Jon chuckled.

“Don’t say that within his hearing. His head will swell.” Daenerys’ finger traced the shapes of his chest and belly with ticklish lightness. A ghosting touch along his ribs made him stifle a giggle.  

“How is it that your lord father named him Hand? Men of his stature are not well regarded in Essos.” Jon bristled a bit; Lord Tyrion was a good friend. The delicate curiosity in her tone mellowed him.

“Tyrion is the son of a great Western house, the Lannisters. His father Tywin was Hand to your lord father King Aerys. Tyrion held the position on the small council of Master of Coin at his father’s decree. After my lord father quelled the Baratheon rebellion, and after Lord Tywin died, there was some upheaval on the small council. My lord father admired how Tyrion managed the chaos in King’s Landing after Renly Baratheon raised the treacherous Reacher lords and marched on the city. The post of Hand seemed a natural fit.”

Daenerys made a sound low in her throat.

“There is much of Westeros’ politics I don’t know. Perhaps my lord husband would educate me?” Jon grinned at the indulgent affection in her tone.

“And my brother the king knows about his Lorathi wife?”

“Yes. Shae was handmaiden to my lady stepmother during the Baratheon rebellion. She was . . . memorable.”

“Memorable?”

“Aye,” Jon said, grinning, “she is a deft hand with a dagger.” Daenerys giggled. Such a bright, merry sound, he thought. Gods, he was besotted. Jon rubbed his cheek against the crown of her head, feeling the ticklish slide of her hair, and considered himself supremely content.

“Were they attacked?”

“Aye. It was a group of thieves coming to take what they could during the unrest in the castle—Her Grace Lady Elia and my half-sister Rhaenys were at the Sept of Baelor at the time. The thieves wanted their jewels. Shae quickly disabused them of such a notion.”

“I imagine Her Grace was grateful.”

“She was. The Dornish are an intemperate lot as a rule, though generous to fault. Martells, especially.”

“‘Intemperate?’ You’re such a priggish northerner, my love!” Daenerys said, with a light, playful slap to his chest. Jon rubbed the spot, caught between amusement and affront.  

“I beg your pardon, my lady?” he said, sitting up. Even with his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could only make out the shape her, the faint pale gleam of her hair. He could feel the glow of her smile despite that. His Winterfell cousins were boisterous, but respectful. His half-siblings tended to snipe, and Tyrion quipped. Though he prickled at the being the butt of a joke, he found he liked the taste of Daenerys’ gentle brand of teasing.  

“I said you’re priggish.”

“That’s what I thought!” Jon said, pouncing on top of her. Daenerys squealed as he tickled her ribs, under her arms. Her laughter was heady as they thrashed and wrestled. Before long they were both breathless and wheezing with mirth. After a moment of rest, Daenerys retaliated, devilish fingers finding a ticklish spot on the bottom of his foot.

“No, no no, stop that!” Jon said, wiggling back and finding only empty air. He fell off the bed and landed with a hard thump on his rear. That made them laugh even harder. Jon clutched his sore sides.

The door burst open with a halo of gold lamplight and Grey Worm shouldered in with his spear. Jon leapt to his feet, one arm flung back to protect Daenerys. He squinted into the light, wishing for his sword.

“Jelmazmo, this one heard--” Grey Worm’s stony face revealed only the slightest hint of surprise in the widening of his black eyes. Jon stood straight, unconcerned with his nakedness. A quick flash of anger banished the lingering euphoria of laughter.

“You heard what, soldier? You thought I was abusing my wife? You came to skewer me with your spear? Shall we settle this on the training yard?” Jon said, fists balled. Grey Worm did not so much as blink or lower his spear.  

“Gods save me from bull-headed men!” Daenerys said, shoving past his protecting arm.

“Grey Worm, you do me honor by seeking to protect me, but I need no protection from Jon. Go back to your bed. Now.”

“But Jel--”

“I said: Now.” The steel in her tone was as cold as Uncle’s sword Ice. Grey Worm set the lamp on the hook and shut the door behind him with an emphatic thud.

“And you! You want to duel my bodyguards? Anyone at all who looks at you squint-eyed?” Daenerys said, poking his chest hard. Naked, flushed pink with her hair in glorious disarray. His cock twitched in interest. Jon clenched his jaw, his ire climbing.

“Yes! If I must. I would never hurt you.” The hard glint in her violet eyes softened. She cupped his cheek, stroking his beard with her thumb.

“I . . . I have suffered at the hands of men in the past. After Ser Darry died, I was a wayward princess alone in the world. My people wish to protect me.” Jon swallowed down hot choler in his throat. ‘Suffered’ she said. Every manner of horror rose in his mind’s eye. His beautiful wonder, abandoned. How he wished to embrace her. No, no. He wouldn’t trigger any harsh memories by rough gestures. Jon fell to one knee and cradled her hand between his.

“I will never hurt you.” The words felt so small, so ineffectual. Daenerys smiled.

“I know that. Do you think I would marry you if I didn’t?” she said with an arched brow. Jon turned her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm, closing her fingers as if to cherish the touch.

“What can I do to put you at ease? To earn the respect of your people?” he asked. Daenerys tugged his hand, drawing him up to his feet. She nestled into Jon’s arms. He let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding and kissed her forehead.  

“I trust you already, husband. As for my people, all it will take is time,” she said, tilting her head up to look at him. Jon twined their wedding ribbon around his finger and tugged gently.

“Time we’ll have when we sail for Pentos. I’ll look for a ship in the morning. Come. Let’s get some sleep.”

 Daenerys was not an early riser. Jon enjoyed waking at dawn, watching the sun rise with a hot cup of tea. There was a sort of peace in those quiet minutes, suspended between day and night, sleeping and waking. Jon wiggled from bed in the grey predawn. At the ewer stand he washed with cold water and a bar of lye soap. He combed and tied his hair, dressed and armed. He even dispatched a kitchen lad to fetch their breakfast. All this while his wife lingered in bed, going so far as to bury her head beneath the bolster to blot out the light peeking through the shutters.

In her sleep, she’d kicked off the coverlet. Jon chuckled. He quite liked the view of her bare-arsed in the morning.

“Daenerys. Dany, love. Wake up,” Jon whispered, stroking the small of her back. She mumbled something and rolled away from him, curling into a tight ball.

“Dany. Wake up,” Jon said, louder.

“Unngh,” she groaned. One bleary violet eye glared at him from beneath the bolster. Jon schooled his expression to neutrality. In her current mood, she might not appreciate his amusement.

“It’s after dawn. We need to get moving.” Daenerys grumbled as she swung her legs to the edge of the bed, dragging the coverlet with her. Silver hair hung in a messy snarl. That, plus her sleep-flushed cheeks and owlish blinking eyes made for a fetching sight.  

“Good morning,” he said.

“’Morning,” she said, yawning, “I need Missandei.”

“I’ll fetch her.”

“And tea. Hot. With lemon.”

“As you say, my lady,” he said, layered with sarcasm. Was he her body servant? They shared the same royal blood! Daenerys’ scowl relaxed into an expression of half-chagrined contrition.  

“Please,” she added. Jon grunted. She took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Part of learning each other’s’ rhythms, husband. I dislike waking, on any circumstance.” Jon kissed the back of her captive hand.

“You’re right, of course. We will learn more about each other. We have time. First, Missandei. I’ll ready the horses.”

Missandei shared a room with Grey Worm. It was the Unsullied guard who opened the door, already dressed and armored. Immaculate down to the laces of his boots. An air of mutual dislike chilled between them.

“My lord,” he said with the barest incline of his chin. Jon’s temper rankled at the casual address.

“Daenerys is asking for Missandei.”

“I am here, my lord,” she said, slipping past Grey Worm with a murmured word in Valyrian.

Unblinking, Grey Worm said: “Bisa mittys iksis tolī iā rīza et iā zaldrīzes.” {This fool is more a lizard than a dragon.} It took considerable effort not to react to such slander, especially said in that atrocious bastard Valyrian. The words lilted and lurched like a drunkard. Missandei was quick to admonish him.

“Ilva dāria pāsaga zirȳla. Lyks, jorrāelo.” {Our queen trusts him. Peace, love.} Jon studied the translator. Her hair was a soft black cloud around her head, bound away from her face with a silver headband. The black leather trousers and deep green tunic were of a fashion of Daenerys’. It was a subtle remark of how highly his wife esteemed the slender young Summer Islander, to garb her in the same clothing. Like family. Jon found a smile for Missandei, heartfelt and easy.

“Her first intelligible words this morning were that she needed you,” he said. Missandei’s answering smile was wary, but warm.

“She is a dragon upon waking. The easiest way to soften her is with tea and bread with honey,” she said.

“Good to know,” he replied. Missandei made her way down the hall to their room. Seconds ticked by as Jon held Grey Worm’s hard black gaze. Jon rested his hand casually on the pommel of his sword, his thumb worrying the dragon tail etching.

“Shall we ready the horses?” Jon asked at last. Grey Worm gave a bare nod. Rakharo and the other big Dothraki—whose name Jon could not place—were shoveling down bacon and bread in the taproom.

“Daenerys Jelmazmo is breaking her fast. We ready the horses and find a ship.”

“At last! Leaving the cold, miserable sunset land for home!” Rakharo said, swiping grease from his mustache. Jon chuckled. For his part, he was eager to begin their journey as well.

“Come, let’s find a ship.”                

[warriorqueen1991]

What Fresh Hell (pt.6)

Characters: Clyde Brenek x Katrina (oc)

Warnings: blood, gore, violence, angst, religious interpretations

Notes: my god it's been awhile since I updated this bad boy, sorry about for those of you who actually read this. The descriptions of the crab demons in this chapter are very vague because I kinda wanted you guys to have fun letting your imagination conjure up just the scariest bug/crab demons you could think of lol

And just think of this chapter as the scariest fucking rollarcoaster ride in your damn life 😂😂😂

Thank you @noodlecupcakes for helping me get this fic back on track 😘

P.S. if ya want tagged please let me know ;)

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Sitting in what looked like an abandoned subway station, Katrina and Clyde slumped down in one of the wooden benches. Clyde still had the towel pressed to his neck, his red eyes slowly dimming as he wiped the drying blood on his hands against his pants.

Katrina scooted closer to him, slowly lifting her fingers to the blood soaked towel “Let me have a look”. Clyde grimaced but let her move the soaked fabric from his skin “we need to get back on his trail… there's no sense in sitting around waiting for him to show up again”.

Katrina nodded “I might know someone who can help”.

Clyde looked at her with tired eyes, he was exhausted. “And who might that be?” he sighed touching his mostly healed wound as Katrina got to her feet. Wrapping his blood soaked towel around her fist, she dropped down onto the tracks making him stand up.

“what the hell are you doing?”

Katrina took a deep breath “getting us a ride”. Holding up her towel wrapped fist, she let out a shaky breath as blood ran down her arm “come on Charlie!”

Clyde furrowed his brow as a gust of foul smelling wind wafted up through the tunnel, the sound of disembodied screams wailing from the darkness as Katrina was suddenly bathed in bright red light. The loud roaring scream of a monstrous train bellowing from the abyss, scrambling up from the tracks as Clyde grabbed her hand they both turned to watch the jet black steel horse come to a stop.

Clyde coughed as he placed his bloody hand over his mouth, the smell was unbelievable.

Squealing to a halt, a large wave of red mist flowed up from under the machine. The train was an old Steam Engine, the rusty black steel looking odd filling up the underground rails. The large cow catcher jutting out from its front resembled that of an Angler Fishes teeth.

Clyde moved next to Katrina eyeing the mechanical monster with a look of uncertainty “is that thing breathing?” The corner of Katrina's lips quirked up as she took a step forward, her hand moving up to slide against the warm metal. The train seemed to shift beneath her, it's metal plating expanding as a low growl rumbled up from its jaws.

“Charlie is a friend, he'll help us get close to Zule”.

Clyde grimaced but followed her inside as the giant machine moved forward with a low groan of steel. Entering the train car Clyde grimaced, the whole inside was covered in slime. The seats and decor were formed from bones and innards, the sound of their steps squelching beneath them made his stomach turn.

Katrina on the other hand smiled brightly, running up into the small room the conductor would normally be sitting. Moving around the large furnace she ran her hand over a large pulsating mass of tissue.

Clyde watched in curiosity as she delved her fingers into its folds almost gently as a low hum vibrated around them, the mass of flesh glowing slightly as Katrina closed her eyes.

Clyde’s brow creased as he watched her, her expressions changing before she finally pulled her fingers from the grotesque ball “we're ready to go”. Clyde gave her a confused look “so, what...you talked to it?”

She shrugged “something like that, more like showed him my memories...he understood what I wanted”. He shook his head with a sigh “Ok so now what?”

She smiled patting his shoulder “now we wait”.

He growled softly as she moved past him, taking a seat on one of the few dry seats. Clyde pressed his hand against the nearby wall as Charlie jolted forward, his loud roar signalling his departure. The rattling of his steel wheels against the rusted tracks screaming around them as Clyde moved to lean against the wall next to Katrina.

“Your wrong you know?”

He looked down at the woman sitting next to him, her long brunette hair hanging loosely around her shoulders. “About?” he rasped, his hands running down his face before he folded them across his chest with a deep sigh. leaning his head back against the fleshy wall he rocked slightly with the demonic transport as Katrina let out a deep sigh “you said you didn't fight Abyzou, your wrong”.

Clyde frowned “I didn't know what the hell I was doin”. She looked up at him “but you fought for your daughter, if it hadn't been for you she would of been lost...your amazing Clyde”. His hazel eyes drifted open as he looked down at her as she continued “you sacrifice yourself for others without a second thought to your own safety, your completely selfless”. She shook her head in disbelief with a soft smile “that, is one of the rarest qualities you can find in a human...you scare them”.

Clyde’s face remained stoic as he looked back at the opposite wall “call it what you want, I call it having nothing to fuckin loose and just not giving a damn anymore”.

Katrina watched him with sad eyes “your not as horrible as you'd like to think Clyde…” she trailed off as he closed his eyes once more “try to get some rest, we may not get another opportunity”. She nodded leaning back in her seat, Clyde seemed so drained.

She hoped he would find a spark to light the fire in his soul again, the same iron will he found to save his daughter.

They needed that Clyde.

They needed hope.

****

The loud clanging of metal against metal jolted Clyde awake as Katrina toppled to the slick floor. “What the hell was that?” he growled moving to one of the small windows as sparks rained down from the roof.

Crawling across the floor she stumbled to her feet as the loud roar of Charlie exploded around them “we're under attack!!!”

Clyde hung his head out the window narrowing his eyes as several sharp insect-leg legs scuttled across the roof, scratching against the metal. Ducking back inside as they zoomed alongside another jet black train, Clyde moved to the large motor unit climbing up the rusty ladder.

The suffocatingly hot air almost brought him to his knees as they emerged from the damp tunnel, jets of red steam shooting up from the jagged smokestacks lining the locomotives back. Charlie jolted slightly as he made a sharp turn, his wheels pushing against the tracks as he accelerated.

Crawling on top of the demonic train Clyde slowly got to his feet, his black coat whipping around him as his eyes widened at their surroundings.

A loud roaring scream echoing around the expanse of orange sky as streaks of red lightning spiderwebbed across the overcast dimension.

The sound of legs scuttling across the metal roof caught his attention as several large crab-like demons crawled up from second car. Their green-black carcapases shimmering in the sepia lighting. Drool covered mandibles twitched as they screeched in excitement, snapping their double set of barb covered claws as they cambered over one another in order to get closer to Clyde.

Baring his fangs as they dropped from his gums, Clyde held his arms from his side as his ink black claws ejected out from his bleeding fingers.

Catching the first crab demon by its claws he quickly planted his feet forcing it's large body tumbling over the edge, stumbling back away just as two more slammed into his body.

The loud crack of one's pinchers clamping down around his arm made him growl, snarling in pain he pulled the twisting creature with him as he kicked another smaller one from the train.

Swinging around as he dropped to his knees he crashed the demon attached to his arm into a nearby smokestack, it's tough shell cracking like an egg under the sanguine steel horse as it fell to the tracks.

Charlie roared once more, his body jumping slightly as the tracks winded up into another rickety tunnel. Clyde felt the shift as he continued to fight off the swarm of demon insects, punching his clawed fist through the shell of one he quickly tackled another as its wiggling mandibles reached for his blood streaked face.

Gritting his teeth as he forced the creatures sharp legs from the train Clyde’s eyes widened as he noticed the track drop away up ahead, digging his claws into the damp steel he growled as Charlie suddenly dropped off the mountain into another dark tunnel.

The long train spinning around along the rattling rails like a twisted rollercoaster as he closed his eyes, the world was spinning as they dove from the tunnel the old train twisting around another loop causing Clyde's claws to loosen their hold.

“Fuck!!” He growled as he rolled over as the track dropped once more, several crab demons falling away as Charlie twisted around onto the ceiling spinning around the tunnel as several metal panels shot out to grind against the walls, slowing his rapid decent.

Sparks rained down around the twisting locomotive as it dropped onto another set of tracks like a demonic worm.

Clyde could feel his stomach lurching as red steam bellowed up around him, the beast of a train coming to a rattling stop in front of what looked like the set of an old western. The large tunnel they had just dropped from hanging from the orange clouds like a hamster tunnel.

Clyde grimaced with a pained grunt as he looked at the old train station, the large wooden sign reading “Welcome To Limbus”.

Getting to his feet he slowly slid off the side of the train, his boots hitting the dirt in a puff of dust.

Katrina dropped off the steps looking around in confusion “why would he come here?”

Clyde’s breathing was heavy as the thunderous sound of horses could be heard coming up through the ticket tunnel. Dust and other debris twirling up around them as a large group of heavily decomposed men rode up on rusted mechanical horses, the gears creaking loudly as they pulled them to a halt.

“What's your business here?”

The spirit with a voice eyed Clyde then Katrina, his jaw attached to his skull with copper wire and a mass of rusty metal plates.

Katrina forced a what Clyde could only assume was a friendly smile “we're uh..just passing through you haven't by chance seen a demon come through have you?”

He growled flexing his jaw as a large chunk of flesh fell from his bare chest plopping to the wooden platform as his mechanical horse shifted its weight.

“No demon here!”

Clyde growled letting his eyes flash red causing the metal animals to whine in distress as their undead riders began growling and murmuring amongst themselves.

“No demon huh?” He rasped stepping forward as the leader of the posse wrinkled his rotting lips “no!”

Shifting on his steed he made a low gurgling noise before pointing toward a large castle in the distance, the monolithic structure standing out against the dead expanse of desert. It's black stone blocking out the sun as red lightning struck it's pointed towers making it look like something from Mary Shelly.

“Follow the shadows” he growled, dropping his hand back to his waist as he spurred his horse forward. The other riders turning back down the platform, their metal hooves banging against the dusted wood.

“The darkness follows, follow the shadows and you'll find the demon”.

Clyde glanced at the dark castle before looking back to the undead rider with a nod, tipping its hat the ghoul gurgled something incoherent before quickly following his group of riders.

Katrina moved in next to him as she blinked, the wind bellowing around them as they stared at the monstrous building.

“Any idea on what the hell were walking into in there?”

She looked up at him with a sad smile “it's the Citadel Of Limbo...be sure not to loose sight” she looked around her nervously “this place was made to make you feel welcome. Once we're inside your mind is going to play tricks on you, make you want to stay….like it's your own personal heaven”.

Clyde scoffed “never was too interested in heaven to be honest”.

She frowned watching as he narrowed his eyes at the castle.

“We all have something we'd rather lose ourselves in Clyde”.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

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[workingclassdan]

All albums I listened to in 2017

1. David Bowie - No Plan (ep) 2. Ryan Adams - Prisoner 3. Gone is Gone - Echolocation * 4. The xx - I See You 5. The Flaming Lips - Oczy Mldy 6. Cloud Nothings - Life Without Sound 7. Japandroids - Near to the Wild Heart of Life 8. Foxygen - Hang 9. Ty Segall - Ty Segall 10. Camp Cope / Cayetana - Split EP 11. Cuddle Magic - Ashes/Axis 12. Hand Habits - Wildly Idle 13. Son Volt - Notes of Blue 14. Sun Kil Moon - Common as Light… (notable for shitness) 15. PVT - New Spirit 16. Steve Vai - Modern Primitive 17. Dirty Projectors - ST   (little bubble) 18. Middle Kids - EP 19. Father John Misty - Pure Comedy 20. The Waifs - Ironbark 21. Bruce Springsteen - (Odds & Rarities) 22. Thundercat - Drunk 23. Animal Collective - The Painters EP  (kinda bonkers) 24. Los Campesinos - Sick Scenes 25. Grandaddy - Last Place  (lost machine) 26. Methyl Ethel - Everything is Forgotten 27. Kingswood - After Hours, Close to Dawn 28. Holy Holy - Paint 29. Vagabon - Infinite Worlds 30. Spoon - Hot Thoughts  (do i have to talk you into it 31. Brian Eno - Reflection 32. The Shins - Heartworms 33. Laura Marling - Semper Femina * 34. Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever - The French Press EP * 35. Temples - Volcano 36. Roy Buchanan - Telemaster Live in 75 37. Real Estate - In Mind 38. Depeche Mode - Spirit * 39. Mastodon - Emperor of Sand * 40. Drake - More Life  (Passionfruit) 41. Ben Wright Smith - The Great Divorce 42. Sleepmakeswaves- Made of Breath Only - (hailstones) 43. Aimee Mann - Mental Illness 44. Jesus and Mary Chain - Damage and Joy 45. Steel Panther - Lower the Bar 46. Evyltyde - Rising 47. Spiral Stairs - Doris and the Daggers 48. Julia Holter - In the Same Room * 49. Boss Hog - Brood X 50. British Sea Power - Let the Dancers Inherit the Party 51. Anjou - Epithymia 52. The Melker Project Remix 53. New Pornographers - Whiteout Conditions 54. Future Islands - The Far Field 55. Craig Finn - We All Want the Same Thing 56. Smith Street Band - More Scared of You Than You Are of Me 57. Cold War Kids - La Divine 58. Clark - Death Peak 59. The Black Angels - Death Song 60. Arca - Arca 61. Luke Howard - ? 62. Kendrick Lamar - DAMN. 63. Prince - ep 64. Incubus - 8 65. Amy Shark - Night Thinker ep 66. Mew - Visuals 67. Gorillaz - Humanz 68. Ryan Adams (b-sides) - 69. Tim Rogers - An Actor Repairs * 70. Feist - Pleasure 71. Bill Baird - Easy Machines 72. Bill Baird - Baby Blue Abyss 73. Thurston Moore - Rock n Roll Conciousness 74. Colin Stetson - All This I Do For Glory 75. Bob Dylan - Triplicate 76. Pond - The Weather 77. Alice Coltrane - The Ecstatic Music of Alice Coltrane 78. San Cisco - The Water 79. Doug Tuttle - Peace Potato 80. Big Walnuts Yonder 81. Perfume Genius - No Shape 82. Penguin Cafe - 83. Mac Demarco 84. Afghan Whigs - In Spades 85. At the Drive-In - interalia 86. Slowdive - Slowdive - falling ashes 87. Dead Letter Circus - The Endless Mile - Lines 88. Nick Murphy - Missing Link ep 89. Bob’s Burgers - s/t 90. Fleet Foxes - The Crack-Up 91. BNQT - Volume 1 92. Do Make Say Think - Stubborn Persistent Illusions 93. The Beatles - Sgt Pepper's 94. Dan Auerbach - Waiting on a Song 95. Ben Ottewell - A Man Apart 96. Bernard Fanning - Brutal Dawn 97. Roger Waters - Is This the Life We Really Want 98. Underground Lovers - Staring at You Staring At Me 99. Elder - Reflections of a Floating World 100. Half Waif - form/a ep 101. The Kills - Echo Home non-electric ep 102. Bleachers - Gone Now 103. Amber Coffman - City of No Reply 104. Marika Hackman - I’m Not Your Man * 105. Husky - Punchbuzz 106. U2 - (some bootleg of latest tour) 107. Alt-J - Relaxer  (3WW) 108. Beach Fossils - Somersault 109. Mount Eerie - A Crow Looked at Me 110. London Grammar - Truth is a Beautiful Thing 111. Lindsay Buckingham/Christine McVie - 112. Phoenix - Ti Amo 113. Sufjan Stevens, Bryce Dessner, Nico Muhly, James McAlister - Planetarium 114. Big Thief - Capacity Mythological Beauty 115. Kirin J Callinan - Bravado 116. The Magpie Salute - The Magpie Salute (Live) 117. Portugal. The Man - Woodstock 118. Lorde - Melodrama * 119. Royal Blood - How Did We Get So Dark? 120. Ride - Weather Diaries 121. Cigarettes After Sex - s/t 122. King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard - Flying Microtonal Banana 123. Jeff Tweedy - Together at Last 124. Tara Jane O’Neil - s/t 125. Baby Driver soundtrack 126. UNKLE - The Road pt1 127. Silicon Valley soundtrack 128. Haim - Something to Tell You 129. Broken Social Scene - Hug of Thunder 130. Jay-Z - 4:44 131. Tex, Don & Charlie - You Don’t Know Lonely 132. Oh Wonder - Ultralife 133. Radiohead - OKNOTOK 134. Waxahatchee - Out in the Storm 135. U2 (live Vancouver) 136. Japanese Breakfast - Soft Sounds from Another Planet 137. DJ Shadow - The Mountain Will Fall 138. Vera Blue - Perennial 139. Lana Del Rey - Lust for Life 140. Nine Inch Nails - Add Violence ep * 141. Singles soundtrack deluxe 142. Arcade Fire - Everything Now 143. Boris - Dear 144. Perera Elsewhere - All of This 145. Manchester Orchestra - A Black Mile to the Surface 146. The Murlocs - Old Locomotive 147. Dan Sultan - Killer  (fire under foot, kingdom) 148. Fountaineer - Greater City, Greater Love 149. Benjamin Gibbard - Bandwagonesque 150. Juanita Stein - America 151. Saskwatch - Manual Override 152. Kid Koala with Emiliana Torrini - Music to Draw To: Satellite 153. David Rawlings - Poor David’s Almanac 154. Damian Cowell's Disco Machine - Get Yer Dag On! 155. Jen cloher - s/t 156. Queens of the Stone Age - Villains * 157. Paul Kelly - Life is Fine I smell trouble 158. Davey Lane - I’m Gonna Burn Out Bright 159. Mogwai - Every Country’s Sun 160. Alvvays - Antisocialites 161. Ben Frost - The Centre Cannot Hold 162. Grizzly Bear - Painted Ruins 163. Iron and Wine - Beast Epic call it dreaming 164. Gang of Youths - Go Farther in Lightness 165. Gold Class - Drum 166. King Gizzard and Mild High Club - Sketches of Brunswick East 167. Steven Wilson - To the Bone 168. The Preatures - Girlhood 169. Filthy Friends - Invitation 170. The War on Drugs - A Deeper Understanding 171. Chris Forsyth and the Solar Motel - Dreaming in the Non-Dream 172. LCD Soundsystem - American Dream 173. Cloud Control - Zone rainbow city 174. Liars - TFCF 175. Neil Finn - Out of Silence 176. Deerhoof - Mountain Moves 177. Jake Bugg - hearts That Strain 178. Gordi - Reservoir 179. Meg Mac - Low Blows 180. The National - Sleep Well Beast 181. Beaches - Second of Spring 182. Chad Vangaalen - Light Information 183. Nothing But Thieves - 184. Foo Fighters - Concrete and Gold 185. Tori Amos - Native Invader 186. The Belligerents - Science Fiction (Sorry to Say) 187. Rostam - Half-Light 188. Hope Sandoval and the Warm Inventions - Until the Hunter 189. Ariel Pink - Dedicated to Bobby Jameson 190. Davey Lane - Back/Here/Forward 191. Lisa Mitchell - When they Play That Song ep 192. Tired Lion - Dumb Days 193. Mastodon - Cold Dark Place ep 194. Godspeed You! Black Emperor - Luciferian Towers 195. Lee Ronaldo - Electric Trim 196. Neil Young - Hitchhiker 197. The Killers - Wonderful Wonderful 198. Hyla - Osaka 199. Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross - The Vietnam War 200. Moses Sumney - Aromanticism 201. British India - Forgetting the Future 202. Matt Cameron - Cavedweller 203. Hammock - Mysterium 204. Ben Frost - Threshold of Faith 205. Philip Selway - Let Me Go 206. Prophets of Rage - s/t 207. Phoebe Bridgers - Starnger in the Alps 208. Pearl Jam - Let’s Play Two 209. Wolf Alice - Visions of a Life 210. Torres - Three Futures 211. Ibeyi - Ash 212. Wolf Parade - Cry Cry Cry 213. Liam Gallagher - As You Were 214. Andrew Bird - Echolocations: River 215. Bladerunner 2049 soundtrack 216. The Horrors - V 217. St Vincent - Masseduction 218. Kurt Vile & Courtney Barnett - A Lotta Sea Lice 219. Beck - Colors 220. Robert Plant - Carry Fire 221. Alex Lahey - I Love You Like a Brother 222. Destroyer - Ken. 223. William Patrick Corgan - wpc 224. Custard - The Common Touch 225. Love Migrate - Somewhere, Over the Mangroves 226. Protomartyr - Relatives in Descent 227. Polish Club - Alright Already 228. Ecca Vandal - s/t 229. Grooms - Infinity Caller 230. Lean Year - s/t 231. Kevin Devine - Instigator 232. King Krule - The Ooz 233. Portico Quartet - Art in the Age of Automation 234. Weezer - Pacific Daydream 235. Hans Zimmer et al (Blue Planet ll soundtrack) 236. Fever Ray - Plunge 237. Julien Baker - Turn Out the Lights 238. Jim Lawrie - Slacker of the Year 239. REM - Automatic for the People (25th Anniversary) 240. Angel Olsen - Phases 241. Stranger Things 2 (Kyle Dixon & Michael Stein) 242. Nathaniel Rateliff and the Night Sweats - Live at Red Rocks 243. Tame Impala - Currents (deluxe) 244. King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard - Polygondwanaland 245. Sharon Jones - Soul of a Woman 246. Bjork - Utopia * 247. Aldous Harding - Party 248. David Gilmour - Live at Pompeii 249. Queen - News of the World (deluxe) 250. Stella Donnelly - Thrush Metal ep 251. U2 - Songs of Experience 252. Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds - Who Built the Moon? 253. Taylor Swift - Reputation 254. Kamasi Washington - Harmony of Difference 255. Wand - Plum 256. Weaves - Wide Open 257. Mavis Staples - If All I Was Was Black 258. Neil Young and Promise of the Real - The Visitor 259. Pony Face - Deja Vu 260. The Orbweavers - Deep Leads

