#were you beaten in the skull with bats as an infant

[freckledsweetpea]

idk maybe I am a lesbian. who knows? not me. men are very hot and are good to look at but I wouldn't date one.

[ms31x129]

The end is here Chapter 7! I went simple with this DJ Jackson/William was shaped by 2 couples who loved him. That’s at the heart of this incredible story, imho.  @cultureisdarkbeer @monikafilefan @today-in-fic

Chapter 1 - Courage to Jump Tumblr LINK  AO3 it is HERE.

Chapter 2: Luck of the Irish Tumblr LINK or AO3 it is HERE.

Chapter 3: Graffiti of the Heart Tumblr LINK or AO3 HERE.

Chapter 4: Leave Your Demons At The Door Tumblr LINK or AO3 HERE.

Chapter 5: Truth Is the Pain Inside Our Hearts Tumblr LINK or AO3 HERE.

Chapter 6: Final Destination Tumblr LINK or AO3 HERE. 

Chapter 7: Full Circle <<AO3 Link or if you like Tumblr you know the drill clickity-click on the Keep Reading link below. 

{Summary:

Jackson’s journey has come full circle, but what happens before it finally comes to an end?}

“Everything has a way of coming full circle. It takes patience and perseverance to see a dream through… to close that circle. Because some dreams, like some circles, can be much bigger than others.” -Karen Dale Trask

The fresh spring breeze tousled Jackson’s unruly hair. It either frizzed or flopped around his cowlick and left him consistently smoothing it down more often than not. He couldn’t help but wonder who he’d gotten that trait from: Mulder or Dana? Would he call her Dana or Mother or… Mom? Not that. He didn’t think he could ever find it in his heart to call anyone Mom again.

Jackson couldn’t help but think back to the moment he first spoke face to face with his birth mother. After hearing her heartfelt confession in the morgue, the one that made his gut tumble to his toes, he made a silent promise that he would talk to her at some point in the future. He just had no idea that the chance to make good on that promise would present itself so soon after he made it. He had just endured the worst day of his life after witnessing his parents lying lifeless on the floor covered in blood, and then hearing the words of a mother he never thought he’d meet left him reeling. Using Ghouli for selfish reasons had him feeling overwhelming guilt; yet seeing her and Mulder, under the guise of an illusion at that off-the-beaten-path gas station, had softened the ironclad armor he was trying so hard to construct around his heart...

The bell attached to the gas station door chimed and a tall man walked in.

“Can I get $40 on the SUV out there, please?” Jackson could see the attendant in his peripheral ringing the guy up as he popped a sunflower seed in his mouth. He watched the man turn to him and nod up at the TV where the Pirates and Nats were tied in the bottom of the 4th inning.

“You follow baseball?” His voice was low and smooth in a familiar sort of way that flowed over Jackson with ease.

Feeling a wave of goosebumps spike across his arms, he glanced over inside his illusion and directly locked eyes with the man his birth mother had embraced in the morgue: Fox Mulder.

Slowly nodding, Jackson answered, “I’m a Yankee’s fan myself.”

“Me, too!”

“Too bad I’m leaving town. Maybe, we could have caught a game,” Jackson sighed, confused that he actually meant it.

Mulder shrugged and scoffed at the pop fly to the pitcher's mound. “Yeah, maybe.”

“I bet a G-man can get good seats.” He nudged Mulder’s arm and pointed to the exposed badge sticking out of his jacket pocket.

Mulder narrowed his eyes at Jackson, the same ones he saw in the mirror every day. “Good eye.”

He huffed. “Gotta have one nowadays.”

Mulder smirked, nodding in agreement, and a flicker of sadness washed over his face as the screen focused in on a father and son laughing as they cheered on their team. “Years ago, I had the hope of taking my own son to a game.”

A knot began to form in Jackson’s throat. He cleared it and decided to leave a little something for the obvious emotionally worn-down man standing nearly shoulder to shoulder with him. “Well, maybe one day you can. Don’t give up.”

The smell of baked goods caught his attention and the memory of his first encounter with his birth father faded. He ventured over to the small mom-and-pop shop called “Little Virginia’s Bakery and Novelty Shop” with a renewed sense of purpose and food on the brain.

“Perfect!” His empty stomach rumbled in agreement.

For being an out-of-the-way shop, the little place held a few farmers, a family of three, and an elderly couple tucked away in the back. The sweet scent of cinnamon and sugar filled the air and Jackson’s mouth watered instantly.

“Hi there!” The silver haired woman stood from her corner table to greet him. “Welcome to Little Virginia’s. Hungry?” Her brown eyes trailed him from head to toe, assessing his dirty, worn jeans, well-loved jacket, and mussed hair. Jackson was sure he would hear a grandmother-like lecture about taking good care of himself; one he knew he’d never heard from one of his own. But, instead, she smiled and nodded to the bakery case. “How about I get you a nice carb-filled breakfast while you take a look around the place? Can’t help but assume you just might like something you see.” She pointed to the baseball on his shirt from his Freshman year travel league team—which he was reluctantly kicked off of for skipping too many practices.

“Uh, sure, okay. Thanks,” he stammered, unsure of what she meant by that yet followed her gaze to the wall behind him. Gasping, he wandered over to the large shelving unit filled with snow globes. “Wow!”

The wall was covered with a wide array of different sized globes. Each one was unique in design and meaning. Just like the collection back in his room that he’d never see again, he thought bitterly. He scanned each shelf from top to bottom, searching for one that called to him. It was something that he and his mom used to do on family vacations when they visited tourist shops.

Jackson slowed his mind and chose not to fight against the happier memory tickling at his brain of his very first snow globe that sparked not only the start of his collection, but his interest in all things cryptid...

