#yes he’s spooky and he looked good doing it AMEN

[inkedmyths]

S1: E12 "Faith"

Brought to you by Crepe bribing me with Flight Rising money

[ Kayla asks if it was worth it to sell your soul to capitalism. Crepe said yes. I agree. I may have to endure on but now I have more money for my dragons. This will, unfortunately, always work on me. ]

Cuz you gotta have faith-uh faith-uh faith-uh

Oh we're starting out with the Winchesters? No mysterious deatb if some random person?

[ Kayla interjects with Carry On My Wayward Son. I get flashbacks to playing it on repeat when I initially began this journey. ]

Oooough closeeeet Dean I'm sure you're scared of that

[ Kayla asks Crepe if Dean does any homoeroticism in S1 aside from being too happy about getting pinned to a car. Crepe says no. This does not matter to me, I will make the joke anyways. ]

There are children! Hello children!

Ew what is that

UH Dean buddy that canNOT be healthy

HOSPITAL

HEART ATTACK???

Hi Dean! You look like shit!

:(

Dean you are too chill with your mortality but also Sam is WAY too not chill about it

JOHN WINCHESTER PICK UP YOUR FUCKING PHONE. BITCH

Sam. Sam no

I mean I know Dean is still sround for however many fucking seasons but

DEAN DID YOU BREAK OUT OF THE HOSPITAL. MORON

Why are you both stupid

[ Kayla says this is the parentified child vs child he parentified effect. Which. Yeah fair. ]

Dean: Sam what kinda crazy religion place are you bringing me to

DEAN STOP FLIRTING WITH EVERY LADY YOU MEET. DUMBASS BITCH

[ Kayla says that he's a whore and to leave him alone. That the sluttiest thing a man can do is be an older brother. Kayla is this some kind of kink for you. ]

GOD NO I DIDN'T EVEN GO TO ONE OF THESE KINDS OF CHURCHES BUT. HRGH. HORRIBLE. I want to leave

LMAO CALLED OUT DEAN

LAUGHING im sorry watching Dean get throwm on the spot. Poor dumbass

Go up Dean this is your personal hell now

[ Crepe says no, wrong season. Lovely. ]

Dean having that face that I feel so deeply in my soul whenever someone tries to preacg Christianity to me

FUCKING. HAND AGAINST HIS HEAD poor Dean's face shshshs

UHHH WHAT WAS THAT. WHAT WAS THAT FIGURE

Oh. Oh my god it traded his life for his

O h n o

This is interesting and good but its also so fucking spooky the vibes

Ohhhh something. Something wanted Dean to live.

[ Kayla and Crepe go back and forth about how Supernatural is technically a horror show, though this is dropped somewhat in later seasons. What the fuck did I get myself into. ]

What the fuck is up w/Layla (Leilah?)

Oh :( poor girl

And Dean was the one who got healed so he's :((

"Why do you deserve to live more than my daughter?" man

Dean's like 😟

Chick in the woods? Girl whats up?

Girl is abt to die for this old guy

A REAPER?

The music shdhdhdhsh

Thats pretty banger ngl. Whats this song anywas.... Death In The Valley?

NOT ME LOOKING IT UP ON SPOTIFY AND GETTING A PLAYLIST FOR SPN SOUNDTRACK?

DOG LEASH ON A GREAT WHITE

SCREAMS the guy handing out pamphlets "Roy is a fraud"

Dean: Amen brother

Sam: You keep up the good work!

Man: Thank you

God its so interesting storywise but also the vibes are Upsetting

Sam committing breaking and entering all by himself good for him

IS THE CHURCH GUY MURDERING PEOPLE HE DOESN'T LIKE BY SAVING OTHERS

HE IS. HOMOPHOBIC! LITERALLY

GOOOOOD SHIT FUCK nooo i dont wanna watch anymore I don't like confrontation and oough BAD VIBES

Im turning on captions hold on

LAYLA I KNEW IT

Noooooooooooo besties I Cannot

Guys this is UPSETTING

I keep pausing 😭

I'm like stop starting bc I would rather read than hear WHASGSFAFAF

[ Crepe is grinding in Coliseum on Flight Rising to pay me more so I watch more. I can't tell if I'm genius for this or not. ]

Oh the poor guy screaming and Sam being like WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT

Oh I stopped started so much Netflix crashed LMAO

Hrrrgh yeah yeah ok compelling but I want to crawl up a tree

Oh shes still praying

AH YES DEAN GETS TAKEN AWAY. ARRESTED. AGAIN

Ohhh its his wife.... his wife couldn't stand to lose him.... oh.......

"God save us from half the people who think they're doing God's work." hey who gave this show the right

[ Kayla says "Remember when I told you this show was sometimes really good?" I tell her to fuck off. She says I'm only proving her point. I call her a bitch. This has no effect. ]

SAM BESTIE U DID IT TO SAVE DEAN CAN U NOT UNDERSTAND THE CONFLICT HERE

LMAO DEAN JUST YELLS AT THE COPS AND THEY CHASE HIM THATS SO FUNNY

A+ plan buddy

Godddd the vibes are so ick and tragic but man

MAN I LOVE WHEN THINGS TAKE CHRISTIANS AND MAKE THEM FUCKED UP

Dean buddy get ready to run again

"The Lord chose me" NO IT FUCKIN DIDN'T

Sams gonna like smack her huh

Oh that Reaper did NOT like being bound

Something something metaphor for controlling death

Winchester Patented Guilt Complex

Oh she still has faith even when she's got a bad diagnosis :(

GODDAMMIT NO DONT

; - ;

So like Dean Winchester Aetheist Extraordinaire saying "I'm not much of a praying type... but I'll pray for you" is something that can be so personal actually

Don't. Don't touch me go away

Fuck you guys for making me watch this show I'm tearing up I hate you all

-

In conclusion: OKAY DEAN WINCHESTER LIKERS MAYBE I GET IT. But also fuck off fuck all of you I hate it here goddamn you AUGH I WASNT EXPECTING TO TEAR UP OVER THIS FUCK YOOOOOOOU

[gentlemancrow]

jonmartin, pre-romance, #15/28??

I did manage to get BOTH of these in! So we have a combo of "You called me, remember?" and "It's too early for this". Much like the others, the MINUTE I read this prompt an idea popped into my head that I just HAD to go with! This is actually based off a real life incident I had with a friend (They know who they are...) but it fit both Jmart and the prompt PERFECTLY! The names have been changed to fictional characters to protect the innocent. (Hint I was the Martin in this situation) Anyway this was super fun and cute to write and I made myself all squishy a lot. HOPE YOU ENJOY! <3

There were precious few reasons why Martin’s mobile should be ringing at exactly 5:47 am on a Tuesday, and precisely none of them were good. Still, the anxiety inducing sound alerting him to something ominously, ambiguously amiss struggled to worm its way through a rather lovely dream of his acceptance speech after being awarded poet laureate. The poem he had prepared for the occasion was marrow-deep and hauntingly beautiful, or at least he remembered it that way until suddenly he was reciting the lyrics to Abba’s ‘Waterloo’ instead and sweating profusely as the audience began to murmur in disgust amongst themselves. Waterloo was indeed blaring, but from the ringtone of his phone, not from his lips, and his stomach performed a cold somersault with the force of the wave of anxiety that had begun in his dream and crested up to lap at the base of his barely functional brain. The few synapses he needed for basic motor function and reading comprehension crackled to life as he clumsily batted the buzzing device on his nightstand into his hand and squinted blearily at the name.

It was small. That was an immediate relief. If the care home had been calling about an incident with his mother, either her health or the staff’s as a result of her, it would have been the full moniker of ‘Sunrise Acres Care Home’ ticking across the caller ID. Yet small implied a name, a person, someone he had in his phone and not just a random spam call, and anxiety spiked again as Martin scrubbed at his eyes until ‘Jon’ appeared in white hot letters on the screen. Sleep dissolved from him in an instant and he sat bolt upright in a tangle of covers as he smashed the green answer icon with his thumb and threw the receiver to his ear.

“Hullo?! Jon? R’you okay? What’s happened?” he demanded, voice still slumbery thick and groggy.

“Martin!” Jon’s silky, prim voice, thinned out to a tin can vibrato over airwaves, answered, “Good, you’re awake. I need your help. Urgently.”

Martin was already out of bed by the time ‘need’ reached his ears, yanking on the first pair of jeans he spotted in the laundry heap on the floor and hopping on his free leg to the en suite with his phone pinched between his cheek and shoulder.

“I’m on it!” he assured him despite having no clue what ‘it’ was, exactly, “I’m coming to you as soon as I can. Where are you? Are you hurt? Should I bring a first aid kit? I don’t think I have a first aid kit… should I buy a first aid kit? There’s a Boots just down the block from my flat, I could-“

“Martin, stop! What the hell are you on about?” Jon’s annoyed tone cut through his panic like a scalpel.

Martin stopped in the doorframe of the bathroom, brows knitted, jeans puddling around the one leg he’d managed to get through and left once again in naught but his boxers as he gripped his phone back into his hand.

“Huh? What are you on about? You said you needed help!” he snapped.

“I do! But not like… not like THAT. What kind of mortal peril do you imagine I would find myself in at a quarter to six in the morning?”

The initial surge of adrenaline fizzling out uselessly in his veins the more Jon talked, Martin sagged against the doorway and pinched his temples as he strained his words through a colander of civility.

“I don’t know, Jon. You called me, remember?”

“Right, right…”

A terse, lowly hissing silence of dead satellite replaced Jon’s voice, twisting Martin’s nerves as acrobatically as he twisted to avoid the point. He kicked off his jeans and stalked grouchily back to bed where he threw himself face down and unmoving.

“So, what is it then? Wi-Fi gone tits up? Forgot how long to steep Darjeeling?” he hissed into his rumpled duvet, a little nastier than he would have liked given the deadly combination of interrupted slumber and primordial biological survival instinct.

“I uh…” Jon’s voice deflated over the speaker, “I have a… problem.”

“Yes, we’ve so very, very clearly established that. What kind of a problem, exactly…?”

“A problem of an upsettingly… Arachnid nature.”

“A spider…?”

“…Yes.”

Martin propped himself up on one elbow, eyes narrowed with genuine and curious concern.

“Wait like a… like a spooky spooky spider? Or just an ordinary kind of spooky spider?” he inquired with as much levity as he could muster, given one of the likely options.

“Stop saying spooky. And the ordinary kind. I think. No, I’m sure of it. It’s merely the sitting on my kitchen wall like it owns the place and staring at me rudely with all eight eyes, judging me for skipping breakfast again, kind,” Jon answered with clinical pointedness.

“O… kay…?” Martin drawled, suppressing a giggle, “So, what’s the problem then?”

“What do I do?”

Martin opened his mouth to answer, but closed it again as he doubted that he had actually heard Jonathan Sims, the irascible, pompous, only capable of truly looking at him down his nose Head Archivist Jonathan Sims, ask him, a lowly assistant, what to do. With a spider. It would have been almost adorable, had he not scared the life out of him initially, but even that knocked it only down a single peg to helplessly charming.

“I-I mean, the normal thing one does when encountering a spider in one’s home? You kind of only have the usual two options? Er well, three, if you count just leaving it be, but I doubt you’re amenable to that one.”

“No, absolutely not, out of the question,” Jon declared swiftly.

“Didn’t think so,” Martin chuckled, rolling onto his back and sagging in relief into the mattress.

“So?” came the impatient invitation to continue.

“So what?”

“So, then what do I do?” Jon repeated brusquely.

“Well, you either kill it or let it go, of course! What else is there to do? Invite it to brunch?”

“I know that! I’m not an idiot!” Jon erupted furiously, “Good lord, Martin! Do you really think I would have called you because I didn’t know the only two options for dealing with an eight-legged criminal invading my home were kill it or let it go? Really?! Did you suppose this was the very first spider I ever encountered in my life? Is that what you thought? Or perhaps I had my own personal valet to attend to all of my insectoid tribulations, hmm? Just call the bug butler, he’ll attend to it straightaway! Do you ever stop to think before you open your mouth? Or do you customarily just air out whatever inane notions blow through your ears, no matter how puerile? Christ!”

Martin let the phone drop onto the bed beside him, away from the verbal darts hurled directly into his eardrum and taxing the output matrix of the speaker, as Jon launched into an affronted, mortified tirade, smirking and shaking his head.

“It’s too early for this…” he mused to himself ruefully, rubbing both hands over his face and eyes.

Once the phone stopped humming and glowing white hot with remote rage, Martin scooped it back up and yawned into the receiver.

“You alright there, Jon?” he asked in a gentle tone.

A ragged sigh crackled into a blip of feedback from lips too close on the other end of the phone.

“…Not really?” came Jon’s tremulous reply, “Listen, I’m sorry I went off on you. That was unfair of me. I-I just… I really… really hate spiders.”

Something squeezed in Martin’s chest, something about the confident bass flayed neatly out of Jon’s usually assertively solid mannerisms, leaving it abnormally thin and rickety. He sat up on the bed, cradling the phone much more gently to his cheek.

“Hey hey, it’s okay,” he assured him, “If anybody sympathizes about being afraid, you definitely called the right person. Need me to stay on the line with you while you whack it? A good heavy book will probably do the trick, or if you need speed and agility a rolled-up newspaper or a magazine might be better?”

“No! I wasn’t calling because I needed advice on how to murder the damn thing! I’m quite capable of doing that on my own. Frankly, I’ve taken rather a vested interest in honing my spider termination methodology over the years. I called you because… well you were going on about how you thought they were…” Jon trailed off in a series of garbled sounds of disgust, “Cute… of all things.”

Martin grinned and had to put the phone on his bare chest a moment, as if Jon might somehow perceive his giddy glee through the receiver.

“To be fair I’m a little odd that way. Most people feel much the same as you do about them,” he commented as he picked it back up.

“True, but that’s not even the whole of it!” Jon went on exasperatedly, “I also overheard you talking… must have been to Tim or Sasha but… you were explaining about how helpful they are to the ecosystem and what a vital role they play in that natural order of things, and how we always see images of them eating butterflies and beautiful things that make them look sinister, but how really they mostly control pests and the like… how you thought they got kind of a bad rap?”

“Wow I uh… I can’t believe you remembered all that,” Martin muttered, freckled cheeks dusting a light pink, “But what does that have to do with your unwanted houseguest in particular?”

“It was the last part, mainly. That’s what got me. The part about fear. That they’re afraid, too… You said there had been studies that showed a clear fear response in spiders… to us. They’re afraid of us, demonstrably more so than we are of them…”

One word of all of those slipped between Martin’s ribs and into his heart. Too. They were afraid, too. His thumb stroked and consoled the edge of his phone unconsciously as Jon blustered on, unbothered by his own unconscious admission.

“And now I can’t do it! Now I have to set this bloody spider free because you think it’s cute and want to make friends with it, and I can’t make it an innocent victim of my fear and I have no idea how!”

Martin couldn’t help but smile, imagining how Jon must be in his flat on the other end, scrunched in a corner all hunched up shoulders and furrowed brow with hackles bristling, squaring off with a creature who was possessed of no knowledge of the fear she symbolized, or the grace to understand the iconographical divorce to her salvation. Only Jon, quivering and still bed-rumpled and frazzled, could understand the magnitude of cupping that fear in the palm of his hand while reaching out to him with the other. And now Martin understood it, too.

“Hey alright, I’ve got you. Steady on Jon, we’re gonna get through this together. I’ll talk you through the steps, you just follow what I say, okay?” he instructed in his best 999 operator performance.

A beat of silence ensued, followed by a much more robust and emboldened, “Okay.”

“So, what you want to do first is get a glass.”

“A glass?”

“Yeah, like a water glass. And a stiff piece of paper or cardboard or something. If you’ve got a bit of post lying about, flyers and coupons and the like, those usually work well.”

There was a period of distant shuffling, clattering, and indecipherable muttering as Jon gathered his weapons, then sucked in an audible breath through his teeth.

“Alright I’ve got them, now what?” he asked, sounding a bit winded.

“Now you very carefully put the glass over the spider, then slide the paper under the glass so you trap it inside. Then you can take it out without touching it or worrying about it scuttling off on you and set it free wherever you think it’ll be happy!” Martin answered sweetly.

“Okay, okay. I think I can do that,” Jon chanted for steadiness, “I’m putting the phone down so I don’t louse it up, but d-don’t hang up, stay on with me, okay?”

“I’m not going anywhere, Jon. I promise. You’re okay.”

“O-Okay… Okay… Okay…!”

Martin listened as Jon’s voice grew distant, but somehow stronger, more like a war cry, with the soft pad of socked feet on tile, then a short stretch of silence, and then a chorus of oaths and yelping, rising to the crescendo of a door being messily flung open, shut, then opened and shut again. A drumbeat of returning feet rolled mutely close and melded into the scratchy rustle of the phone being picked back up.

“I’m back,” Jon announced.

“Is it done?”

“The deed is done… your little friend is enjoying some lovely pink dahlias out front as we speak.”

“I’m pleased for her! And… for you, too,” Martin said, voice melting into lilting tenderness, “I’m honestly really proud of you, I know that wasn’t easy for you.”

“I… Ah… No, it wasn’t. Thank you, Martin,” came the sheepishly measured rejoinder.

“You’re very welcome.”

Martin smiled privately to himself, and ran a loving thumb down the edge of his phone once more.

“So then may I rightly assume I have permission to come in an hour or so late today so I can go back to sleep?” he continued, already knowing the answer as he flopped back down on his pillows and rolled up into the covers.

He was relieved to hear a husky chuckle rumble through the phone.

“Yes, yes. I think you’ve more than earned it.”

“Brilliant, see you in a bit then? And for lunch?” he added hopefully.

The brief silence as Jon calculated his response hung thick and palpable in the digital airwaves.

“Lunch sounds good,” he replied at length, “See you then.”

“G-Great! Great! See you!”

Their phones clicked mutually off without the awkward jumble of sign-offs, pleasantries, and accidentally stumbling over each other’s words. Martin thought glimmeringly of the spider hunting free in plush pink petals, none the wiser, and of Jon, with new and irrefutable proof that not everything ugly or quietly cunning in the world lurked behind to cast its shadow over him. A spider could be just a spider, and Martin back asleep with both hands still clutching his phone to his chest, dreaming of singing Waterloo again, but this time to a rapt audience and thunderous applause.

[murielisbestmountain]

A New Fall (part 1 of 2)

Arcana Characters (mainly Valdemar) x Reader: Fluff, general cuteness, sweet babies and all that, very minor cursing. 

Disclaimer: I havent written in months and was entirely inspired by the new fall event. I’m sorry if it’s garbo.

Red, orange, yellow, and brown spots litter the ground and smatter across the pathway towards what will soon be the harvest festival. Worn boots thump against the pathway as a bundled-up figure walks along the old dirt path. Wind whistles past, cold and crisp in the young Autumn morning. Leaves flutter down from worn branches, an assortment of crows staring down in curiosity from the rapidly shedding limbs.  The sun has just risen over the tops of the trees, the warm rays wrapping around the bundled figure's body. 

Quite unsurprisingly, a poof of red hair rushes around behind a stall to the left, hardly startling the sweater-clad entity.

 "Oh!" Portia squeaks, poking her head out and approaching the figure, "(y/n), thank you for coming! I can't tell ya how worried Milady is." The former apprentice adjusts their scarf, a multicolored knit which squishes in their hands as they fumble. "It's my pleasure," the magician chuckles, "Where do you need me?" "Well," Portia hums, balancing a basket of applies on her hip, "You could either work on moving the pumpkins or.... you could be on Volta watch." the small pirate woman chuckles, free hand gesturing to the tiny procurator who has begun following around the various merchants. "I'll keep her busy," (y/n) chuckles, patting the younger Devorak's shoulder before walking off after the courtier. 