Stray tracks: Hans Zimmer & Radiohead Lisa Hannigan - Oh! You Pretty Things Jarvis Cocker & Chilli Gonzalez Jack Whiter Glen Hansard (2) John Butler Trio Ryan Adams - back in your head Brian Eno & Kevin Shields Tropical Fuck Storm (2)

2016 catchups:

Ryley Walker & Charles Rumback Alex Isenberg Lisa Hannigan Margaret Glaspy Catfish and the Bottlemen Badbadnotgood 1 Mile North Chris Forsyth Peep Tempel Tash Sultana Rogue Wave Damien Jurado Love Migrate - Luke Howard Kaleo

[ecotone99]

[SF] Arthur Part one

This story takes place in the Warhammer 40K universe, this one is fairly long but the future ones are to be shorter

Void shields failing

Void shields failing

Void shields down

The cold wailing of the ship’s machine spirit faded, like the light of the fire that followed it. The space marine’s eyes shot open. His eye-lenses were shattered, but through the cracks, he saw a blue sky above. Debris from the battle above burned as it entered the atmosphere. Warning sirens from his battle plate echoed softly in his ears, but the hormones of sleep set him into hibernation again before he could address them.

He awoke again to the earthy smell of woodsmoke and the chanting of a woman. His eyes snapped open and she screamed, backing up, “Hark, the angel awakes!” He was laying on the ground in the middle of the room, a bed of leaves below his bruised and beaten body. He realized he was in mostly in his under-armor body glove Eyes darting around he quickly gathered he was in a small hut, clay walls plastered over what he assumed to be a wood frame. The roof was low, he would have to stoop if he stood. His eyes stopped on a pile of his power armor in the corner, and he felt a sharp pain in his gut. He looked back down at himself and saw where a shard of shrapnel, red with blood, had pierced his ceramite when he had worn it. How did she get the armor off? He thought as the young woman began to gather her senses. She wore a gown of some animal skin, tied together with cords along her left side. She had light skin, bright red hair down to her waist, wild and unkempt. She held a tall staff, a green-tinted wooden pole with an animal’s skull set on top. The skull was long, horned like a daemon, and bleached white.

The Space Marine wrapped a massive hand around the shard of shrapnel and yanked it out. Ignoring the horror of the woman, he crawled over to his armor and found a small vial that lay within it, slamming it into his wound. His Mucranoids immediately went into effect, covering the hole in a waxy substance that grew out of his skin. He leaned his back up against the armor, breathing hard through clenched teeth, and looked at the Woman. She held her stick out towards him. At first, he found it comical, but then he noticed the subtle flare of witchfire ringing her eyes and burning on the skull of her staff. He put his hands up, away from the armor trying to make himself seem non-threatening. He knew a rogue psyker was a dangerous thing. “No weapon,” he said, his deep voice rumbling through the hovel. “Name,” She said as she began to bring the staff back up, and the witchfire fading. “Arthur,” said the Space Marine.

Arthur stepped out of the hovel and looked around him. The building stood on a low hill, hidden in a copse of trees. All around him was the lush green of forest, but to the north was a break in the trees. Far off in the distance, A large construction of stone rose up out of the ground, tall walls and towers grey against the stark blue sky. The fortification had banners flowing down from the towers, heraldry showing a white sword stuck point down in stone on a black field. If there is a choir, it will be there thought Arthur. I may have fallen into a feral world.

He went back into the hut, the witch jumped at his entrance, he pointed at the armor on the ground. “Where did you find this, where did you find me?” She just looked at him confused and in awe. Sighing, he inspected his armor on the ground. It was worthless, shattered, burned, and with the powerpack broken beyond repair. Sorrow welled up within him. His plate had kept him alive through countless battles, it had been a second skin when he had it on. It was akin to losing a battle-brother. The sorrow washed over him, he took a deep breath, and he moved on. He had no time to let this affect him. He grabbed two more unbroken vials of the Mucranoid catalyst from their housing. He found two clips of bolter rounds and thankfully, his combat knife was maglocked to a leg plate. His bolter was nowhere to be seen. He turned to look at the witch as he gathered up his gear. Standing, he rose nearly two feet above her and weighed at least four times her weight, towering over her like the statue of a god. She probably thinks she has unleashed a giant. He felt as though he should slay the witch, an unknown psyker was a dangerous thing, but something stayed his hand.

He found a dirt path down at the bottom of the hill, he turned to follow it north towards the fortification. An hour passed, he carried his gear in his thick hands, nowhere to store the items. There was a sound like the roll of soft thunder. Arthur turned to see two human men riding out on eight-legged beasts. The creatures resembled the horses of old Terra, the descendants of which had come with humanity on its quest amongst the stars to many different worlds. The stink of unwashed men met Arthur’s nose as they approached him, they wore shirts made of small metal rings and wielded crude ancient swords. They tried to look as menacing as possible, but Arthur felt nothing but contempt for these poor examples of low humanity. “Lo!” one shouted at him as they approached, “ye knave, ye troll! drop thy blade or Wulf and I will ride thee down!”

Arthur snorted in disgust, “Standing before you is an Adeptus Astartes of the Imperial Fists, scion of Rogal Dorne and I know no fear!” The two men just looked at each other and back at Arthur and began to advance. Disappointed, Arthur began backing up, walking to the edge of the road. He stooped down as if to drop his combat blade, but instead reached for a rock. His strength was such that the man who spoke was struck before he could get another word out. In one fluid motion, Arthur spun the rock around through the air and threw it through the man’s jaw. His lower skull exploded in a shower of blood and bone as he jerked back off his horse-thing. The other one, Wulf, turned around and fled.

Arthur hated himself for doing it, but he took the bag off the fallen man, in it were a few coins, some stale bread, and a place to put the gear he already had. On a whim, he decided to add a few stones as well. He climbed atop the man’s frightened beast, finding the saddle small and uncomfortable. All the same, he turned the creature north. He worried he was too heavy for it, but it held him for now.

A short ride passed and Arthur found himself approaching a small village, plots of land tilled for farming and small hovels similar to the witch’s took the place of green trees and bushes. Up ahead stood the stone castle with the banners he had seen before. That thing would not survive a single lance strike critiqued Arthur. The villagers, human peasants living in squalor, looked at him agape as he passed. As he rode on, closer to the castle, the conditions got a little better. Arthur could hear the ring of a hammer on steel and smell fresh bread. As he rode further in, observing his surroundings with a blank countenance, a man with a large floppy hat appeared out of nowhere. “Ser Knight, Ser Knight, hast thou ridden forth to enter the lists?” he said, “I am no knight, I am an Imperial-” Arthur was interrupted. “A knight, a knight, verily, by what title shall thee ride as?” “Arthur is my Emporer-given name…” The small man interrupted him again, making marks on a sheet with a primitive pen, “Arthur, glorious, the bards shall sing your glory to the stars” and then just as soon as he appeared, he ran off. Unsure, Arthur rode on slowly, noticing larger wooden and stone buildings with many people milling about. He noticed men riding tall on their own eight-legged horses, wearing some sort of primitive armor made of steel, wearing swords belted to their waists. His combat knife was about as large as some of them. He turned his eight-legged beast and followed them as they headed towards the castle, seeing a great field of flags outside its walls.

The file rode its way further through the outlying town, the field of flags revealed itself as some sort of tourney grounds. As Arthur rode up, he noticed sidelong looks from the other armed men and their servants. Making his way into the grounds, another floppy-hatted man ran up beside him, “Noble ser! Hast thou entered into the lists?”

“Some other man like you has already asked me, what is this here” returned Arthur. “Why ser!” the man looked alarmed, “verily thou comest upon the auspicious eve of Pendragon day, on the morrow, there is to take place a joust and mighty feast, surely a knight such as yourself ride for the event?” Arthur looked at him confused, but nodded and began to ride off before a large pot-bellied man ran out next to him “Woah there, here be my…. Mine own cousin! Verily we hast invited him, unbeknownst of the celebration” The man gave a wink to Arthur. The other man, whose floppy hat swung around as he turned to face the other, said “Oh verily, excellent! May the light above guide thine arm!” Then the man trotted away, his hat flopping over his head with each step.

“What is thine name, come, follow me, thou are sure to emerge victorious on the morrow, with mine help.” The pot-bellied man said to Arthur in a hushed voice and motioned him to follow. Arthur steered his mount after the man, and they quickly arrived at a small stone building. Arthur could smell the crude musk of burning coals and hot iron. “Mine name be Witege, and thou are?”

“Arthur” responded Arthur, waiting to hear what the man had to actually say. “Verily, Arthur, a man of your size and strength, none can hold you back.” sais Witege. Arthur eyed the man, sensing his motive, “my only goal is to get back to my chapter, does this planet have a choir?” Witege looked confused, “why dost thou seek bards?” Arthur sighed, he decided he would take part in this man’s scheme, it would help him in the short run and he could figure out his next move after learning more about the planet he found himself on. “You want to ready me for this joust? Why?” Arthur responded. Witege’s eyes lit for a moment and he said “Verily! Mine own hands shall arm thee and mine own son shall be thy squire, your humble servant only begs of half the coin reward” That’s what Arthur figures the man would say. It was the best option Arthur had at the moment, so he nodded his head in assent. Witege called forth his son, an older boy named Urien who Arthur guesses to be about 15 standard years old. They got to work refitting armor to the space marine’s massive form. Arthur helped as well, his strength astonishing the mortals. The finished armor was dubbed “Wygar” by Witege. Arthur decided to hold onto his combat blade instead of taking Witege’s offered sword. The combat blade was familiar to him and made of better steel besides. By the next morning, the mortals were exhausted, Arthur found himself dozing for about half an hour, his bones still ached from the crash and he figured the rest would do him some good for the “joust” to come. Whatever that meant.

He found out that next morning, Arthur stood at the edge of the field, underneath one of the black and white banners, and watched as two men. Fully armored, rode their 8 legged horses at each other with a thin wooden barrier keeping them parallel. The beasts thundered at each other, each strike of the ground kicking up a cloud of dirt. They each carried metal shields and wooden lances that they struck against each other with a mighty crash that it reverberated through his new steel plate of armor. Both men’s lances shattered, and one went down while the other barely managed to hang on, and then he shot his hands up in triumph. A tremendous cheer went up from stands that had been built at the sides of the arena, they were stocked with humans. At the far end of the field sat a monstrous tent, a black veil obscured its insides.

As Arthur stood watching stoically, Witege walked up behind him. Arthur turned and saw the man leading a massive 8 legged mare. “This be Llameri, she fits thine stature, verily, more than thine beast thou doth approach with.” Indeed she did. Arthur couldn’t help but admire the cords of muscle hidden just below the horse’s flesh. He looked back at the man and gave him a nod. Witege looked like he was expecting more, and then continued, “mine son hast a saddle for thee as well, Llameri shall be chomping at the bit for thine ride…” Arthur nodded his appreciation, face impassive. Witege shrugged and whispered “okay ser” as he walked away, leading the beautiful beast by the reins. Arthur watched a few more of the jousts to get an idea of how it worked, coming up with plans of his own.

His name was called. He strode forth on Llameri, donned in Wygar, feeling almost as powerful as he did holding a fortified position with his battle brothers. He smiled to himself under his helmet, he could probably secure the planet for the imperium by himself if he still had his plate and bolter. Against him, a knight in shining steel arrayed himself, a bright red plume trailing off his helmet. His horse was powerfully built, but even still his foe looked considerably smaller than Arthur.

Urien ran from his cover near the stands and handed Arthur his new unpainted shield and a tourney lance as the man across from him was also equipped by a squire. The other man raised his visor, he had a face red from the heat, with a large mustache. “Verily! I face a giant this day, wherest thou hail from, O Arthur?”

Arthur thought of a suitable answer before calling back “the Imperium.”

“Arthur of the Imperium, on this day thou ridest against Cador of Camelot!” Arthur shut his visor, and Cador did the same, their mounts stamping the ground in anticipation.

A man in a floppy hat took to a stand above the middle of the lane, holding a flag aloft. When he dropped it, both riders spurred their mounts forward, readying themselves for the clash. With Arthur’s enhanced psychology and physiology, Cador didn’t stand a chance. As Llameri thundered down the lane Arthur calmly sat into position, bringing his shield up and across to meet Cador’s lance, while he brought up his own to smash into his opponent. At the last moment he arrayed his lance in a calculated position, and when they struck with the blast of splintering wood, Cador was thrown off the back of his mount. Arthur rode down the rest of the lane to the adoring cheers of the crowd, before turning and going down Cador’s side, jumping off Llameri to help the man up. “You rode well,” he said, offering a hand. Cador slid his visor open, red-faced, and smiled at Arthur and said, “Aye, and thou ridst better” before taking his hand.

As Arthur doffed Wygar and Urien took Llameri off to take care of her, he heard the crash of the next joust. The shattering of lances and the yells of men and beasts as the first pass was completed. Arthur stepped out of his tent to watch, still half armored, to see the men prepare for a second pass. As both were handed new lances, Arthur focused in on one of the knights. He sat taller than any normal man, armor painted in the red of arterial blood and the screaming face painted on his shield seemed to writhe in pain. The knights began their second pass. The bloody man’s steed screamed as it flashed down the lane, tearing clouds of dirt into the air. When his lance struck his opponent’s shield it shattered, while the other man’s split and slid from the shield with the screaming face. The man careened off his mount into the dirt as the bloody knight rode to the end of the lane, hoisting his shield into the air. Arthur’s hearts felt a chill of cold as he watched the unnatural knight. When the vanquished man tried to get up, his shield arm lay limp, broken back in a sickening angle. Arthur clenched his jaw, wary of the knight in red.

The day wore on, Arthur vanquished whoever he rode against, while watching the bloody knight do the same. That afternoon, while taking a meal in his tent between jousts, the tent flap flew open and the witch from the woods burst in. Urien ran in hot on her heels trying to hold her back. Arthur held up a hand, “I know this woman” he said to Urien. The boy looked confused and waited, the witch turned to Arthur and said, “Lo! Angel of steel, I have pierced through the mists of time. Verily, as mine own form stands before thou, mine eyes saw one who seeks to send thee to the spirits! A knight, armored in blood, blessed by dark powers beyond the light of the stars. If thou shouldst ride against him, he shall smite thee to thine end!” She heaved with excitement, eyes wide as he looked back at her from his stump. Arthur stood up, “My thanks woman, by what name are you called?” he responded, holding out his hand.

“Morgana” She said, shaking his hand, “Arthur, forsooth, this thing must not come to pass” Arthur nodded and said, “I will deal with this” he looked to Urien, and told him what to do.

The time came for the final round, the joust to crown the champion. The crowd hushed, even the wind stilled from blowing the flags as Arthur took his place across from the bloody knight. The knight lifted his visor to reveal a hard lean face, clean of any hair, even eyebrows. His eyes shone pure red. He breathed deep, sucking in air like a drowning man before calling out in a guttural voice “Mordred rides against thee, I have vanquished all before, feast thine eyes upon me and despair!”

Arthur raised his own visor to shout, “You ride against Arthur of the Imperium, a warrior of ages long forgotten here. I am a wall your lance will break upon, your malignity has no power over me!” before slamming it back into place. He still beat the man in stature, but Arthur knew Mordred carried more than just his own power in his body.

They both spurred their mounts forward, Llameri bolted down the beaten lane, bursting forward more than she had at any time previously. Arthur readied himself and couched his lance as the bloody knight grew ever closer. They crashed together, both lances shattering to splinters upon the other’s shield. Arthur absorbed the force well, and watched Mordred regain his balance after the hit. The crowd roared its approval of the spectacle. They circled, coming back around to the ends of the lane. As Urien ran up with another lance he gasped “Arthur, thine arm!”

Arthur looked down, splinters of Mordred’s lance had defied the laws of the universe, they had split off and the wood had stabbed its way through the inside of the plate on his arm, and blood now seeped out of the wound. He clenched his jaw and yanked the shards out with a grunt, and then took the new lance. “If he does not fall here, bring me the magic lance” Arthur whispered to Urien.

They readied themselves once more, Arthur spurred on Llameri and her hooves thundering with the power of the engines of a thunderhawk, flying down the line. Arthur rammed his lance home, just as Mordred did the same, but the bloody knight’s lance slid off the shield, smashing into Arthur’s breastplate. Again, shards of wood punched themselves through Wygar, and Arthur breathed hard, smelling blood, as he looked down and saw foot-long spikes porcupining his chest. Mordred had almost fallen in that pass, but he regained his composure and circled on his steed. The crowd fell into another hushed silence as the two knights circled back into position. Blood now ran in rivulets down the front of Arthur’s armor. Urien ran out, eyes wide with concern, and handed Arthur the special lance. “I’m fine” Arthur grunted out through clenched teeth, shooing the boy away. He focused himself, and spurred Llameri one last time, as Mordred did the same. The two knights thundered at each other, as they neared Arthur took a deep breath in his helmet and threw his shield to knock Mordred’s lance aside. At the same moment, he smashed his lance into the other knight’s shield, the bolter round hidden within kicking off as the lance shattered. The round smashed through the knight’s shield, ripping apart Mordred’s armor, exploding within his arm.

There was a shower of blood accompanying the loud burst of the bolter round, everyone in the crowd jumped to their feet screaming. Mordred collapsed to the ground, falling off his mount, his left arm completely blown apart. Nothing was left but a twisted mass of steel and bleeding flesh. Mordred didn’t even scream. From the ground he grabbed the saddle and his horse began to move. It dragged him through the dirt and he turned back to yell at Arthur “Thee shall see me again, O cursed Arthur!” Together they tore through the camp, headed south.

Arthur stumbled off Llameri, and fumbled into his tent to grab a vial of the Mucranoid catalyst. He smashed it into his chest, and rubbed the coarse liquid into his arm. Inhaling sharply with the pain, he tore off his helmet. He realized that outside, the crowd of mortals had gone silent. He stood up to his full height and walked out of the tent. The crowd stood in a semicircle about him, with Witege, Urien, and Morgana a few steps forward. A floppy hatted man stepped out of the crowd and said “uhh Ser Arthur, King Pendragon will see thee now”

submitted by /u/GreyWanderers [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2O62kVp

[the-graves-family]

JASPER

OLYMPIANS AESTHETIC MEME

 APHRODITE: laughter-loving. sweet smiles. dressed in silk and satin. flower in their hair. sees the world as a runway. unapologetically sexual. the sea washing their ankles. in love with love.   stirrer of passion. cunning concealed by painted lips. secret daggers. doves. revolution in their kiss. delighting in the waves. flirtatious winks. strolling along the beach. staring wistfully from a balcony. this is how to be a heartbreaker. wants to be adored. gets turned on by danger.

 APOLLO: glitz and glamour. art galleries. turning the volume up. being made of gold. neatly-organized music sheets. notebooks filled with poetry. bathing in the sunlight. the powerful urge to create. collecting vinyl records. beautiful cover of wonder wall. playing multiple instruments. tasting like sunshine. healing touch. speaking in prophecies. smile mingled with wrath. shunning lies. sporting shades. hanging out at music festivals with their friends.     sleeps naked. arrow to the heart. paint brushes. probably has a tinder account.

 ARES: armed for battle. wants to raise a dog with their significant other. soft spot for children.     gives piggyback rides. scarred body. blood on their hands and face. willing to fight the world for the ones they love. fights against injustice. warm hugs. well-worn combat boots. boxing gloves. bandages wrapped around bruised knuckles. fist raised in protest. ignites revolutions.   fear is a prison. more sensitive than what their tough shell would have you think. exhausted. damaged goods. force to be reckoned with. red roses. curses under their breath.

 ARTEMIS: keen sense of a hunter. freckles like constellations on their skin. piercing eyes. disheveled braid. moonlight peeking through the shadows. the calm of the forest at night. lying on the grass and staring at the stars. mother doe and her fawn. protecting their kin. the moon shimmering on a still lake. quiver full of arrows resting against the bark of a tree. running with wolves. bonding while circled around a campfire. not being much of a people person. arrow hitting a target. popping egos. patience on 3%. touches heaven and returns howling.

 ATHENA: discerning gaze. unreadable face. quiet museums. owl perched on their finger. armor that intimidates. eye for architecture. plays the sims for the sole purpose of building   houses. studied the blade while everyone else was busy getting laid. huge fan of logic. loves brain teasers, ancient buildings. sweaters in neutrals and cool colors. hair done up.   can kill you with their brain. heads to the library often to research. sharpened pencils. abs that can cut steel. stoic statues. pottery classes.

 DEMETER: soil-covered hands. smile that can bloom flowers. skin loved by the sun. being the mom-friend. can lift you and your friends. flowers kept in the pockets of overalls. takes pride in their beautiful garden. speaks to their plants. leaves rustling in the wind. stalks of wheat. picking fruit. greenhouses. heart as strong as a mountain. values simplicity. daisies dotted across a collarbone. curls crowned with flowers. folded pile of sweaters in warm hues. pulling out fresh-baked bread out of the oven and the smell wafting through the air.

 DIONYSUS: drunk shitposter. on their sixth glass of wine before you’ve even finished your second. seductive smirks. untamed curls. rich fabrics on dark skin. sleek-furred panthers. theater masks. stage productions. receiving a standing ovation. rose caught between their teeth. being the baby of the bunch. wild parties that last from sundown to sunup. creeping vines. inspiring loyalty. grand opera houses. masquerade balls. rolls of film. shattered chandeliers with broken glass scattered across the wine-spilled floor. pouring champagne into flutes. lives for the applause.