“Jackson? There you are! I’ve been looking for you,” his mom chastised, grabbing his arm and kneading it between her fingers. “You wandered off again and left me wondering where my son’s imagination had decided to lead him this time.”

He sighed, hoping he wouldn’t be grounded later because of the strong attraction to what was staring him in the face at the moment. “Sorry, I just saw this and liked it.”

With a ruffle of his thick hair that dipped along his forehead, his mom chucked. “That certainly is an… interesting snow globe.” Jackson shook it and the white, glittery flecks swirled like a storm. “Why this one? It doesn’t seem to fit your space-themed bedroom.”

A grin spread across his chocolate stained mouth. “Oh, it does, Mom. Just like with outer space, there’s mystery behind the existence of Sasquatch. You know, guesses...”

She shook her head. “Theories, you mean,” she corrected, “just like with space. Jackson, you are too smart for your own good, you know that?”

His mom teased yet it was the truth; and he knew it. He knew a lot of things he wished he didn’t. “Yeah, I do.”

“Hey, kid!” A deep voice snapped Jackson’s eyes open and back to the shop. He stared at a man through one of the large glass globes and nearly laughed at the distorted fun house image he saw looking back. “You alright?”

“Yeah, uh yes, I’m fine,” he said, quoting his usual line when anyone asked how he was. “Just checking these out. I used to collect them, actually.” He wasn’t sure why he was sharing personal information with a stranger. He’d never done that before, but the kindness in the man’s eyes reminded him of his dad.

“Used to?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, just haven’t added to my old collection in a few years.”

“Well,” the man started as he adjusted his hat, “looks to me like you’re ready to start a new one.” Jackson raised a brow and watched as the man went and sat back down in his chair with a smirk peeking out from his mustache.

As Jackson continued to look through the mass of watery globes, he considered that the old man was right. Starting something new was exactly what he was hoping to accomplish. Just then, a ray of sunlight struck the glass on a small, circular one out of the corner of his eye. It sat on the shelf nestled in a row of sports themed snow globes. The one he felt compelled to touch left him baffled at the significant meaning. If he weren’t fully aware of the pain-free feeling in his skull, he might think the image inside the globe was a snapshot of a future vision.

Holding it up into the light, the tiny people inside painted an exact picture of a life that Jackson thought he was never meant to have.

A man stood on the pitchers mound, arm wound back in an arc, ready to let loose a curveball with the way his fingers were gripped around the seams. The batter was a boy with brown hair who leaned over the plate, wooden bat cocked back and poised in the air. There was a woman sitting on a grassy hill near the boy, strands of her red-gold hair were fisted within a tiny infants grasp cradled in her arms. In that moment, Jackson actually believed that fate was calling.

Over an hour later, Jackson had made it to the desolate Wallis road, his belly full and spirits lifted, but a part of his heart remained heavy. Nature called, so he found a tree among the weeds to relieve himself. As he zipped back up, in the far distance he noticed the roof of the house, and reality punched him square in the solar plexus. Would the DoD pick up his trail? By taking these next steps, did it place them all in danger? Maybe they had moved on and were a happy family without him—complete and worry free.

Maybe, his trek should end where he stood.

His thumb rubbed the glass auricle buried deep in his jacket pocket; the crinkled letter folded next to it worn by years, travel, and his own perspiration poked at the back of his hand. Both of them provided reassurance. Perhaps, another link from the past held an answer along with some courage. There was still one line left to read after all. Carefully, with trembling fingers he unfolded the paper and the heart-wrenching words flowed freely from his lips.

“And in that moment, you will be blessed… and stricken… for the truest truths are what hold us together, or keep us painfully, desperately apart .”

An explosion of images seared through his brain in a rapid fire of painful impulses, like an electrical storm burning across his neurons. He was assaulted by her face, her voice, her scent... It was then that Jackson refocused, the revelation that he had returned to a monumental moment in the past—a crucial turning point, as he began to walk his mother’s path one last time.

March 22, 2002

Her hands shook as she closed the door and entered her dark, silent apartment. She tore her purse, shoes, and jacket off in the entryway and let them fall carelessly to the floor. Her heart beat wildly within her chest as intense anxiety buzzed through her body, like a saw blade humming through flesh. Pushing it away yet again, she stumbled through the dim hallway, stopping abruptly as she came to a cracked open door.

She gasped, taking in the sight of the empty crib. Ignoring the voice in her head that Jackson could hear screaming for her to run—to hide and shut it all away, she allowed her fingertips to dance along the cool wooden bed where her son should lay dreaming. With a trembling chin, she reached in and grabbed his cream blanket, the one her mother had knitted for him when she hadn’t yet known to use pink or blue.

“Mom…” Jesus, her mother will never understand; she might always blame her for searching for answers to obscure questions when her miracle was held within her arms. She slammed her eyes shut as the memory of her mother’s advice played out behind her lids for Jackson to witness…

February 18, 2002

Sliding her arms into her jacket as she prepared to leave, she said, “Mom, it’s important. I wouldn’t go if it weren’t.”

Frustrated, her mother shook her head and clutched baby William tighter against her hip. “Yes, I know, Dana. You say it’s about getting answers.”

Shaking her head, she sighed and her eyes flicked to her son playing with his grandmother’s sweater, blissfully unaware of his role in life. “Answers about William, Mom.”

“I know you’re worried about him—that there are things about him that you just can’t explain. But, even if you were to get those answers, what would it change?”

With emotions flaring, her voice trembled as she tried to explain in the simplest way possible. “Mom, he’s my child.”

Refusing to back down and stay silent, she pleaded with her daughter to listen. “And you have to love him and raise him in spite of everything.” Stepping closer, her mother’s tone softened as her hazel eyes met watery blue. “Dana, God has given you a miracle. A child that wasn’t supposed to be.” Gazing down at her grandson with pride, she offered, “Maybe, it’s not to question—just to be taken as a matter of faith.”