Lost in her own hungry little world, Volta can be seen quietly trying to sneak a loaf of bread from the arm of a merchant; however, she's stopped when (y/n) approaches, hands on their hips as they stare down at the young-looking woman. A small, sweet smile crosses over the demon’s lips as she stares up at her friend. 

 "Hi Volta," The magician chuckles, watching as the small courtier slowly puts back the loaf of bread, "What are you up to?" the procurator fumbles with her little hands, frown on her lips as she scrambles for an answer. 

"N-Nothing...Volta does nothing....bad," She mumbles, "ever..." her one red eye flickers about nervously as she squirms. 

"I see," (y/n) hums, standing up straight and reaching a hand out to the tiny woman, "Lets get you something you're allowed to eat, miss innocent." the courtier giggles, squeezing the magician's hand and staying close by their side, head nodding enthusiastically. 

Together, as though the world were nothing more than a painting in the background, the duo walk about in search for food. The stalls and vendors setting up for what will eventually be a productive day once the festivities actually start. Ahead, one hand clasped around a glass of mulled wine, Valerius stands and stares disdainfully out at the event. The booth behind him is decorated in shades of burgundy and cream, kegs of wine lined up behind a large cauldron for warming and spicing the wine. His nose is almost turned up in distain at the idea that the middle class could be here. 

"Hey, Valerius," (y/n) calls out to get his attention, "do you know where-" "-to get food for the Procurator?" Valerius huffs, carefully adjusting the long braid draped over his shoulder, "Normally I'd ignore the little thing...But I suppose..." the wine snob sips his drink to hopefully coat his pallet in something more suitable to his refined ways. 

"You suppose.?..." 

"There's soup and meat pies in that tent over there," Valerius hums, eyes casted pointedly away as his sips his wine, "I suppose I can make an exception for the Countess' beloved magician." He mumbles the excuse softly into this cup, then seems almost disgusted. Despite themselves, the magician begins to wonder if he fears he tainted the wine by muttering a compliment into it 

There's no time to wonder, though as Volta races off into the tent, her little body shaking in excitement as her small demonic form disappears behind the curtains. 

"I guess that's taken care of," (y/n) hums, now noticing the warm item being placed into their palm. A cup of mulled wine gifted by the stubborn courtier before he strides off. Valerius disappears behind a stall, leaving the smell of expensive cologne and wine in his wake. 

With their few companions now gone, the magician walks about in search for something to help with. Though, rather unhelpfully, the festivities seem entirely within working order. Perhaps there can be a beautiful day in Vesuvia without fear or want or-

"Ahhhhh, (y/n!)" 

Nevermind. 

Lucio strides up, his prosthetic arm gleaming in the morning sun as he approaches. 

"Hi, how can I-" before they can finish, the count sweeps (y/n) into a rib-crushing hug, his sly features pulled into a wide grin. 

"I missed you," He coos, smiling and finally letting the magician go, "Perhaps this party will be fun after all!" he runs his human hand through the splash of blonde hair on his head before giving a wink. "Maybe we can go through that Maize later."

"Oh there's an actual maze in there?"

"yes-sir-ee!" Lucio beams, hands heroically on his hips as he smiles, "It's supposed to be spooky, but that's all baby crap. I can handle it." He tries to give a charming little bow, hand outstretched warmly. "and I can protect you from whatever spookery is in-"

"Watch the fuck out!" 

Quickly, a set of hands shove the count and the magician away from the path as a carriage barrels past, the bed laden with pumpkins of every size. Landing in the dirt with a thump, Lucio grumbles before wincing at the thunk made by (y/n)'s own body. The voice, Vulgora, approaches from the path, their bright red clothing seeming to glow in the sunlight. They seem happy, almost proud of saving the day, their chest puffed out proudly. 

"Way to be urgent..." Lucio grumbles, picking himself up from the dirt. The Pontifex holds their hand out, helping (y/n) to their feet and adjusting the scarf around the magician's neck. 

"Thanks," the magical being mumbles, nodding softly to the war-hungry demon. 

"why didn't you help me up??" Lucio huffs, standing up and dusting himself off. Vulgora grins, shrugging and letting out a small cackle. 

"I didn't mean to push you, Lucio," they hum, "I just wanted to make sure we didn't turn (y/n) into a pile of magic goo." With a dismissive wave, the pontifex turns and walks off into the crowd of tents and merchants. Not one to back down, Lucio follows and soon the duo are lost to the Harvest Festival. 

"....hm," Turning, the magician walks off in the opposite direction, soaking in the smells of the festival. Baked goods, apples, pumpkins, and other such amenities linger in the air as they walk along. 

Ahead, in the clearing, a small colorful figure huddles up against a tree trunk. The shock of white hair on his head unmistakable against the colorful world around him. 

"Hi Asra," the ex-apprentice plops down by their former master's side. His soft-looking features glowing against the autumn colors. 

"Ah, (y/n)," Asra hums, his tongue just barely poking out of his mouth as he plucks leaves from a sprig of peppermint. Carefully sorting the delicate little leaves by size, the magician hums and stares down at his little collection. "Do what do I owe the pleasure?" despite his posture and the task at hand, I know he's paying full attention to me. 

"Just going around helping out," they magician sighs, leaning on  Asra's shoulder and melting into his warm body. 

"A Samaritan as always," Asra nods, carefully selecting a large mint leaf and placing it on his tongue, "how cute." the former apprentice blushes, leaning on his shoulder some more before noticing a small gray figure in the distance. "I should...um..." (y/n) hums, shifting. Asra smiles, amethyst eyes glowing in the morning light. 

"Don't worry about me," he mumbles, carefully using one hand to cup his former apprentice's jaw. Prying it open gently, Asra places one of the mint leaves on (y/n)'s tongue and gently closes their mouth. "Good luck." 

And with that, Asra turns them around and pushes them off to the distant figure. Leaving the former apprentice to walk off towards the suspicious pile of leaves that had previously caught their eye. The taste of mint lingers in their mouth as they approach the suspicious leaf pile. Where Asra had gotten the herbs would be a mystery for another time, though.

The leaf pile in question contains something not quite worth finding. 

"Hm...Hi... Be careful where you step," Vlastomil mumbles, his body mostly hidden under the leaves.  

"what are you doing?" The magician chuckles, kneeling by the Praetor and humming. 

"....." He mumbles something under his breath, looking down into the leaf pile, "...worms." Carefully, he lifts one hand from the pile. A single pink worm writhes in his palm. 

"oh," (y/n) hums, holding out one finger for the worm to gently boop their fingertip, "...hello."  Vlastomil seems incredibly pleased, his thin lips curling into a happy little smile as he cradles the worm in his hands. 

"I'm taking some sample leaves home for my babies," the Praetor smiles, gesturing to a pile of baskets nearby. "do you...want to help me?" The apprentice nods, gently grabbing an empty basket and gathering leaves into it. Vlastomil hums, gathering worms from his pile into small glass baubles. Silence falls over the duo like a thick duvet. 

"Okay, I've got two baskets," (y/n) hums, watching the worm-obsessed demon slowly wiggle out from under the pile. 

"Thank you," Vlastomil smiles, walking up and collecting the baskets from the magician, "I'm sure my wrigglers will be very grateful." He gives a small wave goodbye, turning and vanishing into the distance. 

With a small smile, the magician walks off to find another wandering soul. "(y/n), my dear," Nadia calls, approaching with her hands wrung in front of her hands, "has everything been...going well?" The countess frowns, her lips tugged into a soft mourning expression. 

"Yep, everyone's doing okay." For a moment, the world stands a tad still as the countess nods. The wind rustling through the trees, the rabbits in the underbrush, even birds stop chirping as Nadia looks around in mild distraught. "people are...counting on me," Nadia mumbles, "they're expecting this to go well." 

"And it will," Nadia looks up in surprise, staring at her magical companion and tenderly placing a hand on their cheek.

"Oh sweet (y/l/n)," she hums, "your reassurance means more to me than you know. Thank you." Her kindness radiates in her touch as she tugs her magical friend into a firm hug. She smells of lilac and something which can only be described as sand. 

"Stay calm, Countess," the former apprentice hums and hugs her back, "You're going to be okay." they smile, gently patting the countess' back before pulling back. 

"Thank you," Nadia hums, gently tracing a knuckle against (y/n)'s cheek, "I can always count on you." She gives a wistful sigh before walking away, waving softly. 

"Nice," the magician smiles, turning around to try and find someone else to-

"Greetings," Valdemar stands there filling the void which was empty mere milliseconds ago. 

"O-Oh! Hello," they give a small smile and adjust their scarf, "Is there any way I can help you, Quaestor?" They pause, their  eyes flicking to the side before pulling into a sickly grin. 

"Well," Valdemar hums, holding one hand out, "A little birdy told me you were helping out stray souls. I thought maybe I'd have a chance." they hum, watching as (y/n) gently grabs onto their latex gloved hand. 

"Lets go," they hum, dragging the magician off into the maze. There’s no hesitation in the demon’s stride as they nearly saunter into the maze. 

Corn fills (y/n)'s vision as the demonic surgeon drags them unceremoniously through maize maze. They walk together for what feels like ages, their legs a tad wobbly from trying to keep up with the Quaestor. Dirt and corn-scent fill (y/n)'s lungs as they follow the demon obediently. 

"Hey where are we going?..."

There is no answer as the doctor drags their magician companion further into the maize. Left, right, forward, left, left, left, right, right.... There is no end to any of it.  Stopping suddenly, the quaestor turns to a small clearing in the maize. A tiny chair, table, teacup, and teapot linger there. A large scythe leans against the wall of corn as well, presumably to help take care of the corn.  Valdemar, seeming exceedingly calmed by this situation, grabs their scythe from the wall and turns to (y/n).  “Now, how would you like to give some lost souls a....” They pause, tasting the words for a moment before chuckling, “A spook?” The magician’s eyes widen for a moment before they let a smile creep over their lips. 

“Absolutely, Quaestor.”

[roman-writing]

you search the mountain (5/6)

Fandom: World of Warcraft

Pairing: Jaina Proudmore / Sylvanas Windrunner

Rating: M

Wordcount: 21,557

Summary: The borders of Kul Tiras are closed to all outsiders. Sylvanas, Banshee Queen, hopes to use the impending civil war in Boralus to her advantage, and thereby lure Kul Tiras to the side of the Horde. A Drust AU

Content Advisory: horror, blood, gore, typical Drustvar spooky deer shit

read it below the cut, or you can read it here on AO3

On the road to Watermill Hill, it began to snow. Sylvanas could smell it before it arrived. The sky grew heavy and grey. The first flakes dusted the shoulders of the troops. They cottoned onto buff coats and helms, onto cuirasses and the curve of pauldrons. The fields were blanketed, and the boughs of trees began to sag beneath the additional weight. Slowly, the land went quiet and white, until the stamp of feet and horse's hooves faded to a shadow of itself, until the mountains to the west were utterly shrouded from sight, until not even the heavy carts pulled by teams of oxen could churn together the snow and mud, so that the world seemed pall-wrapt. 

It was deep enough that it cast a strange spell over Drustvar, but not so deep that it deterred their march. The long line of troops headed ever northward. They had left behind a garrison at Barrowknoll, but only as few as they could spare. Most of the troops were all they would have for the winter ahead and the battles that awaited them. Yet even the thunderous march of an army faded beneath the weight of snow in the air and on the ground, until they walked, ghost-like, through the pale haze of the earth.

By the time they reached the river south of Fallhaven on the second day, the snow had lost all of its charm. More often than not, Sylvanas could hear the grumblings of soldiers as they pitched their tents at night. They would rub their gloved hands together and stamp their feet, cursing the temperature which lowered with every passing day. 

In her opinion, it was an improvement on the constant rain. But it would not last that way for long. Soon, the snow would freeze. The icy winds would come racing down from the glacial spine of Drustvar. The horses would starve first. The living would eat them. And then the oxen. And then -- well. That was a gruesome thought. They were far from that point yet. And if Jaina were to be believed, they would not want for food. 

The river between them and Fallhaven was broad and deep and brackish. It washed directly out to sea due east. Through the drift of snow, Sylvanas could make out the shape of canvas sheets. The masts of Ashvane merchant ships modified for war raked against the pale grey sky. There were five of them anchored in the river, choking any relief to Fallhaven by water. More ships still were stationed at Carver's Harbour, controlling the inlet to Fallhaven. Where once there had been a bridge on the westernmost end of the river, there now was nothing but smoke-blackened stumps poking out of the fast-flowing water. Without ships of their own, they would need to spend more time going all the way around to find a suitable fording spot west of their current position. 

Had this been summer, Sylvanas might have been tempted to order a bridge to be built. But summer was a distant memory, now. The city of Fallhaven itself wasn't much of a city to begin with. Its most prominent features were its belltower commanding the city square near the river, and the squat stone walls that surrounded the city's entire perimeter. It had been built with a siege in mind, commanding the river and surrounded by rolling farmland for miles around. It was the breadbasket of Drustvar. Normally, shipments of grain would sail out to the rest of Kul Tiras from the river, but the Ashvane fleet had made quick work of that. The only ground near enough to threaten it was a rise to the northeast, which Sylvanas could just make out over the top of the city if she stood up in her stirrups and craned her neck.

"It looks so peaceful, doesn't it?" Lucille said, seated on her own horse not far off. "One could almost be fooled into thinking it wasn't under siege."

"Mmm," said Sylvanas noncommittally. 

She guided her skeletal mount along the road, while Lucille rode beside her. To Sylvanas' left rode Velonara on a dark horse that looked almost exactly like Lucille's but for its white-socked legs. The three of them traveled midway along with the army, neither front and center, nor bringing up the rear. A group of Forsaken soldiers trailed after Sylvanas, whilst Kul Tiran guardsmen followed in Lucille's wake bearing the banners of House Waycrest, emblazoned with a grey falcon. 

"I can remember the first time I came to Fallhaven. I was only seven," Lucille continued blithely on. "Even then, Cyril White was in charge. A Proudmoore man through and through. He had just left a position in the Navy serving under Daelin, and my mother endorsed him as Lord Mayor of Fallhaven as a show of goodwill between our two Houses." Lucille sighed, shifting her reins between her hands. "How times change."

"Hmm," Sylvanas said again. 

Velonara remained completely silent. She rode with one leg swung idly over the saddle as though sitting half cross-legged. A small glass vial of varnish was balanced in the crook of her knee. In one hand she was wielding a small brush, which she dipped into the vial and then stroked along her fingernails to apply a careful coat of blood red paint. How she managed to not smear herself with the stuff while she rode a horse was a complete mystery. 

"Cyril's father's family are good sturdy yeoman stock," said Lucille. "Very popular with the demographic in this area. Primarily farmers, really. He made a good move by marrying into the White family, who are the local lords -- minor cousins of mine, in fact. Though more closely related to the Greys of Katherine's family, who hail further south in Fletcher's Hollow. Both of them share the same family motto, strangely enough. ‘Freely we serve.’" 

"Mmm." Sylvanas made a small gesture with her hand, a Ranger symbol to try to get Velonara's attention, but Velonara was too busy blowing on her nails to dry them. 

"So, of course, being rather politically ambitious himself, Cyril gave up his father's name and decided to adopt his mother's line for the titles and prestige. Though from what I understand he was a great success in the Navy through force of character alone. Titles tend these things, of course. One never goes beyond Captain without some sort of patronage." 

Ever since that night at Barrowknoll three days ago, Lucille had somehow gotten it into her head that she and Sylvanas were now close friends. This rather inconvenient liberty was only exacerbated by the fact that Katherine was cross with the whole lot of them, after discovering that both Lucille and Sylvanas had known about Jaina’s true identity without telling her. Where once Lucille would have ridden at Katherine’s side, now she haunted either Sylvanas or Jaina’s footsteps. After three days of unending lectures about Drustvar’s political families and constitutional climates, Sylvanas was just about ready to jump into the river. 

“Velonara,” Sylvanas turned to her Ranger. “Didn’t you say something about how the High Thornspeaker wished to speak with the Lord Admiral and Lady Waycrest?”

“Oh?” Lucille glanced over her shoulder, looking for Katherine. She had a sudden anxious air about her at the thought. 

Sylvanas nodded. “Yes. I distinctly remember it. I believe it had something to do with changes to land laws and ownership structures after the war.”

That certainly got Lucille’s attention. For all her nerves where the Lord Admiral was concerned, her expression hardened somewhat. She began tugging at the reins of her horse. “That sounds like it requires my attention. Excuse me. I will be back shortly.” 

Sylvanas waited until Lucille had ridden off, before she rounded on Velonara with a glare. “Why didn’t you save me?”

Velonara pretended not to have heard, and continued painstakingly painting her nails.  

“You are heartless,” Sylvanas accused in a complete deadpan tone. 

“Consider this your just reward, my Queen,” Velonara countered. She lifted her hand in front of her face to inspect her work, then lowered it back down to her thigh for another coat. “Now you know what I’ve had to deal with ever since you assigned me to watch her.” 

“I have learned the error of my ways. Have pity on me.” 

“Give it a few more days. She hasn’t even told you about her deepest darkest fears yet.”

“Which are?” 

“Being killed by her mother and raised to serve her in undeath. Which, I’ve been told, was a real threat at one point in time.”

“My my,” Sylvanas murmured, looking over her shoulder after Lucille. “It seems we have more in common with our dear Lady Waycrest than previously thought. What a horrifying concept.” 

Fortunately for them, Sylvanas had not been lying when she’d said that Jaina wanted to speak with Katherine and Lucille about land reforms. Lucille did not return for hours. As the army marched past the burned bridge, Sylvanas made a disgruntled noise. 

“This will add another three days to our trip,” she said. “What a nuisance.” 

Velonara had long since finished her nails, and was now looking utterly bored. “Don’t worry, my Queen. That just means there’s more time for Lady Waycrest to kindly regale us with local history. She’s a wonderfully thoughtful hostess like that.”

Sylvanas groaned. 

--

It was a long march around the river. Fallhaven faded into the distance, obscured by snow, until only the mountains to the west loomed. Sylvanas managed to elude Lucille for most of the day, slipping away when the army made camp to her own tent and staying there as night fell. The Forsaken kept the night watch, allowing the living to sleep. 

Sylvanas herself worked through to the morning. She did not bother with amenities in her tent apart from a foldable desk and a few chairs. She needed nothing else. When dawn began to inch over the horizon, grey and flecked with the promise of more snow, Nathanos entered her tent with a parcel of missives. Without comment, he crossed the space and handed them over. She took them, leaning back in her chair to begin perusing the latest reports. 

“Anything good?” she asked as she ran her thumb beneath the seal of a letter from Orgrimmar to break the red wax. 

“Second from the top,” Nathanos answered. 

She set the unread letter from Orgrimmar aside and turned over a small bit of folded up parchment. Unfurling the page, her eyes scanned the few lines hastily scrawled onto the note. With every sentence her eyebrows crept higher up her brow, and she sat a little straighter until she was resting her elbows upon the desk, reading avidly. 

“Well, well.” A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she set down the piece of parchment. “I must admit. I am impressed. Who would have thought our new Zandalari friends would be so efficient?” 

“I believe their Princess is rather keen to make an impression,” said Nathanos. 

“And she has succeeded.” 

Sylvanas tapped her finger against the parchment thoughtfully. The ships from Zandalar would be arriving at Fallhaven almost a week early. She laughed softly. “They might just beat us there, you know.”

“You always did prefer arriving to events fashionably late.”

A shadowy chuckle escaped her at that. “And they’re sure they weren’t spotted by Stormsong’s insurgents?” 

Nathanos nodded firmly. “Indeed. They are small force. Only five ships. And I understand they have a talented young shaman aboard one of them, who was able to shroud them in a fog as they sailed up the Sounds.” 