 HEPHAESTUS: the calloused hands of someone who knows labor. sweaty brow. flame burning in their eyes. inventive mind. broad shoulders. steampunk goggles. nuts and bolts stored away in little boxes. ashes. striking a match. blueprints for future projects. fixing up a busted-up car and giving it cool upgrades. wrestles with bitterness. work boots have seen better years. wrinkled plaid shirts. iron melted in blazing fire. huge jackets. crafting masterpieces. greased-stained overalls. fascination with robotics. pain is fuel. stack of weaponry. even their muscles have muscles.

 HERA: resting bitch face. dressed to the nines. cows grazing on a pasture. cool rain. loving and hating fiercely. hand clutching a string of pearls. large chandelier with glittering crystals. plays the sims for the sole purpose of killing off their sims. romance to realism. pictures of the sky while flying on a plane. files that under fuck it. downs glasses of wine as they relax with a scented bubble bath and netflix. like their selfie or you’re grounded. knows 57 convenient ways to murder a man. dark eyes that penetrate your soul. marble and gold.

 HERMES: devil-may-care smile. always up-to-date on the latest technology. will steal your french fries. does it for the vine. shitposter. puts googly eyes on everything. meme hoarder. long drives on the highway. ma and pop diners. spontaneous road trips. folded maps. fingers dancing across the keyboard of a laptop. shooting hoops on the basketball court. chatting up strangers as you all journey to your own destinations. goes jogging in the morning. mixes red bull with coffee. menace on april fool’s. hoodies and sneakers.

 POSEIDON: storm with skin. colorful coral reefs. waves crashing against the shore. stroking the soft fur of a cat. their heart pounding as their horse’s gentle trot speeds into a gallop. tousled locks. clothes smeared with paint. owns several sketchbooks yet always yearns to own more. leather jackets. fondness for diy projects. handwriting that flows across the page. nimble fingers playing the strings of a violin. velvety singing voice that haunts your dreams. mood as ever-changing as the sea. the roar of a motorcycle. compass with a spinning arrow.

 ZEUS: thunder in their heart. running on coffee. flash of lightning. natural charisma. eloquence. badass in a nice suit. aficionado of history. force of nature. lenny face. nightmare-filled nights. proud arm around their lover’s waist. high-rise buildings. planes soaring through a cloudless sky. technician on the piano. maintains order. strong handshake. juggling multiple events on their busy schedule with ease. expensive watch.

 Muse/OC Aesthetic  

Rules: bold any which apply to your OC/Muse; remember to repost; feel free to add to the list.

 [COLORS]

 red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal. silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green. cobalt blue. lime green. beige.

 [ELEMENTS]

 fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops. magic.

 [BODY]

 claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. freckles. bruises. canine. scars. scratches. wounds. burns. spikes. feathers. webs. eyes. hands. sweat. tears. feline. chubby. curvy. short. tall. normal height. muscular. lean. piercing. tattoos. lithe. moles. dimples.

 [WEAPONS]

 fists. sword. dagger. spear. arrow. hammer. shield. poison. guns. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pepper sprays. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. mud balls. pyre. teeth. rifles. words.

 [MATERIALS]

 gold. silver. platinum. titanium. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. amber. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. glass. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics. jade.

 [NATURE]

 grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. tulips. lavender. petals. thorns. seeds. hay. sand. rocks. crystals. roots. flowers. ocean. river. meadow. forest. desert. tundra. savanna. rainforest. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. clouds. mountains. poppies. galaxies. stardust. sky.

 [ANIMALS]

 lions. wolves. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs. spiders. crickets. bees. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. rabbits. praying mantises. crows. ravens. mice. lizards. werewolves. unicorns. pegasus. dragons. rats. livestock. foxes. bluebirds. deer. halla.

 [FOODS/DRINKS]

 sugar. salt. bitter. candy. bubblegum. wine. champagne. hard liquor. beer. coffee. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. desserts. chocolate. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. burgers. burritos. pizza. french fries. ambrosia. honey.

 [HOBBIES]

 music. art. watercolors. gardening. smithing. sculpting. wood carving. painting. sketching. fighting. writing. composing. cooking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self-defense. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theater. history. libraries. books. comic books. magazines. cds. records. vinyls. cassettes. piano. violin. guitar. electric guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. harp. woodwinds. brass. bells. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. motorcycle riding. eating. flight. climbing. camping. running. freerunning. exploring. partying. yoga.

 [STYLE]

 lingerie. armor. cape. dress. tunic. vest. shirt. sweater. boots. heels. leggings. trousers. jeans. skirt. jewelry. earrings. necklace. bracelet. ring. pendant. hat. flower crown. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. gorget. bracers. belt. sash. coat. jacket. duster. trenchcoat. hood. gloves. socks. masks. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sunglasses. visor. eye contacts. makeup. ties. uniform. fancy shoes. leather jacket. sport underwear.

 [MISC]

 balloons. bubbles. cityscape. light. dark. candles. war. peace. money. power. percussion. clocks. photos. mirrors. pets. kisses. diary. fairy lights. madness. sanity. sadness. bittersweet. happiness. luck. optimism. pessimism. loneliness. family. friends. assistants. co-workers. enemies. loyalty. smoking. drugs. kindness. love. hugs. revenge. lust. regrets. passion. spontaneity. potty mouth. recklessness. practicality. hope.

 BOLD ANY FEARS WHICH APPLY TO YOUR MUSE.

 ITALICIZE WHAT MAKES THEM UNCOMFORTABLE.

 the dark. fire. open water. deep water. being alone. crowded spaces. confined spaces. change. failure. war. loss of control. powerlessness. prison. blood. drowning. suffocation. public speaking. natural animals. the supernatural. heights. death. dying. intimacy. rejection. abandonment. loss. the unknown. the future. not being good enough. scary stories. speaking to new people. poverty. loud noises. being touched.

 Unnecessary Detailed Dislikes

 Muse name: Jasper Graves

Least favorite nickname: Jazzie

Least favorite color: Pink

Least favorite season: Fall

Least favorite weather: Storming

Least favorite — hot or cold: hot

Least favorite food: Green things

Least favorite flavor: artificial orange

Least favorite scent: jasmine

Least favorite sound: grinding wheel

Least favorite book: anything by dr. seuss

Least favorite movie: Charlie and the chocolate factory

Least favorite fictional character: Willy Wonka

Least favorite trait in others: forcefulness

Least favorite place: outside

Least favorite thing about themselves: how shy he is

Least favorite daily chore: school

Least favorite activity: running

 absent-minded |  abusive  | addict  | adrenaline junkie |   aggressive |  aimless  | alcoholic  |  anxious  | arrogant  |  audacious |  bad liar  |  bigmouth |  bigot  | blindly loyal  |  blunt   |  callous  |  childish  | chronic heroism  |  cheater | clingy  | clumsy  |  cocky |  codependent  | competitive |  corrupt  | cowardly  |  cruel |  cynical  | delinquent  |  delusional |  dependent  | depressed |  deranged  |  disloyal  | ditzy  |  egotistical |  envious  | erratic  |  fickle |  finicky  | fixated  |  flaky |  frail  | fraudulent  |  foul mouthed |  guilt complex  | gloomy  |  gluttonous |  gossiper  | gruff  | grudge holding |  gullible |  hedonistic  | humorless  |  hypochondriac | hypocritical | idealist  |  idiotic |  ignorant  |  immature  | impatient |  incompetent  |  indecisive  | insecure |  insensitive  |  lazy  | lewd  |  liar |  lustful  | manipulative |  masochistic |  meddlesome  | melodramatic  |  money-loving |  moody  | naïve  |  nervous |  nosy  | ornery  |  overprotective  | overly sensitive   |  paranoid |  passive-aggressive  | perfectionist  |  pessimist |  petty  | power-hungry  |  proud |  possessive  | pushover |  reckless  | reclusive  |  remorseless |  rigorous  | sadistic  | sarcastic |  senile |  selfish  |  self-destructive  | shallow  |  sociopathic |  sore loser  | spineless  |  spiteful |  spoiled  | stubborn | suspicious  |tactless |  temperamental |  timid  |  thief |  tone-deaf | traitorous |  unathletic |  ungracious  | unlucky   |  unsophisticated  | untrustworthy  |  vain  |  withdrawn |  workaholic

[imsfire2fanficwriter]

Escape

(NB this is a chapter fic, and non canon-compliant)

Chapter one

The firefight was intensifying but Ell was up for it, it wasn’t for nothing she’d logged those hours of training on high-speed manoeuvres and target practice.  She managed to bring another three TIE fighters down before a fourth got on her tail, and took out her starboard engine with tracer fire.

There were still transmissions coming in from Command, orders and tactics being shouted to the surviving ships.  It sounded as though one was the order to jump to hyperspace.  But battling to keep the X-wing under control she barely registered the words.  She was losing too much altitude, too fast, she wasn’t going to make it.  

She turned the ship’s nose in the direction of the nearest Walker and hauled it into something approaching level flight for the precious few moments necessary to hit the ejector and bail out safely.

Her parachute was undamaged. For the whole descent, almost a minute drifting downwards helplessly, she was convinced that any moment a piece of shrapnel or a spark or a fragment of debris would tear the canopy and she’d go crashing into the sea.  But somehow, miraculously, she made it.  The water wasn’t even deep.  Her feet hit the bottom of the lagoon and she cut the ‘chute loose and waded to shore, ducking as blaster fire crackled over her head.  

The battle roared on all around her; but it was going to be an Imperial prison camp for Ell Shammen. Grounded.  She looked round as her craft smashed into the right hind leg of the Walker she’d targeted, and exploded into a fireball.  A satisfying sight.  Whatever else happened, they were dealing the Empire bastards a drubbing.  

She wondered if she’d ever know whether the mission had succeeded.  If you could call it a mission, when they were madmen who’d disobeyed direct orders to come here.  Ell would have done the same in their shoes, suicide trip or no.  She couldn’t blame them.  

She scrabbled through a dense thicket of greenery and emerged on the sandy edge of another landing pad.  Ahead of her, an abandoned imperial troop transport stood, cabin intact but black smoke pouring from a rift in the port side.   There were Stormtroopers, but they were falling back.  Not even retreating properly, just running.   The tower with the transmission dish loomed barely half a mile off, and as she glanced up at it, the dish, the whole tip of the tower, suddenly broke off and fell, sliced clean away by some sort of giant energy beam.  Ell turned in astonishment to watch as the brilliant green laser-light scissored down into the surface of Scarif a couple of miles to the south, obliterating a whole segment of the base instantaneously.  The shallow ocean began to boil in the distance and a glowing blast wave rose from the site of the impact.    

There was nothing she could do but run.  The transport wouldn’t be spaceworthy with a hole like that in it, but if the engines were undamaged, if she could get airborne, it just might have enough juice to outfly the blast.  And nothing was lost by trying.  She was already at the door, shooting the lock off, scrambling aboard.  The pilot’s seat was cramped for a lanky woman like Ell; but the controls were undamaged.  She punched keys, pushed the ignition, and prayed.  The engines groaned and the whole ship juddered.  Torn metal plates round the rip flapped, sheering off under the load stress as the transport heaved itself off the pad.

She hated Imperial control systems, but hell, they were working, she’d criticise their software and their hideous aesthetic later.  The damned plane flew, semi-wreck though it was.  She probably wouldn’t clear the treetops in this tin can, but it was far more important to keep moving than to get up high.  She turned its nose away from the monstrous explosion and boosted the straining engines, steering wildly around tree trunks at the fringe of the next landing pad.

Open water.  A glance behind showed the ocean seemed to be on fire. A wall of steam and flame, terrible and weirdly beautiful, advancing inexorably.  Ell swore and looked away; and ahead, suddenly, a tiny movement caught her eye.  Emerging from the base of the tower, staggering as though barely able to keep upright, were two figures.  They weren’t Stormtroopers.  The taller figure wore an undershirt identical to her own.  Their clothing looked like Alliance issue, dusty-brown and khaki, black heavy boots.  Shot-down pilots like herself, perhaps.

She knew she’d been lucky to get the ship off the ground; if she put down for them, it might not manage another take-off.  But her only other option was to leave them to die.  You are the choices you make; and her odds weren’t that great anyway, so why not choose to do the right thing, and go down fighting for your truth? Wasn’t that what they were all doing?

She stalled the engines and braced for landing.

The two figures had stumbled to the edge of the island.  Pale sand and paler water met at their feet and the man collapsed and fell to his knees on the shore.  His movements betrayed why they weren’t even trying to run; he’d been injured, too badly to have even the most irrational expectation of escape, and the woman with him looked too exhausted to help him any further.  Instead, to Ell’s disbelieving eyes, they sat down at the edge of the surf, looking at one another, and embraced.  They seemed oblivious to the racket of the transport as it landed, its engine noise lost in the ever-increasing roar of the blast wave.

No time to waste figuring out how to open the door; Ell punched out the cockpit window and yelled at them.

“Over here!  Over here!”

No reaction.  Force alive, the din from that thing was terrifying! “Over here!”

She was just bracing herself to accept she’d given them a chance, and must think of herself now, when the young woman pulled back from her companion’s arms and looked round. Next second he turned his head too. They gaped at the sight and then began to struggle to their feet again, moving clumsily, horribly slowly as if this final effort were agony.  The woman was almost dragging the man as they reached the side of the vessel.  Ell felt the hull sink into the sand and the damaged plating groan as the two of them crawled in through the hole.  She glanced back and saw they had fallen in a heap on the filthy deck, clinging to one another.

“Hold onto something!”

The craft was rocking now as ahead of the main blast a howling wind shook it.  Sand and shrapnel and burning pyroclasts rained down on the beach where the couple had knelt a moment before, and rattled on the shaking roof of the transport.  She gunned the engines and hit the drive again with every ounce of her strength.

For a time it was all she could do to keep the damaged craft from flipping itself or crashing to the ground, what with the buffeting it was getting, the rain of debris and the increasingly stormy sea.  She couldn’t get enough lift in the violent air conditions to do more than skim along the surface just above the waves.  All her focus was on the battle with the controls, on keeping upright and moving forwards.  There was no time to look back again and check on her passengers.  She knew she’d almost cut things too fine, going down for them.  But the wreck she was flying held together, somehow, and Ell nailed her toughest-ever race. All the way, she was muttering that old prayer about the force.  Something must have heard her.

Gradually the roaring behind her grew fainter.  The din of thunder and wind lessened, the shower of debris ceased.  She had outrun the shockwave.

Even when the noise of the blast had died away completely Ell kept going.  She would push the battered transport on as long as she could while there was still fuel in the tanks.  At last there was another group of small atolls below her, grass and bushes, swaying palms to dodge.  She hit the landing gear again button hopefully, but there was no answering sound of tracks extending beneath the hull.  Too damaged, she guessed; well, she could ditch the ship, put down in emergency-landing mode on a beach, or in one of the lagoons.  With this much luck already, surely the day wouldn’t begrudge her one more scrap?  

She cut the speed and brought the broken craft down as softly as she could, splashing into the waves and running up onto the shore of one of the larger islands in a fountain of white sand.  The engines choked and died as the stern settled into the water, but the main body of the hull was on dry land.

Ell sat shaking at the controls for a long moment before turning to look at her passengers.  They were both still aboard, somehow they’d managed to hang on.  They crouched in the open belly of the ship now, clinging to one another like frightened children.  

“Sorry about the rough ride,” she said.  

 Chapter two

When the transport took off it was shaking and rattling as if it would fall apart around them.  Jyn only just had time to wrap one arm around a stanchion and the other around Cassian before they were being bounced about like pieces of litter on the floor of the hold.  She hung on tight, feeling his wiry arms lock around her body in an iron grip.  Something hot and wet began to soak into her sleeve and she registered silently that he was still bleeding.

The ship flew like a broken bird, balking and pitching, metal screeching in the teeth of the blast. Cassian grunted sharply at each jolt and she clung on tighter to the bolted steel bar and to him.  They were shaken from side to side, lurching, rolling in the storm current as they raced to stay ahead of the blast.  Outside the torn hull she could the waves rising, a mini tsunami.  The craft gave another violent lurch and the sea shot in, splashing her arm and the whole of Cassian’s left side; he gave a gasp of shock, an involuntary whimper.  

She wanted to cushion him from the battering he was taking.  The turbulence was a nightmare; this undreamt-of rescue could not have been less suitable for an injured man.  Her face was pressed against his throat and she could feel him panting, then swallowing, trying to stifle the sounds of pain.  She was afraid for him, so afraid, feeling his agony in every taut muscle as she held on to him and prayed for safety and life.

The landing when it came at last was one more moment of sheer terror; a sudden hideous descent into freefall, just when their flight had seemed to be levelling out, just when she thought they might have won free from danger.  The whole ship smashed into the waves and bounced, and smashed down again, and hit something solid with an impact that jarred every bone in her body. In the huge din of the crash she felt rather than heard Cassian’s yelping cry; felt him shaking, his hands clenching on her back in a spasm.

The ship settled, hull plates creaking, water sopping in to pool around their boots; for a moment it seemed they were going to sink, but the water was an inch deep, then two, then no more.  

For the first time Jyn let herself sob.  Her left hand and arm were almost numb with gripping on to the ship; under her right, Cassian’s chest heaved painfully as he gasped, hyperventilating in pain and shock. She felt him struggle to slow his breathing.  Thin strong hands holding her, wiry body shaking beneath hers.  Pressed against her, quivering and panting.  His blood hot and wet on her palm, his shattered ribs tight in her embrace.  He drew a deep breath that shuddered as if he were being stabbed, and whispered her name.

“Jyn?…  Jyn, are you alright?”

There was another voice, muffled by the narrowness of the entryway from the flight deck; the pilot, the unknown rescuer, saying something.  Jyn ignored their words.  She just wanted to be able to cling to Cassian and hold him close, and feel his heart beating against her.  It seemed impossible for a moment to let him go; not now, not when he was still alive, still with her after everything.  Not when if she opened her eyes she might have to face losing him again.

He said her name again, his voice breathless and desperate.  “Jyn!”

She made herself raise her head, relax her death-grip on his poor broken body.  Look down at him, her dear wounded friend, her first real comrade, the first man she’d ever thought she could love; lying prone beneath her, struggling to breathe.  His face, so familiar, so dear already, now pale, filthy, blood-streaked, bruised, his hair tangled and sweaty, brown eyes full of fear, then relief as she moved and sat up. She touched his cheek with her right hand, and there was more blood where her fingertips passed.  His blood.  Nonetheless he smiled.  

Her heart tore open at the sight of him.  Cassian, her Cassian, still alive.

The figure in the forward cockpit was scrambling through to them, and Jyn swung round, drawing her blaster. Her hand was shaking so much she feared she’d never land a hit, even at these close quarters.  She didn’t particularly want to shoot their rescuer, but she didn’t want to end up back in an Imperial prison, either.  Besides, she might be a nobody but chances were that Cassian was already a known man; if he were recognised he would be tortured and killed.  She must protect him at all costs.  She owed him her life, and so much more...  

She held the gun up, trying to cover them both, willing it to be steady, and watched as the pilot emerged into the open space of the damaged hold and straightened up.  

And was not an Imperial soldier at all but a woman in a rebel alliance flight suit, the regulation-issue orange and white now dirty and torn but unmistakable.  Her dark face was anxious beneath a crown of close-plaited black hair.

At Jyn’s side, Cassian drew in a gasp of breath and reached up to push her weapon aside.  It was a confident gesture, the Cassian she knew so well already, putting her right in his quietly certain way; but the sudden movement made him whimper aloud, and she lowered the blaster, looking at him in alarm. He was breathing fast now, his fine lips compressed together; he closed his eyes tightly for an instant.  “Are you okay?” she asked helplessly, and he shook his head.  Even that tiny movement made him clench his jaw for a moment and gasp again.  

The pilot came quickly over, boots scuffing through the puddle of seawater on the deck.  “What happened?  He looks in a bad way…”

“He was shot,” Jyn said. “Please, he needs medical attention. No, Cassian, Cassian, don’t pass out, stay with me!”

With a visible effort Cassian raised his head and opened his eyes again.  He braced his hands on the tilted steel deck, pushing down and shoving his back up against the hull.  The effort made him groan aloud.  The sound terrified Jyn.  “Cassian, don’t…  stop, you’re hurting yourself…  please don’t, let me help you!”  When she touched him he flinched away, turning huge wild eyes on her.

“Let me – just let me…” His voice was a weak grunt of effort.

She felt so helpless, so utterly useless, watching him as he fought to sit up, absolutely contained in his pain.  She saw his lips quiver with the sounds he was suppressing, his nostrils flare with each breath.  Her own jaw tightened in echo of his tension, mirroring each movement he made.  At last he was sitting with his back supported and legs stretched out.  With a long gasp of relief he stopped pushing himself and sank back against the hull, panting for breath.  Then he reached to probe the wound in his side and choked back a cry of pain.

“Stop!  Stop, don’t!”  The words were torn from her, her voice shook up and down the scale. Hells, she sounded like a squealing kid. She had to get a grip.  “Please, Cassian, let me help you.  You’ve helped me so much, let me help you now. Please!”

He met her eyes, with a look so despairing Jyn felt sick.  She swallowed her fear though its tang bit at her gullet.  She’d never seen him afraid, but he was now.  He might die and he knew it.  She knew it.  She couldn’t lose him.  

She had to get a grip. She couldn’t let him see her falling apart.  

“Don’t look at me like that. You’re stronger than this.  You’re alive, you’re safe, you’re with me, I am not going to let you leave me now!”

Again that tiny shadow of a smile through the pain, and he gasped “How bad is it?  I can’t – can’t see…”

Jyn leaned over.  As gently as she could she tugged his shirt free and lifted the fabric, baring the massive blaster burn to the air.  Around the edge of the hole, scorched threads had fused to his skin, so that the cloth was tearing at him with every movement he made. As if that were not bad enough, the burn had been broken open somehow, probably when he fell; a bloody wound smashed red across the blackened, seared flesh, and there was the ghastly whiteness of visible bone in one place.  As she helped him pull the shirt up she could see huge bruises too, already purpling every inch of unburned skin on both sides of his body.  

Cassian shuddered when she touched one of them and threw his head back with a grunt of agony.

Beside Jyn the pilot had reappeared, holding out something flat and square.   “Imperial med-kit,” she said in a husky voice.  “There are three in that locker there.  I don’t know how much good it’ll be, never used one of theirs but” – she forced the clasp with a wrench of her hands – “it’s got to be better than nothing, right?”

They tossed through the contents hastily while Cassian sat panting next to them.  He had closed his eyes again.  On each new breath his jaw clenched down hard, as though he were trying to grip onto life with his gritted teeth.

There were several sprays in the kit; styptic, antiseptic, finally a chemical name Jyn recognised as an analgesic.  She grabbed the can and shook it.  “Cassian, this is a pain-reliever.  It may sting for a moment but then it should help.  Hang on, don’t give up on me!”

She had done field medicine before, had watched men bleed and scream and die, when she was with Saw, when she was a soldier.  But that was before she watched Saw choose to stay behind in the destruction at Jedhu, before she watched her father die, before she faced her own death and found the only sorrow in her was because the last person she had ever cared about had kept his word and stayed there with her, and so must die too.  

She would not let it happen.

Cassian inhaled sharply at the first touch of the spray but then slowly began to relax as the drug entered his bloodstream.  She covered the hideous wound with a thick coating and then moved on to the largest of his bruises.  The blood on her hand smeared the white canister as she set it down.

He was beginning to breathe more easily, the analgesic kicking in hard.  He met her eyes with another of those sweet ghost smiles and whispered “Giving me the good stuff, huh?”

“Yeah…”  She smiled back.  Show him you’re in control, you know what you’re doing, you’re going to get him the help he needs.  Don’t let him see the shock and fear eating you up.  You can’t lose him too.  Show how much faith you have in him, show him you know he’ll recover.  

Her blood-stained hands sought his and their fingers tangled together.  

“How bad is it?” he asked. His voice was weak but calm.  

“It’s,” Jyn said, “It’s – it’s bad, it’s bad, Cassian…”

She couldn’t let go; couldn’t let him go.  She tried not to look at the pale gleam of bone in the midst of the open wound. Burned, torn, broken…  She drew a tense breath and forced herself to go on speaking.  “It looks as though you’ve broken most of your ribs.  The blaster burn is huge, as bad as any I’ve seen, and it’s been ripped open by something, some sort of impact.”  It was too much, she wasn’t going to be able to be this strong; she burst out “I don’t have the first aid skills for this, Cassian, I don’t know what to do…”

“I know you’ll do your best,” he said with that frail grin.  “You always do.”

The pilot was holding up a second can; the antiseptic.  “I’m Ell, by the way, Ell Shammen.  We’re going to get you patched up as much as we can.  Cassian, is it?  Hang in there, brother.  You’re going to be okay.”  To Jyn she added “I’d give him some of this if I were you.  I’ll start get a dressing prepped.”

“Yes,” Jyn said helplessly. “Yes, that would be good.”  She knew it was good sense, but her will seemed not to be working for her momentarily.  “I don’t know how much help I can be, I’m sorry, I can’t do this… Can you apply it, please?”  Her voice shook and she hated it and herself. Her lips felt numb, her hands shook, her heart-beat going crooked and askew, the tempo all wrong inside her.

Cassian squeezed her hand between his.   His eyes were locked on hers.  She wondered if he knew how much of a beacon he was to her now.   Kindness and strength, and the courage to admit error, courage such as she’d never known.  Courage to stay around.  

“We’ll take turns,” Ell said.  “I’m not going to lie to you, man, this is a nasty mess, but we’ll get you cleaned up.”

Between them they cleaned the wound; then strand by strand they teased out every last bit of the burned thread from his flesh.  It seemed to take hours.  The smell of scorched flesh was horrible, the more so for being flesh she cherished, flesh that held safe the strongest heart she knew.  When she couldn’t bear the fear any more, Ell went on; when Ell’s hands began to shake, Jyn took over again.  