Feeling lost and alone with horrible thoughts swirling of what secrets may be out there regarding her son, she stared at her mother’s worried expression and told her the truth. “Mom, I can’t take this on faith. I need to know,” she explained, soothing William’s soft, fuzzy hair, wishing she could fully trust what her heart was telling her. “I need to know if it’s really God I have to thank...”

Jackson felt his mother stiffen as her own memory melted away. Her eyes snapped open yet the residual turmoil of her mother’s words remained entwined like barbed wire within her chest.

“Oh, Mom...” she whispered and bit her lip until it hurt almost as much as her heart.

She inhaled a deep breath, her knees buckling at the strong baby scent and that’s when she saw it: her own withdrawn, broken reflection in the small mirror hung above the rocking chair. How could she look herself in the mirror ever again and not see someone who had simply given up, who didn’t have the courage to stand by her son and fight to the death to protect him? His father would have if he were here. Yet, she sent him away to keep their son safe, and now she was left with nothing.

Guttural cries finally burst free from her mouth, the awful feeling of guilt and sadness overwhelmed her. Pressing the scent of their baby boy to her face, she screamed into the yarn of the blanket as her emotions warred on. Her mother: a God-fearing woman who forgives as easily as she loves, would never forget what her daughter had done here tonight.

Emptiness echoed in the silence, fatigue pulled at the weariness beneath her lids as her fingers ran along the soft stitching connecting the satin to the plush cotton. Her body felt hollow, like a shell that held nothing but an ocean of tears and shards of glass wedged between her soul and her heart.

It hurt to be in her son’s room where he slept and played and nursed and listened to her terrible singing and… it hurt to breathe. “Oh God, Mulder, please forgive me.”  

A heavy layer of sorrow covered her chest, suffocating her. The reality of her decision surrounded her with every shallow breath she took. “Mulder, I’m so sorry,” she whimpered, fiery tears burning her down the column of her throat. “Our truest truth… our son, he’s held us together and now… and now desperately apart.”

No matter if her choice was right or not, William was their son: a living breathing product of their everlasting love, their miracle… and now he was gone. No matter her constant worry of the safety and origin of the miracle she held within her arms every day—had loved unconditionally the moment she knew he existed; she had willingly given away a part of her and Mulder’s love. A love so strong that it conquered the impossible and produced a wondrous gift. In that very moment, she knew she would carry this heaviness in her heart until the day she died. And Jackson felt her terrible thought that just maybe, she deserved to.

He felt his mother slipping away from his grasp as she road the roaring tide of her emotions. She and her gut-wrenching sobs were fading, drifting off into darkness where he knew she would rebuild her fortress of stoicism in order to survive, dimming the remaining light in her life as the vision did the same for him.

Time stretched like a rubber band connecting the past to the present. Jackson separated achingly slow from his mother’s grief with images fading into the back of his mind as his own anguish took hold.

“Ah, dammit!” The sheer agony that had coursed through her veins was enough for Jackson to still taste the metallic remnants of blood from her gnawed bottom lip within his own mouth. The upheaval of emotional static was in his head, shredding it from the inside—the side effects of constant fears and self-doubt. The selfless suffering felt from an unconditional love took away a piece of him as it took from her, unraveling the purity in his soul.

He felt his chin tremble uncontrollably, like it did when he was nine and was teased on the playground for being “weird.” He felt it: the last remaining bricks of the wall that stood to protect and uphold his heart crumbled, leaving him bare and exposed. The flashback sucked the breath from his chest and he folded, collapsing into himself and driving him to his knees.

Squinting up at the sun with a sheen of sweat across his brow, he clenched his fists, blanching his knuckles as nails dug deeply into the palms of his hands. Slamming them to the ground, Jackson screamed. The sound piercing the early afternoon sky like an air raid siren, unleashing the remaining demons from the scars that had refused to heal. The agony left his lungs with the strength of a gale force wind, begging the sun for its rays of light to soothe away the darkness. The torment felt as though it ripped his muscles, bones, and flesh to shreds. His dark lashes brimmed heavy with tears and the dam burst when his emotions surged against it. Crystal beads streamed from his deep blue eyes as heaving sobs tore at his throat and wracked his chest—the weight of his grief pressing him into the ground where he knelt.

Within the last year, he had cried all of three times: the night of his parent’s death, once out of sheer loneliness, and now from the effects of this letter. These words from his mother had saved him from the monster, the one indifferent to suffering and sorrow, and got him to feel.

Jackson dug into the dirt with the balls of his feet and pushed off, taking mighty strides as he sprinted before even aware of the conscious decision. His bag bounced along his shoulders, his long dark colored locks whipping back and forth behind him as he leapt large rocks and dodged roots. Charged with adrenaline surging through his veins, he had to keep running forward; nothing would stop him now. As quick as his long legs could carry him, his shoes hammered the hard earth that mimicked the pounding in his chest. The smell of bark and pine invaded his nostrils, his burning lungs begging for air, but Jackson embraced the pain. His shirt clung to his form, damp with sweat and tears and he ran, feeling her presence like he could feel her mind. He finally let down the mental barrier he had held up against reaching out and into her mind, liberating him.

All the signs, all the things leading him to reach this very path was fate; it had intervened and he knew now—felt it now… William needed to come home.

Now, the boy who had always felt split in two was whole. Now, he was finally fine . He was free.

By the time he reached the gated driveway to the property, the pain had dissipated as hope and truth dominated. One hand rested on the cold iron; his limbs on fire as he panted, trying to catch his breath. The well-worn house stood taller now—a simple A-frame with a couple dormers and extended front porch. The fence surrounding the property consisted of many shades of weathered wood, time and sunlight painting it several grayish and brownish hues. Beyond its confines stood a patchwork quilt of several grasses and wildflowers, sewn together by a dusty road. For a glimmer of a moment, he envisioned a little sister running through the rolling grass, chasing a dog to hug and cuddle, the puppy stealing licks while they laughed in amusement and drank tea on the front porch.