“I hope you have more good news for me,” she said, picking up the next letter.

Clearing his throat delicately, Nathanos gave a slight shake of his head. 

“Go on,” she ordered.

“As of last night the Ashvane forces have begun their assault of Watermill Hill.”

With a grunt, Sylvanas broke the seal of the next letter and began to unfold the parchment. Her eyes were already scanning the page. “As was expected,” she murmured. “I am amazed they did not begin sooner. I would have taken it a month ago.” 

“Not everyone has the resources or expertise you do, my Queen.”

“That much is clear.” She glanced at him over the top of the page. “Anything else?”

Nathanos shook his head. “No. Nothing of much interest. The usual. Trade deals. A Mak’gora was called in Orgrimmar to settle a border dispute between two parties.”

“Anyone whose death would be inconvenient for me?”

“No.”

“Good.” Sylvanas waved a dismissive hand at him, and with a bow he left.

--

The next few days passed without further incident. The army crossed the river at last, taking care not to freeze on the way, and marched back east towards Fallhaven until the city crept over the hills. The morning before they were set to arrive at Watermill Hill, both Anya and Nathanos entered Sylvanas’ tent this time, their expressions harried.

Sylvanas had her feet propped up on a corner of the desk. A light dusting of snow on Anya and Nathanos’ shoulders told her that it was already snowing again outside. Or perhaps it had never stopped, snow drifting lazily down straight through the night. She arched an eyebrow at the sight of them and said, “It is rare for the two of you to grace me with your company at the same time these days. Which means something’s wrong.”

“A new ship has arrived in Fallhaven’s river harbour,” Anya said.

Sylvanas waved her away. “That will be one of our Zandalari sloops scouting ahead of the others, I imagine.”

“No,” Anya said firmly, undeterred. “It is a Kul Tiran ship. Far bigger than a sloop. You would recognise it yourself, in fact.”

Scoffing, Sylvanas said, “I highly doubt that. You know I can’t spot the difference between naval vessels, Anya.” 

“You would remember this one, my Queen,” Nathanos said darkly. “We saw its ceremonial launch ourselves on the docks of Boralus.”

Sylvanas froze. Slowly, she lowered her feet to the ground. “Lady Ashvane’s ship is here? Right now?” 

“That’s what we’ve been trying to tell you, yes.” 

Straightening in her seat, Sylvanas looked down at the detailed map of Fallhaven, all her copious scribbled notes of Windmill Hill, and the open ledger filled with rows and rows of supplies and troops and costs. Then abruptly she pushed back from the table and rose to her feet. “Have you seen Jaina this morning?” she asked Nathanos.

He shook his head. “Still in her tent, as far as I know. Unless she took a portal from the tent itself. I wouldn’t put it past her.” 

Somehow Sylvanas could not imagine Jaina fleeing from a battle. Especially not one like this. Jaina had not shied from battle at Barrowknoll, and Windmill Hill was supposed to be a skirmish. If Lady Ashvane’s ship was here though, that might have just changed. 

"Nathanos, find out exactly who is aboard that flagship," Sylvanas ordered, already ducking from her tent and striding in the direction of Jaina's tent with hasty steps.

"Using what?" Nathanos asked. 

"Your imagination, preferably," Sylvanas drawled. She did not slow down or look over her shoulder as she spoke. "Bribe someone. Kill someone. Impersonate someone. I don't care. Just get me eyes on that flagship."

When Nathanos and Anya started trailing after her, she gestured for them to be elsewhere. Nathanos frowned and Anya huffed, but they both did as they were told. He veered off, already heading towards the river. Sylvanas paid them no heed. 

There was no raven or sabre cat guarding Jaina’s tent. Sylvanas looked around for any sign of Arthur or Adalyn, but neither were to be seen. Slowly, she approached the tent’s entrance. Her fingers parted the heavy canvas flap, and she peered in. There was motion and darkness, but she could hear nothing within. The cloying taste of magic settled in the back of Sylvanas’ mouth, but it always tended to do that whenever Jaina was nearby. Dim lamplight did little to illuminate the tent’s interior, where outside the glare of the morning sun dazzled against the snow. Sylvanas squinted, but the contrast made spots appear in her sensitive vision. 

“You might as well come in,” Jaina’s voice said, sounding exasperated. “You’re letting out all the warm air.”

Stomping her boots free of snow first, Sylvanas ducked beneath the tent flap and entered. It was indeed far warmer inside than out, though she could see no brazier. A rune had been scorched into the ground at the centre of the tent, glowing faintly. Whether that was the source of heat, or simply a ward against prying ears, she did not know. 

Most of Jaina’s personal things had been packed up into a traveling trunk at the foot of her foldable cot. The bedding had been rolled up, revealing the wooden cot frame. Jaina herself was bent almost double on the far side of the tent. She stood peering into a tiny scratched mirror that was propped against a nightstand and a few books. Sylvanas blinked in surprise. In lieu of her usual druidic robes, Jaina was wearing dark high-waisted breeches and white stockings tucked in at the knee. Her boots were gone, and instead she wore shiny black shoes with gold buckles. A greatcoat and waistcoat were slung over a chair, leaving her in nothing else but her shirtsleeves and suspenders. The skull mask and staff were nowhere in sight.

She did not turn around when Sylvanas entered the tent. Instead, she continued to fiddle with a long strip of white cloth, which she was trying to wind around her neck to form a cravat. When the cravat refused to cooperate, she straightened slightly and swore vehemently under her breath, “Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

Ears quirked at a curious angle, Sylvanas wandered across the tent until she stood behind her. “I assume there’s a reason why you’re wearing this instead of your usual robes?” 

Grumbling, Jaina undid the messy cravat knot with jerky impatient movements. “It is part of the plan. My mother thinks I ought to be seen wearing the uniform instead of -- well, you know.” 

“The horrible deer skull, and some leaves you found on the forest floor?” 

“Yes, exactly.” 

Jaina started tugging up the stiff collar of her shirt once more, trying to get it to stay in the right position so she could try tying the cravat again. Impatiently, Sylvanas watched her struggle and fail to wrap the cloth around her neck properly, before she finally interrupted. “Do you need some help?” 

“No.”

Sylvanas lifted an incredulous eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

With a sigh, Jaina fully straightened and turned away from the mirror. “No,” she said again, this time holding out the fabric with a defeated expression. 

Eyes fixed on Jaina’s face, Sylvanas slowly reached out for the cravat. When Jaina had been angled away from her, she had not been able to get a good look at her. Now it was apparent that the clothing wasn’t the only thing to have changed. She had never seen Jaina wearing cosmetics before. They had been tastefully applied. Kohl lining her eyes, and rouge darkening her lips to a sinful shade of red. 

Smoothing out the length of silk between her hands, Sylvanas said, “You could have just asked your mother for help. I’m sure the Lord Admiral has worn enough cravats in her lifetime to know how to tie one.” 

Jaina’s brow furrowed in a thunderous scowl. “I would rather eat a rusty old horseshoe.” 

With a snort, Sylvanas said, “Lucille could have shown you, then.”

Jaina shifted her feet and her cheeks were tinged slightly pink with embarrassment. Finally she admitted sheepishly, “I thought I could figure it out on my own. I mean, how hard can it be?”

Giving her a pointed look, Sylvanas held up the long narrow length of silk and said, “Lean down for me.” 

Jaina did so without question, and Sylvanas began to wrap the cravat around her neck. She had to reach around Jaina, rising up onto her toes to be able to do so. 

“Why are you so tall?” Sylvanas grumbled under her breath as she moved Jaina’s braid out of the way.

“I think a better question is: how do you know how to tie a cravat?”

“I thought the answer to that was obvious.” Now that the ends of the cravat were doubly wrapped back around Jaina’s throat and hung down her chest, Sylvanas was able to sink back down to the flat of her feet to finish the job. She tugged lightly at the ends of the cravat to tighten it, and quipped, “All elves are snobs and slaves to fashion.” 

Jaina laughed softly. The corners of her eyes crinkled when she smiled. She kept her head slightly bowed while Sylvanas straightened the upturned collar beneath the wide strip of fabric. “That makes sense,” Jaina said with faux solemnity. “Though I do wonder what that says about all the skulls and spikes you wear.” 

Sylvanas clucked her tongue in admonishment. “Skulls and spikes are all the rage in the major cities these days. Very chic. I wouldn’t expect a human from a backwater like Kul Tiras to understand.” 

“Of course. My mistake.” 

Sylvanas was far too concerned with the dimple that appeared when Jaina’s smile broadened. Her hands slowed in tying the cravat, and her fingers lingered against the warm skin of Jaina’s pulsepoint. The rope scar was a raised band of tissue looped around Jaina’s neck. Sylvanas pulled the cravat material a little higher to hide it from view. 

Jaina noticed. Her eyes flickered down to where Sylvanas’ hands rested beneath her chin, then up again to her face. “Thank you,” she murmured. 

Sylvanas’ only answer was a hum. That heartbeat quickened, fluttering like a bird’s wings under her thumb. Jaina was watching her very closely, as though waiting for Sylvanas to speak. The air felt far too warm for a Kul Tiran winter.

Sylvanas bid her hands move again. Her fingers made quick work of the last knot. She took an extra few seconds to pull the knot a little tighter before lowering her hands. That seemed to break whatever spell had settled over them. The air did not feel quite so heavy when Sylvanas was no longer touching her. 

“I should really learn how to do this myself someday,” Jaina sighed, tugging at the knot so that it was arranged just so beneath her neck and loosening it in the process. “Since apparently I’m going to be wearing this outfit quite a lot.” 

“I would offer some instruction, but I am a terrible teacher. Never had the disposition for it.”

“Too used to giving orders instead?”

“Something like that, yes.” She swatted Jaina’s hand away, and scolded her softly, “Stop that.”

Jaina huffed in annoyance, but lowered her hands and allowed Sylvanas to fix the cravat and tighten it again. When Sylvanas stepped away, she reached for the waistcoat slung over a chair and handed it over. Jaina took it with a murmur of thanks, shrugging into it. Sylvanas had to tamp down the urge to move forward again and do up the row of small dark buttons. Instead, she clasped her hands firmly behind her back, watching Jaina button up the waistcoat and tuck the ends of the cravat away. 

Swinging the Admiralty greatcoat over her shoulders, Jaina next fixed a green sash into place before fussing with the wide sleeves of her coat. She tugged at them, rolling her broad shoulders beneath the fabric and muttering curses to herself about how it inhibited her movement. In this outfit, she looked uncomfortable. She also -- Sylvanas had to admit silently -- looked incredibly good. It was a far cry from her usual druidic rags. Instead, she appeared sleek and polished. Perhaps it was the unprecedented kohl lining her eyes. Perhaps it was the red lipstick that made her mouth appear brighter and more alive. Or perhaps Sylvanas really was just staring, now. 

Jaina glanced up with a worried frown. "Do I have something on my face?" she asked, and ducked her head to gaze at herself in the tiny mirror again. "I thought I'd done the makeup all right? I'm not very good at this. I think this eye is uneven. Does it look uneven to you?"

"No," Sylvanas said. "You look fine."

Still, Jaina took a finger and carefully tried to correct the dark kohl around her blind eye. She swore to herself again. "This would be a lot easier if I could see properly."

"If I tell you that you look very striking, will that convince you?"

Jaina straightened and turned. "That depends," she said. "Are you being honest? Or just kind?"

"When have you ever known me to do something purely out of kindness?"

"That's a fair point." 

"You look very striking," Sylvanas said, more firmly this time. "Apart from all the lint on your back."

Eyes widening, Jaina tried to peer over her own shoulder. "What? Where?"

"I am joking. Your outfit is faultless."

Jaina glowered. “You are an ass.” 

“So I’ve been told,” Sylvanas drawled. “And stop fiddling with the cravat. You’ll make it come undone.”

Jaina continued her fidgeting with the fabric wound tight around her neck. “It’s suffocating. I don’t like it.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell.” Sylvanas broke off her next sarcastic remark. Her ears twitched, hearing approaching footsteps outside, and then a hand pushing aside the tent flap. 

"Am I interrupting something?" Katherine asked, her voice cool.

Immediately, the warmth in Jaina's gaze vanished, as though poured out onto the ground. She glanced over Sylvanas' shoulder at her mother, then turned back towards the mirror to straighten her lapels. "Nothing at all," Jaina said. "What do you need?"

Sylvanas was not bothered by cold weather -- apart from the unpleasant wet -- but it was very chilly in the tent all of a sudden. She took a step towards the tent entrance and murmured, "Excuse me. I will go and come back in just a -"

"No. Stay," Jaina said. Then she added a little more softly, "Please." 

She was caught. She could make some excuse to leave, but Jaina shot her an imploring look. And it was probably better if both Katherine and Jaina received the news. So with a sigh, Sylvanas stayed put. 

For a brief moment, Katherine hesitated at the entrance to the tent, before ducking beneath the flap and stepping fully inside. The bright morning light dimmed when the flap swung back down, enclosing them all in the tent. Katherine's pale gaze took inventory of Jaina's appearance, roving over the golden bands of rank at the sleeves of the greatcoat, and the shining tasselled epaulettes. Finally, she said, "I'm glad to see it fits well. Sylvanas is right. You look very good."

Jaina's reflection in the little mirror frowned, and she turned around to face her mother fully. "I sense a 'but' coming."

"But -" said Katherine gamely. "You are missing a few things. May I?”

Reaching into her pocket, Katherine pulled out what appeared to be braided cords made of thick gold threads. It took Sylvanas a moment to recognise them for what they were. Aiguillettes did not feature often in elven military uniforms, if at all. They were a uniquely human trimming.

Jaina hesitated, then gave a stiff nod of consent. Katherine limped closer, but paused when she stood before her daughter. She looked between the aiguillettes and her cane. Silently, Sylvanas reached out a hand.

“Thank you,” Katherine said, giving the cane to her. 

The chased silver falcon’s head retained traces of the warmth of Katherine’s hand. Sylvanas placed the tip of the cane onto the floor and leaned her weight upon it while she watched. Katherine worked quickly and efficiently, tying the complex braiding into place so that it hung from one of Jaina’s shoulders and was pinned with a silver anchor fastener right over the green sash. Jaina was absolutely still throughout the entire affair. She looked like a statue made flesh. A figure of Kul Tiran myth carved for public appreciation. 

Katherine stroked her thumb over the pin. "This belonged to your father," she said, then stepped back. "I thought you should have it." 

Something darkened across Jaina's face, then was gone again, like a cloud passing between the earth and the sun. "How thoughtful of you," she said, though she sounded less than thrilled at the idea. 

"Yes. Well." Katherine cleared her throat as though trying to clear the chilliness in the air. "More importantly, other people will remember it as such."

Jaina’s expression soured. "Of course, they will."

"I mean this as a favour."

"I'm sure you did."

"Enough with the act, my dear. We are all very tired of it."

"Act? What act?" Jaina smiled thinly. "This is very real."

To that Katherine had no reply. She and Jaina seemed to be having some sort of silent conversation featuring nothing but hard glares and unyielding stubbornness. Eventually however, Katherine relented with a sigh and held out a hand for her cane. Sylvanas gladly took this as a sign that the awkward moment was over, and handed it back to her. 

"Now, if only you walked like you didn't have a stick up your ass, you might be a bit more convincing in that outfit," Katherine said. 

Sylvanas had to bite back a snort of laughter. Jaina fumed quietly, and gave her a warning look. 

"She has a point, though," Sylvanas said in her own defense. 

"You try wearing this stupid outfit," Jaina growled. She was tugging hard at the cravat again. "I feel like I'm hog-tied and on my way to be butchered at market."

It finally dawned on Sylvanas, then. Why Jaina was so preoccupied with the cravat. Why she did not like having things tied tightly around her neck. How foolish of her to have not noticed before. Especially since she had just been touching the very scars on Jaina’s throat not a few minutes ago. 

It was one thing to hide the scars with a bit of loose fabric. It was quite another to emulate their making. 

Katherine sniffed. “You’re being overly dramatic. As always.”

Sylvanas’ coal-bright eyes darted to Katherine, then to Jaina. Neither of them were paying her any attention. They were too preoccupied with one another's presence, like two wild cats meeting in a dark alleyway. Not for the first time, Sylvanas wondered what exactly had transpired back at the Church in Barrowknoll. The two must have discussed a great deal of things, but that had clearly not included a full reveal of exactly how Jaina came to be in the position of High Thornspeaker. 

“I have worn my fair share of uncomfortable military outfits,” Sylvanas said before Jaina could fire back a retort at her mother. She carefully kept her tone smooth and light. “You get used to them. Eventually.” 

For a brief moment it seemed Jaina was still inclined to a fight, but she lowered her hand and left the cravat alone. “Yes,” she said, sounding tired now. “Yes, you’re right.” Then she shot Sylvanas a puzzled look. “Why did you come here, anyway?”

“I received news from one of my Rangers,” Sylvanas said delicately. 

“Good news, I should hope,” Katherine said. 

“That remains to be seen.” Hands clasped firmly behind her back, Sylvanas announced, “As of early this morning, Lady Ashvane’s flagship has arrived in the harbour.”

That certainly got their attention. They both glanced at her sharply, their movements and expressions terrifyingly identical. 

“The LAS Integrity?” Katherine asked as though she had misheard. “Here?” 

“Is it really a Lord Admiral’s Ship if she’s rebelling against the Admiralty? And with that kind of name?” Jaina asked. 

“Yes, we all appreciate the irony of the situation. Thank you, my dear,” Katherine said, her tone bordering on waspish. Then she said to Sylvanas, “Do we know if Priscilla is aboard the ship?” 

Sylvanas shrugged. “I cannot say for sure. But I intend to find out.” 

“She is,” said Jaina.

Both Sylvanas and Katherine blinked and turned to look at her. 

“How do you know?” Katherine asked.

“Did one of your druids fly over it already?” said Sylvanas.

But Jaina only shook her head. She reached over to the chair, where a pair of white gloves were neatly folded. One after the other she began to tug them into place, the last of her ensemble until she appeared every inch the Lord Admiral’s Heir. “No,” she said, pushing the finely stitched quirks more firmly between the webbing of her fingers. “I just know.” 

Katherine shot Sylvanas an exasperated glance, as though seeking some sort of solidarity. Sylvanas offered none, keeping her gaze fixed on Jaina. 

“Vagueness helps nobody,” Katherine said. “Especially not in times of war.”

Jaina’s only answer was a shrug. Garbed now in the full military dress of the Navy, she strode past them both and pushed open the flap of the tent. “Shall we begin the march? I want to reach Watermill Hill as soon as possible. I have a good feeling about today.”

“Again with the vagueness,” Katherine sighed, though she followed her daughter out without further question. 

Once outside, Sylvanas took her leave, making her way towards the cavalry and reserve units. Katherine and Jaina did not speculate on her absence. They had already discussed the plan the night before. They swept off in one direction already calling for their horses, and the march began anew. 

When Watermill Hill came into sight, Sylvanas perked up a bit in her stirrups for a better look. It was one thing to hear about something in reports, and quite another to see it in person. Where she had expected a meagre fortification, there stood a small castle in its stead atop a hill overlooking Fallhaven and commanding the surrounding terrain. The eponymous watermill was stationed with a small village nestled between the hill and the river. 

More importantly however was the Ashvane army attacking it. A large force was assailing the southwest gatehouse, trying to seize entry to the west bailey. From this distance Sylvanas could see the occasional tuft of gunpowder from either side, as they returned fire on one another. Hayles and his men had already run down a number of Ashvane scouting groups on their approach to Watermill Hill, but they could not catch all of them. The ascent to Watermill Hill was a narrow road that sloped up to the main gate. All around the rest of the hill, the earth was too steep to assail without building further groundworks. The Ashvanes had funneled themselves onto this road to assault the castle. By the time the combined forces arrived to pin their quarry against the castle, the Ashvanes had raised the call of harried trumpets and were attempting to reposition themselves. It was all far too late. In a matter of moments they would be surrounded and trapped like prey in a snare.