Occasionally he whimpered in the back of his throat, a tiny sound almost stifled into silence. Mostly he just clenched his fists or gripped Jyn’s hands.  

At last the job was done, and she rinsed Cassian’s side again with the painkiller before covering it with a dressing and fixing it down.  She touched him as gently as she knew how.  There was nothing she could do about the other injuries, though probably most of them were broken bones.  

At last she helped him draw the burned shirt back over his torso, and supported him to lie down again. He lay on the deck, grey-faced in shock, shivering despite the humid heat of the day.  Jyn pulled off her vest and laid it over him to give him a little more warmth.

She was aware that Ell had risen and moved away.  There was a creak of straining mental as another locker was forced open, rustling and a thump as she began rummaging through the contents.  

Jyn knew the pilot was being perfectly sensible and practical.  But she remained at Cassian’s side.  

She wanted to say so much, and had no idea what to say.  She remembered her father’s last words and a howl of grief welled up inside her at the thought of repeating them herself.  She stifled it, just as Cassian was stifling his own voice.  She knew why that was, that neither of them would give the other the pain of seeing their hurt.  Neither of them could bear it, not after so much.

She had faced death barely an hour ago, and still could not quite comprehend that it hadn’t happened. But she was alive, and so was he. She had accepted letting go of everything, had been at peace with never seeing her hopes fulfilled, and now must take it all back into her life, everything she’d cast aside; because there was after all something to live for, something to hope for, and it was something she’d never known.  

She reached out and stroked his forehead for a second, brushing the sweaty hair back out of his eyes.  

“Stay alive,” she told him.

He nodded weakly. “Yes.  Yes, I mean to,” he murmured.  He yawned and winced, closing his eyes.  His breathing became slower and more even as the drugs worked deeper into his system.  Jyn stayed with him till she was sure he was asleep.  He had stayed with her, she would do the same for him, no matter what.

Chapter three

Cassian woke with a jolt from a dream of all-consuming fire.  He tried to sit up and could not.  His whole body was burning, one huge stinging bonfire of pain that radiated out from his wounded side; and he was trying to push the flames away but his hands would not move, his mouth was desert-dry and annealed shut, his heart pounding ever faster as he struggled to escape.  Jyn was nowhere to be seen, only the flames, everywhere; and he knew he’d lost her, he’d failed her and his mission, and now he was dying alone as he’d always known he would in the end.  He cried out in despair and the fire curled round his lips and went inside him, and engulfed him, and burned him to ashes.

He woke and there was no fire, only the sound of waves and wind and the call of seabirds.  

He had no idea how long he’d been asleep.  His mouth was dry as tomb dust and sore with thirst; that much at least of the dream had been real.  His side hurt, in fact most of him hurt, but it was manageable pain.  He pushed himself onto his elbows and sat up cautiously.

The effort brought on a burst of small stabbing pains cascading round his ribcage, like a string of fireworks snapping off inside him.  Yes, the analgesic was still working, but clearly beginning to wear off.  He grunted and swallowed down a curse, gritting his teeth and looking around.  

Where was Jyn?

Someone spoke outside, a low voice, unfamiliar but calm in tone and rational, and after a moment there was an answer.  He couldn’t catch Jyn’s words but the sound of her voice was unmistakable.  They were okay, Jyn and the pilot, they were outside, just a few metres off, talking, safe.  The sea washed against the hull of the transport and a tiny wavelet came in through the hole and rippled across the pool beside his boots.  The women went on talking outside in low voices, and the birds went on calling, thin sweet keening cries on the breeze.  They were safe.  All of them.

He was looking around for something to drink when the blaster fire began.  

He flattened himself instinctively and a jolt of pain ripped through him, radiating out like fire from every damaged nerve.  There was a gun lying by an open locker on the far side of the deck.  Cassian hauled himself onto his hands and knees and dragged himself towards it, but by the time he reached it and caught it up in one hand, the shooting had stopped.

He struggled back into a sitting position, panting through the waves of pain in his ribcage, and brought the weapon to bear on the hole in the hull.  Nothing moved beyond, across his whole line of sight.  Nothing and no-one; stillness and silence, not even the seabirds now.  He crawled forward to the ripped plating, the gun shaking in his hand.  He had to reach Jyn before it was too late.  

The gunfire had been intense, sustained, at least one heavy-duty blaster being used to fire a long series of bolts of energy.  She might already be dead; trapped and killed after everything she’d endured, or captured, helpless, taken while he slept like a coward.

He slumped against the side of the hull, dizzy with pain, and peered out.  There were two figures on the sand, and something large and dark and smooth-sided a few feet from them. Then Jyn’s voice said angrily “Who builds a fucking sniper rifle without a silencer?!”  He blinked back the blinding light and saw her; unharmed, angry, utterly herself. She threw a large blaster into the sand at her feet.  Her face was so coldly furious that for a moment he thought she was going to kick the gun in rage.  Then she looked up and saw him.

She swore and came limping over, starting to hold one hand out and then drawing back as she reached him. “Shit!  I didn’t mean to disturb you.  I thought I’d got the damned thing on silent.”

“What’s going on?” he asked. “Who are you shooting at?”

“Nobody.  A gas canister.”

“So are you just working off your frustration on it, or what?”

That got him a flicker of a smile from her.  “I’m trying to cut it in half.  We need a water-tight container, to make a purifier, so we can start to desalinate sea water.  I know what I’m doing, I’ve done it before.”

“I believe you.” Hell, she’d lived eight years of her life with that madman Gerrera, there was no knowing what she might have done to survive.  Building a desalination kit out of bits of cut-up spacecraft was probably child’s-play to Jyn.

“Of course you believe me.” She sounded brisk, but her eyes held his and after a second she added “I’m sorry I woke you.”    

She reached up and gave his hand a quick squeeze, then turned and headed back down to the beach to where Ell was examining the cylinder thoughtfully.

He wondered how long the construction would take.  Speaking had made his mouth feel even more desiccated, and the midday sun was beating down on the beach.

He leaned against the plating in the hull breach and watched as the two women worked.  They seemed to have come to an efficient division of tasks; Jyn using the blaster to burn holes in the waist-high canister, the more powerfully-built Ell weakening them further with blows from something that looked like the internal support of a landing track.  They were both pouring with sweat in the humid day.  Sometimes they would pause and talk, heads down over the task.  They kept their voices low, as though a hush could help after the din of blasting and pounding metal.  

Then the noise stopped. They were poring over their handiwork, bending close and prising together at something, he could not see what. After the racket of a few moments earlier the stillness curled gradually into his mind, peace lulling him with the lapping of waves on the sand and the calm blueness of sea and sky, the golden beach in the sunlight.  Far out, there was a line of surf, sparkling white water where a reef fringed the island. The wind made a soft, soothing sound in the palm trees.  The birds called.  The women murmured, working, absorbed in their task.

It would have been good to sleep again.  But Cassian’s dry lips were burning with thirst and it became harder and harder to think of anything else but the heat.  He closed his eyes, the pistol slipping from his fingers.

Sand crunched unevenly under boots and he blinked and saw Jyn standing in front of him.  “You should be lying down,” she said brusquely.

“I’m okay.”

“No you’re not, look at you. You’re practically fainting with pain.  Please, Cassian, you need to rest.”

“I’m just thirsty.” His voice came out as a dry whisper. “Be glad when you finish your little engineering project.”

Jyn swore.  “Why didn’t you say so?  We have water.  Not much, but some.”  She turned and tramped back down the beach and came back holding a bottle.  “Here, drink.”  

It was embarrassing how eagerly his hands reached for it.  The bottle was heavy, a big two-litrejon almost full, its casing gritty with sand. He fumbled the cap off and took a long pull of water.  It was lukewarm, but clean, a blessing in his parched mouth.  He swallowed and gulped more, the sweet freshness of life, cleansing and restoring; then noticed her jaw tighten.  He lowered the bottle carefully.  “Is this all we’ve got?”

“Until the purifier is working, yes.”

“Shit.”  Cassian twisted the cap back in place.  “Sorry, I didn’t realise.”

“No, it’s – it’s my fault.” She had to force the words out, her face a mask, and he suddenly saw her as the kid she must have been, a child soldier like himself, always trying to be as good as the bigger boys, always trying not to be sent back or dismissed or ridiculed for not being good enough, strong enough, fierce enough.  Courtesy and kindness as absent from her life as they had been from his.  An apology a thing harder to speak even than words of love.

“I should have asked,” he said. “So my fault too.  But thank you for the drink.”

“Have a little more; we’ve both had some already.”

“I’m okay.”

“No, you should have it. Please.”

Another word that didn’t come easily to her.  He took one more mouthful, watching her as he held the water in his mouth and slowly swallowed it by increments.  Her blue-green eyes never left his, but when he capped the bottle again she took it from him without a word, and carried it back to where she was working.

A little later, Ell came over and climbed past him into the transport.  She leaned into the cockpit and emerged with something that looked like a folded parachute.  He glanced up at her, then turned his attention back to Jyn where she crouched on the sand.  The gas cylinder was in two sections now and she seemed to be fixing something inside the larger part carefully.

“I’d appreciate your help sometime,” Ell said quietly.

That made him look up. “What with?”

“She won’t let me look at that leg.  I’m sure you can see she’s hurt, but I’m getting turned down flat when I suggest checking it.  She just says we should keep what med-kit we’ve got for you.”

“Oh.”  Stubborn, self-willed Jyn.

“I figure you may still not make it, given that massive hole in your side.  You could pick up an infection and be dead by tomorrow.  But she’s got every chance of survival with proper first aid, so she ought to get that burn treated now before there’s any long-term muscle damage.  I hope you don’t mind my being frank about it.”

“I’ll speak to her” Cassian said.  He didn’t add any thoughts on whether it was worth it.

The big woman jumped down onto the beach again.  

He lay watching them as they finished assembling the purifier.  They filled its outer section with sea water, and tied a large piece of parachute fabric over the top.  Jyn didn’t look at him, and he didn’t ask for the water again.  By the time they came back to the ship and climbed in at dusk, he had already crawled over to his sleeping spot and lain down.  

Ell was right, he told himself; their odds were far stronger than his and he had no right to change that by demanding their attention.  Jyn was better off without anything distracting her.  It was best she not realise how he craved her presence, like a needy child; or like a dying man seeking comfort in beauty and hope, in sunshine and distant breakers on a beach, and a friend smiling at him, a dream of things they couldn’t have.

Night fell quickly. The only light source they had was Ell’s suit torch, which gave a weak glow rather than a focussed beam.  He watched sleepily as they crept about by its light.  Jyn took a long swig from the bottle of water and set it down.  He murmured her name and she came over and knelt beside him, visibly favouring the injured leg.

“How are you feeling?” Her face was a mask in the shadows but her voice was soft.

“Not too bad…  You’re still limping.  Jyn, how bad is your leg?”

“Don’t start,” she said crossly.  “I’ve had her on at me all day about it.  It’s fine, I’ve had far worse.”

It was exactly the response he’d expected and he sighed and pulled a face, and then wished he hadn’t. She didn’t need to feel mocked by him. But with luck she wouldn’t see his expression in the near-darkness.  He said quickly “So how’s the project going?”

“It took longer than I’d hoped but it’s done.  We should be getting something by mid-morning, provided the sun shines.”

“I’m pretty sure the sun always shines here,” Ell put in from across the hold.

“That’s the idea.”  He could tell by Jyn’s voice that she had grinned momentarily.  He remembered that quick fierce smile.

“I’m glad you’ll have enough water,” he told her.

“We.  We’ll have water.”

“Yes…”

Ell switched the torch off, and the night wrapped itself round his eyes and flooded into every corner of the ship.  

Jyn whispered furiously in the dark “Cassian!  Don’t you give up on me – don’t – don’t you dare!”

“I’m tired.”  

There was a movement of air on his cheek, as though she had passed a hand near him and drawn back. He turned his head to face her as she lay down.  After a moment he felt a gentle touch on his forearm.  He reached out and found her hand, and their fingers entwined.  Jyn sighed wearily and moved, shifting onto her side and laying her other hand over his.  He could hear her breathing now, could feel the faint current in the air each time she exhaled.  So close, yet so far off.  His own breath steadied as he listened.

Waves lapped against the hull quietly.

“Cassian…”  It was no more than a voiced breath of air.  He imagined her lips, parted to shape the sound of his name.

“I’m here…”

“I mean it.  Don’t give up on me.”

It was the second time she’d tried to keep him with her when he slept.  He wondered if she thought he might not wake up.  It might well be for the best if he didn’t.  He squeezed her hand.

“I couldn’t bear it,” she said.   Even in a whisper her voice was tight with control.  "I need you to live.  I know you can make it."

The darkness gathered Cassian in, gentle, warm as her hands in his.  The night’s sleep he had never thought to have, side by side with someone who would not leave him.  He slept breathing her breath, held by her hope.  

Chapter 4

Ell woke tense, and saw daylight.  Outside the hull, one of the seabirds gave a shriek that might have been an alarm call. She rolled over and sat up, fingers already closing on her blaster.  That must have been what broke her sleep, the birds screaming.  Only the birds.

She looked across the hold and saw the other two were both asleep; holding hands, heavens help them. Both of them breathing slow and even, far gone in the deepest reaches of sleep.  Once again she thought how like a couple of lost kids they looked.  Brave and scared and exhausted, and still battling on and doing their duty; and on top of all of that, in love.  Hell, war was a bitch.

She crawled to the hull breach as quietly as she could and looked out.

The sea was calm and the early light slanted through the trees.  Several of the birds were wheeling overhead and calling.  She leaped down into the sand and walked round the transport, weapon in hand, but there was no other sign of life.  She circled back to where the purifier sat on the sand.  

The morning sunlight lay full on it and there was already condensation beading on the underside of the translucent fabric.  Ell silenced a whoop, remembering her sleeping companions; punched the air instead.  The risk of death had just receded by several weeks.  They had a water supply.

Now they only needed food, shelter, latrines, and to evade capture; and eventually some way of getting off planet.  Okay, so none of that was simple; perhaps the desire to celebrate was a little premature. But still, this was real progress. She patted the fabric-covered cylinder as she passed it.  

She’d been unable last night to make her mind up whether saving two of the madmen from the Rogue One crew had been an act of virtue or a cruelty to them.  She decided now not to think about what might happen to the kids if they ever got back to headquarters; they were mutineers, after all, however suicidally brave they and their shipmates had been.  But for now the only thing that mattered was to stay alive.

Jyn was a tough little thing but she had the look of one of those hard sorts who have been tested too many times and gone brittle under strain.  Losing Cassian might well be the final straw for her.  Now the purifier was built and operational Ell couldn’t keep her busy indefinitely; sooner or later her thoughts would always come back to the young man and her anxiety for him, and fear would hurt her more each time. She needed the captain not to die.

And he deserved to live anyway.  His calm in the face of the risks facing him was admirable.  No wonder he’d had the cool courage to find volunteers for a mission that desperate, the confidence to lead them to Scarif.  The Alliance needed people like that, people who would see danger and face it and not turn back.  

Her stomach rumbled. Ugh, she was so hungry it felt like something alive squirming in her innards.  Next most crucial thing after water was to have some kind of food.  There had to be something…

She scrambled up to the highest ground and stood between two of the trees, surveying her surroundings.

There must surely be fish in the lagoon, and water weeds.  She peered at the surface, at the vague patterns and colours below the blue.   Seagrass, by the looks of it, in wide beds just offshore; and something green and gauzy, drifting from anchor points here and there on the sand.  That was a good start; seaweeds were often edible.  There were leaves on the scraggy bushes around her, thin pale grasses and herbs up here in the soil on the thin humped back of the island.  Insects humming in the air.  The trees; they might bear fruit, if she or Jyn could only climb up to gather it.  No carbohydrates worth a toss, but with fish and some kind of vegetable matter they could survive for a while.  And maybe some of the birds had nests; eggs were a good food source, too.  She followed the circling wings thoughtfully, watching one bird and then another head back towards the horizon.  Towards a dark shape in the middle distance, on the far side of the reef.

Another island?  It was bulky and black, and treeless.  It looked more like a huge box on its side in the water.  The birds swooped down to the water beside it, settled, rose again, fought in the air, snatching at one another’s beaks.  That was the shrieking she’d heard; not alarm cries but the seabirds squabbling over food.

Ell went down the far beach to the shore at a run.  She tucked the gun inside her flight suit to protect it from the wet and began to wade out in the direction of the black shape.  Bright forms scudded away from her shadow in the water.  Yes, definitely fish, and lots of them.  She’d work out how to catch them later.  For now she had something more serious to investigate.

**

Sunlight caught in the ripples in the pool of water at Jyn’s feet.  She lay unmoving for a long time, watching the shimmering surface, the gleam on each wavelet running past.  A tiny thing to be looking at, just a puddle in a tilted ship’s hull; a quiver in the surface of the water, and quiet light oblique in the morning stillness; and she would never have seen it, if she had not lived.

She turned her head to watch Cassian again, lying sleeping beside her.  His face was empty of thought, all the expression lines gone soft in flat weariness, all his spirit stilled and settled deep into rest.  Rest he most desperately needed, she knew. His hand was warm in hers.  She did not try to wake him.  The breath fluttered in his nostrils and the tiny silky hairs of his moustache shifted infinitesimally; his dry lips parted and closed again in sleep.  Then he inhaled more sharply and his eyelids tightened and relaxed again, the little frown line coming and going on his brow.

She remembered him embracing her on the beach.  Less than a day, only a few hours ago.  All of his iron strength wrapped around her, keeping her safe, telling her without words that she was not alone even now at the end of all things, that she would never be alone again.  It had been so easy to hold one another, to be close to him and fearless in the face of death.  This quiet, pale man sleeping beside her.  

His lips were so fine, even cracked and sore as they looked now; something so delicate in that taut curve. His face was thin, too thin, and there were dark shadows under his eyes. The little lines of tension and thought lifted and pinned and tugged his expression even now in sleep.  He must be dreaming.  He didn’t wake, but he shifted painfully and sighed, no longer resting deep and blank in peace.  His fingers tightened on hers.  

She knew that kind of troubled sleep.  She knew this kind of bone-deep exhaustion, too; knew it intimately and with agony. One thing to be worn to a thread yourself, to be stretched too taut to move, then be beaten and broken down yet more and still have to get up, still have to go on, still have to be an honourable soldier.  Quite another to see someone else in the  same position, and be unable to help them.  He had never really rested in all his life, not since he was that six-year-old he spoke of.  

Pain tightened the knot between his brows.  She wanted to take it away.  She didn’t dare move for fear of disturbing him.  

She lay looking at his dark lashes, at the quivering eyelids as Cassian dreamed.  

He deserved so much better than anything she could give or be.  She was a lashed-together mess of rage and fear and tension.  He deserved a well of life to heal him, someone calm as the moon, who could hold all his pain and regret, all his guilt, all his bad memories and worse dreams.  Someone who could absorb all that and never  reflect back so much as a glimmer of that hurt.  He deserved peace, and there was no peace in her.

But he would probably tell her she deserved better.  He had no notion of his own worth.  He’d given her back faith in humanity, given her hope undreamed-of, and opened the door to show her how much she still believed even now.

Cassian’s eyelids stilled and his nostrils stopped flaring.  He seemed momentarily to be breathing more easily.  She wanted him to sleep so easy forever.  

But to wake, also. She wanted those bright dark eyes that were so full of purpose to open, and meet hers, and to be without any shadow.

Damn it, how much easier things would have been if she’d just been able to act on the physical attraction, back when they first met, on Yavin 4.  Lust was straightforward, if seldom very rewarding; this was not.  This was a friendship and a loving-kindness like a wound in her self-sufficiency.  This was hope and fear and tenderness, tying her mind down and hampering every thought.  She bled with longing to see him well; she’d bear it all for him, would happily have endured far more if it could lighten his pain; and she could do nothing for him at all.  

Cassian inhaled deeply and flinched in his sleep; Jyn flinched with him.  If only she could have been what he deserved in life. Since they had life, after all.

The long dark lashes fluttered and opened, and the dark eyes she loved and feared loving looked into hers, and focussed sleepily, and smiled.  She thought of the broken bones, the burned nerve endings, the bloody flesh under the dressing on his ribs; the smile lifting the corners of his mouth, coexistent with all that agony.  He was tough as all hells.  He would make it.

“How do you feel?”

“Sore…”  Which had to be understatement of the year, even for Cassian.  “It’s good to see you.”

It was good to see him, so good she didn’t know how to say it.  She bit her lip and looked away.

“Jyn,” he said softly. “I need to talk to you.  If I don’t make it” –

“You’re going to make it!” she broke in, shocked.  How could he say that?  It couldn’t happen, he had to stop thinking like that –

“If I don’t make it I want you to know how much I’ve come to care about you, how much I want you to live and be happy” –

“Stop it!  Don’t talk like that, you’re going to make it through this!”

“Stay alive, Jyn!  Do whatever you have to to survive.  Keep fighting, keep hoping!  I love you so much.  I’m so happy you made it.”

It was too much to take in. “Stop talking like that.  You’re going to live.  You have to!”  How dare he, how dare he! - surely he knew by now how it would break her to go through this again, to cherish and care and lose again?  How could it be loving, to talk to her like this?  “You were meant to die with me.  We both knew that, we both accepted it, it’s sheer chance that it didn’t happen that way.  For both of us!  I’m not letting you go, Cassian.  I’ve been trying to tell you that!  Why are we still even discussing this?!”

“I want you to live,” he said.  As if it was his decision to make, his to choose and impose on her.  

“I want to live too, damn it, but I want you to live as well.  Don’t you want that?  Or did I imagine you saying you love me just now?  Did I just dream that?”

It seemed so wildly beyond belief that she would not have been surprised if he denied it outright, just moments after he’d said the words.  He loved her?  How could he love her when she could never love herself?  He deserved all the peace she had never known, all the hope she would never find in herself.

“On the beach,” Cassian said, frail and determined and utterly self-possessed as always “I knew I was going to die.  I didn’t mind.  I’d done my best, we all had, and it had been enough.  The only thing I could regret was that you had to die too, when you deserve so much more.”

He could have been speaking her own thoughts back to her.  She began to blurt out a retort and stopped herself, hurt angry words dying in her throat.  Remembered the purifier waiting on the sands, carefully placed in the full sun.  The litres of brine she’d poured in would be evaporating and condensing again by now; by noon they’d have more than enough drinking water.  No-one was giving up now!

She swallowed hard and pushed herself into a sitting position, looking down at him.  He began to do the same and gave a little huff of pain. She reached out to support him and help him sit up too.  “No, Cassian. It’s you who deserve more.  You’ve given your whole life for the cause. I’ve never had that capacity for selflessness.  Listen to me! I don’t know what we can do or be, now, I don’t know if we’ll make it, just like I don’t know if our message got through to anyone.  But I believe it did and I believe we will!  So I’m going to get the water, and we’re both going to have a drink, and then I’m going to check your wound and change your dressing and give you some more of that painkiller, because we both need to do what we can to stay alive.  Not just me.  Both of us.  Don’t shake your head!  Listen, before we had bacta, before we had good antiseptics even, people had terrible injuries and survived.  Maybe not as many as today, but they did, some of them did.  Even after worse things than this, major surgeries, amputations. Truly.  If we keep this wound clean there’s no reason it shouldn’t heal eventually. It may take a long time, you may have massive scars, adhesions, nerve damage, I don’t know, but you have as good a chance of living as me and I refuse to believe otherwise.”

“Ell doesn’t think so,” he said quietly.

“She can be cold-blooded if she feels like it, she isn’t in love with you.  I am!”

That silenced him. Comical, really, when it was his confession had set her off on this outburst.  Well, she’d blown it now.  Nothing left to hide behind.  He’d better have meant it when he said it, because she was going in with all guns blazing.

“Cassian, we have the time we never thought we’d get, time to be friends, time to care about one another, work together, fight together, go home together, all of it, time to hope together, time to love one another.  Time to learn how to do that.  If that’s what you want.  The others all died, we owe it to them to live in the time we still have.”  She would never have thought such words could feel so meaningful; her younger self would have laughed mockingly at anyone using such clichés.  But all she could see now as she spoke was Bodhi Rook’s kind, anxious face as they prepped for take-off yesterday morning; and Chirrut’s calm smile, Baze’s world-weary good-humour; K2 stalking down corridors beside her being sarcastic. The life they’d all lost was a precious thing to have.  She finished in a rush of emotion “So don’t talk to me about not making it, because we go together, d’you hear me?  Live, or die, together.”

He put up one hand to her cheek.  She caught hold of the front of his shirt and tugged his face towards hers and kissed him on the lips as he began to smile.  A clumsy dry-mouthed kiss that tasted of morning breath and nothing to eat, and tiredness only half-assuaged.  She felt instantly as awkward as a child caught out by someone, spotted in her favourite hideaway.  But she couldn’t stop herself.  His lips were warm under hers.

Cassian wrapped his right arm round her and buried his hand in her hair, and kissed her back, hard. And it wasn’t awkward at all, and it seemed he couldn’t stop himself either.

They only parted when the pilot’s shadow fell over them.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Ell said.  “But you might want to come and look at what I’ve found...”

Chapter 5

Their expressions were so chagrined she wished she’d stood outside and coughed first.  Perhaps “Sorry to interrupt” hadn’t been the most tactful thing to say, either.  Too late now; and besides, she’d been working hard for the last hour, investigating the wreck, hauling back goodies from the other side of the lagoon, and they’d been making the most of it in peace and quiet.  

It didn’t do to begrudge lovers, Ell reminded herself.  She might be forty-five and an old married woman but she could still remember what it felt like to be young and crazy and head-over-heels about someone you’d only just met.  The kids deserved some peace and quiet, especially after what they’d gone through yesterday. And getting kissed seemed to have given the captain a bit of energy.   His cheeks had way more colour than a few hours ago.  

She remembered what it felt like to make a man blush with happiness.  She and Samrut, those first few months, Force alive, they’d been wild for one another!  

But thinking about Sam reminded her of too much, and she shut the thought away.  She’d get home to him somehow.  If her plan worked.  For now, first things first.  Hopefully her news would give the kids more to smile about.