Jackson pulled open the heavy gate and stepped onto the familiar ground his feet had yet to tread. A deep breath calmed his rising nerves, as did walking through the tall wheat grass swaying in the open breeze. It all reminded him of his childhood farm and working the fields with his dad.

The land here grew wilder than his dad would allow, although so did he and, he suspected, so did the pair that occupied that house. He continued on, the rhododendrons now in full bloom overpowered the nearby flowers. They greeted his senses and he became more engrossed, living in the moment like he had never experienced before. This was real. His futuristic visions foreshadowed death and hellfire, reeking of ash and rot. But here, only birds sang and thick, green foliage swayed with the breeze, covering the sound of distant traffic.

For so long his thoughts never stopped spinning, visions of pasts and futures, the constant questioning of himself was nothing but a furnace of pain hidden beneath a forced smile and occasional happiness. All of that stood silent now. For the first time in his life there were no thoughts, only instincts. Ones that he trusted. So he continued walking along the gravely dirt driveway, up the worn steps to stand at their faithful door.

Somehow it all made sense, that the flashback visions would take him back to where this all began, bringing him full circle to find the truth; taking him back to the night where his old life had ended and was given a new one. The night William M. Scully became Jackson Van de Kamp. He was both Jackson and William, he realized: Chimera born—one boy with two sets of parents who loved him. One remarkable teen with a remarkable past standing on the porch of an unremarkable house, hoping to share a future with those who sacrificed everything for him.

Jackson had navigated his way through his birth mother’s past and his own—effectively finding himself during a time when he was truly lost. And, now, the son of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully would finally cross their threshold as his whole self, an open book written in a language only they could fully understand.

A flutter of nervousness began to churn in his gut. He shut his eyes, inhaling a deep breath and counted to ten, recalling what his dad had told him to do when he felt this way. Those familiar words of wisdom embraced him, giving him the push he needed to let loose three confident knocks to the squeaky screen door. Footfalls and muffled voices could be heard through the oak door and his heart pounded through his shirt.

A smile pulled at Jackson’s lips when he realized that he was standing inches from the proverbial edge of what was his leap of faith for a new beginning, completely unafraid and committed to jump.

[justaramblingromantic]

sun and moon

Characters/Pairing: Kobayashi Rindou, Tsukasa Eishi, Tsukasa Hi’en (OC), Tsukasa Chouko (OC)/EiRin

Type: Fantasy/Medieval!AU, Dragon Heart!verse, Freestyle

Word Count: 2911

A/N: Dragon writing practice, of sorts. 

Chouko was about two when the Change came over her for the very first time.

It was very abrupt. One moment, the little toddler was happily tottering around the nursery with her mother watching her exploratory antics with amusement, and the next, she tripped, fell on her rump hard enough to scare herself, and then she promptly poofed.

One moment, the white haired little one was a cute, precocious baby, and the next, she was…a cute, precocious baby…of an entirely different species.

In place of where an inquisitive human child had been earlier was now a hound-sized…winged lizard.

To be more precise, a dragon. A baby dragon.

True to her dragonic heritage, she looked like a miniaturized version of her mother and older brother in their Other forms, only that the kit’s scales were moonshine white, taking after her Knight father’s fair coloring, and they rippled beautifully with every shivering movement she made. She glowed like a little moon. Her extended wings; soft, leathery skin stretched taut over delicate, talon-tipped bones that were still far from fully developed, flopped clumsily on the ground – she still did not know how to fold them in neatly against her back yet. Her tiny claws, untried but razor sharp and hard as diamonds, dug into the carpeted floor, slicing through the thick woven fibers like they were made of butter, leaving deep gouges on the stone slabs beneath in the wake of her rising distress.

Still in shock over her own bewildering transformation, her mouth opened to cry for her mama but instead of words, only a shrill, screechy wail came out. The unexpected loud, sharp sound that emerged out of her own throat had scared her too, and she abruptly snapped her narrow, elongated jaws shut, hunching like a beaten dog, pale, slit pupiled lavender eyes quivering piteously, not understanding what was going on at all.

The tiny, newly awakened Queen swiveled her slender, triangular head and lifted it with some difficulty- suddenly, it felt heavier than she was used to, and she had to exert more strength just to hold it upright to seek out her mother. Everything was overwhelming – there was so much noise everywhere crammed into her pounding head and her nose stung with a myriad of new and strange smells. Her eyes watered. She whimpered, cowering back low on the ground and frantically trying to bury her trembling snout beneath her paws, her long, prehensile tail whipping about everywhere in panic, toppling nearby stacks of toy blocks and tossing aside ragdolls with each powerful, haphazard sweep, crying the entire way.

“Oh…baby,” Rindou breathed in surprise as she hurried over to console her terrified butterfly child. She…had not expected this. They had all assumed that Chouko was more human than dragon – she had never showed any signs of Change before…until now. Unlike her older brother, who had popped into his dragonic form suddenly too…at barely six months of age. Hi’en had been very, very young when his dragon blood roared awoke and he started switching fluidly between two forms, hence he had adapted faster and taken to the Change easier, to the point where the young boy seemed to be more dragon than human at times, much to the dismay of his aristocratic (human) relatives.

Chouko was just also going to have to learn to live with this side of her inheritance, now that it too had chosen to rear its head. It would be a bit more difficult for the sensitive, shy child but she would be fine…because she was not alone.