Had Sylvanas been alive, she would have felt the hunter’s itch under her skin. As it was, she tamped down the urge to kick her skeletal steed to a faster pace and shout commands for double time. Strictly speaking, this was not her fight. Jaina was supposed to be leading the charge. And indeed, Jaina, Katherine and Lucille were all riding at the fore of the main body in order to make a symbolic statement with their presence. Which left Sylvanas restlessly commanding the left flank and bringing up the rear of the procession. 

Seated high atop her horse, she frowned over the ranks, her gaze roving in search of a particular cluster of officers. From this position she could barely make out Jaina in her stiff Admiralty greatcoat. Sylvanas saw her white-gloved hands make a sharp gesture, the motion followed by the blaring of a horn. Immediately, the troops increased their pace, the stamp of their feet like a thunderous heartbeat through the snowy fields. 

“Finally,” Sylvanas grumbled under her breath. 

Beside her, Hayles glanced up from his conversation with Anya. “Something wrong, my Lady?”

Sylvanas answered with an irritable wave. “Your future Lord Admiral is rather slow on the uptake.”

He shot her a puzzled look beneath his helm, but made no further remark. Meanwhile, Anya’s ears tilted at a curious angle and she said, “I’m not so sure about that, my Queen. Two minutes too slow isn’t bad for someone without a few centuries of experience under her belt.”

“A lot can happen in two minutes,” Sylvanas said with a warning slant of her own ears that Anya would understand but which would have left Hayles even more bemused. 

Anya bowed in her saddle and murmured, “Of course.” Her words and tone were deferential, but everything else was mocking. 

Sylvanas narrowed her eyes. “Anya, take a scouting party and bring me back the latest report on the walls,” she ordered. 

With another low bow, Anya did as commanded, leaving Hayles riding in uncomfortable silence at Sylvanas’ side. He made no attempt at small talk, which she appreciated. Nor did any of the other officers trailing in her wake, awaiting their commands. She craned her neck back to look up, spying a raven wheeling slowly overhead, its broad black wings a spot of black against a backdrop of white. A few minutes later, Arthur flapped down through the gentle sprinkling of snow, landing atop the bony neck of Sylvanas’ horse. 

“They’ve engaged the Ashvanes just now,” he reported, shuffling a bit on the exposed vertebrae in an attempt to find better purchase with his talons. 

Sylvanas nodded. “Good. And the Ashvane guns?”

“Still pointing to the castle. They couldn’t turn them around in time.” 

“You and your men are to be commended, Hayles,” Sylvanas said without looking in his direction. “The scouts you ran down could not give away our advance.” 

He shifted his weight in the saddle and knuckled his forehead beneath the flat brim of his helmet almost bashfully. Ever since their encounter with Captain Ashvane last week, when Sylvanas had lost her temper, he had been remarkably more docile when she presumed to give orders.

Some time later, Anya’s horse loped easily towards them. She pulled back on the reins, slowing to a trot, and then finally a stop before them. Her horse’s dark coat was spotted with snow. When it snorted and shook its head, small plumes of white steam trailed from its nostrils. 

“Anything?” Sylvanas asked.

But Anya shook her head even as she reached forward to pat her horse on its neck. “Nothing yet.” 

With a resigned sigh, Sylvanas leaned back in her saddle. “Then, we continue to wait.” 

Whereas Hayles and the others seemed perfectly content to do so, Sylvanas did not share in their leisure. They formed a separate little group a few paces away from her. Anya chatted easily with the others, joking about her latest conquests over cards the night previous with the group of officers. Sylvanas ignored them, keeping her eye upon the main body of their forces, watching the toil of a fight beginning. She did not begrudge Anya’s ease with the others. Far from it. Her orders had been for Anya to endear herself with the locals, to make herself a crux of information. And judging by the way a number of the officers laughed at one of Anya’s crude jokes, she was doing an excellent job of it.  

“Not like that,” Sylvanas muttered to herself as she watched Jaina’s movements from a distance. She made a disgruntled noise in the back of her throat and tightened her grip upon the reins. 

Arthur was preening himself, still perched on the neck of her horse. “Did Jaina do something wrong?” 

Mouth pursed to a thin line, Sylvanas shook her head. Jaina hadn’t done anything wrong. It just wasn’t exactly how Sylvanas would do it. She was not suited for sitting in the wings and watching. The last time Sylvanas had done this had been when her mother was Ranger General and given her young daughter a colonel’s command as a learning experience. 

The snow was deepening. As the afternoon dragged on, flurries of white drifted from the sky like flour through a sieve. Hayles’ cavalry and the infantry battalion of the left flank stamped their feet in an attempt to warm them. The soldiers huddled as close together as they dared without breaking ranks. Sargents rustled along the lines, keeping calm and order while they waited and watched the main force continue to fight. At least Sylvanas wasn’t alone in her restlessness. 

In the distance a rallying cry went up along the Ashvane ranks. Sylvanas straightened in her saddle, and she could hear Anya and the others do the same. She opened her mouth to give a command, but stopped and frowned in confusion. Rather than begin pushing against where Jaina’s combined troops had pinned them against the castle, the Ashvane’s right flank surged forward towards the eastern walls.

Rounding on Anya, Sylvanas snapped, "Get me vision on that area.” 

Anya tugged at the reins of her horse, but before she could urge her mount forward, Arthur said, "I got it! It'll be faster if I fly over."

With a flap of his wings, he flew off into the air. Sylvanas kept an eye on him for as long as she could, but he was soon lost through the veil of snowfall. Various other reports from scouting groups trickled in while she waited for his return, officers in drab Forsaken uniforms giving detailed accounts of the front lines’ actions. 

By the time Arthur returned, she had set her horse to pacing, her crimson gaze trying to pierce through the snow. The sunlight filtering through the clouds reflected across the blanketed ground. She had to blink away the blinding glare. She did not want to think of what this would be like if she had still been alive and her oversensitive eyesight had been exposed to the glare.

Arthur landed on her shoulder. "There's some Fallhaven soldiers caught outside the westernmost walls," he said. "They're fighting with the Ashvanes over a little door in the walls."

Sylvanas' eyes widened. "A sally port?" 

In reply Arthur shrugged his wings. 

Swearing under her breath, Sylvanas yanked on the reins. Her skeletal horse bounded forward. Snow was cast about by every heavy fall of its hooves. “All troops march to the western walls! Double time! I want us there post-haste!”

The group of officers went scurrying about in her wake. Flags were raised, standards waving signals to relay orders to the regiment, as well as to alert their allies of their actions. 

“How many did you see?” Sylvanas asked.

“A few thousand Ashvanes?” Arthur said uncertainly. “Far less Fallhaven soldiers, that’s for sure.” 

Hayles was urging his horse to catch up to her. 

“Screen our left flank!” Sylvanas said to him. “And if the enemy try to run, chase them down!”

“Yes, my Lady.” And with a salute, he began shouting orders to round up his men. 

She only pulled back on the reins and sat firmly in her saddle to stop her horse when she had reached the foremost ranks of Forsaken infantry. Anya shadowed her movements rather than stay with the cavalry; her bow was already drawn, expression wary as though expecting an attack on her queen at any moment despite the fact that the enemy was still a good distance away. For their part the Forsaken infantry seemed emboldened by Sylvanas’ presence. Their ranks bristled like a wall of spears and axes and ranks of muskets six deep. 

As they advanced, a few junior officers kept sending daunted glances in her direction. It seemed to get even worse when the cluster of higher ranking officers found her again and gathered to her side, waiting for any other orders she might give. 

When they drew closer to the enemy, a cavalry company broke away from the Ashvane flank. They rode forward, skirting around the hill further west. Already Sylvanas could see Hayles riding out to meet them, screening their flank and keeping the Ashvane cavalry at bay, allowing them to advance. Pistols fired, their shots muted across the snow and distance so that they sounded less like a volley and more like the patter of rain. Meanwhile the Ashvane infantry were caught. Most of them had turned to face the attack, but Sylvanas could still see skirmishing near the walls just behind them. 

Ahead of her, the first line of Forsaken infantry dropped to their stomachs, the second kneeling behind them, and the third remaining standing. All three aimed down the sights of their muskets, awaiting the command to fire. Officers roared out the order, and gunsmoke tinged the air a dirty grey. The three ranks shuffled back as quickly as possible, while the three behind them stepped forward to do the same. 

Slowly they advanced up the hill towards the enemy position, exchanging fire. If the Ashvanes had been better equipped and had a larger force, they might have been able to stave off the attack until they could retreat back to the safety of their main lines. But whatever they sought at the sally port was too valuable to give up so easily. They held their ground even as the Forsaken crept ever closer, close enough that the rows of pikemen could step forward and stab at one another. Blood sprayed across the snowy hillside. The Ashvanes’ red coats hid most of the gore, while the Forsaken bled black and sluggish. 

For every Undead that fell -- pinned by spears, or chopped at with axes, or shot -- three more Ashvanes fell before them. From her position near the front ranks, Sylvanas could see the fear on their faces as they realised exactly what kind of enemy they were facing. She heard panicked cries go up -- some nonsense about Drust ghouls -- and the enemy line began to falter. A musket ball went spinning past her, near enough that she could hear it whistle through the air, but she did not flinch. She could hear Arthur give a great squawk of protest and launch himself into the air with a hurried flap of wings. 

Well, if the Kul Tirans were squeamish about the Undead, she ought to give them a show to remember.

Kicking her horse forward and pulling her bow from her back, Sylvanas barked orders at the group of officers behind her. “Push forward! Drive them against the walls! And make it look rabid! The rest of you, with me!” 

A few of the humans appeared puzzled at these commands, but the Forsaken officers’ eyes glowed a keen and sickly gold. The orders swept quickly through the ranks, and the fighting reached frenzied heights. With a company of soldiers at her back, Sylvanas leapt from her horse and strode to the right flank to cut off the enemy’s route back to the west bailey, leaving only one retreat. Every arrow she fired into the enemy’s flank shrieked as it soared through the air, streaking with veins of black energy. When they struck into the sensitive exposed flesh of a neck or shoulder, tendrils of dark necrotic magic would lash along their bodies so that they fell, twitching and bloated as though they had been drowned in a fetid lake. 

It did not take long for the Ashvane line to break. They were outnumbered and pinned against the castle walls on a steep slope. Soon, they were routed and scrambling down the hill towards the snowy western fields, where Hayles and his cavalry would chase them down. Sylvanas fired a few shots after them, her arrows arcing through the air and finding their targets with deadly accuracy. Red-coated soldiers stumbled to their knees, choking on blood and falling into the bank of snow.  

“Anya, get your horse and join Captain Hayles. Take Arthur with you. He can help track down anyone who runs,” Sylvanas said. She did not need to look over her shoulder to know that Anya had been beside her through the thick of the fight, ensuring her safety. “If the Ashvanes even think about regrouping, kill them.” 

With a silent bow, Anya darted off through the snow in search of her horse near the base of the hill. Overhead a black speck in the sky soared after her. Sylvanas shouldered her bow and turned back towards the castle. Her soldiers had surrounded a group of grey-coated Fallhaven troops near the sally port while the Ashvanes fled. Her ears twitched when she heard raised human voices. Frowning, she rose up on her toes to see over the warren of tall Forsaken soldiers, but could only catch glimpses of steel and snow and grey stone walls. 

Rows of undead soldiers parted before her like a wave, making way for their Dark Lady as she walked towards the ruckus. A cohort of Fallhaven infantrymen held their rows of pikes at the ready, aiming down the sights of their muskets, ready to fire should any of the undead get too close. They were gathered round what appeared to be their leader, a greying man with a bushy mutton-chop beard and fierce pale eyes, who had one hand clenched around the handle of a gilded silver pistol and the other around the hilt of a fine sword. 

“Get that bloody door open, already!” he roared over his shoulder. His cocked hat was silver-trimmed and dark. When Sylvanas stepped forward from the ranks of the Forsaken, he pointed his pistol at her, his expression hard. “Not another step!” 

Lifting her hands to show she was unarmed, Sylvanas continued walking forward. “I mean you no harm. Are you the garrison commander?”

He pulled the trigger, firing a warning shot at her feet. A plume of snow burst up around her greaves and she froze. 

“I said -” he snarled, “- not another step.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I have just helped drive off your invaders,” Sylvanas said. She kept her hands up; it would be easier to reach for her bow and quiver if this turned messy.

Flinging aside his pistol, he held out his hand and an officer near him gave him another, which he again levelled at her. “I don’t know who you are, or why you’ve helped us. But I do know you lead an army of ghouls, and you yourself are no living creature.”

“Oh, good. You have eyes. I was beginning to wonder.”

With his thumb he cocked the pistol. She arched an unimpressed eyebrow at him, though her hands were ready to snatch up her bow. Before he could shoot her properly this time, the heavily fortified gate swung open behind him with a great groan, and four men stumbled out in its wake. “Lord Cyril!” one of them cried, “You must come to the battlements at once! The -!” 

“Quiet, lad!” he snapped, not once looking away from Sylvanas. 

Sylvanas’ hands lowered a fraction. “Lord Cyril, did you say? Cyril White?” 

“And what of it?” Cyril growled.

She remembered that name. She remembered Lucille’s local history lessons, and the utter boredom that had come with them. Finally she said, “I have come with your cousin. Perhaps you remember her?” 

His bushy brows furrowed in bemusement. “My cousin? What are you talking about -?” Suddenly his eyes widened. “Wait. You’re here with Kath?” 

“I am.”

The moment of hesitation vanished, followed by suspicion. “And why should I believe the Lord Admiral would be here? Let alone with the aid of -” He waved his pistol at her overall appearance with a disparaging look. “- someone like you.” 

Sylvanas’ mind raced. The fact that he still called Katherine ‘The Lord Admiral’ even after she had technically been deposed by Lord Stormsong was a good start at least. She thought back to every inane thing Lucille had told her about on the march north, trying to scrape together any information that might be useful. Cyril’s frown was deepening with every passing second, and she said quickly, “Freely we serve.” 

It was the first thing that she could think of, and it was just enough to give him pause. Cyril blinked at her, though he did not relax a whit. 

“If I tell you that she takes her tea with milk and no sugar, will you believe me?” Sylvanas said. “What about if I said she can beat anyone at a game of whist? Or that she enjoys needlework? Or that her grandfather used to tell her stories of the Old Bear that haunted the Crimson Forest?”

Cyril’s face screwed up in confusion, but his stance relaxed. Slowly, he lowered his flintlock. “Who the bloody hell are you?” 

Lowering her hands fully now, Sylvanas said, “I am a friend. And I am here to reinforce Watermill Hill, along with Lady Waycrest, the Lord Admiral, and the Lord Admiral’s Heir.”

“Heir?”

Behind him one of the soldiers who had burst through the sally port from before said, “That’s what we’re telling you, my Lord! It’s not Lady Waycrest leading the army!”

Momentary flummoxed, Cyril stood there without speaking or moving until with a shake of his head he sheathed his sword and tucked his flintlock away into his belt. “Get everyone inside!” he ordered his own men, then turned to Sylvanas. “What role would you play in all of this?”

“Let me and my soldiers in, and we will help you man the walls,” Sylvanas said, already giving a significant look to a nearby officer of her own, who bowed and trotted off to relay her orders.

Cyril looked less than pleased at the prospect of letting in her and the other undead. When he pursed his lips and scowled, the resemblance between him and Katherine was far more pronounced. “Very well,” he said, already turning and ducking through the sally port. 

The sally port was small enough that she had to duck as well to pass beneath it. Inside, the narrow stone corridors of the castle were a hive of activity. People rushed about, carrying munitions, carrying gunpowder and arrows, their arms filled with gauze for the medical wing or other supplies. Everyone had to press themselves against the walls to pass one another, soldiers hugging their weapons and shuffling sideways until they could reach the mustering grounds. 

Most took little notice of Sylvanas. A few puzzled frowns were cast in her direction. Her Forsaken infantry garnered more attention. Some people swore, startled, when they saw an undead soldier looming beside them. A fight nearly broke out somewhere behind her. Sylvanas heard shouting and people shoving one another, until a sergeant roared at them to cease the kerfuffle. She paid them no heed, trailing close on Cyril’s heels.

The castle mustering grounds were a small square of churned mud and snow. Cyril lengthened his stride and trotted up a set of narrow stairs leading to the nearest parapets. His sword clanked against his greaves. When they reached the top, it was a struggle to even get to the crenellated battlements. Archers and musketmen were clustered along the walls, firing from their positions down into the amassed Ashvanes at the gates. Every now and then a cannon would boom out, and bits of rock would be knocked loose from the walls while men crouched down and covered their heads, shrinking away from the blast. 

Cyril shoved his way to the front to get a good look at the battlefield below. “Where?” he demanded of the soldier that had opened the sally port and followed in Sylvanas’ wake. “Show me.”

Before the soldier could answer, Sylvanas pointed. “There.” 

Cyril squinted, shielding his eyes with the flat of his gloved hand. True enough, just behind the Waycrest lines rode Jaina beneath the standards of House Waycrest. Somewhere along the way, Katherine and Lucille had managed to procure a gold-tasseled, anchor-stamped standard of the Admiralty, which waved proudly beside the dull gray banners bearing the falcon of Drustvar. Even from this distance Jaina was impossible to miss, her pale braid a stark contrast to the dark wool of her greatcoat, surrounded by officers in their glittering finery, Katherine and Lucille riding behind her like personal guards. 

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Cyril muttered under his breath, slowly lowering his hand. 

Another boom of cannons crashed through the air. This time the massive iron-bound doors to the castle shook. Pieces of wood splintered and buckled beneath the concentrated barrage. 

Immediately Sylvanas turned and snapped at one of her Forsaken officers, “Get all of our reserve troops onto the mustering grounds and into formation! Prepare for a breach!” Then she turned her attention back to Cyril. “Do you have any cannons of your own?”

“We do, but we ran out of shot yesterday afternoon. We’re under-resourced, and we’ve already had to repel two attacks on Watermill. Everything else we have is in reserve in the city, should we have to fall back.” 

Swearing in Thalassian, she glanced over the parapets. The Ashvanes were scrambling to reload their cannons. Everything they had was facing the castle gates. They had already taken the bailey and set down planks to cross to the main motte. This castle was old. Its walls were flat and tall, neither sloped nor angled. It was not built to withstand more modern artillery fire. 

“They need to break through and take the keep to regain a defensible position, otherwise they’ve lost,” she said. 

Cyril nodded. “I will bring everyone I have to the mustering grounds. We will hold them off as long as we can.” 

Sylvanas reached over her shoulder and counted the number of remaining arrows in her quiver. “Bring me as many arrows as you can spare. I will stay on the battlements.” 

He barked an order at someone nearby, who scurried off to do just that. Then with one last parting glance in her direction, Cyril strode back down to the grounds to gather his men in the courtyard and wait for the worst. 

The soldiers along the walls gave her odd looks but said nothing to her as they continued to fire down into the mass of the enemy. Sylvanas drew back her bow and fired alongside them. Someone brought her another large quiver bristling with arrows, which she placed on the ground at her feet. When her own quiver ran out, she exchanged the two. The Ashvanes would return fire, and musket balls would go whizzing past her. She along with the soldiers beside her would duck behind the crenellation. Several of the others slipped in the snow gathered along the walkways, and they would scramble to press their backs against solid stone, holding their weapons over their heads in an attempt to protect themselves. Chips of stone would scatter from the old walls like shrapnel as the barrage peppered the battlements. 