She heaved the bundle of webbing from her shoulder and dumped it in the hold; climbing in after it she pulled the improvised wrappings and ties open while they stared.

The contents had got thoroughly jumbled on the way back.  The first item in the top was the flat carton of Nutribars.  She tossed it towards Jyn.  “We have food.  They’re mostly munu-nut, so I hope neither of you is allergic.”

She was hoping for an effect and she got it.  Jyn threw herself on the box, hauling off the lid with a yelp of such delight that Cassian laughed aloud.  Next second he was clutching his ribs with a stifled oath and trying to stop laughing; but the reaction had been completely genuine, and he smiled as she scrambled back and hugged him with her hands full of protein bars.

Ell sat down wearily with her back to the hull.  The kids were already scoffing down chunks of munu, beaming at one another as though the mealy-flavoured paste were the sweetest candy known to humankind.  She sorted through the rest of the bundle and spread its contents out along the deck like offerings, and took another bar for herself, to chew on while she considered them.  Prizes from the sea and from her fight with the wreck, and signs of how much more there was to come.  Treasure.

When she’d finished the bar she uncapped the old water bottle and took a long swig, and leaning across the hold she passed it over.  "I'll refill this next."  

Jyn was actually giggling with happiness.  All her buttoned-up grim determination seemed to have vanished for the moment, in the sheer elation of having been first kissed and then fed in rapid succession. She took a swallow and passed the bottle on to the captain; looked up at Ell to say “The purifier's working then?”

“It is.  And there are fish, look.”  Ell indicated the large pink-scaled fish she had shot by the wreck.

Jyn grinned.  She took another bar and unwrapped it; broke it in half and gave the larger piece to Cassian.  “I said I knew what I was doing.”

“You did.”  His expression was adoring as he looked at her. Then he turned to Ell and his face became cool, a mask of seriousness falling, the bright eyes going still.   He suddenly looked ten years older and every inch the spy.  “So would you say our odds are any better for this?  We have a water supply, and a few days’ worth of food?  Or are you going to suggest I don’t eat any more, for Jyn’s sake?”

“Hey, I never said that!” Ell held out both hands, trying to combine admonishment and pacification in one gesture.  As Sam was fond of saying, one of these days her big mouth was going to get her in trouble.  “I’m sorry, look, I know I’m not a tactful woman but I wasn’t trying to imply I thought you should end yourself.  Just trying to be realistic.”  He raised an eyebrow but let her go on.  “And yes, to answer your question, our odds are definitely much better as of now.  Look at all this stuff.  There’s a wreck on the far side of the lagoon.  A TIE fighter.  It must have been caught right on the edge of the blast.  It’s damaged in one wing but the main hull is intact and I found all this and a hell of a lot more inside.”

“Any crew?”

“One guy, very dead.” She had already decided to gloss over that part.  The Imperial pilot had clearly been as badly injured as Cassian, probably worse; he’d got as far as crawling out of his ship but must have died in the shallows.  When she found him his body was already being eaten, by fish like the one she had caught.  It was possible the fish had even killed him; some of them were big enough. She went on quickly.  “Which kind of brings me to my other bit of news. Or, well, more absence of news. Have you noticed anyone flying overhead?”  They both shook their heads.  “Nor have I. It’s almost a day since the battle began.  They fire their monster super-weapon and then move off, and don’t even stop to assess the effectiveness of the strike?  They don’t look around to see if there are any survivors?  They don’t bother to take prisoners?  The Empire?  I never heard of such a thing.  I’m no analyst, but that suggests to me that they’re pretty pre-occupied elsewhere. And that could be good news for us.”

Cassian glanced across at Jyn, a silent look that had nothing flirtatious about it.  “Pre-occupied,” he said thoughtfully.  “Could mean we gave them something to think about.  That our message got through.”  She nodded, her eyes fierce and suddenly bright.

“And,” Ell added “The longer they don’t bother with a clean-up operation on Scarif, the more likely it is that we can get away before anyone comes sniffing around here.”

“Get away?” Jyn looked round sharply.  “In what, this TIE fighter?  I thought you said it was damaged?”

“It is.  It’s busted, but not as badly as this thing.  Between the two of them I think we’ve got the makings of a functioning ship.  We can patch the fighter with parts from here.  That way we’d have a hyperdrive, and shields, and fuel reserves.  It’d be cramped, but if we just made one jump, to the nearest Alliance world, it wouldn’t be too bad.  We just need to do some more of your best improvised engineering.”

“Just,” Cassian said, wry. “It sounds a little bit more challenging than that.”

Jyn glanced at him, her mouth quirking sideways.  “Just a little,” she said.  

Ell grinned too.  “Ah, come on, girl, my husband is an engineer, so was your father, we’ve already learned how to break stuff with blasters, what could go wrong?”

Cassian started to chuckle and groaned. “Ow, oh, it hurts to laugh!”

At least he did seem to have forgiven her.  Perhaps that momentary coldness had been some kind of test.  Heavens knew what sort of tests and games spies had to play.  Ell was glad to be a practical woman who didn’t bother with such things.  Subtleties wasted so much time.  “Now, how about I cook this fish?  Or are you going to tell  me it’s too risky to make a fire?  Because of the smoke?”

“The amount of noise you two made yesterday,” Cassian said “Crashing around with your ‘engineering’, I think anyone who was looking would have showed up by now.  Like you said, no-one seems to be searching for us.  Or for this poor bastard who crashed his fighter. That’s not to say this isn’t possibly the craziest plan I’ve ever heard.  But I think it’s worth looking into.  You should go over to the reef, Jyn, take a look.  I bet between you you’ll think of something.”

“I’m checking your side first, remember.  It’s time you had some more of that painkiller spray.”  

“Damn, that reminds me!” Ell patted another of her best finds.  “There was another med-pac, a proper one.  Not like these boxes of fucking stick-ums and numb-spray they give the infantry!  It’s got a lot more stuff, hypo-sprays and things, even a scanner.”

Jyn sprang to her feet. “Give it to me!”  She flipped back the clasps on the pack and peered inside.   Her face lit up and she gave a triumphant “Yes!”

“Hypo-sprays?” asked Cassian.  

“Better – gel patches. Good ones, too, Yellow brand.”  Her voice was shaking though she was smiling hard enough to split her face.  She moved back to Cassian’s side, a soft flat package in her hands.  “I’m going to need your shirt off.  Can you manage?  We have to get one of these onto you.  It should have gone on yesterday, but hopefully it’s not too late to do some good.”  

She began to unwrap the packet carefully.  

“So,” said Cassian. His voice was slightly muffled as he pulled the shirt up over his head.  “What other treasures did you find in the fighter?”  He emerged, wincing a little at the movement.  His torso was blotched with lines of violet-black bruises spreading into one another, but Ell noticed with relief that the area around the bandage showed no sign of the tell-tale redness of infection.  

She indicated the assortment of things on the deck; a torch, another box of Nutribars, a hand-held data screen, a fat grey id wallet and pouch and a large collection of weaponry; set of blasters, phaser rifle, pocket pistol, even a couple of knives.  “Besides this lot?  A space compass and a land one. A log-pad.  A jacket on the seat; not uniform, which is kind of odd…  There were a lot of credit chips; they’re in here.” She prodded the pouch.  “Along with a pretty large amount of coin.  There’s a ton of flotsam, further out, I didn’t investigate that.  And I didn’t go through the lockers yet.  There were some tools and a case scattered around on the lower deck.  It looks like someone was working maintenance on the ship when the attack began and they left their stuff and ran.”  

“Tools could be useful if we’re going to have to cannibalise the ship.” Jyn was carefully unsticking the old dressing from Cassian’s ribs.  “Was there anything like a welder or a riveting gun?”

“Electronics only, sorry.”

“An Imperial id could be useful too,” Cassian said.  

He was looking impassively at the med-patch as Jyn unfolded it.  It was a large one, and if it was anything like the ones Ell had known, it was going to hurt like all the hells for the first few minutes when it went on.  He might prefer a bit of privacy just now.  She heaved herself up off the floor and picked up the fish by its tail fins.  “I’ll leave you to get on with it and go find some firewood.  And I’ll check on the purifier again.  My guess is it’s going to be ready to decant and refill by now.”

She jumped down onto the beach and left them to it.  Time to do some cooking.

Scarcely a day since she had climbed into the back of the transport and looked down at the two of them, her randomly acquired passengers, and thought them barely more than kids; filthy and bloody and looking as if all they needed was to be wrapped up and cared for, and held while they cried.  More fool she for judging them.  Little lost children they were not.  It had stunned her yesterday morning, when Jyn told her who they were, what they’d been doing in the tower.  Her mad decision to put down for them had saved two of the bravest people in the Rebellion.  

And they might be crazy as loons to have taken that mission but they were both tough as old leather. They’d accepted her insane escape plan with hardly a flicker.  They were already thinking of ways to help it work.  The Alliance’s best, the last of the madmen of Rogue One.  

They’d get one another out of here somehow, with this plan, or another.

It was amazing how much faith in the future a bite of food and a mouthful of water could give.  

She strolled down the beach, picking up dry fallen palm fronds as she went.

Chapter 6

Jyn had unwrapped the wound patch; she stood holding it, a damply iridescent sheet of gel-plaster, and looking from it to him.  She moistened her lips as though suddenly nervous.  The lips Cassian had just kissed.  It felt like a dream already.

He wanted to do it again. Wanted it very, very much.  All her words about living life and embracing the chance they had been given coalesced into that one image, the memory of her fierce demanding hands gripping his shirt and her mouth so gentle on his; her heart beating against his again, pressed close at last…

She said cautiously “I think you’re going to have to stand up, so we can get this in place properly. Do you want a hand?”

“I’ll have a go.”  He took a breath as deep as he could manage and rocked forward onto his knees; got one foot under and slowly rose to his feet, supporting himself on the side of the hull.  It felt good to be upright.  “So when are you going to kiss me again?”

Jyn’s mouth twitched sideways.  “Let me get this thing on you first before it melts on me.  How far can you raise your arm?  The skin needs to be pulled taut for it to adhere properly.”

He tried.  “Ouch…”

“That’s good, that’s fine, don’t hurt yourself…”  Still she hesitated.

“Jyn, it’s okay.  I’ve used these before, I know how much it’s going to hurt.  Like fifty wasps stinging all at once.  Just stick it on.”

“Okay…”  

She smoothed the patch on quickly.  Her fingers were gentle and he shivered at the carefulness of their touch.  But within seconds another sensation drove it from his mind.  Cold, cold, so cold, gah, Force alive!

He had time to draw in a breath, with the determined intention of insisting it wasn’t too bad, before the cold intensified into a tingling, a pins-and-needles sting.  It rapidly grew into an icy burning, caustic and bitter cold as though he’d been doused in frozen acid.  Every nerve in his body seemed to go scrambled, whipping out in fine lashes of pain from the icy touch of the gel clinging to his side. He threw his head back with a gasp, his hands clenched involuntarily into fists and his mouth exclaimed “Ow!” with a complete lack of dignity.  He punched himself in the mouth briskly but the sounds would not stop coming. “Owwww, gah!”  

“Sorry, sorry…”  Jyn’s bottom lip stuck out when she set her jaw. He’d noticed that before.  He focussed on her mouth, tried to think of what those lips had felt like under his.  Just a few minutes ago.  Owwww!

“It’s okay, it’s okay, ow, ah!”  Now his eyes were watering.  He gasped “I know it’ll be easier soon,” round the bunched fist clamped in front of his mouth.  A couple of Festi swearwords surfaced from childhood memory and he said them too, emphatically.  He thumped the hull plating.  

Jyn laid one palm on his abdomen and one in the small of his back, and stood like that holding him while he shook and punched things, until finally he was able to stop panting and cursing, and breathe again.  The burning came and went in waves, gradually coming further apart as medication from the patch flooded into his damaged nervous system.

“Bad one?” she asked. She looked fierce and cross, and sounded taut with worry.

“It’s getting better… Did I say fifty wasps?  Gah…”

“More like sixty?”

“More like a hundred. It’s getting better.  It is.  Ahh, I’m sorry to make such a lot of noise.  What a baby, eh?  It’s easing off now.  I’ll be okay.”

“Stop chewing your hand then.”

“Yeah.  Ouch.  Yes, it’s getting better.  Going to keep telling myself that.”

Her belligerent expression softened and she took a step closer and put her arms round his waist. “You’ll be fine.  These things are the next best thing to bacta.”  Slowly, as if unsure whether she could, she laid her head on his shoulder.  She smelled of sand and salt, and munu nuts, and sweat.

“Yeah…”  At least now he was able to hold her again.  “And it is getting easier, honestly, I’m sure it won’t sting for much longer.”

Her touch lingered on his skin; very gently she stroked his back.  He closed his eyes and buried his face in her tousled dirty hair.  It felt so good to be near her.  Living, breathing Jyn, who had let her guard down with him, who had trusted him when so few people ever did once they knew him. Her breath on his neck was like another caress.  He shivered again, imagining impossible, perfect things.  Impossible for now at least.  Oh, sweet life, to be well again and have her in his arms then!  

Between the last twinges of pain and these insane fantasies, he really needed to think about something else. “I’d like to get a look at this crashed fighter.”

“Don’t be too ambitious. Let’s get you in one piece again first. Has the stinging stopped yet?”

“Yes, yes, it has, I’m okay. Jyn, I’m not just being wilful, I want to do something.  I’m not used to sitting around waiting for things to happen.”

Jyn raised her head with an expression that was shy and then quickly forthright, her usual mask of self-possession settling on her features; then her eyes smiled with a flicker of something akin to mischief.  “Do you want me to give you a hand with anything?”  

Oh no, no, no, now he was imagining a lot more than just kisses.  “Ahh, don’t.  I want so much to accept that offer, you know?”  The mask dropped away and she smiled up at him, that sweet, fragile smile he’d seen only a few times before, unguarded and unafraid.  The smile of the beach.  Her eyes were full of light.  He bent his head and said quickly into her ear “It’s not easy for me to say this but I think I’d be a terrible disappointment just now…”

Her hands at his waist were cool and gentle and she said kindly “And there’s your answer.  If you’re not fit to make love to me then you’re not fit enough for active service either.”

Well, he’d walked right into that.  “I’m not talking about active service, just crossing the lagoon to take a look at that wreck.”

“Wading through thigh-deep water for half a mile?  Really, Cassian?”

“Now you sound like Kay. Ell’s suit was only wet to the knees. I could manage it.”

“She’s a lot taller than either of us.”

“Not that much taller, come on!”  The burning from the gel patch had eased away almost to nothing at last, and it felt so good to be joking around with her.  He couldn’t remember how long it was – ten years?  More? - since he’d flirted with someone and wanted to make them smile. He’d never expected there to be anyone ever again.

Jyn didn’t seem to know whether to be proud of him or exasperated; she shook her head and bit her lip.  “I just don’t want you to be in danger anymore.  Not now when it isn’t just simply blind optimism to think you won’t get that wound infected.”  When she looked up again her eyes were defensive.  “I know, I was ordering you not to die and preaching to you about how good your chances were just an hour ago.  But we both know that getting this stuff has made an enormous difference to the odds.  Please don’t take any stupid risks now.”

His arms were round her and she leaned into his embrace again.  He whispered into her hair “I’m not going to take risks.  Not now I’ve got something to lose.”

“Promise me you won’t come across the lagoon until you’re strong enough.”

“I promise.”

“And you won’t just say you feel stronger in a couple of hours?  Please?  I know you might, you’re just as stubborn as me.”

“Is that such a bad thing? It’s kept me alive sometimes, being stubborn, and I bet it has you, too.  And while we’re on the subject, how about now we’ve got a better med-kit, you let one of us check your leg sometime?”

A little huff of amusement; warm breath on his bare neck, and she said softly “Fair enough.  After we eat.  I’ve been bathing it in sea water but some of that numb-spray might not be a bad idea.  And as for you, well, I’ll just have to trust you not to push yourself before you’re ready.”

“Thank you.”

“I do trust you,” Jyn said, so quietly her voice was almost inaudible.  

“I know.”

They stood on the tilted deck, holding one another.  It struck Cassian that this was possibly the most idyllic moment of his adult life.  He could feel her warmth everywhere, her body touching his along its whole length; her cheek against his bare skin, her pendant pressing against his breastbone, her hands holding him, boots placed firmly beside his.  The smell of smoke and grilling fish came in on the air, and the lapping waves stroked the hull.  They were a million miles from the war, from the rebellion and their death, and no-one and nothing here could separate them.

“Don’t leave me,” she said in the same tiny voice.

“I won’t leave you, Jyn. I’m never going to leave you.”

The breeze, the sound of the water.  The smell of fish, and the smell of her.  Warmth.

“This was meant to be me comforting you,” Jyn remarked.  “Not the other way around.”

“It’s working…”

She raised her head and drew back, looking up at him, and he hung on the strength in her wide-open face for a long moment.  It was wonderful and terrifying, dreamlike, like falling into the morning sky, looking into her eyes.  

Eye which widened and suddenly turned away.  The mask came down over her expression again. Her jaw set for a second and her bottom lip stuck out defensively.  He wasn’t the only one scared by what was happening.  He wasn’t the only one who had never imagined knowing something like this.  

She said “So why do you want to get a look at the fighter, anyway?  From what I read of your service record you must have seen inside one before.”

It was a good diversion move, Cassian thought with amusement.  He did want to tell her; and they could spend hours standing holding one another and never touch the core of all the hope and longing and fear between them.  He accepted the bait.  “It’s the things Ell brought back.  That’s not normal stuff for a fighter pilot.  Look at it all.”

Jyn turned, half in his arms.  Her right hand went on stroking his back absently as she looked across the hold at the pile of loot from the other wreck.

“It’s odd he had all those hand guns,” she agreed.

“Yes.  And money; why was he carrying money?  And two whole boxes of Nutribars?  When she said it was a TIE fighter I just assumed it was one from the battle.  But none of that would be part of a regular pilot’s kit.”

“A jacket that wasn’t uniform.”  Jyn was nodding.  “I wonder what’s on that data pad?”

She moved away, bending down to pick it up.  Behind her Ell appeared in the hull breach and said “Should I knock?  You guys kissing again?  Okay, I guess not.  Food’s ready.”

Jyn snorted.  Carrying the pad she came over to offer him her shoulder.  “Do you think you’re up to climbing out and having some fresh air while you eat? Then you can read this thing while we go off and do another wreck inspection.”

Getting down out of the transport was an effort, but it felt good to feel the ground beneath his boots, and sit down on rough marram grass with his back against the bole of a tree, and finally see the sea birds he’d been listening to for the past day, up in the clear arc of Scarif’s sky.  Cassian looked around in astonishment at the bright day.

The horizon was unbelievably clear and for a moment he saw a wall of fire and steam in the distance, another blast wave springing into life and bearing down on them.  Wild white and gold light, burning, terrible.  Horror jolted his heart and stopped his mouth.  

But it was only the brilliance of the sunlight on the calm sea.  

He tried to slow his breathing again, and smiled up at Jyn, hoping she hadn’t noticed his second of pure panic.  

If she had seen, she was too kind to show it; she moved across to the place where Ell had built a rough fire-pit and came back to him, carrying a couple of lumps of slightly scorched fish on a leaf.  Sat down beside him, her flank against his.

They began to eat.

Chapter 7

Jyn stood in the waist-deep water at the foot of the reef, looking up at the fighter lying wedged on its side in the coral.  The sight made her come up in goose-bumps despite the warm air.  She’d forgotten how big these things were, and how ugly. Imperial shuttles and transports were different, they had a utilitarian solidity and weight; Rogue One’s almost-quadrupedal shape had been strangely comforting in its familiarity.  TIE fighters didn’t look like anything but gleaming boxes of death.

It still was gleaming in places, too.  Considering it must have been washed-up here after being dropped by the blast wave, it was in surprisingly good condition.  But Ell was right about the damage.  The starboard wing reared above her into the blue sky, the upper portion of its solar collectors a rent mass of sheered-off metal, dangling power coils, fragmented heat-shielding tiles…

She tried not to look down again at the place where they had dragged the dead pilot ashore.  His bloated body had been pretty badly mauled about. She knew they’d have to go through his pockets before they buried him; she did not relish the idea.  Her vague hope of scavenging a usable new shirt for Cassian had had to be scrapped as soon as she saw the state of the remains; even if the man’s clothing had still been whole it would have been stinking with decomposition after more than a day in the warm sea of Scarif.  The smell still clung in Jyn’s nostrils.

A shout from overhead alerted her to Ell, looking over from the far side of the control module and waving. “It’s easier to get up this way, come on round!”

She shook herself free of her memories of the dead man, and scrambled up onto the reef.  Working her way round the bulk of the fighter she saw that the port wing had landed in the sea, and the armature linking it to the cockpit was close enough to the coral and rock to clamber up.  Ell was already on top of the spherical hull, leaning down through the open entry hatch.

She climbed up to join the older woman.  “What else can you get hold of?”

Ell straightened up with a loud “Oof” of breath and shook her plaits out of her eyes.  “I can see a bag of some kind under the seat, but I can’t reach it without getting inside.  Last time I nearly got stuck; these damned things aren’t built for a girl like me.”  She looked Jyn up and down cheerfully.  “A slip of a thing like you, on the other hand…”

No point in bristling and rising to it, however irritating it might be getting called that; the pilot was right, she would be a far better fit in the cramped fighter.  She pursed her lips for a moment and then nodded. “Okay.  I’ll pass anything useful out to you.”  

She worked her way onto the top of the hull and swung her legs into the circular opening, and let herself drop.

It was dark inside, and stuffy, and even for her, a compact space.  She wriggled round the side of the pilot’s seat and sneaked an arm under it to grab at the backpack stowed there.  It was well jammed-in, but a few minutes hauling and a curse or two, and it came free.  She tugged down the fastener and allowed herself a small smile at the contents before passing the bag up through the hatch.

“Aha,” said Ell.  “New clothes for your boyfriend, I see?”

“If they fit.  Mr Fish-Bait was a big fellow.”  Jyn twisted round and prised open the tiny portside locker. Another data pad.  An old-fashioned brass canteen with a silver screw cap, a mess tin and a brass specimen case with a lock.  A utility belt.  A pair of electro-binoculars.  Another id wallet.  A webbing bag containing two pairs of waterproof socks, a set of waterproof puttees in camouflage green, and a green rain cape.

The starboard locker produced a set of three data file cases, exactly like the one she and Cassian had risked so much, and lost so much, to get.  She had to stop and take a few deep breaths, holding them.  Their weight, the familiar way the handle fitted the grip of her hand; for a moment she was back in the tower, and Krennic was shooting, and Cassian was falling...  

She made herself go on speaking.  “Cassian’s definitely right that this guy wasn’t a regular pilot.  He was going somewhere; somewhere rainy.  He was taking official records with him.  And he had two ids.  Look…”

She handed the things up one by one and closed the locker doors again.  It didn’t make any more room but it was easier to assess the size of the flight deck with nothing sticking out into it and confusing the shape of the space.  She looked around the cockpit thoughtfully.  “If we could remove the seat there’d be a lot more room.  And I don’t see much point in keeping the weapons systems, so the housing for those can come out too.  If we’re going to scavenge the hyperdrive from the transport and wire it in here we’ll need all the room we can get.”

“No argument from me. If I’ve got to fly the thing I’ll appreciate enough space to stand up in.”

The seat was attached solidly to a steel bulkhead.  “Fine. Pass me down that blaster and I’ll start making holes in it.”

**

The data pad was encrypted, but it was only a few months since Cassian had last been undercover in an Imperial base.  It didn’t take him long to spot the patterns and recognise the cypher used.  He ran a few reprogramming nudges and tweaks and gave it a minute to reset.

Coded documents; another sign of something out of the norm.  

He looked around him again at the calm beauty of the atoll.  The palms waved their green tops, the seabirds circled or sat on the water calling, pearly waves washed the shore.  It was such a peaceful place, the huge horizon soothingly empty and bright. No-one to give him orders, nothing to mean he must keep alert and watch his back.  He couldn’t remember having felt so free in his entire life.  

The air was sweet, with a clear salt-and-iodine smell.  There was food and water.  Shade and warmth.  Company. Company which wanted to be with him. Well, the important part of it did. He could almost imagine wanting to stay.

He wondered how the two women were getting on, and whether they had buried the dead man yet.  It would probably be worth stripping him and checking his body for implants; certainly someone must go through his clothes. A nasty job but it would be crazy to miss anything.  So much about this dead pilot puzzled Cassian.

He scratched absently at his side and stopped himself with a mutter of frustration.  Now that the gel patch had warmed up it had begun to itch faintly.  If he had an intact shirt he could at least put something between the itch and his fingernails.  Scratching would impede healing and increase the likelihood of adhesions and scars.  Not that scars were in short supply, he’d got his fair share already.  Jyn probably had, too.

He grabbed up the data pad again and rebooted it.  Script blossomed across the screen and he began to read eagerly.  The first page was a long list of file names.  Never mind; anything to distract himself from that nagging tickle, and the maddening mental picture of Jyn stripping off to show him her scars.

Sitting here in the shade of a palm tree, listening to the quiet sea and the breeze, could not have been less like the moment in the tower, leaning over her shoulder to read the list there.  No, don’t think about Jyn.  Read the files.  Name, file size, last date opened; name, file size, last date opened; name, file size…

A word leaped out at him.  Solondori. He knew the name; had been there once, years ago, staying in a safe house between missions.  A small agricultural town on the southern continent of Salliche. An odd choice for a file name, when most of them were seemingly random words - homestead, solidify, voluntary, orchard…  

He opened the Solondori folder.  Maps, architectural plans, a list of contact names and sums of money, finally a sealed file of orders.

Cassian knew how to hack sealed files.

He read everything, and suddenly the other file names began to make more sense.  He opened the Homestead folder, then the Solidify one. He read on, as the afternoon sun slowly gilded the ocean and sank into a peach and rose coloured horizon, and the birds wheeled overhead and dived for fish.  