The redhead deftly avoided her kit’s volatilely lashing tail, swiftly crouching down by the distressed child’s side. Her hands reached out, nimble fingers running over the little dragon’s back and flanks and wings, swiftly checking to see if she was hurt. She seemed physically unharmed, but was still making little miserable growling sounds and trying her hardest to claw at her ear flaps-

Ah, Rindou was quickly beginning to figure out what was ailing her daughter. The castle, with its sprawling complexes densely filled with many people and sounds and smells, must have been overwhelming for the child who had yet to learn how to control and filter her senses. Rindou could sympathize, and there was only one way to deal with this problem, and that was to physically remove her from it.

“Mama’s gonna help you feel better-”

She released her control over her human form- there was a throb of unearthly power as it surged and rippled over her, and she Changed fluidly. She landed lightly on all fours beside her kit, glittering red gold scales and large, unfurling wings that she quickly tucked tight against her back, long, powerful tail curled around herself. Unlike her young child, her Other form was at least fifteen times larger, which was why she did not like to transform indoors and often tried to avoid it if she could.

Today was an emergency, so the servants were just going to have to forgive her for making a mess.

The crimson Queen stretched down her long neck and nosed her daughter, trying to nudge the young kit into movement. Chouko was still all hunkered down, head lowered, butt planted firmly on the ground, completely reluctant to move. Rindou pushed her snout harder, this time directly against her daughter’s unwilling rear end. When the little white dragon lifted her head briefly to see the source of disturbance, it was not with recognition as her eyes landed on the large dragon hovering over her, but shock.

Chouko had never seen her mother in this form before.

The infant squawked and leapt back clumsily, nearly tripping over its own ungainly paws as it hurried to retreat from the potential threat. Her baby neck frills bristled straight out in alarm and she crouched down against the floor on sheer instinct, ear flaps pressed flat against her skull. A scratchy, defensive growl escaped her, lips nervously peeled back, revealing rows of sharp little baby teeth.

Her mother was unimpressed by her show of false bravado, huffing softly instead.

Chouko paused in her display, her nose twitching frantically as she struggled to separate and identify the various scents. This familiar, beloved smell…

…Mama?

The red female was careful as she parted her jaws and then closed them gently over her child’s nape. She lifted the kit effortlessly, and while the baby cried out in fright at first, she did not struggle, instinctively curling up into a ball instead, her tail swinging beneath her. Slit lavender eyes studied the foreign extension with distracted surprise, a quiet, querying chirp escaping her – what was this fat, white thing coming out of her bottom…?

Rindou turned and started towards the balcony. The equine-sized dragoness glided forward with soundless, predatory grace, yet the ground tremored lightly with every step she made. They were on the fourth story, but the dragoness did not hesitate for even a single second as her hind legs bunched briefly and she vaulted right over the balustrade, launching them both into the air. There was a brief sensation of free fall as gravity immediately pulled them down…but then those large, wings spread wide open and started to work, powerful muscles displacing huge gusts of air with effortless ease, keeping them aloft.

There was a brief furor and muted exclamations of surprise as the inhabitants of the castle witnessed their flight, but that eventually died down soon enough. It was well known that the lord of the land had defied tradition and married a rare and beautiful dragoness; even the heir apparent was dragon – so such sightings were no longer as rare as it once used to be. It was still astonishing to have something so big suddenly appear in the sky, though.

Rindou made a mental note to apologize to the household for startling them later, but for now, she had an upset child to soothe. Chouko, surprisingly enough, was not crying with fear and panic anymore. Dangling safely from her mother’s mouth, the dragonling was staring at her surroundings with stunned wonder and childlike delight.

She screeched happily, batting her paws at the colorful scenery spread before her, trying to catch it. Her tail wiggled with joy at this new game that mama was playing with her. Fun!!! She screamed gleefully again, even louder, her earlier hysterical episode forgotten.

Her mother was very amused by the kit’s reaction. Now that they were out in the open, the baby was no longer overwhelmed by sensory overload and was happily enjoying her world again, which had suddenly become a lot bigger. Just to entertain the little one, the dragoness made a few more circuits around the castle grounds, dipping and weaving lazily across the skies, sometimes diving low, other times pulling up high enough that the livestock that lived in the surrounding pastures and fields were but mere dots spread across the land.

And through it all, her young daughter shrieked and chortled merrily, fearless, elatedly, embracing her dragonic roots.

It was a while later when the redhead decided to land, though she did not stop too far from home. A nearby hill situated a short ride away from the Tsukasa castle, just far enough that her Other form would not alarm or hinder those working on the grounds, but still nearby that the guards would not panic because their lord’s lady and daughter had gone missing.

Rindou touched down gracefully amongst the grass, her huge wings folding behind her. She gently lowered her precious cargo on the ground. The little white dragon toddled her first few steps unsteadily, not used to moving about on four limbs yet. Her mother left her to figure it out, and went to seek a nearby patch of nice, warm grass to stretch out in. It was a cloudy afternoon, but the sun was up and it was a good day to be sunning outside. The red Queen circled the ground a couple of times before finally sinking down happily on her chosen spot, resting her narrow, angular head on her forepaws, her gold slit eyes watchful of her youngest.

Chouko was nosing the grass curiously, and then batting at a dandelion. The sunny yellow stalk of flora rebounded back and tapped her on the muzzle, and a funny look crossed her expression…before she sneezed, the loose pollen tickling her sensitive nose something fierce. A tiny tongue of flame fizzled out weakly between her parted jaws, briefly disconcerting her…but then she was swift to dismiss it because it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

She had more important things to pay attention to…such as the tail that had suddenly reappeared in her vision, audaciously bold and fat, taunting her with its presence.

Rindou rumbled with silent laughter as she watched her daughter chase her own tail, so determined to catch the devious snake-like appendage that she was practically spinning in circles.

The dragonling entertained herself thusly for quite some time…at least until a commotion overhead distracted her from her happy game.