Peeking carefully back over the walls, her hands were already drawing back on the bowstring, the fletching of a fresh arrow brushing against her fingers. Then she paused. She blinked through the glare of light against the snow, and tried to get a better look through the constant flurry drifting from the sky. 

New sails had appeared in the distance. A group of ships were sailing in formation towards Fallhaven.

“Who the fuck are they?” said a soldier beside her.

“No idea,” said another. “More Ashvanes, probably. Look at them red sails.” 

“Those aren’t Ashvanes,” Sylvanas said, startling them though she did not raise her voice. A dangerous fanged smile had spread across her face. “Those are mine.” 

A distant boom sounded out and a puff of smoke trailed through the air. The Zandalari ships were engaging the Ashvanes, going right for the throat and aiming for Integrity with a boldness that bordered on madness. The Kul Tirans may have been a seafaring people, but the Zandalari were just as formidable on the waves. And the Ashvanes were traders at heart. This was not the pride of the Great Fleet of Kul Tiras. These were merchant ships that just so happened to be outfitted with guns. 

Their only hope of winning relied on the fact that Lady Waycrest could muster no ships of her own in time to contend with them. They had not expected to test their mettle against battle-hardened Trollish warships. 

“Not a moment too soon, either,” Sylvanas muttered to herself. 

The soldiers beside her were watching avidly. A few of them gave whoops of excitement and slapped each other on the back, their grins fierce and broad. One of them even patted her on the shoulder in a comradely fashion. She slowly turned to fix him with an incredulous glare, and he snatched his hand back as though suddenly afraid she would bite it off. 

“Celebrate later!” she snapped at them. Rising to her feet, she shot another arrow down onto the invaders. “Keep firing!” 

Immediately they straightened their backs and leapt to do as they were told. The roar of cannons filled the air once more as the Ashvanes fired off another desperate barrage directly at the gate. Wood splintered and chunks of the door rained down with the snow. Ashvane soldiers thundered across their makeshift bridge, pushing and shoving at the gap that had been gouged into the iron-banded wood. Above them, Fallhaven troops manning the walls strained at the handles of enormous wrought-iron bowls heated over coals. They turned the bowls over, tipping their contents through slits in the stone at their feet and pouring hot oil onto the invaders. Below Sylvanas could hear a muted splash followed by hair-raising screams. 

A cry came from somewhere along the walls. “Damn your eyes! Are you blind? Lower the portcullis already!”

Two men sprinted for a windlass. They heaved their weight against the spokes of the crank, and the stones beneath them groaned and creaked as the mechanism began to slowly turn. The heavy portcullis shuddered in its place and crept lower. Then there was a grinding snapping sound, like that of a tree being felled, and the windlass turned no more. 

“It’s stuck!” one of them shouted.

Two more people raced over and began hauling on the spokes of the windlass, but the mechanism was as old and rusted as the castle itself. Below them, Sylvanas could hear the sounds of fighting breaking out in the courtyard. Leaning over the walls as far as she dared, Sylvanas peered down at the mouth of the gate. Red-coated soldiers boiled like an upended nest of ants, shoving at the gates, hacking with axes and swords to widen the breach and get inside as quickly as possible. Behind them, Jaina’s troops were breathing down their necks, trapping them into place.

Reaching over her shoulder, Sylvanas counted only three arrows left in the spare quiver that had been brought to her. Resolutely she shouldered her bow, squared her jaw and hauled herself up so that she crouched atop the crenellation. It felt all too familiar. Standing on the edge of a frozen keep, flecks of ice and snow drifting around her as she stared down the long steep drop. 

“Ma’am!” one of the nearby soldiers called out to her in a panic. “Ma’am, what are you doing? You are going to fall!” 

“Yes, soldier,” she said calmly without glancing over at him. “That is the point.” 

And she stepped off the ledge. 

The castle walls were not perfectly smooth and uniform. They were far too old for that. Bits of stone stuck out at odd ends, dislodged by time and the slow shifting of the earth beneath them. And somewhere along the way, the owners of this castle had repaired the arrowslits staggered along the walls, and they had done a poor job of it. Blocks of stone created little ledges like steps at various points. Nimbly, she dropped atop the nearest arrowslit. She did not stop to take a moment and steady herself before leaping to the next. One of her hands kept touching the wall, ready to cling to a bit of stone should she need to dodge any incoming fire. But none came. 

The Ashvanes were now so preoccupied with what was before them, they did not think to look up. Swiftly and silently, she picked her way to just above the gates, and then leapt down. She drew the bow from her back midair, and fired two shots onto the ground below. The arrows snapped with black necrotic energy and their impact was accompanied by a blast like cannon fire, flinging soldiers back. Landing with a lithe roll, Sylvanas did not stop. She continued towards the gate until she was between it and the portcullis which guarded the outer section of the wall. With the last arrow, she pointed her bow not at the incoming Ashvanes, but up. The arrow struck the mechanism that locked the portcullis into place, and blasted it into a mess of splinters and frayed rope. 

With a great clanging groan, the portcullis was released. It slammed down onto the ground, its spiked ends landing atop a row of red-coated soldiers and impaling them against the floor. A few of them were dead immediately. Others writhed, coughing up blood or pulling at their pinned limbs in a futile attempt to free themselves. Already the Ashvanes locked out were trying to move the portcullis, but it was a web of thick dark iron. They would need to batter it aside with more than just the strength of their arms and backs. 

Over a dozen soldiers were trapped between the gate and the portcullis with her. They turned, pointing their swords and flintlocks in Sylvanas’ direction. They formed a crescent shape, bearing down upon her, their faces hard. She was outnumbered and completely out of arrows. So, Sylvanas shrugged her bow back over her shoulder and reached for the only weapon she had left.

When she pulled the silver hunting knife from her boot, they laughed.

It took her less than two minutes to kill them all. Calmly, she tugged her knife free from the last one’s chest. It caught against a rib, and she had to yank. She took a moment to clean the blade on the dead man’s coat, bodies strewn on the ground around her in various states of disassembly. The men outside the portcullis that had watched the whole affair were staring at her in silent horror. Sylvanas ignored them and strode towards the half-broken gates. Without glancing back, she hauled herself through a fractured gap in the wood and into the courtyard on the other side. 

The moment she had climbed through, a staccato of shots fired in her direction. She felt the sting of one find its mark in her thigh. Gritting her teeth and hissing, Sylvanas raised her hands and shouted, “Cease fire! It’s me, you idiots! Cease fire!” 

A few yells echoed her command, and the volley stopped. With a vicious glower, she stalked forward, her stride completely unimpeded by the musketball now lodged in her femur. She could feel the cold sludge of her blood oozing down her leg. Soldiers were arrayed in various sections of the mustering grounds, her Forsaken guarding a ramp that led up the walls, but most of the human soldiers positioned along the walls to fire down into the enemy if they managed to break through. Those that had shot at her from the walls shrank back, cowed, when Sylvanas aimed a baleful glare in their direction. 

Cyril waved her over with his hat. When she approached his position, he eyed her over. “Are you quite all right?”

She waved his concern aside. “I am fine.”

“I could have sworn they hit you.” 

“They did,” she said. She would need to see the Apothecary again. What an absolute pain. “I have managed to buy us a bit of time, but not much.”

Jamming his hat back onto his head, Cyril nodded. “When they break through, we’ll be ready for them.” 

“I don’t suppose you have any more arrows, Lord Mayor?”

Rather than answer, Cyril reached behind him for a musket that was leaning against a crate along with a series of other firearms. He tossed the musket at her, and she snatched it from the air. Sylvanas wrinkled her nose at the weapon, but took it regardless. It was heavy and cumbersome, but she would have to make do.

“Place yourself where you like,” Cyril told her with a gesture towards the castle at large. “I’ll be staying here.” 

Sylvanas turned to walk away, but paused. “Why are you stationed here instead of a garrison commander?” she asked. 

Cyril had already pulled another flintlock from the pile behind him and was inspecting its sights. “She died. Last night, I’m told. So, I sallied forth from Fallhaven with a small force in the hopes that I could give Watermill a fighting chance. Thank the Tides you lot came when you did, otherwise we’d be buggered six ways to Tuesday.” 

With a grunt, Sylvanas strode off towards the nearest steps that would lead her to the wall-walk above. She made quick work of the stairs, the pain in her leg having faded to a dull ache by now. After a few curt questions and pointed fingers, she found the squad that had shot at her. 

“Gentlemen,” she murmured silkily when she drew up beside them. 

They shuffled their feet, their faces alternatively pale or flushed with a mixture of fear and apprehension. A few of them touched the brims of their hats. None of them wanted to meet her eye. 

“Which one of you shot me?” 

A series of nervous coughs and clearing of throats followed her question. Nobody said anything. Eventually, a young man was shoved forward, the others backing away as though he were a sheep placed upon a sacrificial altar to appease the wrath of some god. He clutched his musket like it was a buoy keeping him afloat in a storm. His hands shook so badly she thought he might drop the weapon. 

“Congratulations,” Sylvanas said blandly. “You are the only one here who can aim to save their life.” 

“M-Ma’am,” he mumbled, touching the brim of his hat and quailing under her scarlet gaze. 

“Do not shoot me again.”

“N-No, ma’am.” 

“And fetch me more muskets. As many as you can carry.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

There was a beat in which he did nothing.

“Now,” she hissed. 

He started at the dark and slithering echo of her voice. Kneeling down slowly, he placed his own musket at her feet like an offering. And then he scrambled away, sprinting off to bring her more. 

“The rest of you!” Sylvanas said, lifting her voice to be heard even though the squad was already hanging off her every word. “Get into formation! We are going to have a lesson in trigger discipline! If anyone fires without my command, I will have you flogged!”

There was very little chance that she could actually make good on that threat -- Lord Cyril was lenient letting her loose in Windmill Castle as it was -- but they certainly did not know that. Sylvanas spoke with the weight of centuries of military experience behind every syllable. A squad of only twelve men, most of whom looked like they had just come off the farm, did not have enough wherewithal to question her. Even the corporal, who was supposedly in charge of this squad, scurried to do as he was told.

There was a banging and crashing from the walls as the Ashvanes attempted to batter down the portcullis. The young man who had shot her returned, puffing up the stairs with his arms laden with muskets and extra bags of shot tied at his belt. He started arraying them all before her so that she could fire them in rapid succession, when the portcullis finally gave way with a squeal of warped metal and a clang that reverberated through the stone ground. 

Picking up a musket, Sylvanas shooed the young man away until he stood beside her, ready to hand her a firearm when she needed it. “Ready!” she yelled.

Everyone checked their weapons. A row of soldiers were kneeling on the wall-walk, while behind them another row stood to fire over their heads. The sounds of Ashvanes battering down the door to the courtyard grew louder. 

“Aim!” 

They shouldered their muskets. Their faces were pale but determined. In a snap of wood and iron, the gates caved inwards, and red-coated soldiers poured into the courtyard below them. Sylvanas waited until they were within range, carefully gauging the distance. 

“Fire!” 

The kick of the musket punched into Sylvanas’ shoulder, but her shot flew true as any arrow. A volley of musket fire showered the enemy, and a row of Ashvane soldiers staggered to the snowy ground. Puffs of smoke trailed from the long muzzles of the muskets into the air. Sylvanas roared out the order for them to rotate and reload, watching the squad’s actions carefully even as she cast aside her single-shot flintlock and reached for another. The young man passed on to her without question, taking the used musket and reloading it for her so that she could continue to shoot. For every one that a Fallhaven soldier fired, she fired three, her movements smooth and rapid.

The Ashvanes never made it further than the courtyard. The moment they set foot on the ramp, her Forsaken troops bore down upon them, shoving them back into the killing zone, where they were shot at from every angle. Red was painted in slops and sprays along the snow-strewn earth. Soldiers littered the ground, their corpses piling up with a blanket of white as snow continued to drift down from the sky. 

Overhead, a loud caw caught Sylvanas’ attention. She paused in swapping out her muskets, craning her neck to look up. The dark form of a raven flecked the sky, circling high above her and then careening off towards the gate. When she glanced down, the Ashvane soldiers had been driven to the point of exhaustion and were beginning to throw down their weapons and kneel in the snow. 

“Cease fire!” Sylvanas called out, and not a single trigger from her section of the walls was pulled further. All of the soldiers tucked their weapons against their sides, looking tired but elated. Some of them glanced in her direction as though seeking a pat on the head for their good behaviour. She rolled her eyes and drawled, “Yes. You can obey simple orders. Very good.” 

Despite her dry tone, they beamed. Shaking her head, Sylvanas turned her attention back to the courtyard.

Cyril and his men had begun the process of capturing the enemy soldiers and gathering their weapons so they could not pose a threat. A tired cheer went up throughout the castle at the sight of red-coated soldiers being lined up along the side of the courtyard to await their fate. Sylvanas did not join them. She was watching Cyril. A Fallhaven soldier had rushed up to him and was now making excited gestures towards the castle entrance. Cyril straightened his hat and said something she could not hear, before moving to stand in the centre of the courtyard and facing the entrance. 

The sound of a horn sang a single high note that shivered through the air. The cheers died down, and everyone turned to the castle entrance. At the fore of a procession through the gate rode Lucille and Katherine, and ahead of them both, like the centrepiece of a painting, was Jaina astride a white horse. Her coat was scuffed. There was a bloody tear in the sleeve from where a musket ball or sword had grazed her in the fray. A streak of blood rested high upon her cheek, as though a man had clawed at her as he died. She sat straight and tall and poised in the saddle. 

"Lord Mayor," Jaina said to Cyril, her voice carrying across the stone walls. She tugged back on the reins so that her horse stopped in the middle of the mustering grounds right before him. "I heard you were in a bit of trouble."

Cyril stared between Jaina and her mother, realisation dawning in his eyes. He nodded and replied, “Your arrival could not have been more perfect, Lady Proudmoore. You have my gratitude.”

She tilted her head to the side. Beneath her the white horse stamped its hoof and she rocked easily with the motion. “I hope I have more than that. Times are changing, Cyril, and we have much to discuss.”

Slowly, he swept his hat from his head and placed it over his heart. When he bowed, a hush fell across the mustering grounds and extended all across the walls where onlookers watched en masse. Cyril straightened, but kept his hat clasped over his chest and said firmly, “I am your servant, madam."

--

The castle interior was as damp and old as its exterior. As far as Sylvanas was concerned, Windmill Castle was a perfect reflection of the country itself. Sturdy. Defensible. Outdated and out of touch. By no means a jewel in anyone’s proverbial crown, but reliable nonetheless. 

After hours spent rounding up what remained of the Ashvane forces and getting the combined Waycrest and Horde soldiers settled, Cyril had led them to a side chamber that had turned into a command centre for the now deceased garrison commander of Windmill Castle. The hearth was cold and dark. A long wooden table was positioned in the centre of the room, strewn with maps and inkwells and quills and candlesticks dripping with hard pale wax. The walls were hung with moth-eaten tapestries that had seen better days and probably ought to be thrown into the tip, truth be told. Likely it would cost more to remove them than to simply leave them be. Whatever scenes they had once portrayed were long since faded from both sight and memory. 

Upon entering the room, Sylvanas had fully expected Jaina to cross over to the hearth and light it with a snap of her fingers. She did not. Instead, Jaina conversed in low tones with Cyril and her mother, while Sylvanas, Velonara and Lucille went over the latest figures from the field. Casualties. Injuries. Stock reports. 

“Hayles and Anya are still rounding up stragglers,” Sylvanas told them.

Lucille nodded, not at all surprised by this news. “Yes. Arthur told us.” 

Two soldiers trotted into the room. One carried an armful of ice-dusted firewood, which he dutifully began stacking in the hearth and coaxed a spark to life with flint and tinder from his pocket. The other was carrying a piece of parchment, which he gave to Jaina with a bow, as though offering her a great treasure. Sylvanas could hear Jaina’s murmur of thanks as she took the long unfurled scroll, and immediately set it on the table for later. 

Slowly the room began to warm, but a chill lingered along the stone walls and floors further away from the fireplace. The soldiers took their leave. Outside, the snow was coming down thick and fast now. If they had been delayed any further, their army would have been in serious trouble. Sylvanas would glance at the windows every so often and dwell on unpleasant memories of wintering with an army through unpleasant conditions. Their quiet conversation was broken up by the arrival of a few familiar faces. 

Nathanos was striding towards them. Behind him, flanked by two tall Trolls in gleaming golden finery as though they were an honour guard, was Lady Priscilla Ashvane. She was not bound in any way, but the Zandalari kept a careful eye on her movements, preventing any escape. Their hands rested against the pommels of their cutlasses with an ease that belied how carefully they were monitoring their captive. Lady Ashvane herself walked with her head held high. Her eyes glittered darkly. She wore nearly as much gold as the Zandalari, whose gilded tusks and various piercings gleamed in the lamp light. 

When they had reached the table, Nathanos bowed. “May I present, Lady Priscilla of House Ashvane, whose ship has been claimed as a prize by the Golden Fleet of Zandalar.” 

At the mention of the fate of Integrity, Priscilla’s lips pressed into a thin white line and her hands clenched at her sides in silent anger. Nathanos escorted her to a free seat at the table, pulling out the chair like a butler. Jaina, Katherine and the others watched her like hawks. Priscilla did not flounder beneath their gazes, shoulders back and head held high as though she were being escorted not to a chair but to a gallows. 

“How good of you to join us, Priscilla,” Katherine greeted coolly. “I trust your travels were uneventful?”

Priscilla gave a snort of derisive laughter. “Quite. Thank you.” 

Offering her a thin smile, Jaina gestured to the table and said to the others, “Shall we begin?” 

Meanwhile the Trolls stood aside, waiting. Rather than sit with the others, Sylvanas stepped forward to greet the Zandalari. “Which one of you fine gentlemen is the -?” She paused for a moment, thinking back about naval ranks and which one would apply here. Finally she said cautiously, “- brigadier?” 

The Troll to the left bowed deeply to her, before straightening to his full height once more. He was staggeringly tall like all of his kin. What she had previously thought to be an angular gold necklace across his partially bare chest was actually a series of detailed tattoos carved into skin the colour of a sea at storm. 

“Commodore Issoufu,” he said by way of introduction. “It is an honour to meet you in person, Warchief.” 

“I can say the same of you, Commodore,” she replied, offering him a small rare smile. “From what I’ve been told, you and your shaman are personally responsible for our victory on the river today. You are to be commended.” 

He shook his head, his own smile wide and revealing sharp teeth. “The crew of the Rhunok did the real work.”

“And you should all be proud. I shall remember you to Princess Talanji.” 

With another low bow, Issoufu clasped his hand over his heart then gently touched his forehead at the mention of his princess’ name. “May she live forever,” he murmured. “I would be most grateful, Warchief.” 

“Of course.” Sylvanas made a quick Ranger gesture with her fingers at Nathanos, who had returned to her side after Lady Ashvane was seated. When he answered with a silent nod of understanding, she then said to Issoufu, “You are to scout Carver’s Harbour, but do not engage the enemy. I doubt further action will be necessary. In the meantime, I will write to Dazar’alor of your valour. I hope it is not too much of an imposition for you to take Nathanos aboard one of your ships? He will be there to report back to me only, I assure you.” 

Issoufu laughed, the sound deep and short and booming. “No imposition at all. We will have plenty for him to do. There are no idle hands on my ships. I will put him to work.” 

She smirked, ignoring Nathanos’ flat glower in her direction. “Very good. You are dismissed.” 

He left, taking his men with him. Nathanos waited until the Trolls had gone before he growled, “Put me to work?” 

“I hear life at sea is very bracing. Good for the spirit. Besides, you heard the man.” She patted him on the shoulder. “There is always work to be done on a ship.” 

