#wip; the lightbringer sessions

[scaevolawrites]

A WRITEBLR (RE)INTRODUCTION - @scaevolawrites

Hello there, It's been a couple of years since I've been properly active on here - so it's high time I reintroduce myself. I'm Scaevola (or Scae for short), he/him and am 26 years of age. Currently busy with a triple major in Journalism and Film & Literary Sciences. If I'm not working on that you can find me either engrossed in my writing or lost in a Wikipedia rabbit hole somewhere - it's a known weakness. I mostly write fantasy across a number of sub-genres, but historical fantasy tends to be my favourite one.

CURRENT PROJECTS;

Captured Lightning - Historical Fantasy with Horror Elements

At the tail end of the Industrial Revolution machines, factories and their fumes are becoming a permanent fixture in lands across Europe. The hidden inhabitants of the wilds that still sprawl over the continent feel the need to act. But with the fae locked away, the dryads afraid to leave either forest or lake, and the witches' plans continuing to fail, the future of the wilds seem uncertain. And what is with these odd lightning strikes that are occurring more and more frequently? [Tag] // [Old WIP Intro] (New one coming soon)

The Lightbringer Sessions - Contemporary Fantasy

Ophelia is a first-year Psychology student when she one day has the urge to visit the local park, where she encounters a strange fellow. He somehow convinces her into a therapy session, and she finds herself sitting on a park bench, jotting down everything he says. The cryptic man turns out to be Lucifer himself - and Ophelia has unwittingly struck a deal with him, to be his therapist. With all the strangeness that comes from being Satan's shrink, Ophelia tries to focus on the mundane parts of her life, until even those become alien to her. [Tag] // [WIP Intro] (Coming in December)

FUTURE PROJECTS;

The Sacred Disease - Mythological Fantasy with Eldritch Elements

During a battle Damokles, a Spartan soldier, is assaulted by terrifying visions from a vengeful and blind Appolo, the Sun God. As a result, he has been branded an ill omen and is exiled from the city. Damokles resolves to find out why this fate has befallen him and what Apollo's plans are. All while Damokles' former allies are hell-bent on vanquishing him.

More info on these projects will be coming in the future. If you'd like to be added or removed from any of my taglists, do not hesitate to shoot me a dm or send me an ask!

TAGLIST [Send me an ask to be +/-]

@lazy-bumblebee @endymions @inky-duchess @ladywithalamp @talesofnetline @seomarshalls @veneritia @seasteading @raven-ink

(This taglist will be a one time thing, and consists of people who were interested in my work in the past. This is just to get the word out. My taglists are wiped clean, so if you're tagged above, and are still interested please let me know.)

[scaevolawrites]

Setting Heaven On Fire

This was written for @flashfictionfridayofficial

WC: 791

You don’t know how you ended up here. Listening to a random man venting about this and that. You’re just halfway through your first year at uni. Perhaps just ten percent fit to be an acting therapist, at the most generous of estimates. And yet something compelled you to humour him when he asked for you to hear him out. So you stayed, even though you’re not quite sure what it is this stranger is talking about.

“...Look, I know it’s been ages, but damn it still hurts, you know. And they were all for it in the beginning. They were like “Sammy, it’s so cold up here, why don’t you give us some light? That’s your whole thing is it not? We doubt Father would mind.” And I just did it, I trusted them. They were my siblings, and they just did me in like that. I can still do it of course, even after I fell down. It comes in very handy when I need a smoke.”

You see how this fellow's finger catches fire before he lights the cigarette that appeared between his teeth. His finger? Catching fire? That can’t be right. Looking again, you see the lighter between his finger. How did you miss that? Before you can ask him about it, the man continues.

“It’s also a neat party trick, but then again, it doesn’t really work on you and yours... Back to the matter at hand. I took Father’s empty space and lit it up a bit. It was so unwelcoming, just a dark void with some cold silver here and there. I still wonder if he truly expected everyone wanted to spend eternity there. I added some warm candles here and there, even created a bonfire or two. And just that was enough to give the whole place a better aesthetic. And everybody liked it.

Until Father saw what I had done, he wasn’t a fan, and that was an understatement if I’ve ever heard one. He raged like a madman. And just between you and me - since then I found he is actually a madman. “You dare change this space, Samael. This is my creation, MY PERFECT CREATION. I decide what will happen here, and how it’ll happen here.”