Rindou had already heard the approach a while back, and therefore was hardly alarmed as the sounds grew louder and louder.

It wasn’t very long before her puppy-like offspring skidded over clumsily, eyes wide, her wings dragging behind her in flustered dishevelment, instinctively trying to flap them to fly yet still not quite old and strong enough to manage the feat, bawling with panic as she quickly scrambled into the safety of her mama’s embrace, wriggling into her side and trying to seek shelter beneath one of her parent’s much, much larger wingspan, both currently spread out on the grass to take advantage of the sun and soak in as much of the warm rays as possible.

A flash of red burst into the clearing short moments later, half bounding up the hill, half gliding through the air, wings fully spread. Hi’en was still not old enough to achieve full flight yet, but he could stay airborne for very brief periods of time and traverse short distances now if he picked up enough speed on the ground and took advantage of a good tailwind. The heir of the Tsukasa House was about the size of an adult ram in his Other form, and it wouldn’t be long before he overtook his own mother in size and weight class; the males of their species were always significantly larger than the females.

Her son sauntered over once he crested the hilltop, his leathery, crimson wings folding behind him, inquisitive gold eyes meeting his dame. He had taken after her coloring in every way, with the same sleek red, gold scales and streamlined, aerodynamic form. The young boy crooned softly at his mother in greeting, and then his gaze centered on the white little behind poking out from beneath her wing. Rindou’s tail waved slowly with faint amusement. Hi’en treaded his way towards her, and then he sat down between her front paws, rubbing his head against hers. Though a full two years older than his sister, he was also her baby. Even when he eventually grew to adulthood and became bigger than the family castle in the future, he would still be her baby.

He emitted a series of enquiring little chirps, directed towards his infant sister. He had never seen Chouko like this before, but he could easily identify her by scent all the same. He warbled cajolingly, trying to entice his baby sibling out to play.

It didn’t take long before there was a reaction. Timid movements could be heard rustling from beneath their mother’s spread wing, and then…a pale white snout slowly poked out from beneath the shadows, twitching as she learned to use her nose too…

Is…nii...-chan…?

The rest of the little Queen followed soon enough, slinking out shyly to greet her brother. Once she had really ascertained for herself that it was indeed nii-chan, she squawked excitedly and quickly bounced out the rest of the way. It wasn’t long before the two kits were tumbling and roughhousing together – two tails were better to chase than one, after all, and Hi’en taught his imouto how to be a proper dragonling through play and games.

Rindou presided over her children’s antics serenely, and was not the least surprised when the last member of their family calmly approached, too.

Since Hi’en was here, then that meant his father would not be far behind. Besides, he could sense whenever she Changed – the intricate bond they shared as mates ensured so and drew him to her unfailingly, just to check that she was not in any danger. It was a persistent habit left behind from the recent past, back when civil war still ravaged the kingdom of Tootsuki and every Change meant that she had plunged into battle to fight their foes.

These days, Changing held a different, more peaceful, idyllic implication. It was a very welcome adjustment. They had fought hard to protect and bring forth this precious peace to the present, after all. Their children would not know blind hatred and prejudice the way their parents had in the past. They would be free to be whatever they wanted to be, to love whoever they wanted to love.

Her human heart quietly came up and sat beside her. She swiveled her long neck and rested her head on his lap, heaving a deep, contented sigh even as he leaned into her side, entirely comfortable even surrounded by the large, powerful fire breathing lizards. His scarred, callused fingers stroked her smooth, delicate scales shimmering beneath the ridge of her temple, blunt nails gently, affectionately, scratching that hard-to-reach spot just behind her ear flap. Having a human hand to give her ear rubs when she was full dragon was the best, she could not help but think blissfully.

Her mate had accepted her in all the forms she possessed, and in turn she had fallen for him all over again and promised to spend the rest of her life with him.

She raised her head eventually, and he watched wordlessly as she shifted.

Her fireproof, armored exterior blended and gave away into soft, creamy skin, the blood red of her glimmering scales condensing to sheer vibrant hue in the form of her long silken hair. Her wings and tail retracted and disappeared altogether, reptilian features melted away, replaced by a breathtakingly beautiful face; full red lips, high cheekbones, a graceful nose, mesmerizing eyes. Her dragonic form shrunk until she was slightly smaller than him; willowy and supple, all long, slender limbs and womanly curves.

The magic of the Change protected her material possessions during the transformation and kept her clothes undamaged, something which she was always grateful for; being vulnerably naked in the aftermath of switching from dragon to human would have been very annoying all the time. Her lord and husband reached out and took her hand. They sat side by side on the grassy hilltop, watching their children frolic and scamper about.

“She’s beautiful.” Was the first thing he said, quiet, his soft gaze resting thoughtfully on the little white dragon that was his daughter. The delighted toddler was enjoying her newfound freedom and trying to dogpile her amused brother, who was letting her scramble up his back as he flopped on the ground and took a brief rest from their playful antics.

“She is, isn’t she?” Rindou could not help but grin happily. 

“We made her, after all.”  

[marulikestea]

Indochina Trip: Cambodia (Part 2)

(WARNING MAJOR PHOTODUMP AHEAD)

EXIT FROM SIEM REAP

That very same night after our Angkor Wat tour (if you haven't read my Siem Reap post, click here), we left Blossoming Romduol Lodge before midnight via van that would take us directly to the night bus terminal. The van service also picked up other tourists who would be riding along us on the way before continuing on.

When we arrived at the terminal point, we waited for a few minutes outside with our luggage because the personnel couldn't wake up the driver inside the bus (lol). I think he got in a few good pounds on the bus’ exterior before the doors opened and let us in.

You remember from the previous post that this was our 2nd worst decision throughout our Indochina trip right? Well, let me explain to you why.