“Cassian, hey, Cassian! HEY!”  Voices shouting; shouting his name; both sounding worried.  He realised he was sitting hunched forward over his reading, so absorbed he had forgotten not only the tickling of the healing gel but also the ache of his ribs.  From a distance he probably looked unconscious.  He straightened up hastily and raised an arm to wave.  It was already easier lifting his arm than it had been a few hours ago.  Two hundred yards away, thigh deep in the calm water, Jyn shifted a bag onto one shoulder and waved back awkwardly.  Ell was a short way behind her, both arms wrapped around something she was carrying.

They reached the shore and came up the beach, dumping their loads; a big backpack and a bundle tied with duct cable.  Jyn sat down beside him with a sigh and began undoing her boots.  He asked  “How was your day?” and she gave him a small smile.

“What a mundane question,” she said.  “For one of the least mundane days of my life.”

She tugged a boot off, and the wet sock inside, and wriggled her bare toes in the sand.  “Our day was okay.  Ell’s right, we can salvage the fighter.  We’ve started work on it already.  And we brought some more stuff back.”

“Anything interesting?”

“Oh yes.  Wait till you see.  How about you? – how was your reading?”

“Also interesting.” He wondered how to tell her; the information he’d learned had made him shake with anger and fear.  “Jyn, this man, he – he was me.   I mean, he was like me.”

“What?!?”

“He was an Imperial Intelligence officer.”

Jyn’s face froze.  

“He was on his way to infiltrate one of our biggest undercover operations.  We have to get this information to the Alliance.”

There could no more wondering about staying on Scarif.

**

It took two days of hard work to get the crashed fighter level and stable on the reef, and another three to hammer the damaged wing structure flat and bolt a section of plating from the transport into the hole.  They had no beaters, no cutting tools, no bolts.  They made them, from hull struts, from blaster energy packs, from the gears of the broken landing track.  Piece by piece they ripped the transport apart and slogged it over the lagoon to cobble together a functional wing.  

Barely half the starboard solar collectors still operated; the replacement wing section was purely structural, an approximation of the normal form for aerodynamic stability. As Ell said with a weird pride, the ship would fly like a drunk bantha; but if it could be gotten airborne at all it would at least fly.  

The next task was to scavenge the shield generator and hyperdrive out of the transport and ferry them over on a raft made of another hull panel.  By then Cassian was well enough to join them on the half-mile walk through the shallow water.  When they got there he collapsed panting on the coral shore, shaking his head in frustration at his own weakness.  But less than twenty minutes later he was on his feet again, and with Jyn’s help he managed to get into the cockpit.  They left him working on the electronics and went on with their bolting.  

Ten days after  the battle of Scarif, they were ready.

**

Ell stood at the foot of the mended wing, watching Jyn and Cassian as they stood a short way off on a patch of white shell-sand between the spikes of the reef.  They were holding hands, heads together, talking in voices too low to hear.  After a time they embraced.  She remembered them holding one another the same way, pressed together, desperate and silent, the first time she’d laid eyes on them.  Now as then, they did not kiss, but held one another tight, as though their closeness could eradicate fear and arm them against all danger.

She thought of Samrut and wanted to be with him, and hold him the same way.  Wanted someone to touch her again with that strength.  It would be so, it must be so.  The ship was going to fly.

Beyond the embracing figures, the rough cairn they had built over the dead man stood out against the sky. Even knowing what they did about him, it had still felt like the right thing to do.  They’d torn the cover from the discarded flight seat to use as a shroud, and covered him as best they could with broken rocks and shards of coral. They could all remember comrades, friends, family, there were so many slaughtered innocents who would never have graves.  Of all the thousands of dead beings from the destruction of Scarif Base, at least there was one man had been given a proper burial.

Jyn and Cassian parted slowly and she shook herself out of her brooding.  The ship was going to fly.

“Come on,” she called. “We need to get going.”

The lovers looked at one another for a second more and then turned and came together up the side of the reef to join her.

The interior of the fighter had been stripped down as much as it could be, the scavenged parts were bolted in and wired up, the dead man’s gear and a few days’ supply of food and water stowed away as best they could manage.  Once Ell was inside and standing over the controls, the other two slid in at her back, Jyn hauling the entry hatch down after her and sliding the closures tight. There was room, just; if they stood very close and did not move much. There would be enough air for a few hours.

There was only one option for a destination, only one inhabited planet close enough for them to reach.  If they didn’t get that far, then it was death after all.  But their luck had held so far.  Their luck had held.

“Okay,” she glanced over her shoulder at them.  “You ready?”

“Let’s do it,” said Cassian firmly.  Jyn nodded, her jaw set.

Ell keyed in the ignition sequence and threw the control switch to fire up the engine.  There was a long pause, a hideous stretched silence when all she could hear was her own heart pounding, so loud it drowned even the rapid tense breathing of the two jammed in behind her.  And then suddenly a screech, and a growing roar; the noise every Alliance fighter hated and dreaded, the mechanical monster howl of a TIE fighter’s engines.  The battered little ship began to judder.

She swallowed.  There were readings coming through on the control panel, lights gleaming, indicators flashing as systems calibrated and readied for take-off.

She knew the others couldn’t see all of it with the bulk of her blocking the way.  She began reading off the various gauges, partly for their benefit but also to reassure herself of what she was seeing.  “Engines are on line.  Port power grid at 89%.  Starboard power grid at 43%.  Hyperdrive, on line.  Shields, on line.”  

They were as ready as they’d ever be; and her heart was still drumming like a mad thing, but she was behind the controls of a star ship again and she was not going to let her luck slip away from her now.

The roaring grew louder. The engines  were fully fired up and the craft shook on its coral base.  She’d never feel the same about the racket these ugly little ships made.  It was the voice of hope now, a new meaning, forever countermanding the fear it was designed to instil.

“Entering coordinates.”

She fed in the data Cassian had calculated the previous day.  Lights flicked on and off as the system accepted the coordinates and parameters. Ell took hold of the take-off control.

“Okay, here goes,” she said. “Tatooine, here we come.”

She pulled the lever down.

Chapter 8

The walk to the nearest town took the best part of two hours, and both suns were setting by the time the three dirty travellers reached the outskirts.  They passed a few outlying buildings and found themselves coming into a wide, empty street.  Litter blew along the ground and lay heaped against walls, and here and there broken glass gleamed.  Several of the houses were without light in even a single window.  At the further end, a small canopy was propped over the front of a long, low building, sheltering a doorway into a tiny shop. Steam emerged, and a faint smell of cooking.  On the far side of the door was a bench; a roughly-painted sign reading “Rent rooms”, with an arrow pointing to the rear of the building, hung on the wall above.

One of the travellers stopped in the road and bent, stiffly, to retrieve something from the dust at his feet.  He held it up to the other two.  “The firing stick from a distress rocket.”  He threw it down again quickly, gestured towards a second one lying a few yards off.  “Look. Something’s been going on here.”

The two women looked at one another and back to him.  The taller one said “Of the three of us, I’m the one least likely to be on any wanted lists. You guys stay out here, I’m going to that fry stand or whatever it is, buy us something to eat and ask about these rooms for rent.  I’ll have a bit of a chat, you know, idle stuff, see if I can find out whether the town’s safe.”

She hitched up the bulky bag on her shoulder and marched up the street towards the yellow lights of the cook-shop.

Jyn and Cassian stood in the dusk, looking around surreptitiously as they waited.  

“This whole place looks as if there’s been some sort of riot,” Cassian said in a low voice.  Jyn caught his eye.  He was frowning, the dark line hard between his brows.  She hadn’t seen that tension in days.  For the first time since the battle he looked like the man she’d first met; a taut watcher, anger coiled just below the surface of his mind.

She said dryly “To be honest, I’ve seen fiestas that caused as much mess.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Really?  You think people have anything to celebrate here?”

“No, probably not. But we shouldn’t jump to conclusions until we know what’s been happening while we’ve been stranded.”

“I know.  It’s just instinct to plan for the worst.”  He gave a humourless smile and put his arm round her. “Let’s hope it was just some kids fooling about, eh?”

“Let’s see if Ell needs a hand.”

They were both dressed in their own pants and boots, but with shirts from the dead pilot’s gear; loose on Cassian, baggy and long as a dress on Jyn; both belted securely at the waist, with holstered blasters hanging.  Jyn carried a bundle strapped to her back and had tied a ripped piece of fabric round her head.  Hands on their weapons they strolled towards the corner, to look in cautiously at the window.      

Inside the cook-shop Ell stood leaning on a small counter, counting out a stack of coins.  She pushed the money towards a tall sentient on the other side, and received three bowls in return.  Jyn darted forward to help her with them as she came out.

“He’s not talking,” she said in a low voice.  “Seriously, not a word.  Held up his claws to tell me the price.  But at least I got us soup, and I think I’ve rented two rooms.  Either that or this is a hellish expensive place to eat.”

Cassian said after a moment “We need to act natural.  Sit down, Jyn.  On the bench. Come on.”

The soup was a steaming, lumpy mess of unidentifiable matter.  It didn’t look or smell of anything much but when she took a bite, it was spicy and savoury, pumpkin and roots, thickened with tiny lentils.  “Oh, sweet life, that’s good.”

Neither of the others seemed to think it necessary to reply; both had their mouths full already.  They sat eating in a rapt silence, spoons clicking on the tin bowls as they scraped them clean.  Jyn shivered with pleasure.  She would never have thought she could enjoy vegetables that much.

Beside her, Cassian licked his bowl, thoroughly and unabashedly.  

Ell took the bowls and spoons back inside and reappeared with a pair of old-fashioned manual keys, heavy wrought steel with cut-work decoration on the bow.  “Yep, looks like I’ve rented us a room alright.  Round the side, it seems.  Claws here didn’t say if breakfast’s included.”

They picked up the bags again and followed her into the adjacent alley.  A light flickered on above a doorway in the low adobe building at the rear.  Jyn stood alert, fully expecting them to be attacked now they were out of sight of the main street.  Flanking her, Cassian was coiled and still, ready to fight.  But Ell unlocked the door and opened it, and no-one jumped on them, and when they went inside, no-one was waiting in the passage either. The second key opened one of three inner doors.

She went through, and after a moment called back to them “It’s okay, come on in.  Kind of Spartan, but everything’s clean.  Two rooms and a bathroom.  You want to check for bugs?”

“The crawling kind or the listening kind?” said Cassian suspiciously.

“Hell, both.”  Ell opened the door wide.  “Seriously, it all looks perfectly legit.  Beds, windows with drapes, a lamp, a proper washroom with tiles and everything.  I vote we get settled in and then I’ll go into town and see if I can find anyone who’ll actually speak to me.”

It didn’t take Cassian long to look the walls and the few pieces of furniture over; the place was clear of any kind of surveillance.  Jyn unpacked the backpack and Ell’s bundle.  

There was a wide bed in one room and a narrow one in the other.  She guessed the arrangement was designed for a family, mother and father and one child.  People did still travel, after all; go on vacation, on pilgrimage, on visits to far-away relatives, even now.  Mother and father and one little child.  

She went into the bathroom and turned the tap above the stone basin, found they had hot and cold running water as well as a latrine, and with a sigh of relief undid the rag round her head.  Her hair was thick with salt and dirt.  “Does anyone want the bathroom first?  I’m going to have a proper wash.”

When no-one answered she began to strip off her clothes.

She emerged, with dripping hair and the baggy shirt pulled on again over her damp body, to find Cassian alone.  He had sat down on the larger bed, legs spraddled, and was pulling off his boots.

“She’s gone to reconnoitre,” he told her.  “I said we’d stay put and lie low.”

“How are you feeling?”

He thought for a moment before giving a small sigh.  “Exhausted,” he admitted, and lay back with a groan.  “I can’t believe we made it.”  He closed his eyes wearily.

Jyn climbed onto the bed beside him.  The mattress creaked and sagged beneath her knees.  She settled herself to sit close to him.  Her hand stole out and brushed the hair back from his brow.

“Mmm, that’s nice…”

“How’s your side?” She undid his belt and coaxed the dead man’s shirt up to check.  He did nothing to protest; he was already half asleep.

It seemed very strange suddenly to recollect applying the second and last gel-patch to his now-healing torso, three evenings ago, on Scarif.  The patch would come off in a day or two more.  Most of his bruises had begun to fade; they were still an unpleasant colour, between purple and ochre now, but he no longer winced when she touched them.  He had walked the six or seven miles from the ridge where they landed into town, dogged as ever and uncomplaining.  

Her own burned leg still ached sometimes, but she had walked without difficulty, and knew she would be able to do so again the next day if need be, when they went to look for onward passage.  Hell, since Fish-Bait had left them so much money, if need be she would walk into the nearest spaceport tomorrow and buy them a whole ship.

Cassian gave a small snore and jerked awake again with a curse and a jolt.  He half sat up,  looking around the room in alarm.

“Cassian, it’s okay, we’re safe, remember?  We made it. We’re on Tatooine.”

He ran a hand over his face. “Yeah.  Yeah, safe.  I felt safer on Scarif.  No-one was looking for us there.”

She knew how he felt. The atoll and their camp there seemed so far away.  “No-one’s looking for us here, either.  Relax, try to get some rest.”

Cassian slowly lowered himself back onto the bed.  “I’m not used to being able to relax anywhere.  You must know that feeling.  Anytime I’m around other people, any kind of town, village, anything like that, I’ve always had to be on my guard.  All my life, always.”  He yawned hugely.

Jyn lay down and curled into his side.  “You can sleep.  I’ll keep watch.”  Only to find herself too yawning just a moment later.  She glanced guiltily at Cassian, but he was already sound asleep again.  

He was right to be ill-at-ease, she knew.  It was only common sense to be as vigilant as possible.  There were so many reasons to feel doubtful and unsure of their situation. Despite the garbage and torn paper and broken bottles strewn in its streets, the town seemed unnervingly quiet.  None of them had ever been to Tatooine before, and they had between them only the sketchiest knowledge of the planet’s geography, ecology, history, customs.  They had no idea of the state of the galaxy; whether there was still any hope of peace or victory, any reason to look for anything more in life beyond someplace to hide for what time remained to them.  The Empire could have murdered billions while they’d bashed away on the reef, mending their ship and preparing for their escape flight, listening to the seabirds and snatching kisses at the end of each day.  Anything could have happened.  They just didn’t know.

And until Ell got back from her recce, they still wouldn’t know.  

She was glad they had made it this far at least.  She lay in the mild yellow lamplight and watched Cassian’s sleeping profile, and remembered other times she had watched him, and despite everything, she was smiling.

She didn’t realise she’d fallen asleep until the banging on the door woke her.  

A horrible second of confusion, all her reflexes telling her things were in the wrong places.  Where the hells was she, this wasn’t the old transport, this wasn’t their atoll in the blue calm sea of Scarif, their shelter, their safe place, where was her gun, what was happening?...  

Cassian had sat up with a gasp beside her; he was fumbling for his blaster and she rolled off the bed and grabbed up her own from the floor where she’d discarded the rest of her clothes.  The key rattled in the lock.  On their side of the door.

He had locked it behind Ell.

If they were behind a locked door, they had a few seconds more at least.  She looked wildly round at him as he brought his weapon to bear on the doorway.  They crouched side by side amid the bedclothes, armed and panting in shock.

“Let me in!” exclaimed Ell’s voice outside.  She sounded – odd.  Excited, frightened?  Ell never sounded frightened.  But her voice was shaking now.  “Come on, guys, let me in!”

Cassian slid forward and got to his feet; he padded barefoot to the door and hissed “Can’t you be quieter?”

He glanced at Jyn with a nod of his head; she should get to the wall and cover the door as he opened it. She nodded back silently, moving across the room with the blaster in both hands.  Her heart was still pounding and her hands felt slippery with sweat. What the hells was this? – ten days of peace and quiet, just ten days of freedom from fear, and she’d let her guard down so much that she was scared to be standing holding a gun?  

She was giving Cassian covering fire.  She needed a steady hand and a calm mind, he was depending on her.

He unlocked the door slowly and stepped back from it, blaster raised, as it opened.

Ell burst in, her face grey with shock.  She stared from one to the other of them as though the sight of their weapons were something akin to a magic trick.  She was slightly out of breath.  She swallowed hard and said “It’s okay, I’m alone.  It’s okay.  Don’t shoot.”

“Come in and shut the door!” Cassian snapped.

“It’s okay, everything’s okay.”

Jyn slipped forward and pushed the door shut quietly behind her.  “It clearly isn’t okay, you look as though you’ve seen ghosts.  What happened?”

“Did anyone follow you?” demanded Cassian.

“No, I told you, I’m alone. It’s okay.”  Ell’s voice was shaking and she sounded as if she might cry. “I don’t know how to say this, I don’t know how to tell you…”

Jyn was looking at Cassian as she spoke; she saw his face freeze, all expression shutting off, his mouth becoming a hard downturned line, jaw clenched shut, eyes going dead.  Bad news.  It was bad news and he was preparing for it to be the worst. Everything they’d done, everything he’d worked for, had failed.  He’d known it would happen, they’d both always known it would…  

She wanted to scream at the older woman.  Just get it out, choke on it if you have to, only tell us!

“Go on,” said Cassian, impassive, voice ice-cold.

Ell looked from one to the other again and said “Oh hell, I’m doing this all wrong…  Listen, I – I have good news and bad news.  And some other news which I don’t know what to make of. What do you want first?”

Cassian’s eyes widened slightly.  His lips parted and shook infinitesimally, and he pressed them together again quickly. Jyn wanted to run to him but her legs seemed to have locked to the ground.  

She was shaking too much to have gotten off a round if she tried.  She lowered the gun.  Her voice sounded tight and small as she said “Good news, please.”

Ell spread her hands wide. “The – the Death Star was destroyed, three days ago.”

Jyn could not breathe. She wanted to drop the blaster but none of her muscles would react.  She heard her own voice give a great gasp, a drowning woman’s desperate breath on surfacing, a dying being’s death-struggle, a new-born’s first inhalation.  The last thing she saw before tears blinded her was Cassian.  His jaw had dropped open and he was crying.  He looked appallingly helpless and she wanted to be near him but it was all she could do to move at all.  She covered her face and wept.  Footsteps thumped on the adobe floor and a pair of wiry arms wrapped themselves round her and held her tightly; he was sobbing, and she managed to untangle her hands and catch hold of him.  They stood crying quietly in the middle of the room, embracing, together.  

Chapter 9

Jyn was trembling so much in his arms that he thought at first she would fall, but she clung on and between them they managed to stay upright.  Her tears soaked into his shirt.  He rocked her gently.  His arms were shaking.  His nose was running.  He wasn’t sure which of them was crying more.  He sniffed back tears and whispered “We did it, we did it,” into Jyn’s hair and she gave a huge strangled sob of assent, and cried on.  He kissed the side of her head.  “We did it, it worked…”

The words came out so choked that he stopped trying to speak and just held on to her.  He felt giddy, astonishment and joy rising inside him like helium gas as the words Ell had spoken remained said; facts, truths, the naming of a new reality.  Jyn shuddered on his breast, arms locked tight round him.  Weakly she said into his shirt “Papa was right…”

He pulled in a painful breath.  “Yes, he was, he was right.  It worked, it worked…”

Jyn gulped for air and raised a tear-blotched face to smile at him.  “We did it.”

A few feet away, Ell had not moved.  “Yeah, you did it.”  Her voice was still strange, hollowed and raw with emotion; she gave a small huff of tearful laughter, her hands still wide open in the air.  “You go on and cry,” she said.  “I cried on the guy that told me.”

Jyn asked shakily “How did it happen?  Did they tell you anything else?”

“I think need to sit down,” Cassian said as a fresh wave of dizziness hit him.  “I feel like I’m going to faint.”  It was just shock, he knew; he was probably hyperventilating without realising it.  But for the first time he could remember, shock meant good news.  Hope rewarded, fear overthrown.  He began to laugh weakly as his legs started to shake. “Whoa…”

Jyn’s arms steadied him and her broken voice strengthened a little.  “Here, the bed’s just behind you, just a couple of steps… There.”  She sat, pulling him down beside her, and hugged him again.  “Don’t you keel over on me now, Cassian Andor.”

“I’m okay.  I’m so happy.  I’m not really crying.  I’m happy.” He wiped his face clumsily on his sleeve.  There was so much he wanted to say.  So much he wanted to know, too.  He beamed at Ell over the mess of Jyn’s hair.  “Yeah, how did it happen?  Tell us everything, we want to know everything!”

The pilot shrugged, shaking her head.  “Hell, where do I start?  The planet’s in chaos.  Apparently the local garrison’s run for it, and there’s no sign of them coming back so far. I don’t blame them.  Seems the pilot who fired the final shot was a local boy, grew up not fifty miles from here.  New recruit, joined the rebellion a week ago.  Tatooine’s the proudest planet on the Rim right now.  The mess in the streets is what’s left after a non-stop three-day party.”  She was smiling, but her smile faded out as she spoke, leaving her eyes gradually as though she were not glad at all but uncomfortable bringing such tidings.  “By the sounds of it, once people get over their hangovers, there’s going to be some kind of vote to choose representatives to send to the Senate.  The war’s not over but this is a huge win for the Alliance.  Propaganda win as well as tactical.”

Jyn was wiping her face with the back of one hand.  Her voice was husky as she said “What about the other news you mentioned?”

“Ahh,” Ell’s eyes went empty.  “I wish I didn’t have to tell you this.”  Her voice dropped, her hands fell to her sides.  “Before it was taken out, they had time to use it again.  Guys, they – they destroyed Alderaan.”   She looked down abruptly, as though she could not bear to hold her head up and see the light, or their faces.

The words were like an ice-blade into his joy.  For moments that seemed hours long he couldn’t speak.  Jyn said gasping “But – Alderaan’s really densely populated, the cities there, they’re huge, which – which one did they?-”

Ell shook her head.

“It was all of them, wasn’t it?” Cassian managed to choke the words out.  His voice sounded as though he’d swallowed acid.  “All the cities.  They said it was a planet-killer.  All of Alderaan?  Is that what they did?”

“Yes,” said Ell, to the floor.  “I’m sorry.”

He felt a single new tear break and run down his cheek, and then another; tiny intense beads of heat that seared as they descended.  The enormity. The evil.  He closed his eyes, but the single drops of pain continued to well up and fall, one by one, like blows from a whip.

There was nothing to say.

After a time Ell walked across and flopped down beside them both on the bed, sinking her head in her hands. They sat in a row, silent.  

Cassian’s ribs hurt. His skull felt heavy, a burden of thoughts and nightmares that could near-snap his neck.  He bowed his head.  It seemed beyond belief that he had described himself as happy, had laughed through tears of disbelief and joy, just moments before.  

Jyn was still holding him, her hands gentle now, no longer hanging on to him for support but touching him tenderly with her own.  She whispered “All those billions of people…”.  Her forehead rested against the side of his neck as she pressed close to him.

He said flatly “It’s unimaginable.”

From beside him there was a faint sound of paper rustling, and he glanced up without much interest, to see Ell holding something she was unfolding slowly.  A small poster or a handbill, printed with text and an image. She held it out to him.  “This was the other thing, the other news.  I thought you needed to see it.  There are copies stuck up all over town.  This and ‘In memory of Alderaan’, and the local guy’s picture.  According to the people I spoke to, recruitment is through the roof right now. You’re the Alliance’s newest poster boy.”

He looked dully at the sheet of paper she had placed in his hand.

It was about twice the size of a data-pad, and the quality was rough enough that he could imagine it had been run off by a backstreet print-shop crew at the end of the day, with a few drinks already inside them.  A background image, a second one imposed over it, a headline and a section of smaller text further down.  

‘The Heroes of Rogue One,’ the heading read.  Below that: ‘Led by Captain Cassian Andor, a handful of brave men and women embarked upon the mission that made victory possible.  They laid down their lives for our freedom.  Join us and honour their sacrifice!’

The large picture was grey and rather grainy, a security image from inside one of the hangars on Yavin 4; the whole group of them, him and Jyn, Baze and Chirrut and Melchi and the rest, on their way to board the ship, ten days ago.  They were walking purposefully, side by side through the bustling crowds.  

The superposed picture was his own face.

It was an old id shot done for a scan-doc a couple of years ago; taken at a point when he’d been clean-shaven for an undercover mission.  He’d had to smile for the camera.  It was startling to realise how young he looked, and how hopeful.  Handsome, even.  It was a good guess that the choice of picture was no accident.  

He showed Jyn the poster and she stared at it, her jaw tightening.  “Huh.  So we’re heroes now.”

“Dead heroes.  Martyrs are a great recruiting tool.”  He thought for a moment.  “This is going to make it a lot harder to go back.  We have propaganda value as the Heroes of Rogue One. Not so much, as the survivors. Whatever this says, we’re still soldiers who disobeyed direct orders.  Normally we’d be court-martialled.  And yet look, Jyn, there you are, a genuine bona-fide hero.” He touched her face on the page and looked up at her with what he hoped was a natural smile.    

“The others were heroes,” Jyn said.  “You’re a hero, for sure.  Bodhi was a hero.  Me, no.”

She laid one hand over his on the picture for a moment.  Her fingers strayed to the text.  “’They laid down their lives for our freedom’,” she read, her voice soft and bitter. Then sharper as she exclaimed “Where is Bodhi?  He’s not in the picture!”

It was true.  The slight young man with the grubby Imperial flight suit was nowhere to be seen.

“Was he there with the rest of us?”

“Yes!” Jyn said forcefully. “He was right by my side!  He should be there, I remember!”  She stabbed the paper with her forefinger. “Right there.”

Cassian looked more closely at the image and a bubble of hurt surfaced in his mind.  There was a clear patch when you looked closely, another figure cut and pasted over Bodhi’s. The Imperial defector, a person too risky to show.  The pilot had been removed from the picture.  

“I can’t believe they’d do that.”  

“What have they done?” asked Ell, craning to look.