“He can hire enough sailors to sink a first rate with the prize money he’s getting from Integrity alone.” 

“And I am sure the good Commodore deserves every copper piece.” 

When Sylvanas had turned back to claim her seat at the table, conversation had already been struck up between the others. She sat down as quietly and unobtrusively as she could, content to watch events unfold from the sidelines for now. 

Jaina sat at the head of the table, with Katherine at her right and Lucille at her left. She had her hands clasped calmly over the page the soldier had brought to her earlier. Her hands were bare, her white gloves tucked into a pocket of her greatcoat. Somewhere along the way, she had found the time to rebraid her hair so that it did not look so messy as it had after the battle. The smear of blood had also been wiped away, though it did little to make her appear less foreboding. 

Priscilla sneered at her. "You can't honestly expect me to sign that."

Jaina's stare was unflinching. She tapped her clasped hands against the parchment. "I can. And I do."

"Why on earth would I even entertain the thought? This isn't over."

"In case you haven't noticed," Lucille said from her seat. "We captured your flagship. You are our prisoner."

"And I still have a dozen more ships at anchor in Carver's Harbour. Not to mention the hundreds of merchant vessels fueling the Kul Tiran economy." Priscilla folded her arms and sat back in her chair. "What do you have? A few ragtag Trollish frigates and a prayer. Fallhaven will starve before the winter ends, and the city will fold like a house of cards."

Jaina turned a questioning look to Cyril. He cleared his throat and nodded. "It's true. We barely have enough food to feed ourselves for the next four weeks. Damn Ashvanes burned the crops a few months ago right around harvest time. We're already tightening our belts as it is."

"That won't be a problem," said Katherine smoothly. She nodded towards Jaina. "We have a solution to that."

Cyril turned a curious gaze upon Jaina, who sat at the head of the table. In her fine waistcoat and her shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow, she appeared every inch the Heir to the Admiralty. When everyone at the table gave her their full attention, she made an abortive motion with her hand, as though about to scratch her face only to think better of it. Her fingers closed into a fist and she placed it deliberately in her lap. 

She was, Sylvanas realised, trying not to tug at the cravat still tied tightly around her neck.

"Have you given shelter to the farmers in the area," Jaina asked.

Cyril nodded. "Of course," he said. "As many as could safely be housed in the city."

"Good. Bring as many of them as you can to the fields north of the city tomorrow morning."

Face screwing up in confusion, Cyril said, "Might I be so bold as to ask what for?"

"To harvest crops," Jaina answered in a very matter-of-fact tone.

Katherine appeared startled. She leaned closer to her daughter and lowered her voice to a hushed whisper, which Sylvanas' keen ears could still pick up across the table. "This isn't what we agreed."

"No," Jaina said firmly, not bothering to lower her voice at all. "It isn't. But it is what will happen nonetheless."

"We should bring them after you've -" Katherine made a fluttering gesture with her fingers, trying to hide the movement from Priscilla's keen eyes.

Jaina's expression was chilly. "Say it."

Blinking, Katherine leaned back in her seat. "What?"

"Say it," Jaina repeated, and now her words could have been carved from ice. "Say: 'after I have used magic to make the plants grow.'"

Lips pursed in a thin line, Katherine sat ramrod straight in her seat. In spite of her affected poise, her pale eyes darted to Cyril and Priscilla, then flicked back to Jaina. "We talked about this," she said her voice hushed and hurried, as though explaining something to an unruly child. "Kul Tiras has never had a Lord Admiral who was also able to use magic before."

"Magic is part of who I am. I will not hide it."

Before Katherine could retort, Sylvanas interrupted calmly, "She couldn't, even if she wanted to."

Now every pair of eyes swung towards her at the opposite end of the table. 

"What do you mean?" Katherine asked. "If she just didn't use it in front of people, then -"

But Sylvanas shook her head. "I do not think you quite understand. Most people might not notice, yes. However, others will only have to stand in her presence to know. Powerful magic users cannot hide what they are."

Katherine scoffed. "And I suppose you can sense her presence, or some such rubbish?"

"Yes." Sylvanas caught Jaina's gaze across the table and held it. "She reeks of arcane. Like a thunderstorm in summer. It is very distracting, truth be told."

Jaina appeared taken aback by the odd confession. On the other hand, Katherine wrinkled her nose -- more in distaste than in disbelief -- an expression that was shared by Lady Ashvane. 

"So, it's true. I thought Alfred was just spouting some Tidesage bollocks about the Drust, but he was right. You’re a witch." Priscilla shook her head and leaned an elbow heavily upon the armrest of her chair. She spoke to Katherine, now. "I thought we had finally rooted out this damned Drust infiltration when Meredith died, but now it has hooked it's claws into the Admiralty itself. You ought to be ashamed, Katherine."

Jaina's face darkened. Her eyes blazed. When she spoke her voice was wintry. “You have nothing, and you will sign this treaty or reap the consequences.” 

“You can’t hang me.”

“I don’t need to hang you to win.” 

An ugly look crossed Priscilla’s face, and she hissed, “I haven’t lost, yet. My people will ransom me back. I will buy the rest of your army. You have nothing.” 

Leaning back, Jaina drummed her fingers against the page. Her fingertips created a dull staccato rhythm against the solid wood. For a moment Sylvanas thought Katherine or Cyril might interject and take charge of the conversation, but then Jaina spoke, "It was obvious you could never attempt to invade western Drustvar until you had secured Fallhaven and the east. It would be too difficult to supply your army when the pass at Arom’s Stand was inaccessible during winter. To say nothing of what would have happened if your men had dared come into the Crimson Forest. From there it was only a matter of time. You have money, yes, but nothing else. You're not the Navy. I can break any siege with food. But most of all, I knew I could always depend on you being as untrusting as you are untrustworthy. So, of course, you came here personally. Because war is expensive. Because you believe your officers are incompetent fools. Because you wanted this over as quickly as possible. The moment you sailed to Drustvar, you lost. All I had to do was wait."

Silence fell over the room. Priscilla glared at her, but the effect was dampened by the way she darted her eyes towards Katherine and Sylvanas, as though weighing up her chances. 

Jaina cocked her head to the side, considering Priscilla with an unblinking gaze, as if looking right through her. Then, she reached out and slid the paper across the table closer towards Priscilla. "Sign it."

Priscilla's throat bobbed when she swallowed thickly. Her shoulders were slightly hunched, as though she were cornered. Slowly, she lifted the page and began to read it more closely. Her brows furrowed darkly as she scanned the lines of flowery script. By the time she reached the bottom, her cheeks were flushed with incredulous anger.

"You can't be serious," she snapped, though she did not push the treaty aside. "Severe munitions limitations on merchant vessels? Removing the press and running the Navy on volunteers alone? Giving Drust the ability to own land? And opening the borders to the likes of -?" She suddenly pointed towards Sylvanas and spluttered, "- her?"

Sylvanas bared her teeth in a smile, but remained silent.

Meanwhile Jaina said firmly, "The borders of Kul Tiras will open whether we like it or not. By force. By attrition. By choice. It will happen. All we can do is choose how."

Even Lucille and Katherine looked a bit uncomfortable at that declaration. No one at the table said anything to the contrary however. Cyril shifted in his seat but nodded with a small resigned shrug. 

Priscilla narrowed her eyes. “What else is there? Surely this can’t be everything?”

“No, you’re right. It isn’t.” Jaina’s face was a cold unwavering mask. “I want you to travel with me to Boralus as soon as this is all over. We will call a meeting of the Great Houses, and I want you to vote for me to become the next Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras.” 

“Any why would I do this?” 

“I can offer you incentives.” 

“Which are?”

"You will vote for me, and not only will I permit you to keep your life, you will keep your station, your name, your wealth -"

"But not my pride," Priscilla sneered.

"No," Jaina murmured. "Your pride belongs to me."

A log slipped in the hearth and the fire popped, casting a cascade of sparks onto the soot-blackened stones before it. Outside it was beginning to grow dark. Night came early to Drustvar in winter. Priscilla worried a corner of the parchment between her ringed-bright fingers. Then she sighed. Her shoulders slumped and she gestured for Jaina to pass her the quill. Wordlessly, Jaina slid the inkwell and quill towards her. The rest of the table seemed to hold its breath -- apart from Sylvanas and Nathanos -- as Priscilla scratched her signature onto the bottom of the document with an angry scribble. 

Jaina rose to her feet and pulled the document back towards herself. “Cyril,” she said, “Would you be so good as to witness this for us?” 

“Certainly, madam.” 

“Good.” 

She signed the document herself, then passed it to both her mother and Lucille in turn. Eventually it made its way into Cyril’s hands, and he checked that everything was in order before he picked up a quill and signed beneath all their names. 

As if not believing his own words, Cyril said, “I hereby witness that all present parties have sworn that this document shall be observed in good faith and without deceit, given by our hand, and so pass the Treaty of Windmill.”

“Jolly good,” Lucille said, sounding relieved. 

Priscilla was pinching the bridge of her nose. “I need a stiff drink. Or five.” 

--

By the time they rode into Boralus, the snow had faded and it was -- predictably -- raining. Sylvanas had almost grown accustomed to the rugged terrain of Drustvar, so that the countryside of Tiragarde Sound felt tame in comparison. Here there were no vast and wooded forests, no plains of dun and purple heath as far as the eye could see. Instead the snow-capped peaks dwindled on the horizon. 

People had stared and pointed when they had entered the capital. Word had quickly spread that Katherine, Lucille, and Priscilla had all entered the city together. There were confused murmurs at the sight of Jaina, speculation running wild. 

Meanwhile, Sylvanas, riding at the back of the procession, had her cowl drawn low over her head. She remained as inconspicuous as possible and garnered very little attention. No Forsaken or Tauren accompanied her, and she was trailed only by the three Rangers she had first brought with her to Kul Tiras. As soon the Treaty of Windmill had been signed, she had ordered her Horde troops to begin their travels back to Kalimdor. The last thing they needed was for Jaina to be seen riding into the city with the Horde at her back. 

Not yet, anyway. But that would come later. Sylvanas was greatly looking forward to seeing a Horde banner flying on the docks of Boralus. Or perhaps even from Proudmoore Keep. She hadn’t decided yet. 

Proudmoore Keep itself was as draughty and incommodious as ever. She could not tell who looked more uncomfortable being there: Jaina or Priscilla. It was a close match. Whereas Lucille and Katherine strode through the halls, chatting idly, Lady Ashvane grimaced at a butler who came to take her cloak. On the other hand, Jaina just looked like she was going to be ill. 

A steward was speaking in low courteous tones to Katherine, “Lord Stormsong arrived just before you, madam. I took the initiative of escorting him to the audience chamber.” 

“Very good, Bernard. Tell him we’ll be there shortly. And bring some tea while you’re at it.”

The steward bowed. “Right away.” 

Jaina’s face seemed to lose a bit more of its colour. “Lord Stormsong is already here?”

“Of course, my dear,” Katherine said, already striding off in the direction of the audience chamber. Every alternate footsteps clacked as her cane contacted the stone floors. “Alfred always was a stickler about being on time.” 

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Priscilla said, her lip curling just slightly. “For the leaders of the Great Houses to meet so you could rub your victory in our faces?”

Jaina scowled at her. “No.” 

“Well, if you’re getting cold feet, you could elect me Lord Admiral instead.” 

At that, Lucille said firmly, “Not to be crude, Priscilla, but I would rather vote for a shit-farmer from Dampwick.” 

Ahead of her, Katherine snorted in amusement. 

Jaina wrung out her braid while they walked, sending drops of water splattering to the floor. “I just thought I would have time to change into something dry.” 

“Welcome back to Boralus,” Sylvanas muttered under her breath.

Just outside of the audience chamber, Lord Stormsong stood flanked by two Tidepriests with their faces deeply cowled and their eyes blazing. The shadows seemed to cling to them, and the lanterns strung from their belts glowed with a faint blue light. Lord Stormsong himself was a tall man with dark eyes. His height was only accentuated by the mitre of office he wore. He clutched a scrolled staff in one hand and glowered as the group approached. 

A butler was trying to serve him tea, but he waved the man away irritably. “No, thank you,” he said.

“A cup for me, please,” Katherine said, drawing up to the butler and hooking her cane beneath her elbow so she could take the tea. “Hello again, Alfred. You’re looking as cunning as ever.” 

Alfred’s eyes narrowed. “Katherine,” he greeted. “I thought you’d died when I sunk your flag off the coast of Tol Dagor.”

Katherine sipped primly at her tea. “And give you the satisfaction of having killed me? Never.”

His only response was a sour grunt. 

Sylvanas watched this interaction from the sidelines with a muted kind of glee. She had spent the last few years enduring the politics of Orgrimmar, most of which involved a great deal of fisticuffs and beating of chests. This veiled cutting back and forth however, was far more similar to what she had grown up with back in Silvermoon. She almost felt a touch nostalgic. It was difficult to keep her expression neutral.

Alfred’s dark eyes moved to Lucille. “You look even younger than when I last saw you.” 

“And you’re just as insufferable as I remember,” Lucille said cheerfully. She held out her hand to the butler bearing a tea tray and said, “I think I need one of those too, if you please.” 

“Tides,” said Priscilla. “Can we just get this bloody thing over with?”

Alfred turned to her. “I don’t know what you mean. A meeting of the Great Houses has been called, and so I have come as summoned. But so far nobody has deigned to tell me why.” 

With a contemptuous sniff, Katherine said, “Don’t play dumb. It really doesn’t suit you.” 

Alfred opened his mouth, but stopped when Jaina cleared her throat to get everyone’s attention. All eyes swung towards her, and she straightened her shoulders somewhat. “I called the meeting.”

His eyes roved over her from head to toe. “And who are you?”

“That’s my daughter,” Katherine answered before Jaina could speak. “Perhaps you remember her. Though the last time you would have seen her, she was about yea high.” She held a hand up to her waist to indicate Jaina’s height as a child.

Some dark expression flickered across Alfred’s face. “The child you sent to be raised by those wood savages?”

Sylvanas could see Jaina’s jaw tighten, though she said nothing in reply. 

“The very same,” Katherine murmured into her cup of tea. “I’ve named her my Heir.” 

"If you really expect me to vote for a Drust witch, then -!"

"I don't," Jaina interrupted him. "In fact I fully expect for you to vote against me, and lose anyway. I have already secured a majority. You are only here as a courtesy."

His face went pale, then red, then an unpleasant shade of purple. He rounded on Lady Ashvane. "If you'd just listened to my proposal, then we never would have been in this situation."

Priscilla's lip curled, and she snapped, "Oh, go hang yourself, Alfred."

“Well,” said Lucille. “This is getting off to a wonderful start. Shall we go in?” 

“Please,” Katherine sighed, setting aside her finished cup and saucer onto the butler’s silver tray.

Two Proudmoore guardsmen flanking the large double doors to the audience chamber moved to push the doors open. The old hinges groaned beneath the weight. Still bickering, Priscilla, Alfred, Lucille and Katherine began walking inside. The Tidesages did not follow after their master, instead taking up residence in the shadows of a corner of the hallway to mutter amongst themselves quietly, their murmurs like the lap of waves against the shore.  

Jaina took a step after the others, then paused. She turned to Sylvanas and said, “I’m afraid outsiders are not permitted to watch the proceedings. You may wait outside if you wish.” 

“I think I would prefer to change into some dry clothes,” Sylvanas replied. 

“I am green with envy.” 

From inside the audience chamber, raised voices could be heard. Jaina winced. Sylvanas glanced over her shoulder to see what was going on. It appeared that Alfred and Priscilla were already getting into a heated argument, while Lucille was mournfully gazing into her empty cup of tea, and Katherine rubbed wearily at her brow. 

Jaina made a face, scrunching up her nose. “I’m going to be here a while. I don’t suppose you would make a distraction for me, so I can flee back to the Crimson Forest?” 

“And ruin all my hard work?” 

“You’re evil.” 

“You’re not the first person to tell me that.” Turning on her heel, Sylvanas gave a little wave over her shoulder. “Try not to have too much fun without me.” 

Behind her she could hear Jaina sigh.

-- 

The last time she had been in Proudmoore Keep, the butler had escorted her around with a leery glance at her weapons, as though she might attack its inhabitants. Now, warm quarters had been provided for her and her Rangers. They were a far cry from the sumptuous amenities of Silvermoon -- or even Dalaran, for that matter -- but they were some of the best Kul Tiras had to offer foreign dignitaries. 

Hours had passed. Night had washed over Boralus. And still the meeting of the Great Houses had not finished. Velonara was lounging on a couch with her feet up, filing her fingernails to be repainted. Anya sat at a table, practising sleight of hand tricks with coins and a well-worn deck of cards. Meanwhile, Nathanos paced before the fireplace. He would wear a ditch into the carpet before long. 

"You look troubled, Nathanos," Sylvanas remarked. Her fingers were laced behind her head, and she had her feet propped atop a cushioned footrest before a blazing hearth. For the first time in months, her clothes were completely dry. It felt like heaven.

"I wish I had your confidence," he said.

"You don't trust that they will open the borders to us?"

"All I know is that I have no idea what they are discussing in that chamber."

"Are you telling me you don't have spies in the room?" She tsked, tapping her tongue against the back of her teeth. "For shame."

"I tried," he growled, continuing to pace. "But there are two very powerful magic users inside. They don't want to be overheard."

“And they needn’t be.” When Nathanos opened his mouth to retort, she waved him away. “Relax. Or haven’t you realised yet?”

His pacing slowed. “Realise what?”

Sylvanas smiled, and her fangs glinted in the firelight. “We’ve won.” 

--

The ascension of the Lord Admiral's Heir demanded a ceremony before the citizenry of Boralus. Sylvanas kept out of the way during the preparations. Servants and guardsmen scurried about in Proudmoore livery, ordered to and fro by Katherine, who barked commands as though she were back on a flagship. Though she was not the only one to be kept busy. More than once, Sylvanas could spy Lucille fussing over decorations and ledgers. Apparently there was to be a large dinner at the Keep after the ceremony itself. More like a military ball than anything else. 

Lucille had even personally delivered an invitation written in her own flawless hand. Sylvanas had turned the cream-coloured cardstock over between her fingers before tossing it into the fireplace. She would have to attend, of course. It wouldn’t do to snub her new allies by not making her appearances. Especially not when everyone of name and worth in the city was going to be in attendance. 

If Lucille was put out by the way Sylvanas had discarded the invitation she did not show it. “There is a dress code,” she said. “Formal military, if you please.” 

In answer, Sylvanas gestured to her current armoured outfit. 

“Oh. Hmm.” Lucille reached out and touched one of the spikes on Sylvanas’ pauldron. “I don’t suppose you have anything a little less...er….lugubrious?” 

Sylvanas gave her a flat look and said, “No.” 

“Right. Of course. Would you mind if I sent over my tailor? She can whip something up for you in a jiffy. She is really very good, and I think a Kul Tiran tailcoat would look very fine on you indeed.” 

“No.” 

"But -!"

In the end, Sylvanas had to all but steer Lucille towards the door to get her out of her private quarters in the Keep. And to think that only just a few months ago Lucille had been too afraid of her to step foot in her personal space alone. 

“She’s right, you know,” Anya said from a chair by the hearth once Sylvanas had slammed the door shut behind Lucille. 

“About what?” 

“You would look good in a Kul Tiran tailcoat. And they’re very comfortable.”

“Not you, too, Anya.” 

Anya only shrugged. “Velonara made me get one with her.”

Aiming a glare at the two of them, Sylvanas said, “Wear what you like, but I shall be representing the Horde as Warchief.” 

At that, Velonara’s expression turned dubious. She shared a silent meaningful look with Anya, who shrugged and mouthed, “I tried.” 