For starters, a night bus looks like an ordinary bus from the outside; except that once you go in, there are beds installed instead of chairs. Thus its name.

So here's the pickle: At one glance, you can pretty much conclude that everything inside the vehicle is of questionable sanitation.

From the pillows and blankets provided down to its very floorings, the thought of some creepy crawlers or unknown germs nicking off your skin was within the realms of possibility. What's even worse, some poor passengers who came in last were forced to sleep on the aisle, due to limited space. They sure got the short end of the stick.  

But that didn't stop there. During the middle of the night, we had a short stop over for the usual bathroom break. Arlyn and Denise decided to go outside to pee (I opted to stay to guard our stuff), but returned minutes after to tell me a rather funny ordeal.

Apparently, when both of them went down, they were welcomed by a vast surroundings of grass and trees. Confused as to where the C.R. was, they asked the driver about it. He just grunted and waved his arm at the left. So they went there. When there was nothing in sight (not even a small shack), they asked another person, prolly the conductor, where it was. This time he waved around the area. It finally dawned on them that the C.R. was practically nonexistent and that if they wanted to do their "business", they can just find a good spot and do it in the cover of the night's darkness.

Discouraged by doing something like that, they returned inside the bus and held it in.

We waited for the other passengers to return before resuming with our journey. I particularly remembered this female foreigner who went out and then got back barefooted.

Yes, barefooted.

Just imagine the dirty stuff she stepped on and brought inside the bus. Ugh, another set of germs added in the bus collection. DX

After x hours of travel and lack of good sleep, we finally reached Phnom Penh.

PHNOM PENH

Upon arriving at Cambodia's capital, we immediately hired a tuktuk driver (this time we were cautious and clear with our instructions) to get us to our hotel, as well as to our intended destinations based from our itinerary.

During the discussion of our terms and aggreement, the tuktuk driver suggested a much improved outline for us to better understand their culture, and also to utilize our time more efficiently by starting at the farthest point and ending at the location nearest to our hotel.

In the end, we closed the deal with him at 9 USD, to be paid at the end of the day.

When we arrived at Angkor International Hotel, we paid the rest of the booking amount at the reception area of the lobby. We also booked a Mekong bus (do it right this time!) to Ho Chi Min for tomorrow, since the hotel offered the service.

Our room at  Angkor International Hotel. Pretty neat and decent. 

We deposited our bags in our room afterwards, and went downstairs to our tuktuk driver once we were ready. 

CHOENG EK GENOCIDAL CENTER 

Initially not part of our itinerary, Choeng EK Genocidal Center, or also known as the Killing Fields, is the location where prisoners of the Khmer Rouge were taken for slave labor and execution during Polpot’s reign.

Entrance to the site.

My ticket entrance worth 6 USD.

Unlike other places where tour guides are available for hire, this site provides you a headset and a audio player (to be returned before exiting the premises) that narrates in place of a guide as you go from one stop to another.

The stops are numbered accordingly so the tour was very straightforward. To be honest I like this approach better because you have full control of your time as you explore around. You are also able to enjoy more and immerse in the experience better without needing to follow other people’s pacing.

Here's an image of the pamphlet given to us, with map and complete list of stops throughout the tour:

A total of 18 stops, with the memorial stupa as its last destination.

Though I’m not going to go into full detail of the things I saw and learned throughout the tour in this post, here are some of the scenes that I found notable: 

The memorial stupa at the heart of the vicinity. 

The truck stop. The starting point of the nightmare.

“Here is the place where trucks transporting victims to be exterminated from tuol sleng prison and other places in the country stopped. Trucks would arrive 2 or 3 times a month or every 3 weeks. Each truck held 20 to 30 frightened, blindfolded and silent prisoners.When the trucks arrived, the victims were led directly to be executed at the ditches and pits or were sent to be detained in the darken and gloomy prison nearby. After January 7, 1979, one truck remained but it has since been taken away.”

One of the Chinese graves scattered about inside the killing fields. I wonder who died here.

Remnants of clothes and teeth from unidentified victims.   

The killing tree is one out of the two trees that are notable in the killing fields for its morbid backstory. This tree was where executioners would kill the victims’ infants by holding them by the legs like chicken and swing them to the tree like a baseball bat, effectively killing them in the most horrid and inhumane way.

"The killing tree against which executioners beat children"

Just beside the killing tree is mass gravesite that served as the final resting place of the same murdered babies who were killed on the said tree, with their mothers’ bodies who soon followed them after their deaths.

The sign says, “Mass grave of more than 100 victims. Children and women whose majority were naked.”

The second infamous tree was called the Magic Tree, where loudspeakers were placed on its branches to drown out the sounds coming from the victims.

"The tree was used as a tool to hang a loudspeaker which make sound louder to avoid the moan of victims while they were being executed."

The final stop of the tour is the Memorial Stupa (as seen from a previous image), which contained a collection of retrieved skulls and bones of the diseased, with tools that were used to kill them.

Before entering the building, we bought a 1 USD worth of  flower and incense as offering to the souls of this place.

The skull of victims, marked with colored circle sticker to indicate the weapon that caused their death.  

When it was time to go, we returned the gadgets by the exit area and left the premises to have lunch just across the area.

My loklak lunch worth 4.5 - 5 USD.

We left not long after to our next location, which was very similar to the previous one we’ve recently visited. 

TUOL SLENG GENOCIDE MUSEUM

Previously known as Toul Svay Prey High School, Pol Pot's forces overran this place and turned it into a prison known as Security Prison 21 in 1975. It soon became the largest center of detention and torture in the country. After the war, it was converted into the museum that is today, to serve as evidence to atrocity of the Khmer Rouge.

Before advancing inside, we paid an entrance fee of 3 USD.

A shot of a building inside Tuol Sleng before hiding my camera to abide by the rules.