He explained wearily. “Certain circles in command hold very strongly with the view that we should never publicise Imperial defections. They argue that if we let the troops see the enemy as living sentient people like themselves, they’ll find it harder to fight and kill them.  So long as they’re just a sea of faceless Stormtroopers it’s easy to forget they’re real beings with thoughts and fears.  Now it looks as though the word has gone out that our friend Bodhi Rook has to be excised from the story of Rogue One.”  He sighed. “There’s no mention of your father, either, Jyn.  There probably never will be in the official version of events.”  He wanted to be righteously angry but felt only tired and sad. Poor Bodhi.  At least he would never know.  

He crumpled the paper up tightly and threw it into a corner.  “Two of the bravest men I’ve ever known, and they’ll be erased from our history.”

Jyn swore, and there was a silence until Ell stood up with a sigh.  “I’m beat.  The flight, and all the walking, and all this emotion.  I can’t handle anything else.  I just want to go home, see my husband, hug my friends.”  She headed for the other room.  “Try to get some rest, you two.”

The door closed softly behind her.

They sat without speaking for a long time.

“She’s right,” Jyn said at length.  “We need to sleep.”  She coaxed him to his feet and steered him into the bathroom.  He washed vaguely and rinsed his mouth, and pissed; came back to find her already curled up under the covers on one side of the bed.  Her eyes were closed and the lamp turned low.  He sat down to pull off his socks; wondered if she would mind him undressing more, then realised she probably didn’t care. Extinguishing the lamp he stripped down in the darkness and crawled into the bed, naked apart from the gel-patch still clinging to his ribs.  

The room was utterly black, unnervingly silent, all the emptiness of the desert of Tatooine lying still and enclosed within the thick earthen walls.  

He knew Jyn must be breathing but she did not make a sound and a wild thought hit him, that she would die at his side and he’d never know till morning.  He lay still, refusing himself permission to disturb her for the sake of disproving such insanity.  It was a completely irrational notion, mere panic, stupid and mindless.  She was asleep, of course she was asleep.  It was hardly surprising if she had evolved the knack of sleeping quietly and immediately, with the life she’d led.  He ought to envy her.  

He stared into the darkness and shut his eyes, determined to sleep also; and saw light, a perpetual explosion, forever at the periphery of his vision; blazing light, and the horrible beauty of a burning sea.  The images would not go away; every time he closed his eyes, they came again, though he was still awake, as awake as broadest day.  And Jyn beside him, silent and unmoving as the dead.

He could not bear it. He rolled over and reached out a hand towards her face; felt her breath on his wrist and gave a sigh of relief.  

Another sigh echoed his, and Jyn’s voice said quietly “Are you awake?  I can’t sleep.”

Cassian drew his hand back, as softly as he could.  “I thought I was exhausted,” he whispered.  “But  I’m on fire. I can’t stop thinking, it’s as if my head’s spinning.”  

He felt the mattress move as she shifted beside him in the wide bed.  After a moment one of her hands touched his.  She must have moved a lot closer, for when she spoke again he could feel the air move against his bare arm.  “It’s all too much to take in, isn’t it…”

“Yes.”

“The Death Star, Alderaan, the future.  Who are we, now we’ve done what we set out to do?  What are we going to do if we can’t go back to Yavin 4?”  She sighed.  “And Bodhi, being erased like that.  It’s really shocked me.  I know he didn’t do it for glory!  I just feel so angry for him.”  Another sigh. “I wish I knew how to be less angry.”

He caught hold of the gentle hand brushing his, and held it.  “I feel angry too.  Angry and – I don’t even know what to call it.  Confused.   I feel so stupid saying that – confused, like a kid! – but it’s all too much.  I don’t want to leave the rebellion but I don’t see how I can go back now.  If they’ve already begun to talk about the Martyrs of Rogue One, how can I go home and give that the lie?”

“It’s ironic,” Jyn whispered.  “A few weeks ago I would have laughed in your face if you’d told me I’d come back to the cause.  But it’s more important than ever that we win, that we save the dream.  I want to be part of that.  I want it more than – almost anything.  I feel so lost now I have to be Lianna Hallik again.”

That was it.  Of course.  “Of course!   That’s what we have to do!”  He squeezed her hand and brought it to his lips.  “Jyn, you’re a genius!”

“What are you talking about?” She sounded amused, and a second later she added in a whisper “Do that again.”  The smile in her voice had roughened, as though her breath were catching on something.

He opened her hand and kissed her palm before he answered.  “The information we found, Mr Fish-Bait’s mission.  If we’re officially dead, we can’t go home, so how do we get it to Rebel Intelligence without telling anyone who we are?  How do we convince them it’s good intel?”

He began kissing her fingertips one by one.

“I have no idea,” He could tell Jyn was trying to sound brusque but there was still a huskiness in her voice, and she did not remove her hand from his.  “They’ll know who it is, if ‘Lianna’ shows up suddenly.  Or else they’ll think it’s an Imperial spy.” She wriggled closer to him; her knees bumped his and for a second she stroked his calf with one foot.  “I don’t see how that helps.”

Cassian said “We don’t tell them.  We cut out all the fuss, we just get on and do it.  We go to Salliche and sort it out ourselves.”

The bed shook under them as Jyn tried to suppress a splutter of laughter. “You’re going to infiltrate your own network?!  Cassian, you’re crazy, do you know that?”

“The Underground Railroad on Salliche is the most important safe-house network we have.  Without it we can’t help escaped prisoners, we can’t extract intelligence operatives, we can’t hide anyone.  We can’t let it be undermined!  Someone has to go there and fix this before it’s too late.  I know how to do it, I know it will work.  I’ve done deep cover before.  We can do this, Jyn!”

Her hand suddenly gripped tight on his, her amusement stilled into silence.  His heart stilled with her.  She was going to say no.  He’d asked too much this time.  Deep cover, living under a false name, perhaps for the rest of her life?  Yes, it was crazy; she’d done such things too, she knew just how crazy this idea was.  She would say no and she would be right.  

But he wasn’t sure if he could do the mission without her.  If he could bear it.  He wanted her by his side.  

Wanted her forthright fire and her belligerence, her refusal to be crushed; wanted her courage and passion for the cause, that had renewed his when he thought himself all-but burned out; and the sweet blunt kindness, the tender hands’ touch he’d known these last few days.  He’d never really believed all that could be for him; all that strength, all that love. He wanted her too much.

His lips closed tight on the plea he would not utter.  Jyn was a free woman, not his to just take along if he chose.  He wanted her; but he wanted her free and happy, more.

Movement in the darkness; and breath on his cheek, sudden and warm.  A hand sliding into his hair and pulling him close.  “Yes,” said Jyn Erso in a whisper “Yes, yes, Cassian, yes…”

She kissed him on the mouth, a long deep kiss that left them both breathless.

“I told you, we go together.”

She was free.  He could be free too, with her.  “Yes,” he said.  “Yes, we do.  Oh, my love. My Jyn.”

In the darkness it was a strange magic, to touch her body, feel her damp hair under his fingers, her lips opening under his own.  He could not see the fiery blue-green eyes, the vulnerable, indomitable face he loved. He couldn’t look anymore.  He could only touch, and hold, and worship with his hands and his mouth and his body.  Blind and intimate in the pitch darkness, together.  

He’d been looking at her for so long.  Watching out for her, watching over her, watching her.  Watching her on Yavin, on Jedha, on Eadu.  Waiting for her each day on the atoll.  Waiting for her to come back, for her quick, quiet kiss each evening. Now the kisses were neither quick nor chaste but slow, and hot, more intense than fire or fear.  Now she was holding him and her hands blessed his aching, healing body, and woke things in him he’d shut away, so long ago he could barely recall their names.  

He’d given himself to death so many times; and here was life.  Let go of fear, let go of death.  

“Yes,” breathed Jyn, holding him, embracing him, in the dark.  “Yes, yes, yes…”

Coda

The young woman sitting in the lamp-lit farmhouse kitchen might once have been plump; her uniform, or what was left of it, had certainly been tailored for a more well-fed body.  She looked exhausted and her bare feet were filthy and bruised, her once pearl-grey cadet jacket and pants marked with blood, mud, grass stains.  She had been walking for two days, ever since the Ettian freighter dropped her in the hills above Solondori.  

The man who had found her an hour ago stealing acid under-ripe fruit from an orchard had brought her here, given her a glass of water, and told her to wait.

She was too tired to do anything else.  She downed the water in a few gulps and sat looking at the table, the stone sink on the wall, and the wooden dresser, at the cutlery box and the line of beakers and the stacked dishes; so plain, so homely.  It seemed faintly surreal to be in such an everyday place as a kitchen now, after everything she’d seen and done.

Movement at the inner door made her start and she tensed up instinctively as the young man came back into the room.  Behind him, another man entered.  He was older and shorter, moving more stiffly.  She saw thick iron-grey hair and a neatly-clipped grey beard and moustache, and the face of an old hawk, all cheekbones and crooked hook nose, and measuring, predatory gaze.

He sat down facing her and took a long look at her before speaking.  

“You’re First Order?”

“Cadet Corps,” the girl said in a gasp.  “Please don’t tell them I’m here!  I’m a deserter.”

“Defector, you mean.” There were strong lines running down from his nose to the corners of his mouth.  A hard face; but one that had smiled.  “Name?”

“Emren.  Emren Emet.”

No response.  She looked from him to the younger man, but his face too was impassive.  He had the same beak of a nose, though his had never been broken.  The same intense brown eyes, too.

She made her last gambling throw.  “Please help me.  I need to find a place called Rook’s Farm.  I want to be a fruit picker.”

The ridiculous code phrase her contact had given her, a month ago on Bastion.  

The two men, father and son, just looked at her.

There were footsteps in the next room and a woman’s voice called “Have we got any more steriliser? The pressing vat smells bad.  Cassian?  Galen? Are you there?”

“In here,” said the younger man.  “We’ve got company.”

A figure appeared in the doorway, a small woman in overalls, pulling off heavy gauntlets.  She tugged a pair of eye-protectors up into her white hair and raised an eyebrow at the scene.  “Volunteer?” she asked.

“Looks like it.” The older man.

“That makes the third since equinox.”

“Yes…”  He looked up at her sadly, and she down at him, for a long moment.  At last he nodded.  “Yes, it’s time.  We need to do this.”

The old woman came into the room and bent to kiss him on the forehead.  “It’ll be okay.  It’s not as if we haven’t done it before…”  She looked round at Emren, taking in her ragged appearance with a glance. Eyes the colour of the sea, and a kind, determined face, round-cheeked, full of smile lines.  “You look all-in.  When did you last eat?”

The younger man said sternly “I caught her stealing from the orchard.”

“If you’re hungry enough to eat ciderfruit then I’m guessing you haven’t had anything for a good while. Am I right?”

Emren nodded.  “Two days, almost.”

“And barefoot, too. Where did you land?”

“I was dropped. Somewhere in the hills.”  She gestured vaguely, no longer sure where she’d been in those days of hard foot-slogging.  “They didn’t want to come too close to town.  Didn’t dare, not with me.”

“It’s just like the old days,” the grey-haired man muttered angrily.  He met Emren’s gaze, his fierce eyes dark in the lamplight.  “Don’t worry, girl, you’re safe here.”

She sat looking at them, this little family, so ordinary, so mundane in every way, while slowly his words sank in.  Safe. She was safe.  

The woman said “I’m Lianna Hallik and this is my husband Will.  And Galen, our middle boy.”

Lianna, Will, Galen. She wondered who Cassian was; but perhaps she’d heard wrong.  She was tired enough, after all.  Her ears and brain between them could be inventing a whole language.  She could have dreamed everything, even him telling her she was safe.

Will Hallik said harshly “The Underground Railway you’re looking for was wound down over a decade ago. Officially it no longer exists.”

And those words sank in too, and sank her with them.  So it had all been in vain after all, all that risk, all that terror, everything it had cost her, all wasted.  Her hopes died, maybugs fluttering in a bog.  

She breathed hard and forced herself to think; but she had nothing.  Her voice began to shake.  “I’m sorry. Then I should leave, I’m endangering you every minute I stay.  But I don’t know what to do.  I’ve nowhere to go.”

“And no boots,” Lianna reminded her kindly.  She squeezed her husband’s shoulder, a firm assertive grip, and he smiled suddenly.  

“I’m the one who is sorry,” he said.  “That was a test.  Old habit. You pass.”

“Damn right she passes,” exclaimed the younger man.  Galen. “Force alive, Papa!”  He smiled at Emren.  “You are safe here, I promise.”

“We still have some contacts,” Will said.  “We’ll get you to the Resistance, don’t worry.”  He got up from his seat, moving again with the stiff care of someone troubled by old injuries.

So she really was safe, after all.  It wasn’t the first test she’d faced since she decided to run.  It probably wouldn’t be the last.

“Thank you,” she said, wishing she had something more to give besides two meagre words.  “I – I don’t know what to say.  I thought I’d never escape.”  

Since her hosts were all on their feet now, she put her hands on the table-top to brace herself, and tried to stand.  Her legs shook.

Will Hallik said gently “A long time ago we were helped to escape, from something that should have killed us.  We were able to make a new start.  Everything we have now we have because of that.  Galen and his brothers wouldn’t even exist without it.  We do our best to pass on the good luck.”  

“Saving the rebellion, one person at a time,” said Lianna.  “We had been enjoying our retirement,” she added.  “But the First Order is a threat no-one can ignore.  If we’re going to have to start things up again, so be it.  Consider the Salliche Underground Railroad re-founded, as of today.”  

She came round the table and laid her hands on Emren’s shoulders, gently settling her back into her seat at the table.  “Now, let’s get some food into you.  And then a night’s sleep.  You have a new life, Emren Emet.  Let us help you make it a good one.”

[infinitehouseofbooksya]

REVEAL - Project Emerjence

Today Jamie Zakian and Month9Books are revealing the cover and first chapter for PROJECT EMERGENCE which releases March 14, 2017! Check out the gorgeous cover and enter to be one of the first readers to receive a eGalley!!

A quick note from the author:

I’ve always dreamed of writing an epic sci-fi thriller. I knew I wanted it to involve a group of teens leaving a dead Earth to start new lives on a terra formed Mars, but I didn’t have any ideas on how to make the plot exciting. Then, a song I never heard before played on my Pandora app. Escape by Rogue. As that song blasted through my headphones, the entire story that is Project Emergence streamed through my mind like a movie trailer. So, I went straight to work. It took months of frantic writing, almost a year of editing, and a mini rewrite, but that moment of inspiration became my first YA novel.

Project Emergence is a fast-paced thrill ride across the stars. It shows the extent people will go to uphold their beliefs, and that love can overcome any evil.

On to the reveal! 

Title: PROJECT EMERGENCE

Author: Jamie Zakian

Pub. Date: March 14, 2017

Publisher: Month9Books

Format: Paperback, eBook

Pages: 292

Find it: Goodreads | Amazon | B&N | TBD

An ancient Hopi myth says people arrived on tiny silver pods that fell from the sky.

But the truth is far more terrifying.

Two-hundred fifty-eight teens are sent from a dying Earth to a terraformed Mars as part of the Emergence Program, mankind’s last hope before solar flares finish off their planet and species. Among the brave pioneers are sixteen-year-old Joey Westen and her twin brother, Jesse.

After only minutes in space, something triggers a total ship lock down.

With the help of their roommates, the Matsuda twins (notorious hackers and shady secret-keepers), Joey and Jesse stumble onto an extremist plot to sabotage the Emergence Program.

But Joey and Jesse didn’t travel to the deepest pits of space and leave their mother behind to be picked off in a high-tech tin can. They’ll lie, hack, and even kill to survive the voyage and make it to Mars.

Excerpt

Chapter One Joey stared out the window of a large, airtight van. The nose of a spaceship peeked above maroon-crested hills, and her forehead thumped against the glass. A light crinkle drew her stare, right to the paper wrinkling in her grip. She loosened her stiff fingers, smoothing a crease from the official seal of the Unified Nations of Earth. The letter in her hand still mesmerized her. Selected, Terraformed Mars, New home, those words knocked the bottom from her stomach every time she read them. Things were getting way too real. No more tiny lead-lined home, school time at the kitchen table, mom. She turned to Jesse, her brother’s smirk brighter than an X1 flare. “You’re a crappy twin. I’m freaking out right now, you should be too.” Jesse rolled his stare her way. “Fraternal twins don’t work like that.” “That’s not true.” She read the letter again, making sure both their names were listed for the umpteenth time. “I can’t believe this is happening.” Jesse squirmed, frowning a moment before his perma-smile returned. “No one from G-Sector ever goes anywhere.” “Did you see the look on mom’s face when we left?” “I know. Buzzkill.” “What’s she gonna do without us?” “Finally be able to feed herself,” Jesse snickered. Joey shook her head, folding the letter. “Maybe she’ll win the next lottery, meet up with us on Mars.” “Yeah, I don’t think so.” “Why not?” Jesse leaned close, keeping his voice low. “Didn’t you hear what that kid behind us was saying?” “No. What?” “He said there are no random drawings.” Jesse eyed the soldier stationed at the front of the van, then the other two at the rear. “That everyone is selected for a specific purpose.” “But, that would mean the U.N.E. is lying to everyone,” Joey said, a bit too loud. Jesse’s eyes opened wide, and she shrugged. “You’re gonna get us booted from this ride before we even launch.” “Sorry,” she muttered. “It’s a stupid idea anyway ‘cause look, we’re here. What do we have to offer? All you can do is fix stuff, and me … well, I’m just good at being cute.” She batted her eyes, flaunting a sly smile. “Yeah you’re right, that’s real flippin cute.” Jesse slanted toward the aisle, glancing around the cab. “There aren’t any adults on this van.” “There’s the soldier guys.” “Geez R-tard, I mean the passengers.” Joey pinched her brother, who wriggled away. “R-tard,” she mimicked. With a failed attempt to appear casual, she popped her head up and scanned the many seats. Sparkly clothes and bright makeup captured her stare. “They look like A-Sectors.” So lavish but she could see beyond the illusion of glittering threads and flawless skin, to the same excited fear that dwelled in her own eyes. “Please remain seated while the vehicle’s in motion,” a soldier thundered. Jesse grabbed Joey’s arm, pulling her down into the seat. “Smooth sister, real smooth.” She shrank back, initiating her trusty get-out-of-messes frowny smile. “Oops. In trouble already, figures.” Grumbles erupted from her brother’s lips, and she turned back to the dusty earth outside her window. Crazy how one day, and a trip to the mailbox, could change her entire life. Yesterday, she was painting a mural of Mars on their bedroom wall. Today, she was going to Mars. The parched countryside vanished behind a tunnel’s wall. She sagged down in her seat. For sixteen years, she clung to Jesse. Every time dust storms pelted their windowless metal house, she curled under his arm. Mom worked late and her hand became glued to his. And now, when she actually needed the comfort of his touch, her brain decided it’s time to man-up. Her eyes narrowed. She zeroed in on his cozy looking hand, her fingers drumming a steady beat on her leg. *** Sabrina poked her head around a corner. Her fingers tightened around a rifle’s grip as she peered down a dim corridor. Shadows danced along the concrete wall and she backed up, pressing her comms button. “Stone to dispatch, come in dispatch.” Static crackled in her ear, a garbled voice cutting in and out. “Dispatch, do you read? Where the hell is my back-up?” This time, only the fizz of dead air replied. “Damn underground bright-out dens,” she mumbled. These missions twisted her gut every time. There were very few people left alive on Earth. Many couldn’t afford specially designed homes or the rising cost of oxygen, and it didn’t sit right to bust folks just for trying to survive the scorching sun. Although, as a captain of the Unified Nations of Earth, she had a duty to her planet. Neither a heavy conscience nor lack of back-up would hinder that. Sabrina held her weapon close, skulking down the stone passage. Two men strolled around the bend, stopping short and she popped off two rounds. No sound emitted from the gun’s muzzle, just a flash that lit the graffiti-stained walls in white. The men slumped to the floor. Tiny darts protruded from their chests, pamphlets spilling from their limp hands. “Earth-heads,” she muttered, glimpsing anti-Mars propaganda. A clink of metal echoed to her left and she headed toward it. Men and woman dropped as Sabrina skated through shadows. Their tranquilized bodies slapped concrete, leading a trail to a solid door at the end of the long hallway. She reached into her vest, extracting a small explosive charge. Just as the magnet clinked to the steel slab, a voice sputtered into her earpiece. “Captain Stone, we’ve breeched the airlock. En route to your position.” “Bout time,” she muttered. Her thumb glided overtop the button of a wireless detonator and spikes of fear burrowed into her gut. U.N.E protocol, the whirl in her stomach, her brain required to wait for back-up. Pride, however, was a persistent little sucker, one that set loose a torrent of electric shocks to course freely in her veins. She scurried back, covered her head, and pressed the button. An explosion rocked her chest, slamming her against the wall. Hunks of concrete crashed down, and the door slammed atop the rubble. Sabrina swung her rifle dead ahead. Adrenaline perked her lips into a smile as she charged through wisps of smoke, firing upon every body that lunged her way. “This is a raid of the U.N.E., get down on the ground.” Soldiers flooded the doorway behind her and she dropped her grin. A woman needed an iron-clad stare amid this troop of grunts. “Took you guys long enough.” She turned, stumbling back as the five-stars of a General gleamed in her eyes. “Sir,” she roared, standing up straight. “Captain Stone, I need you to come with me.” Sabrina glanced around, as much as one could without moving a single muscle in their neck. Her men cleared the room as a smaller group, with much larger guns, crowded around her. “Am I in trouble sir?” “Quite the contrary, Captain. You’ve been selected for an important mission. You’re going to Mars, soldier.” *** Joey grabbed her brother’s hand the instant he climbed off the van’s step. Her attempt to play the tough-guy had gone on long enough. People shuffled all around the wide-open room, probably watching her act like a baby, but she couldn’t let go. Fear stole her will. It could have been the towering room of glass walls and silver beams that encompassed her, the barrage of strange faces, or the fact that she’d never see her mother again, but gloom tainted this moment. A soft voice streamed from a kiosk of video screens, repeating the Space Center’s famed slogan–Three days on the state-of-the-art R23 shuttle, strolling through green grass, swimming in cool oceans. Everything she memorized from the letter in her backpack. “Look, there’s check-in,” Jesse said, tugging her from the display of white sand beaches. She inched through the crowd, close to his side. They filed into a rowdy line, her palm sweating against his skin. “The Westen twins, I presume,” a high-pitched voice trilled from behind them. In one swift move, she shook free from Jesse’s grasp and whirled around. An ultra-posh, Asian girl leered down and Joey stood tall. Her eyes wandered to the near identical boy at her side, bearing the same long jet-black hair. Another set of twins. “How did you know our name?” Jesse asked. Joey nudged his arm, pulling his gaze from the low cut of the girl’s sparkly shirt. “We know the names of all the twins on this ship,” she said, her hand hoisting to her hip. “First and last,” the boy added. Joey stifled a chuckle. Twins who finished each other’s sentences, this trip was going to be stellar. The line shuffled forward, and the small group edged up a few paces. “How many twins are on this flight?” Jesse asked, glancing between the pair. “Fourteen, including us,” she replied. “Well fourteen sets,” the boy corrected, turning to his sister. “That actually makes twenty-eight twins.” “But twins is plural, so it would be fourteen,” she argued, a hint of red flaring her cheeks. “Yeah, but, you knew who we were,” Joey said. “We didn’t even know there were other twins here. Is there like, a manual we didn’t get or something.” The girl laughed, slapping her brother’s chest. A stealthy glare clouded her delicate features as she leaned in. “We hacked the database.” “We hack everything,” the boy whispered. “Cool,” Joey drawled, glancing to Jesse. “So you must be Jesse,” the girl said, staring at Joey, “Short for Jessica, right?” “Ahh no,” Joey sputtered. “I’m Joey. Short for Josephine, which I hate so … just Joey.” “I’m Jesse, which … isn’t short for anything.” Jesse shoved his hands into his pockets, his gaze falling down. “Ahem, the line is moving,” a red headed girl groaned. They all crept forward again, and then Jesse spun back around. “So are we supposed to hack to find out your names?” The girl giggled, and Joey’s eyes rolled. Her stare landed on the boy’s annoyed face, and they both grinned. “Kami Matsuda.” A rainbow of colors reflected off the girl’s clothes as she slinked closer to Jesse, looking up into his eyes. “That’s Rai,” she said, nodding to her brother but keeping her deep gaze. Jesse gulped. His hands began to tremble, and it became painfully obvious at how fast his breath flowed. “Next in line.” “That’s us,” Joey chirped. She all but ripped Jesse from Kami’s leer. “We’ll catch up with ya.” It took quite a massive tug, but she finally got Jesse moving toward the registration table. “Now who’s smooth, dorkus,” she whispered. *** “Let me get this straight, Mr. Winslow,” Sabrina said, only able to mask a fraction of the edge in her tone, “you want me to be a glorified babysitter for a bunch of teens in space?” She turned from a wall of windows, which ran from floor to ceiling. Her boots sank into lush carpet as she strolled past stone statues, one of which lost its arm somewhere along the way. Such extravagance. If it were liquidated and spread out, every sector could afford a giant dome to protect its people from radioactive air; instead of just the A-Sectors. She tore her gaze from art-adorned walls, catching an impatient glare from the man behind a glossy wooden desk. “The situation on our hands goes far beyond babysitting, Captain Stone. We’re under attack. The commander of the U.N.E. herself assured me you were the best of the best.” “Commander Sun said that? Huh.” She stepped closer. The man before her strained to appear confident, but she glimpsed the beads of sweat that trickle between his dark wrinkled skin and white hair. “You’ve got my attention,” she said, cupping her hands behind her back. “Of course you understand, every word spoken within this room stays within this room.” “Yes sir.” “Ever since the inception of the Emergence program, a group of fanatics have targeted us. Are you familiar with the Earthisum Movement, Captain Stone?” “Yes sir. I took out an underground lair of them this morning. They seem to be, for the most part, harmless.” “Perhaps on the outside.” He pulled a brown folder from his drawer, placing it on his desk. “Have a look.” Sabrina flipped open the cover, scanning the pages. When she read a handwritten letter, which appeared to be scrawled in blood, her fingers actually shook. “The threats made in that manifesto were not empty.” Her head snapped up, and she gawked at the old man before regaining her composure. “Are you saying, the Earth-heads blew up your first flight to Mars?” His finely manicured fingers massaged his forehead, a ghostly shade of white claiming his cheeks. “Yes, after only hours in space.” He dropped his stare and muttered, “The second and third flights as well.” “What?” “Those maniacs sabotage every Spacebus we launch. None have successfully made the voyage to Mars.” “How could you hide this from the public? They think people are living, flourishing over there. You need to put a hold on this program. Now. I’ll need at least a week to investigate.” His head shook, and Sabrina slammed her hands on the desk. “That file says there are two-hundred and fifty-eight children walking onto that shuttle as we speak, Mr. Winslow. Two-hundred and fifty-eight lives you’re putting at risk.” “If we stop the program, they’ve won. No! The survival of the human race is too important. This mission has to succeed, Captain Stone.” “But why now, with kids? If what you’re telling me is true, Mars is empty. There are no doctors, scientists, or security of any kind in place. They’ll eat each other alive out there.” “It has to be them.” He rose from his seat, smoothed a crease on his pinstriped lapel, and strolled to the window. “Those young adults were born in the year of the massive solar flare.” While gazing out the lightly-tinted glass, he motioned for Sabrina to join him. “I don’t see why that matters.” As she approached, the doublewide spacecraft stole her focus. She allowed her stare to fuse with the gleam of curved metal, sharp points of thin wings, before shifting her eyes to the man beside her. “They’re genetically predisposed to elevated radiation, since … I handpicked each one of them—for their instincts, spark, and their odds of producing healthy offspring.” “Look, I get that. But, if you just postpone a few weeks I can—” “Earth only has a few weeks left, Captain Stone.” His voice quavered. He cleared his throat, lifting his chin high. “The sun is set to flare in, approximately, ten days. The space program predicts its intensity will surpass our classification scale. Moments, and everything left above the surface will be eradicated. Not even the UV-dome of A-Sector can deflect these waves.” Sabrina gasped. She began to stagger back, but Winslow grabbed her arm. “Captain Stone, Sabrina. Look down there, at those children.” Her legs wobbled for the first time in her memory, but she crept forward. People hurried along a glass-encased walkway, far below, like tiny ants marching into a trap. “That’s the future of mankind down there. If they don’t make it to Mars, our species will cease to exist. You have to get them to that planet safely. You’re the last hope of humanity, Captain Stone.”