I was completely blindsided by this. Wasn’t I the Lightbringer, brought forth from Father’s mind for a singular purpose? Wasn’t this that singular purpose? I voiced my questions but He would not listen. “You question me? The One who created you? You rebel against the one that gave you your Light? You insolent, spiteful creature! This is no place for one such as you!”

Not knowing how to react, I turned towards my siblings for help. Their faces were full of fright and fear for Father, as they looked from me to Father and back again. I saw what was happening behind their eyes, and as they opened their mouths to speak. I knew they had forsaken me. They rather save their own skin, than help one of their own.”

You realize something. This man is as mad as he claims his father to be, which was about the only sentence you’ve managed to understand so far. This is enough, and you decide to walk away. Or at least you try to. Something is keeping you here, next to this man who is now lying down on this worn-down park bench. Not noticing - or pretending not to notice - your struggle, he resumes his lamenting.

“And thus I was cast down, to this random rock, damned to spend my days on a ball made of hot magma. I bet he found it a fitting punishment. The Lightbringer cursed to haunt a place where everything is already hot and bright. And then that ball of hot magma cooled off a lot. And you lot started to roam around. And eventually, I managed to make my way to the surface as well. The cold winds here remind me of Father’s space. And after eons of heat and eternal flames, it’s good to blow off some steam like this.

The stranger looks at you now. A small smile appears on his face.

“Some part of me feels guilty, keeping you here like this. Forcing you to listen to my plights. I learned in recent decades that it’s healthy to voice your problems and finally decided to do so. By luck, I stumbled into you, so here we are.”

He stands up and puts his thumb on your forehead.

“But then again, once the Devil, always the Devil. Skitter along now.”

You run, as hard as you can. And then you’re his voice one more time

“Don’t forget. Next week, same time, same place.”

[scaevolawrites]

Foul Play

This was written for @flashfictionfridayofficial And is a sequel to this earlier piece

WC: 603

“Same time, same place next week. Don’t you forget.”

The way he sounded when uttering that phrase still haunted Ophelia, even though it had been quite some time since that ill-fated meeting. And no matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried, she still found herself at the same place, at the same time, every single week. He had made her do this, had forced her in the role she now played for an hour or two every week. Despite being only a First-year Psychology student, Ophelia had found herself in the role of the Devils shrink. And she wasn’t even religious, for crying out loud...

She took her place on the empty bench and waited for the park to become deserted. Somehow, every single other person would slowly leave once Ophelia took her seat. Businessmen in three-piece suits got important phone calls, nannies and mothers alike remembered that playtime was over and that the toddlers had to be put to bed for an afternoon nap, even the few ice cream stands decided to pack up shop and move elsewhere. It had freaked her out at first, this uncanniness, but she slowly had come to accept it as a part of the foul play she now took part in.

Eventually, the King of Hell made his appearance beside her. He would just materialize on the other end of the wooden bench. She had never seen him walk towards her, and probably never would. Lucifer had a flair for the dramatic.

He smiled at her, the quiet fires in his eyes burning just a tad brighter. “Hello Ophelia, how are you at this fine hour?” She felt her mouth moving on its own accord, pulled my strings she didn’t control. “I’m good, thanks for asking. But we’re not here to talk about me. How do you feel, Lucifer?”

The exchange of empty pleasantries was all part of the routine, the ploy that seemed to suggest that they were at least amicable to one another.

Lucifer then would start talking about this and that and Ophelia would take notes, the twisted play starting properly. Despite not understanding a single word Lucifer said, her hand was able to take notes seemingly effectively. The script in which it wrote was foreign to her. The whole affair was a mind-numbing thing, she felt like a robot, doing what her operator instructed her to do.

After what seemed like an eternity Ophelia was starting to drift away when she heard something legible from the Prince of Darkness, a name. Startled, it took her a while to realize her hand must also have written it down. Looking at the yellow pad, she saw it, a name. Letters blazing between otherwise illegible characters: “SAMMY”

Sensing Lucifer was about to finish talking for the day she discreetly flipped to the last page of the notepad and let her hand jot down the last remaining words of the Devil, before returning to the page on top.

“Well Doc, thanks for listening.” Lucifer stood up from the bench and helped her to her feet. “And don’t forget same time, same place next week.”

Her body was her own again, and for the first time since they had met, Ophelia regarded the man before her. She had been forced into a non-speaking role for weeks now, and it was high time she got some lines in this Foul Play. And as she walked away, Ophelia spoke her first:

“See you next week, Sammy”