We were also forbidden to take any pictures or videos of the place beyond the entrance grounds.

So the following is a summary of what I heard and encountered inside the museum:

Gallows can be found outside the school grounds

Some rooms served as interrogation/torture chambers, with and old rusty bed  and a picture of the last state of the room placed on the wall as a remnants of the atrocity

Dried blood can still be spotted in some of the areas of the school.

Other classrooms were converted in to multiple small and cramped cell blocks with minimal to no light; There were also ammunition boxes inside that served as a toilet for the prisoners.

Victims were chained on the floor like animals, and were beaten and tortured whenever the made noises and didn't complied.

When the population inside Tuol Sleng became too much to handle, they shipped off some of the victims in trucks to be transported to the Killing Fields for extermination.

On one building, the second floor was blocked with barbed wires so that prisoners could not jump to their deaths.

During the end of Pol Pot’s reign, dead bodies of the victims were just left to rot when the Khmer Rouge made their retreat.

Upper floors of the building contained stories of survivors, like Chum Mey and Bou Meng. 

At the ground floor of the third building are collection of all images/portraits of the prisoners admitted in Tuol Sleng, from men, women to children. It also contains images of torture and death of other victims.

There was foreigner couple who couldn’t comply with no-pictures/videos policy and kept taking pictures in secret. I got annoyed and made a  "tsk tsk" sound at them, while saying how some people can’t just follow rules in English.

Also in the 3rd building, a room similar to the memorial stupa in killing fields, contained a collection of skulls, with a monk presiding over them and praying with incense for their souls. It also displayed a map of the country made of skulls.

Near the exit is a booth were you get to meet one of the survivors of Tuol Sleng and buy their memoirs.

After we’ve finished the tour, (Arlyn and Denise were already tired of walking and opted to skip the upper levels of the classrooms), we left with a rather heavy heart and new insight from the revelation we’ve learned here.

To shake off the depressing atmosphere, we went to the Russian Market next, to have a change of pace.

RUSSIAN MARKET

Russian market is one of the most popular markets (the other one being central market) among tourists and backpackers for its wide variety of cheap goods, and therefore one of the best places to get souvenirs.

With that said, we went straight here due to its close proximity from our previous location and bought souvenirs.

I purchased 10 USD worth of souvenirs, including 2 textile prints as shown below:

Elephant and tree textile prints in my fave colors~

For Arlyn, she bought a metal-looking art structure while Denise bought some colorful lights for her sister.

Once done, we stopped by our hotel to dump our goods and went back to go to our last destination for the day.

ROYAL PALACE

This was suppose to be our second to the last stop but since it was already 4pm at that time, we figured we wouldn’t have enough time to visit the National Museum of Cambodia so we opted to skip it, even if it was just next to the palace. 

Outside the vicinity, there’s a large area of land reminiscent of Manila’s Luneta park. A lot of people can be seen doing leisure activities, such as flying a kite, having a picnic, waiting for the sunrise or just enjoying other people’s company. 

A large signage of what I think is their emperor, with words that I cannot read, let alone understand.  

If we had time, we would have joined those people as well but alas, we only had an hour left before closing time so we had to make most out of it.

Lots of pigeons at the empty road beside the Royal Palace.

After locating the entrance to the premises, we paid a 6.5 USD entrance fee and continued to march on.

As seen on the map, the palace can be divided into 2 main sections (the north and south blocks), which was easier to explore due to the small area needed to cover (compared to the previous places we've been).

The first structure we went to is the Throne Hall at the northern block. A place were royal officials used to carried out their tasks in the past, this building is now used for religious and royal ceremonies, as well as a meeting area for foreign dignitaries. 

The Throne Hall at a distance. (Preah Tineang Tevea Vinichhay)

Naga and garuda guardian statues can be seen in this structure.

 Hor Samritvimean.

The Moonlight Pavilion. (Preah Tineang Chan Chhaya) 

A side of Phhochani Pavilion (Preah Tineang Phhochani) from afar.

Lots of buddha statues inside the Phhochani Pavilion.

Similar To Bangkok's Grand Palace, the Silver Pagoda at the south block also houses an Emerald Buddha, among other national treasures.

The Silver Pagoda (Wat Preah Keo)

His Majesty King Norodom’s statue.

Her Royal Highness Kantha Bopha’s Stupa, one of the many stupas inside the royal palace.

Kailassa Mountain

A lotus flower.

A fading wall mural of the Reamker under restoration.

An Angkor Wat model, with the silver pavilion at the background.

A gallery of royal howdahs at the Exhibition Hall area.

After returning to our hotel, we paid the rest of the fee to our tuktuk driver and bade him farewell. In return, he thanked us in their native language អរគុណ (orkun). I felt rather guilty for treating him a bit coldly because of my misplaced distrust (due to our previous experience). I wished he was the one we gave money for food and tip instead of our first tuktuk driver back in Siem Reap. Sigh, I will do better next time. >.<

Anyway, when it came dinner time, we just went downstairs at the hotel lobby and ate dinner provided by the in-house restaurant because we were too lazy and tired to think of some place else. I forgot what food I ordered but it was   worth around 7USD.   

When we were done eating, we retired to our beds early for our journey to Ho Chi Minh, Vietnam.

For me, the trip to Phnom Penh was probably the most emotionally draining experience out of our whole Indochina tour. Visiting all those sites has made me pensive with regards to life and how lucky and grateful I am for having a fate different from what these people have suffered genocide at the hands of such a leader.

This post is not enough to convey to others the things I've felt and witness, but I do believe that it's always best to have them face the rawness of its history firsthand by recommending them to go to the country themselves and feel the entirety of Cambodia's dark history, and everything else it can offer.

I'll end this post here and will continue on to the final leg of our Indochina tour. I hope my experience has shed some sort of light to random readers and stalkers alike.