Jamie Zakian is a full-time writer who consumes the written word as equally as oxygen. Living in South Jersey with her husband and rowdy family, she enjoys farming, archery, and blazing new trails on her 4wd quad, when not writing of course. She aspires to one day write at least one novel in every genre of fiction.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

3 winners will receive and eGalley of PROJECT EMERGENCE, International.

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[the-graves-family]

COLIN

OLYMPIANS AESTHETIC MEME

 APHRODITE: laughter-loving. sweet smiles. dressed in silk and satin. flower in their hair. sees the world as a runway. unapologetically sexual. the sea washing their ankles. in love with love.   stirrer of passion. cunning concealed by painted lips. secret daggers. doves. revolution in their kiss. delighting in the waves. flirtatious winks. strolling along the beach. staring wistfully from a balcony. this is how to be a heartbreaker. wants to be adored. gets turned on by danger.

 APOLLO: glitz and glamour. art galleries. turning the volume up. being made of gold. neatly-organized music sheets. notebooks filled with poetry. bathing in the sunlight. the powerful urge to create. collecting vinyl records. beautiful cover of wonder wall. playing multiple instruments. tasting like sunshine. healing touch. speaking in prophecies. smile mingled with wrath. shunning lies. sporting shades. hanging out at music festivals with their friends.     sleeps naked. arrow to the heart. paint brushes. probably has a tinder account.

 ARES: armed for battle. wants to raise a dog with their significant other. soft spot for children.     gives piggyback rides. scarred body. blood on their hands and face. willing to fight the world for the ones they love. fights against injustice. warm hugs. well-worn combat boots. boxing gloves. bandages wrapped around bruised knuckles. fist raised in protest. ignites revolutions.    fear is a prison. more sensitive than what their tough shell would have you think. exhausted. damaged goods. force to be reckoned with. red roses. curses under their breath.

 ARTEMIS: keen sense of a hunter. freckles like constellations on their skin. piercing eyes. disheveled braid. moonlight peeking through the shadows. the calm of the forest at night. lying on the grass and staring at the stars. mother doe and her fawn. protecting their kin. the moon shimmering on a still lake. quiver full of arrows resting against the bark of a tree. running with wolves.  bonding while circled around a campfire. not being much of a people person. arrow hitting a target. popping egos. patience on 3%. touches heaven and returns howling.

 ATHENA: discerning gaze. unreadable face. quiet museums. owl perched on their finger. armor that intimidates. eye for architecture. plays the sims for the sole purpose of building   houses.     studied the blade while everyone else was busy getting laid. huge fan of logic. loves brain teasers, ancient buildings. sweaters in neutrals and cool colors. hair done up.   can kill you with their brain. heads to the library often to research. sharpened pencils. abs that can cut steel. stoic statues. pottery classes.

 DEMETER: soil-covered hands. smile that can bloom flowers. skin loved by the sun. being the mom-friend. can lift you and your friends. flowers kept in the pockets of overalls. takes pride in their beautiful garden. speaks to their plants. leaves rustling in the wind. stalks of wheat. picking fruit. greenhouses. heart as strong as a mountain. values simplicity. daisies dotted across a collarbone. curls crowned with flowers. folded pile of sweaters in warm hues. pulling out fresh-baked bread out of the oven and the smell wafting through the air.

 DIONYSUS: drunk shitposter. on their sixth glass of wine before you’ve even finished your second. seductive smirks. untamed curls. rich fabrics on dark skin. sleek-furred panthers. theater masks. stage productions. receiving a standing ovation. rose caught between their teeth. being the baby of the bunch. wild parties that last from sundown to sunup. creeping vines. inspiring loyalty. grand opera houses. masquerade balls. rolls of film. shattered chandeliers with broken glass scattered across the wine-spilled floor. pouring champagne into flutes. lives for the applause.

 HEPHAESTUS: the calloused hands of someone who knows labor. sweaty brow. flame burning in their eyes. inventive mind. broad shoulders. steampunk goggles. nuts and bolts stored away in little boxes. ashes. striking a match. blueprints for future projects. fixing up a busted-up car and giving it cool upgrades. wrestles with bitterness. work boots have seen better years. wrinkled plaid shirts. iron melted in blazing fire. huge jackets. crafting masterpieces. greased-stained overalls. fascination with robotics. pain is fuel. stack of weaponry. even their muscles have muscles.

 HERA: resting bitch face. dressed to the nines. cows grazing on a pasture. cool rain. loving and hating fiercely. hand clutching a string of pearls. large chandelier with glittering crystals. plays the sims for the sole purpose of killing off their sims. romance to realism. pictures of the sky while flying on a plane. files that under fuck it. downs glasses of wine as they relax with a scented bubble bath and netflix. like their selfie or you’re grounded. knows 57 convenient ways to murder a man. dark eyes that penetrate your soul. marble and gold.

 HERMES: devil-may-care smile. always up-to-date on the latest technology. will steal your french fries. does it for the vine. shitposter. puts googly eyes on everything. meme hoarder. long drives on the highway. ma and pop diners. spontaneous road trips. folded maps. fingers dancing across the keyboard of a laptop. shooting hoops on the basketball court. chatting up strangers as you all journey to your own destinations. goes jogging in the morning. mixes red bull with coffee. menace on april fool’s. hoodies and sneakers.

 POSEIDON: storm with skin. colorful coral reefs. waves crashing against the shore. stroking the soft fur of a cat. their heart pounding as their horse’s gentle trot speeds into a gallop. tousled locks. clothes smeared with paint. owns several sketchbooks yet always yearns to own more. leather jackets. fondness for diy projects. handwriting that flows across the page. nimble fingers playing the strings of a violin. velvety singing voice that haunts your dreams. mood as ever-changing as the sea. the roar of a motorcycle. compass with a spinning arrow.

 ZEUS: thunder in their heart. running on coffee. flash of lightning. natural charisma. eloquence. badass in a nice suit. aficionado of history. force of nature. lenny face. nightmare-filled nights. proud arm around their lover’s waist. high-rise buildings. planes soaring through a cloudless sky. technician on the piano. maintains order. strong handshake. juggling multiple events on their busy schedule with ease. expensive watch.

 Muse/OC Aesthetic  

Rules: bold any which apply to your OC/Muse; remember to repost; feel free to add to the list.

 [COLORS]

 red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal. silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green. cobalt blue. lime green. beige.

 [ELEMENTS]

 fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops. magic.

 [BODY]

 claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. freckles. bruises. canine. scars. scratches. wounds. burns. spikes. feathers. webs. eyes. hands. sweat. tears. feline. chubby. curvy. short. tall. normal height. muscular. lean. piercing. tattoos. lithe. moles. dimples.

 [WEAPONS]

 fists. sword. dagger. spear. arrow. hammer. shield. poison. guns. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pepper sprays. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. mud balls. pyre. teeth. rifles. words.

 [MATERIALS]

 gold. silver. platinum. titanium. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. amber. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. glass. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics. jade.

 [NATURE]

 grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. tulips. lavender. petals. thorns. seeds. hay. sand. rocks. crystals. roots. flowers. ocean. river. meadow. forest. desert. tundra. savanna. rainforest. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. clouds. mountains. poppies. galaxies. stardust. sky.

 [ANIMALS]

 lions. wolves. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs. spiders. crickets. bees. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. rabbits. praying mantises. crows. ravens. mice. lizards. werewolves. unicorns. pegasus. dragons. rats. livestock. foxes. bluebirds. deer. halla.

 [FOODS/DRINKS]

 sugar. salt. bitter. candy. bubblegum. wine. champagne. hard liquor. beer. coffee. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. desserts. chocolate. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. burgers. burritos. pizza. french fries. ambrosia. honey.

 [HOBBIES]

 music. art. watercolors. gardening. smithing. sculpting. wood carving. painting. sketching. fighting. writing. composing. cooking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self-defense. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theater. history. libraries. books. comic books. magazines. cds. records. vinyls. cassettes. piano. violin. guitar. electric guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. harp. woodwinds. brass. bells. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. motorcycle riding. eating. flight. climbing. camping. running. freerunning. exploring. partying. yoga.

 [STYLE]

 lingerie. armor. cape. dress. tunic. vest. shirt. sweater. boots. heels. leggings. trousers. jeans. skirt. jewelry. earrings. necklace. bracelet. ring. pendant. hat. flower crown. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. gorget. bracers. belt. sash. coat. jacket. duster. trenchcoat. hood. gloves. socks. masks. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sunglasses. visor. eye contacts. makeup. ties. uniform. fancy shoes. leather jacket. sport underwear.

 [MISC]

 balloons. bubbles. cityscape. light. dark. candles. war. peace. money. power. percussion. clocks. photos. mirrors. pets. kisses. diary. fairy lights. madness. sanity. sadness. bittersweet. happiness. luck. optimism. pessimism. loneliness. family. friends. assistants. co-workers. enemies. loyalty. smoking. drugs. kindness. love. hugs. revenge. lust. regrets. passion. spontaneity. potty mouth. recklessness. practicality. hope.

 BOLD ANY FEARS WHICH APPLY TO YOUR MUSE.

 ITALICIZE WHAT MAKES THEM UNCOMFORTABLE.

 the dark. fire. open water. deep water. being alone. crowded spaces. confined spaces. change. failure. war. loss of control. powerlessness. prison. blood. drowning. suffocation. public speaking. natural animals. the supernatural. heights. death. dying. intimacy. rejection. abandonment. loss. the unknown. the future. not being good enough. scary stories. speaking to new people. poverty. loud noises. being touched.

 Unnecessary Detailed Dislikes

 Muse name: Colin Graves

Least favorite nickname: Coco

Least favorite color: Blue

Least favorite season: Spring

Least favorite weather: Cold and Wet

Least favorite — hot or cold: cold

Least favorite holiday: 4th of july

Least favorite food: undercooked meat

Least favorite flavor: artificial grape

Least favorite drink: whiskey

Least favorite scent: burning

Least favorite sound: babies crying

Least favorite movie: Bad moms

Least favorite school subject or area of study: PE

Least favorite person: anyone who says a bad thing about his kids

Least favorite trait in others: judginess

Least favorite place: the pharmacy

Least favorite thing to talk about: luke

Least favorite thing about themselves: knees

Least favorite style of clothing:  nautical

Least favorite thing about humanity in general: treatment of children

Least favorite thing about death: it doesn’t discriminate

 absent-minded | abusive  |  addict | adrenaline junkie |   aggressive  | aimless  |  alcoholic |  anxious  | arrogant  |  audacious |  bad liar  | bigmouth  |  bigot |  blindly loyal  | blunt   |  callous |  childish  | chronic heroism  |  cheater | clingy  | clumsy  |  cocky |  codependent  | competitive  | corrupt  |  cowardly |  cruel  | cynical  |  delinquent |  delusional  | dependent  | depressed  | deranged  |  disloyal |  ditzy  | egotistical  |  envious |  erratic  | fickle  |  finicky |  fixated  | flaky  |  frail |  fraudulent  |  foul mouthed  |  guilt complex  | gloomy  |  gluttonous  | gossiper  |  gruff | grudge holding |  gullible  | hedonistic  |  humorless |  hypochondriac  | hypocritical | idealist  |  idiotic |  ignorant  | immature  | impatient  | incompetent  |  indecisive | insecure  | insensitive  |  lazy |  lewd  | liar  |  lustful | manipulative |  masochistic  | meddlesome  |  melodramatic  | money-loving  |  moody  | naïve  |  nervous |  nosy  | ornery  |  overprotective  | overly sensitive   |  paranoid |  passive-aggressive  |  perfectionist |  pessimist  | petty  |  power-hungry |  proud  | possessive  |  pushover | reckless  |  reclusive  | remorseless  |  rigorous |  sadistic  | sarcastic | senile  |  selfish |  self-destructive  | shallow  |  sociopathic |  sore loser  | spineless  |  spiteful |  spoiled  | stubborn | suspicious  |tactless |  temperamental |  timid  | thief  |  tone-deaf | traitorous |  unathletic | ungracious  |  unlucky   |  unsophisticated  | untrustworthy  |  vain  |  withdrawn |  workaholic

[the-graves-family]

VICTOR

 OLYMPIANS AESTHETIC MEME

 APHRODITE: laughter-loving. sweet smiles. dressed in silk and satin. flower in their hair. sees the world as a runway. unapologetically sexual. the sea washing their ankles. in love with love.   stirrer of passion. cunning concealed by painted lips. secret daggers. doves. revolution in their kiss. delighting in the waves. flirtatious winks. strolling along the beach. staring wistfully from a balcony. this is how to be a heartbreaker. wants to be adored. gets turned on by danger.

 APOLLO: glitz and glamour. art galleries. turning the volume up. being made of gold. neatly-organized music sheets. notebooks filled with poetry. bathing in the sunlight. the powerful urge to create. collecting vinyl records. beautiful cover of wonder wall. playing multiple instruments. tasting like sunshine. healing touch. speaking in prophecies. smile mingled with wrath. shunning lies. sporting shades. hanging out at music festivals with their friends.     sleeps naked. arrow to the heart. paint brushes. probably has a tinder account.

 ARES: armed for battle. wants to raise a dog with their significant other. soft spot for children.     gives piggyback rides. scarred body. blood on their hands and face. willing to fight the world for the ones they love. fights against injustice. warm hugs. well-worn combat boots. boxing gloves. bandages wrapped around bruised knuckles. fist raised in protest. ignites revolutions.    fear is a prison. more sensitive than what their tough shell would have you think. exhausted. damaged goods. force to be reckoned with. red roses. curses under their breath.

 ARTEMIS: keen sense of a hunter. freckles like constellations on their skin. piercing eyes. disheveled braid. moonlight peeking through the shadows. the calm of the forest at night. lying on the grass and staring at the stars. mother doe and her fawn. protecting their kin. the moon shimmering on a still lake. quiver full of arrows resting against the bark of a tree. running with wolves.  bonding while circled around a campfire. not being much of a people person. arrow hitting a target. popping egos. patience on 3%. touches heaven and returns howling.

 ATHENA: discerning gaze. unreadable face. quiet museums. owl perched on their finger. armor that intimidates. eye for architecture. plays the sims for the sole purpose of building   houses. studied the blade while everyone else was busy getting laid. huge fan of logic. loves brain teasers, ancient buildings. sweaters in neutrals and cool colors. hair done up. can kill you with their brain. heads to the library often to research. sharpened pencils. abs that can cut steel. stoic statues. pottery classes.

 DEMETER: soil-covered hands. smile that can bloom flowers. skin loved by the sun. being the mom-friend. can lift you and your friends. flowers kept in the pockets of overalls. takes pride in their beautiful garden. speaks to their plants. leaves rustling in the wind. stalks of wheat. picking fruit. greenhouses. heart as strong as a mountain. values simplicity. daisies dotted across a collarbone. curls crowned with flowers. folded pile of sweaters in warm hues. pulling out fresh-baked bread out of the oven and the smell wafting through the air.

 DIONYSUS: drunk shitposter. on their sixth glass of wine before you’ve even finished your second. seductive smirks. untamed curls. rich fabrics on dark skin. sleek-furred panthers. theater masks. stage productions. receiving a standing ovation. rose caught between their teeth. being the baby of the bunch. wild parties that last from sundown to sunup. creeping vines. inspiring loyalty. grand opera houses. masquerade balls. rolls of film. shattered chandeliers with broken glass scattered across the wine-spilled floor. pouring champagne into flutes. lives for the applause.

 HEPHAESTUS: the calloused hands of someone who knows labor. sweaty brow. flame burning in their eyes. inventive mind. broad shoulders. steampunk goggles. nuts and bolts stored away in little boxes. ashes. striking a match. blueprints for future projects. fixing up a busted-up car and giving it cool upgrades. wrestles with bitterness. work boots have seen better years. wrinkled plaid shirts. iron melted in blazing fire. huge jackets. crafting masterpieces. greased-stained overalls. fascination with robotics. pain is fuel. stack of weaponry. even their muscles have muscles.

 HERA: resting bitch face. dressed to the nines. cows grazing on a pasture. cool rain. loving and hating fiercely. hand clutching a string of pearls. large chandelier with glittering crystals. plays the sims for the sole purpose of killing off their sims. romance to realism. pictures of the sky while flying on a plane. files that under fuck it. downs glasses of wine as they relax with a scented bubble bath and netflix. like their selfie or you’re grounded. knows 57 convenient ways to murder a man. dark eyes that penetrate your soul. marble and gold.

 HERMES: devil-may-care smile. always up-to-date on the latest technology. will steal your french fries. does it for the vine. shitposter. puts googly eyes on everything. meme hoarder. long drives on the highway. ma and pop diners. spontaneous road trips. folded maps. fingers dancing across the keyboard of a laptop. shooting hoops on the basketball court. chatting up strangers as you all journey to your own destinations. goes jogging in the morning. mixes red bull with coffee. menace on april fool’s. hoodies and sneakers.

 POSEIDON: storm with skin. colorful coral reefs. waves crashing against the shore. stroking the soft fur of a cat. their heart pounding as their horse’s gentle trot speeds into a gallop. tousled locks. clothes smeared with paint. owns several sketchbooks yet always yearns to own more. leather jackets. fondness for diy projects. handwriting that flows across the page. nimble fingers playing the strings of a violin. velvety singing voice that haunts your dreams. mood as ever-changing as the sea. the roar of a motorcycle. compass with a spinning arrow.

 ZEUS: thunder in their heart. running on coffee. flash of lightning. natural charisma. eloquence. badass in a nice suit. aficionado of history. force of nature. lenny face. nightmare-filled nights. proud arm around their lover’s waist. high-rise buildings. planes soaring through a cloudless sky. technician on the piano. maintains order. strong handshake. juggling multiple events on their busy schedule with ease. expensive watch.

 Muse/OC Aesthetic  

Rules: bold any which apply to your OC/Muse; remember to repost; feel free to add to the list.

 [COLORS]

 red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal. silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green. cobalt blue. lime green. beige.

 [ELEMENTS]

 fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops. magic.

 [BODY]

 claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. freckles. bruises. canine. scars. scratches. wounds. burns. spikes. feathers. webs. eyes. hands. sweat. tears. feline. chubby. curvy. short. tall. normal height. muscular. lean. piercing. tattoos. lithe. moles. dimples.

 [WEAPONS]

 fists. sword. dagger. spear. arrow. hammer. shield. poison. guns. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pepper sprays. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. mud balls. pyre. teeth. rifles. words.

 [MATERIALS]

 gold. silver. platinum. titanium. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. amber. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. glass. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics. jade.

 [NATURE]

 grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. tulips. lavender. petals. thorns. seeds. hay. sand. rocks. crystals. roots. flowers. ocean. river. meadow. forest. desert. tundra. savanna. rainforest. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. clouds. mountains. poppies. galaxies. stardust. sky.

 [ANIMALS]

 lions. wolves. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs. spiders. crickets. bees. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. rabbits. praying mantises. crows. ravens. mice. lizards. werewolves. unicorns. pegasus. dragons. rats. livestock. foxes. bluebirds. deer. halla.

 [FOODS/DRINKS]

 sugar. salt. bitter. candy. bubblegum. wine. champagne. hard liquor. beer. coffee. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. desserts. chocolate. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. burgers. burritos. pizza. french fries. ambrosia. honey.

 [HOBBIES]

 music. art. watercolors. gardening. smithing. sculpting. wood carving. painting. sketching. fighting. writing. composing. cooking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self-defense. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theater. history. libraries. books. comic books. magazines. cds. records. vinyls. cassettes. piano. violin. guitar. electric guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. harp. woodwinds. brass. bells. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. motorcycle riding. eating. flight. climbing. camping. running. freerunning. exploring. partying. yoga.

 [STYLE]

 lingerie. armor. cape. dress. tunic. vest. shirt. sweater. boots. heels. leggings. trousers. jeans. skirt. jewelry. earrings. necklace. bracelet. ring. pendant. hat. flower crown. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. gorget. bracers. belt. sash. coat. jacket. duster. trenchcoat. hood. gloves. socks. masks. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sunglasses. visor. eye contacts. makeup. ties. uniform. fancy shoes. leather jacket. sport underwear.

 [MISC]

 balloons. bubbles. cityscape. light. dark. candles. war. peace. money. power. percussion. clocks. photos. mirrors. pets. kisses. diary. fairy lights. madness. sanity. sadness. bittersweet. happiness. luck. optimism. pessimism. loneliness. family. friends. assistants. co-workers. enemies. loyalty. smoking. drugs. kindness. love. hugs. revenge. lust. regrets. passion. spontaneity. potty mouth. recklessness. practicality. hope.

 BOLD ANY FEARS WHICH APPLY TO YOUR MUSE.

 ITALICIZE WHAT MAKES THEM UNCOMFORTABLE.

 the dark. fire. open water. deep water. being alone. crowded spaces. confined spaces. change. failure. war. loss of control. powerlessness. prison. blood. drowning. suffocation. public speaking. natural animals. the supernatural. heights. death. dying. intimacy. rejection. abandonment. loss. the unknown. the future. not being good enough. scary stories. speaking to new people. poverty. loud noises. being touched.

 Unnecessary Detailed Dislikes

 Muse name: Victor Graves

Least favorite nickname: Vicky

Least favorite color: Orange

Least favorite season: Summer

Least favorite weather: Hot and wet, typhoon

Least favorite — hot or cold: Hot

Least favorite holiday: Easter

Least favorite food: Pineapple

Least favorite flavor: pineapple

Least favorite drink: Gin

Least favorite scent: Petroleum

Least favorite sound: Children arguing with each other

Least favorite movie: King Kong

Least favorite school subject or area of study: Math

Least favorite aspect of their job: Dealing with grieving families

Least favorite person: One of his old lawyer rivals.

Least favorite trait in others: Naivete

Least favorite place: Police stations

Least favorite thing to talk about: the family to strangers

Least favorite thing about themselves: he can be a little reckless sometimes and he hates that

Least favorite sexual position: on the side

Least favorite daily chore: cleaning the dishes

Least favorite style of clothing:  70s disco

Least favorite activity: gardening

 absent-minded | abusive  |  addict | adrenaline junkie |   aggressive  | aimless  |  alcoholic |  anxious  | arrogant  |  audacious |  bad liar  | bigmouth  |  bigot |  blindly loyal  | blunt   |  callous  | childish  |  chronic heroism  | cheater  | clingy  | clumsy  |  cocky |  codependent  | competitive |  corrupt  |  cowardly |  cruel  |  cynical  | delinquent  |  delusional |  dependent  | depressed |  deranged  | disloyal  |  ditzy |  egotistical  | envious  |  erratic |  fickle  | finicky  |  fixated |  flaky  | frail  |  fraudulent |  foul mouthed  | guilt complex  |  gloomy |  gluttonous  | gossiper  |  gruff  | grudge holding |  gullible  | hedonistic  |  humorless |  hypochondriac  | hypocritical | idealist  | idiotic  |  ignorant |  immature  | impatient |  incompetent  | indecisive  | insecure  | insensitive  |  lazy |  lewd  | liar  |  lustful | manipulative |  masochistic |  meddlesome  | melodramatic  |  money-loving |  moody  | naïve  |  nervous |  nosy  | ornery  |  overprotective  | overly sensitive   |  paranoid |  passive-aggressive  | perfectionist  |  pessimist |  petty  |  power-hungry  | proud  |  possessive |  pushover |  reckless |  reclusive  |  remorseless  | rigorous  |  sadistic  | sarcastic | senile  |  selfish |  self-destructive  | shallow  |  sociopathic  |  sore loser  | spineless  |  spiteful |  spoiled  | stubborn | suspicious  |tactless | temperamental  | timid  |  thief |  tone-deaf | traitorous |  unathletic |  ungracious  | unlucky   |  unsophisticated  | untrustworthy  |  vain  |  withdrawn |  workaholic