“All right. I am leaving.” Sylvanas tugged the door back open and stalked out. 

It was a winding walk through the draughty halls of the Keep to reach Jaina’s personal quarters. A guard was stationed outside. He kept stealing nervous looks at the enormous bone and branch sabre cat that lounged just beside the door like a common house pet. Its tail twitched when Sylvanas strode forwards. 

Stopping before the door, Sylvanas spared Adalyn a glance before speaking to the guard. “Is she inside?”

The guard came to attention without needing to be prompted. “Lady Proudmoore is getting ready for the ceremony, ma’am. The Lord Admiral is with her.” 

“Oh?” Sylvanas’ ears cocked forward slightly. “I don’t hear any yelling.” 

“No, ma’am.” 

“Then they won’t mind if I intrude. Unless someone else objects?” Sylvanas said, looking at Adalyn again. 

The cat yawned broadly, revealing fangs that could shred her to pieces, and Adalyn lowered her head back down to her crossed paws for a snooze. 

Wordlessly, the guard opened the door for her, and Sylvanas walked inside. The door shut softly behind her. As the Lord Admiral’s Heir, Jaina’s personal apartments were sprawling with multiple rooms. The sitting room was empty, though there was evidence that people had recently inhabited it. A fire was crackling in the hearth. Two empty cups of tea sat atop a table beside a teapot. The spout still steamed faintly. A silver spoon was turned over so that it leaned against the saucer. The tip of a quill was balanced in its well, and ink was still glistening and fresh on a small piece of paper.

Sylvanas could hear the faint murmur of voices through one of the doors leading to another chamber. On silent feet, she approached, but did not push the door open immediately. She leaned against the wall beside it and listened. 

“...and whatever you do: don’t lift the sword above shoulder-height.”

“I know, mother. We’ve been over this a hundred times, now.” 

There was a momentary pause, before Katherine continued softly. “Yes. Of course.” The sound of rustling fabric followed, and then Katherine said, “Here. Let me.” 

“You don’t have to -”

“But I would like to. Please.” 

Jaina gave no verbal answer. The soft whisper of fabric returned, and then Katherine said, “You should have told me sooner.”

“I didn’t want to make that conversation at Barrowknoll any worse than it already was.” 

“All the same. I would’ve liked to have known about this.”

“It’s nothing.” 

“Jaina, you died.” 

“You don’t have to remind me. I was there. No, don’t. Stop. Please.” Jaina drew in a deep shuddering breath. “It’s in the past. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” 

A sigh, and then the sound of uneven footsteps. “Well, you certainly look the part of Lord Admiral, in any case.” 

“That’s all I have at the moment,” Jaina grumbled. “Appearances.” 

“You will learn.” 

“Hmm.” 

“You are not alone. The Admiralty is not without its resources. And you have me, as well.” The gentle tap of Katherine’s cane joined the fray, and her voice drifted as though she were walking about the room. “I may not have much time left in this world, but what time I do have is yours.” 

“Thank you,” Jaina said softly.

Katherine made a wordless scoffing noise. “Don’t thank me, my dear. It really is the least I can do.”

Jaina lowered her voice, and Sylvanas strained to hear it.

“I see,” Katherine said. Then, she said very clearly, “You may come in now, Warchief. I was just leaving.” 

Before Sylvanas could even touch the handle however, the door swung inwards and Katherine began limping through it. 

“Lord Admiral,” Sylvanas greeted.

“You won’t be able to call me that for much longer,” Katherine drawled without pausing. “Just ‘Kath’ will do. But never in public, if you please.” 

Sylvanas wasn’t sure she would ever call her that, regardless of whether they were in private or not. For her part, Katherine did not give her the opportunity to respond. She was already heading towards the main exit, leaning heavily on her cane with every step. Sylvanas watched her go until the door shut behind her. Then, she glanced into the room beyond. 

Jaina’s bedroom looked like any other bedroom in the Keep. There were no personal touches to it, as though she hardly spent any time here apart from what daily sleep her body required. The four-poster bed was ornately carved and canopied with green drapes. A trunk sat at the foot of the bed. A large wooden wardrobe was open, revealing a panoply of military clothes that could have belonged to any high-ranking Naval officer. 

Jaina herself stood before a narrow, full length, silver-backed mirror. She was tying a white silk cravat around her neck, except this time she was actually accomplishing the feat.

“The only good thing about being back here,” Jaina said while still studying the movement of her hands in the mirror, “is that I can ask a valet to teach me how to tie one of these wretched things.” 

“I see they’ve succeeded,” Sylvanas said. She stopped by the bed, crossing her arms and leaning her shoulder against one of the carved pillars. 

Jaina huffed with self-deprecating laughter. “Barely.” She continued fiddling with the cravat, tucking the ends away just so into her waistcoat. Her greatcoat was draped across the mattress beside Sylvanas alongside her gloves. "This all feels like it's moving so fast. Weren't we just fighting in Drustvar?"

"Three weeks ago."

"Like I said. Fast."

"Would you prefer to keep fighting?"

"Of course not." Jaina had finished with the cravat and now smoothed her hands down the front of her waistcoat. "I do wish I could vanish back to my little cabin, though. Life was simpler as the High Thornspeaker."

Sylvanas cocked her head to the side. “Is that a title you will retain?” 

“It is. Though I will be ceding many of my duties to the other Thornspeakers. I am not giving them up by becoming Lord Admiral. I am - I am ensuring their future.”

She sounded firm, like she was trying to convince herself. 

Without responding, Sylvanas continued to watch the way Jaina nervously fiddled with her clothing. Then she picked up the greatcoat from the bed and approached, holding the article of clothing up so that Jaina could slip her arms into it and shrug it into place over her shoulders. 

“Thank you,” Jaina said. She straightened the lapels of her greatcoat, but her hands slowed, and then stopped. For a long silent moment, she stared at her reflection in the long mirror, her face going strangely slack. 

When Jaina continued to stare and not speak, Sylvanas asked, “Is everything all right?” 

"I've - I’ve dreamed of this moment," she breathed.

"Really?" Sylvanas said dryly. "Because you certainly fought against it long enough."

"No. I mean: I've Dreamed of this moment."

It was only then that Sylvanas noticed the trembling in Jaina's fingers. Her shoulders were beginning to shake. Her face was pale. Her eyes were wide, gazing at herself in horror. Her breaths grew rapid, turning into short sharp gasps.

Startled, Sylvanas reached out. The moment she touched Jaina's shoulder, the tension in the air went sharp as a whip and the mirror cracked. Jaina flinched. A long jagged line now ran down a section of the glass, exactly mirroring the scar down her cheek.

Shaking her head, unable to look away and slowly stumbling back a step, Jaina mumbled, "No, no, no, no, no -"

Sylvanas opened her mouth to speak, but froze when she caught sight of the mirror. Jaina’s reflection did not match. In the mirror, she still wore her Naval uniform, but there was a sword through her chest. She was bound and gagged, her face a bloodied mess, her eye gouged out, dangling by a rope from her neck. Sylvanas blinked, and the image was gone, replaced by a completely normal reflection once more. 

Beside her, Jaina was panting now. Her hands flew to her throat. She started tugging at the cravat, ripping it free and gasping as though struggling to breathe. Sylvanas tried to manoeuvre herself into Jaina's sight, stepping between her and the mirror so she could not look at herself again. Wary, she reached out and gently grasped Jaina’s shoulders.

“Listen to me,” she said, keeping her voice low and calm. “You are awake. You are alive and you are safe.”

Jaina flinched. 

“Do you want me to leave?” Sylvanas asked.

Immediately and fervently Jaina shook her head. She grabbed hold of Sylvanas’ arms as if afraid she might go anyway. 

“All right,” Sylvanas murmured. “I will stay.” 

Jaina’s breathing still came short and harsh and fast. Her fingers dug into Sylvanas’ forearms, clinging to her as though she were the only thing keeping her afloat. The cravat was a mess of silk hanging around her neck like a noose that had not yet been tightened, revealing the ropey scar tissue of her throat, bracketed by her high collar. 

After a few minutes where the only noise in the room was Jaina’s sharp gasps for breath, Sylvanas said idly, “You know, Lucille wants me to wear a tailcoat to this military ball you’re throwing tonight. She was very adamant, but I think I would rather die a fourth time than wear that drab. What do you think?” 

Jaina had hung her head, and now she lifted it to blink at Sylvanas in muddled confusion.

Sylvanas gave Jaina’s shoulders a comforting squeeze. “Shall we show them what it means to have real taste? You can wear the deer skull, and I, the foreign armour with spikes. We will be the scandal of the capital on your first day as Lord Admiral.”

At that Jaina gave a weak huff of laughter. She nodded, closing her eyes and trying to take a deeper breath. Her pulse was a rapid rhythm at her neck, fluttering beneath the skin, but her breathing began to slow. Finally she managed to say, “Keep talking.” 

“Now, that is an invitation you are going to regret.” 

Sylvanas spoke. She kept the topics inane and rambling. The latest news from Durotar. Some juicy outdated gossip about a few of the noble families at the old court of Silvermoon. A humorous war story about a lance corporal who was literally caught with his pants around his ankles during a night exercise. The last was a tale she had always reserved for dinner parties to make the more uptight people in the room laugh and relax. She hadn’t needed to employ it for years.

Jaina wasn’t smiling though. Over the last few minutes she had gotten her breathing under control. She swallowed thickly and rasped, "I can't do this."

"Yes, you can."

Jaina shook her head. She was staring down at their feet. "No. No, I'm going to be bad for Kul Tiras. These people deserve better than me. I can't. I'm not the right person."

"There is no other person,” Sylvanas insisted. "And you know what is bad for Kul Tiras? More conflict. More fighting. More death. You have already stopped that."

"I will make it worse again. I know I will. I've seen it."

"The ceremony is in just a few hours. They are waiting for you. They want you. They don't want someone else."

But Jaina's voice was watery and weak, like she was choking on the words. "I can't. I'm not - I'm not Derek. I'm not Tandred. I'm not good. Not like them."

"Look at me. Jaina."

When she did not respond, Sylvanas grasped Jaina's chin and nudged her face up so that she was forced to look at her. Jaina's cheeks were wet, her eyes red-rimmed and frightened. 

"No, you're not going to be good. You are going to be great," Sylvanas said vehemently. "I have seen it. Not in a dream. Damn the Dream. I have seen it here. In this life. The place where it matters. And I know it to be true."

Jaina was staring at her with wide eyes, utterly silent. It was only after she had finished speaking that Sylvanas realised she was cupping Jaina's face in both hands, tenderly stroking her thumb over one cheek. She tried to let go and step away, but Jaina slipped a hand to the back of her neck and tugged her gently forward. 

It was not at all the kiss Sylvanas had expected. Jaina’s mouth was soft and warm, and even a touch fearful. As though she wanted something to ground her, and this was the only thing she could think of doing.

Though Sylvanas would have been lying if she’d said she hadn’t thought of doing this before. Perhaps back at camp, or in that cosy cliffside cabin. When Jaina still did not know how to tie a cravat. When Jaina hadn’t been desperate and crying just moments ago.

Jaina broke the kiss but her hand remained on the back of Sylvanas’ neck. “I wish we hadn’t done that.”

“Why?” Sylvanas murmured. “Did you not want to?”

“No. I did.” They were still close enough that the words ghosted across Jaina’s mouth. Her eyes flickered down and she swayed forward. Sylvanas tilted her head to the side, but Jaina stopped before they could kiss again. Jaina bit at her own lower lip and said, “That’s what’s going to make this next part harder.” 

Moving her hands, Sylvanas smoothed down the lapels of Jaina’s greatcoat so that they rested flush against her collar. “I know I gave you some advice about your personal wants and the needs of your nation -”

Jaina chuckled weakly. “It was more of a speech, really.”

“A fantastic speech, I might add.”

“It was very poignant, if I recall,” Jaina agreed.

“I have had many years to practice. Just as you will.” Sylvanas could not justify keeping her hands on Jaina any longer -- her greatcoat was sharp and pristine -- but she let her touch linger nonetheless. “Kul Tiras cannot expect you to be a spinster.” 

“No. I imagine not. In fact, I think they’d want me to produce an Heir as quickly as possible.”

“I’m not sure I can help you there,” said Sylvanas dryly. 

Jaina’s answering laugh was exhausted. She shook her head. “Unfortunately for them, they’ll be waiting a good long while for anything like that.” 

Sylvanas toyed with a burnished button bearing a fouled anchor. “In which case, we are free to entertain ourselves in the meantime.” 

Jaina was watching her intently, as though trying to scour her face to memory. Her eyes dropped to Sylvanas’ mouth and fixed there. Her fingertips traced a hesitant line across the nape of Sylvanas’ neck. “I don’t think you’ll want me after I -” 

With a soft tug at the lapels of her greatcoat, Sylvanas brought their mouths together again. Jaina made a small noise into the kiss when Sylvanas lightly traced her lower lip with the tip of her tongue. Any hesitation vanished, and suddenly Jaina was gripping her close, one hand at Sylvanas’ hip, the other bunched in her long ashen hair. 

Sylvanas had to remind herself to take care, to not rumple Jaina’s outfit or her hair overly much. It was more difficult than it should have been. The slight brushes of Jaina’s skin against her fingertips burned like the noonday sun of her homeland, and the only thing Sylvanas could think of was wanting to reveal more of it, her hands already slipping beneath the greatcoat and settling on the warmth of Jaina’s sides. A heady sensation rushed sluggishly through her, and it took her a moment to give it a name -- it had been far too long since Sylvanas had felt desire like this. Years. Now, it prickled at the base of her spine, crawling up her back as Jaina held her closer. 

Slightly breathless, Jaina broke away. Her hand tightened for a moment and something flickered across her face. After a split second of hesitation however, Jaina stepped back, swallowing thickly. “I really ought to finish getting ready. Can we meet here after? We should talk." She gestured between the two of them. "About this. And other things."

Sylvanas nodded. "I will return here before the ball. We’ll talk."

--

A crowd was gathered on the main docks of the harbour. Banners of all the Great Houses swung in an icy breeze, most prominent among them the green flag bearing the anchor of the Admiralty. Citizens of every stripe huddled together, the gentry rubbing elbows with dockworkers and fullers from Dampwick Ward, finely clothed merchants and ash-streaked farriers, their leather belts draped with rasps and large pliers, fishermen and stevedores with the collars of their worn coats turned up against the chill. 

Sylvanas stood well in the back. She did not bother trying to get closer, preferring to remain out of sight, lingering in the shade of a shop awning, which had been abandoned by its owner in favour of watching the ceremony. A sleek frigate was anchored and lashed at the docks. The name ‘Restoration’ was emblazoned across its stern in gold. It was not, so Sylvanas had been informed, a flagship, but it was a perfectly serviceable first-rate. Which, of course, meant it was massive beyond compare, a veritable floating barracks filled to bursting with sailors, marines, and enough gunpowder and shot to blow away a small city. 

She did not take her eyes off the ship. Officers stood at attention in their glittering finery, while five figures were arrayed before them. Even had Sylvanas not known who they were, their silhouettes were impossible to misrepresent. Each of the leaders of the Great Houses and Jaina Proudmoore in the very middle of them all, like the focal point of an old painting.

This was not a ship blessing ceremony, but it felt exactly like the one Sylvanas had attended almost exactly a year ago in this very city. The only thing that was missing was the rain. For once, Boralus was merely overcast, pale watery sunlight shunting through a part in the clouds and illuminating the vast stretches of canvas sails. 

For all Jaina’s hesitation at the Keep, she stood straight-backed as a pillar now. Her hands were clasped behind her back, her pale hair stark against the dark fabric of her military greatcoat. Beside her, Katherine had a ceremonial sword buckled at her waist, and in a smooth motion she drew it, her gloved hand clenched around the wire-wrapt hilt. She passed the blade to Jaina, who took it without a word. When Jaina held the sword out before her, Lucille was the first to step forward. 

Lucille’s words were loud and clear, carrying across the docks as the onlookers watched in a silence broken only by the whistle of the wind and the creaking planks of the ship. “I, Lady Lucille Waycrest, head of House Waycrest, do truly and sincerely acknowledge, profess, testify, and declare in my conscience before the Tides and the world, that Jaina Proudmoore is the lawful and rightful Lord Admiral of the realm of Kul Tiras. I swear that I will well and truly serve the office of the Lord Admiral, and I will do right to all manner of people after the laws and usages of this realm, without fear or favour, affection or ill will. And I do make this recognition heartily, willingly, and truly, upon the Tides.”

After speaking she leaned down in a low bow and kissed the flat of the blade held before her. She stepped back, and Lord Stormsong stepped forward in her place. The same words and rituals were repeated by each of them, ending with Katherine.

Everyone on the docks seemed utterly rapt by this ceremony. Sylvanas tuned out the repetition after the second time they were said. She was too busy studying how striking a figure Jaina cut atop the stern of the ship. She was still thinking about resuming that kiss from earlier -- hopefully with less crying and self-loathing this time -- when she realised Jaina had pulled out a small folded piece of parchment and had started to give a speech.

“...a long road lies before us,” she was saying, her voice carrying too clearly across the chilly air. She must have been amplifying her words with a subtle spell. “And I know that I am not the leader you expected. And though you have had and will have many wiser and stronger Lord Admirals, you never had nor will you ever have one as grateful or as dedicated. There is nothing I hold in higher regard than the well-being of Kul Tiras and its people. Everything I do henceforth will be for you and you alone. This I swear.

“The times shift as the Tides, and in the shadow of adversity all we can hope to do is steer a course that sees us safe and victorious. Which is why, for my first act as Lord Admiral, I will ensure that this nation is a safe harbour for everyone.”

As Jaina continued to speak, Sylvanas could feel a satisfied smirk pull at the corner of her mouth. She did nothing to quell it. 

“Effective immediately as voted by the Great Houses, Kul Tiras will open its borders,” Jaina said. “No longer will we drown in our isolation beyond the waves, and instead we will become greater than we ever were alone. I have struck favourable deals with representatives abroad from both the Horde and the Alliance, which will make Kul Tiras a haven to all.”

It took a moment for that statement to register. Slowly, Sylvanas uncrossed her arms and stood straighter as she digested the words. The smile slipped from her face and she hissed, “What?” 

Jaina was still talking. She addressed the crowd, refusing to look in Sylvanas’ direction. With every word, the sensation of icy horror gripped at her stomach like a clenched fist. Standing there -- anger rising to rage, then to some ineffable emotion that sang in her jaws -- Sylvanas finally realised that she had been played. 

[heartxclouds]

Diabolik Lovers: Wrong Blood-Prisonned Bridal;;Part 1

[C]♡. Hello! Welcome to this blog..

This is my first try on writting my DL AU, which is called Wrong Blood-Prisonned Bridal if you are new to it! I think that I am experienced enough in writting so this is why I took the courage to write it! I do hope that you enjoy and follow the instructions clearly because yes, I have a rules in here- It isn't forced but you still need to view the rules. 📄

Rules;; {+ Instructions}

If you click on a OST link, you can hear the music ^^

When something is written in italic, it means that it's a wisper.

I would appreciate it if you have enjoyed the story, that you comment or like! Like that it makes me want to continue! If you need to give me constructive critism please send me a PM (Private Message).

In here there will be some spooky things so if you dislike that a lot, please proceed with caution. PS: Niko is a gypsy, that isn't meant as a slur. Niko is a girl that travels, does fortune telling and dances. So don't worry. I'm not here to offend.

If you see a edit with subtitles, read the subtitles! And if you can't see a image clear? Click on it!

Some edits are old or come from friends! I will credit them don't worry, they will be credited in the section 'Information'. And for the old edits, I'll put old in the end of the post in section 'Iformation'.

Thank you for reading the rules! I hope you enjoy this now. 🎃🍂

...

It was afternoon, at this time.. Many kids were playing. Screams of joy because of hide and seek, sometimes pain because they fell and even tears or joy because they were laughing so much. But there was one little girl that wasn't in the mood for playing. She would rather read books at this time of the day, she had secretly picked out some books out of the small library of her mother. Vampires..What were they? Monsters- Bloodsuckers- Creatures of the night... The little gypsy girl was amazed by these stories but also terrified. Welcome to the world of the small Niko Riverdale.

Winter.. It was cold but fun, Niko turned six years old not long ago. She felt like she could be a adult any second. Niko loved to play as the little adult.. But to be honest, it was scary. People always had some type of disgusted look when they spotted a gypsy, and it was like this everywhere. But on the possitieve side.. Some people could be nice and accept them, even enjoy they're dances. A gypsy was never meant to have a bad view.. Being a gypsy was seen as some kind of culture too. The priest always said that God hates gypsy's.. That if you were one, that a spirit will haunt you.. Kill you.. Destroy you. All kids from Niko's age knew the dark reality already, God? Hah.. When did God help? That's what they were thinking.. But Niko thought otherwise, she believes that God is good.

-"Mom.. Why do people hate us?"

Niko was holding the hand of her mother while they were walking back home. Reading hour was finished and Niko had hidden those vampire themed books in her bag before her mother got to see it.

-"Ah.. Don't worry about that honey.. You know.. In this world there are people that can hate you without a good reason.. That is why we need to be strong."

Her mother had felt some un-easy feeling.. Excactly, why did people hate them? She didn't know the answer herself... She held the hand of her daughter slightly tighter, they would go to the cathedral before getting back home. She entered the building and went to the small praying spot that was there. She looked at her daughter, she would need to pick a different one.. Niko went to the Maria statue that wasn't too far away from her mother.

-"My God.. I'm here to ask you questions.. I hope that I don't bother you at this moment but..Do you hate me? Or my mom..? My gypsy people..? You know.. Today some kids didn't want to play with me.. They're parents didn't want that.. Even if it was my birtday.. Hmph.. And God, I'm 6 years old now.. That's a lot, right? Hehe.. Will you please answer me..? I now pray this in the name of our saviour. Amen.."

Niko did the quick cross sign before walking back to her mother, that seemed to have finished her praying. Niko held the hand of her mother.. Did God hear her? Will she get the message..? Who knows.. Maybe God, had a surprise.

After getting home, having dinner and having a bath.. Niko was relaxed and ready to read some more about the nocturnal horror creatures.. Curiousity really killed the cat.. And Niko was clearly the cat in this example. The moon was up.. The beautifull blue moon that shinned in Niko's room, Niko could observe those beautifull night skies forever.. She didn't realise that is was already 2 AM, Niko would be in trouble if her parents found out that she was still up.

{[OST|https://youtu.be/9xWi_RkqYiM]}

But strangely a sound ruined the silence.. Crying.. Rather disturbing. A fenale voice? Calling out for help but it all sounded like a echo. For a kid this could be creepy looking, but for Niko.. She was worried.. Not about that sudden visit in her house of a crying voice but she was actually concerned about the feelings of the person.. Did they need to escape? Was there a killer outside? No.. Not at all. Niko got out her room and walked down the hallway.. The wood plancs made a creak sound. The more Niko approached.. The more the crying became louder. She could see now.

A woman with pretty long white hair was sitting on her knees on the floor. Her clothing was white too- She also had some kind of long blue see-through scarf, she also had white gloves, pretty ones that people always wore when they were from a rich family.. Her skin was pale, as pale as porcelin.

-"Umm.. Miss..? What's wrong? What is happening..? Are you hurt..?"

Niko was a child with good manners but it was kinda weird.. How did that woman come in? The door was locked, the windows too.. Who was this woman? Or what is she? The crying didn't stop but when Niko placed her hand on the shoulder of the beauty, then she turned around and held Niko's shoulders tightly.

-"Where is h-he?! WHERE IS HE?! I NEED HIM-?! MY CHILD.. HAVE YOU SEEN MY CHILD?! AHHHH!!!? I WANT HIM BACK! I WANT HIM BACK?! HE NEEDS TO BE FIXED.. HE NEEDS TO BE HAPPY!! WHERE IS HE?! AHHH?!!?? TELL-?! TELL MEEEE AAHHHH!?!"

Niko felt paralyzed.. A random woman just came here and was finding her child.. Her child is broken? He needs to be fixed? That woman didn't look normal at all either.. She was way too pale for a human being.. It was dead skin colour.. She had long fangs too.. And also you could see through her..? A ghost-? A spirit?! Niko's eyes were tearing up- God, can God explain?! Why don't Niko's parents hear this?! Was she crazy?! Niko just got out the grip and ran to her room and locked it, she got on her bed and hid under the covers.

-"God please.. Make it stop.. Make it stop.. I'm scared.. Don't give me to Satan.. Not the devil, I beg you.. Do you hate me? Is this my curse now?"

This was a bad experience for a child, it could be traumatizing.. Niko was praying for this to stop, but then she heard the loud banging against her door- She was screamed.. The woman was still crying and screaming.

-"FIX HIM?! YOU CAN FIX HIM!! FIND HIM!! YOU MUST FIND HIM!?? DO IT PLEASE!!!"

Niko hugged her knees, she was way too scared to say anything or open the door. Niko cried in her sleep.. In the background she could still hear the crying.. The crying of a female vampire ghost..

...

[{OST}|https://youtu.be/NvMROvgMOz0]

[C]...

It was night time, a few nights have passed since that incident and that woman always kept her awake- Screaming and crying.. Niko was hidding under the covers- Hoping that it would stop soon. She held her bunny plush close, it was a white bunny with red buttons as eyes.. It clearly was a old design, but she loves it. The banging on the door soon stopped.. But it replaced with a wisper. Was Niko getting crazy? Hearing wispers in her head.. That made Niko just hug her plush tighter.

-"Go to the forest.. In the forest you'll find a mansion.. I need you to fix him.. Please"

Niko looked down- She letted out a sigh.. Even if her parents forbid her to go out at night- She would do it- Like that the nights without sleep will stop..Maybe. Niko puts on her small brown boots and then got out the house after grabbing her plushie and wearing a yellow jacket, it matched her eyes perfectly. Now, Niko got in the dark forest.. Why did she forget the flashlight?? She hugged her plush tighter.

-"It's you and me mister carrots.. We will finish this.."

You could hear in Niko's voice that she was scared- She planned to get back home and get the flashlight.. But it already was too late- Her house wasn't visible anymore. Was she lost-? Niko started to tear up, she felt stressed and she could sense that there was danger close by. Niko didn't trust the sound of breaking twigs and leafes that were being crushed.. Without further hesitation, she started to run- She didn't care that she could see nothing- Her mind told her to run. And she was lucky that she started running now, because the hungry wolves were out now, howling and groaning, they wanted the eady prey that was there now.. And the prey was Niko. A girl her size and her age was as easy as catching a mouse.

{ [Wolf howling|https://youtu.be/66HKBdZe_WA]}

-"HELP!! PLEASE SOMEBODY!! WOLVES!! HELP!!"

Niko was screaming while running- But nobody was there to save her- But God must have heard her wish.. The mansion- It was there- Right infront of her! Niko quickly openned the door and got in. She heard the wolves outside, they were howling and sniffing where she was hidding. There was a moment of silence soon.. Were they gone? Niko peeked through the window to see if those carnivores were still there and it seemed that they dessapeared.

-"Hehe!! No dinner for you guys!"

Niko giggled happily, she was happy to stay alive- But soon after her short victory dance, she felt something.. No.. Someone behind her- She gulped and then slowly turned her head to see a tall man.. His eyes were some type of dark pink and his hair was purple- He also was wearing glasses. Niko stepped back as her eyes were wide from how scared she was- Will he hurt her..?

-"Entering the house of someone like that is really dissrespectfull. You need to learn some manners."

The male was getting straight to the point- His expression was serious and he clearly wasn't happy with Niko's action from before. Niko quickly openned the door and ran out- This was unexpected. She never knew that someone lived there.. No wonder that it looked so clean.

The man with glasses sighed as he watched a albino with the corner ofhis eye.

-"Oh.. So you did decide to come for dinner. I am waiting for your apologize. The dinner is cold and everyone is back to their rooms."

The purple haired man walked away, slightly annoyed. He puts his gloves on in a more comfortable manner as he was walking. The albino narrowed his eyebrows as he gave off a 'tch' noise, he just got back from the garden not long ago. Who was that girl though? How did she find this hidden mansion? He wondered.. But he won't think about it too much. He went to the dinning room.

Meanwhile, Niko had ran away from the mansion.. Fear was described in her eyes. But then- Her house, she saw it.. And yet, she didn't run far away from the mansion. Magic? How? She turned around.. Only trees were seen. How in the world? The small brunnette ran quickly to her home and her parents waited for her.. Crying tears of relief and ordering her to never ever do that again but.. Will she keep that promise-?

✧.*ೃ༄9 Years later...

The sound of the flutes and tambourines filled the streets, the gypsy's were there.. And it seemed that Niko and her sisters were the ones to dance. The same thing happened once again, for some the disgusted look and for some others there was the look of enjoyement. The gypsies how flexible and gracious moves- They always had a beautifull performance in mind. After the dance performance, niko and her sisters earned some money.. They will use this for food and clothing... And for Niko's mother, Rei. She was doing fortune telling to get money for the small house that they have.

The golden eyes of the brunnette spotted a animal..A cat..A white one to be specefic. She stared at it for quite a while- The cat looked at Niko and purred before walking away. Niko sighed a bit as she furrowed her eyebrows. Then Niko realised that her siblings were already going back home- She better quickly catch up with them.. Niko openned the door of the house and watched her father, he was laying on his usual dark blue couch.. She sighed and went to him, seeing that he was sleeping for bow. Niko smiled softly and puts a blanket over her father.. You could sleep better if you were cozy and warm. Niko remembered that she needed to handle something quick- She went to the door and openned it.

-"Where are you going?"

Her big brother John saw that she was planning to leave..Even if it was almost dinner time. He placed the wood in the fire, it was spring and yet it felt like it was still winter.

-"I'm going to the church.. I'll be back home soon though, see ya..!"

Niko got out once more and step by step made her way to the holy building..To be honest, the church was scary.. All dark colours and paintings of suffering- Even some god statues were scary. But Niko always felt much calmer when she saw the Maria statue. She closed her eyes and held her hands together.

-"God.. It is already nine years and three months that this ghost is haunting me.. The cries, they scare. Please help me..Give me a sign to freedom. In the name of our saviour. Amen.."

Niko could not live forever with this kind of ghost that visits her each night. Each time begging to save her child more specefictly her son.. What was this all about? She letted out a sigh- A sad one.. A concerned one. Was this all in her head? Was Niko getting crazy? Her parents and siblings didn't realky believe her.. Her mother did but she didn't know what to do. She rubbed her forehead and just went back home after doing the little cross sign. Niko really believed that god exists.. That someone is watching you.. Sins, Actions, Desires..Wishes. It was scary and yet so releaving in her opinion. After having dinner and a family talk, it was time to prepare for bed. Niko took a shower to refresh herself, she brushed her teeth, got in a fresh nightgown and then finnaly got in bed.

{ [OST|https://youtu.be/aG-39UWA4u0]}

Niko knew what will be going on tonight, she just hoped that it will stop. Each time, she repeats that hope. 12 pm.. It's almost time, Niko's eyes stayed open- She probably won't be able to sleep this night again. This was a punishement.. Was it really though? Niko didn't know but it was horrible to go through.

-"Go..Go.. Go back to the mansion.. He needs you.. You need to make him happy. Please. That's my only wish.."

-"W-Why can't you just leave me alone?"

-"Go..Go.. Go back to the mansion.. He needs you.. You need to make him happy. Please. That's my only wish.."

This repeated over and over again. Niko tried to get a other answer but it still was the same the "Go..Go.. Go back to the mansion.. He needs you.. You need to make him happy. Please. That's my only wish.." was always repeating. Niko had enough, she will go back there, early in the morning to not get wolves or other wild animals after her.

And she really did this plan. In the morning, around 5 am, she got up and got in her red gypsy dress and she wrapped a yellow scarf around her waist, she also puts on her yellow bandana after that she had brushed her long brown hair. She took a quick toast from the kitchen and frowned. She will return back home like last time, she was sure that it would happen as planned.

-"Let's get done with this"

Niko mumbled after getting out and going to the forest. Niko could see now where she was going. It wasn't dark, it was sunny already. The brunnette tried to find the mansion, but it was nowhere to be seen. It really annoyed her, she wanted to not be haunted by that woman anymore, she didn't want to struggle anymore with it. This was going to be the end. Did she really need to wish for the mansion to appear out of nowhere??

Niko ran through the bushes but that caused her to trip, she shook her head and got up after wiping some of the dirt away. But then.. When she lifted her eyes back up to normal. It was there- The mansion that she searched for for hours long. Niko stepped towards the gates-

Niko gulped when the gates went open on it's own. This was..Magic? No way. She must be dreaming. Niko slapped her cheeks with her hands.

-"Gah.. Niko-chan.. Wake uppppp..! Owie-"

Niko stopped slapping her cheeks and took a big inhale before taking the courage to enter the territory of the mansion. A certain stress overwhelmed Niko, it was uncomfortable... As if she was going in some type of haunted mansion. The crows were watching Niko, some letting out their loud bird noises.. These type of birds were mostly around graveryards. Which made this give more of a creepy atmosphere. Niko knocked on the door and waited- She learned last time that shouldn't just enter a house/mansion out of nowhere.. But hey she had no other choice. Niko saw that the door openned.. But weirdly nobody was behind it. Anyone would be running away from this already..No? Niko would have loved to do that but she really wanted to get the spirit away from her. So- Niko got in and looked around..

-"Helloo?? Someone here..? Uh.."

{[OST|https://youtu.be/_iF7lkXKHlA]}

Niko wanted to check first of course. And yet, there was no reply.. Maybe they weren't home? The brunnette wanted to know what the woman meant. 'Make him happy' 'Fix him' 'He needs you', her only wish. The spirit meant a person? Of course- Niko facepalmed. The brunnette still felt that same uncomfortable feeling, that feeling of being watched. This place wasn't safe.. It wasn't safe at all!! Niko had shivers running down her spine. Blood.. Blood running down the walls, Niko's visions made her think that.. This mansion.. It had bad secrets.. Secrets that nobody should ever know about.

Run..

Niko's mind kept telling her to run. Run for your life. Run for you freedom before-

Niko had ran back to the front door, it won't open?! No no- This wasn't the plan. God, what did Niko end up into?! Tears ran down her cheeks as fear took her over once more, was she trapped? Was this a prank??

Niko felt a hand on her shoulder.. She hesitated to look behind, but after some seconds she did. A albino man, right there..Glaring down at her with his intimidating look. Niko could not take it anymore.. She fainted. The man catched her in time and groaned.

Run for your freedom before it's too late..

It's too late...

He snarled when he saw her exposed neck with her black chocker necklace. He seemed to hold back something- He seemed to control it for now. The man openned his lips to speak out his words;

End of episode 1... 🍂

Information section:

Time taken: Started on 6 oct 2020- Finished on 14 oct 2020.

Credits;; Story (@me); Edits (@Me) Niko at the gates (Old edit)

I hope that you enjoyed! And I also hope that you would like to follow my journey of Wrong Blood!

See you soon... 🎃

I had posted this long ago but I wanted to share it here too♡

[ask-jaghatai-khan]

The Vampire of Cairn

// A story set on the forgotten Pariah Planet, Cairn. Entirely inhabited by the soulless human mutants known as “Blanks”, the world was settled before the rise of the Imperium and remains cut off from the rest of the galaxy to this day. But secret intelligence suggests that the world is not as safe as it seems, and that danger might still lurk in a galaxy lost to myth.

—

A fog bank was rolling in, though here in the city it wasn’t so prominent save for on the major streets. What few transports there were, on the roads or in the sky, made themselves sparse rather than deal with the lack of visibility, as people sheltered for a while in the shops and offices to avoid the damp chill. The misty pall seemed to run down the main thoroughfares like a wave. It would pass soon, but for now it hung over the alleys and side-streets, shrouding the tops of buildings and casting the whole world in a dull silver, both the neon signs and midday sun becoming faint and washed-out in the gloom.

Zhi’s destination was an alley downtown, by 26th and Baobeng. His personal transport, a sleek black sedan, navigated itself along the reflective guidelines of the ground-level roads as he went over his notes. He’d not been to this city before – if you could call it a city. It was more of a post-industrial town, now in the final movements towards establishing itself as a cultural center. He didn’t recall what Tianshi was known for and he didn’t much care. The compact little city was not much different from many of these other sparse population centers in the DB Jinkou Provence, but it was the pattern that concerned him. His last lead for his current assignment had been a whole city over, in the more remote Borios. It suggested the mark was not just on the move, but capable of long-distance travel without notice, maybe even without assistance.

There was a ping on the console as the ETA hit two minutes. The Investigator closed his documents and detached his holopad from its charge port, before the government-issue transport skidded around to the alley’s entrance and settled down on its unfolding wheels. There were several other cars there already, some civil service, some civilian, all clustered around the official cordon.

It was lowkey, which was to Zhi’s liking. No flashing lights, no big groups of reporters. One local Sentinel was speaking with a handful of private broadcasters, but all the emergency vehicles were running silent, their personnel milling around inside, maybe processing data. The whole setup made it clear that whatever had happened, it had passed. Zhi’s flat shoes made his approach noticeable as they snapped along the damp pavement, the dark surface of the road reflecting the point lights of the various transport vehicles.

He flashed his badge, but the Sentinel didn’t even try to stop him. He walked with the air of his profession, which was not to be cut in front of. Moving on, the Investigator moved into the alley, cast in long shadows by the spotlights that had been brought in to examine the scene.

There were a couple of sealed dumpsters, a storm drain, and not much more. The adhesive residue marked where posters might have once been put up, but nothing more remained. Compared to the streetfront, where neon signs, greenboxes, and other solar gatherers gave off color and brightness despite the fog, the alley felt quite barren. All grey ferrocrete and weathered service pipes.

The scene of the crime itself was obvious, and rather simple. One body, face down in the damp, looking pretty bloody as well. Dried blood was being rehydrated by the moisture in the air, and was doing nothing for the corpse, giving off a slight smell of iron and onset decay. Two more Sentinels - marked by their dark outerwear, utility harnesses, and subtle insignias – stood about the scene before one took notice of the approaching Investigator.

“Hello.” They said with simple but respectful affectation. Almost questioning, as if Zhi wasn’t supposed to be there.

He extended a hand as he approached, his own dark trench coat matching the local colors rather well.

“Investigator Zhi, Consensus assigned.” Introducing himself, he held up his badge once more. The little metallic chit marked him as under permanent internal security contract to the Consensus Sciences Service.

“Li. I’m with the local Sentinels.” Her precise vocabulary identified her as a woman, and a rather metropolitan one too, for a Sentinel in a northern industrial town. Her hair was styled into a tight pink stripe on her head, and her matching hued eyes suggested cybernetics. Such quirks weren’t common outside the major hives, “We weren’t excepting the Fed.”

“Yes, well we’re just checking all our leads right now and this was brought to my attention.” Zhi clarified. He was far more mundane looking in comparison, as fit a Federal Investigator. Not drawing attention was part of the game.

“And might I ask a little more?” she shot back, still with respect though her body language was unyielding, “This is under our jurisdiction, after all. Is there something bigger we should be worried about?”

Sentinels were local law enforcement, though not in the conventional sense of eras past. They were more like an office between a community watch and a militia. More ad-hoc and concerned with the protection and proper law enforcement of their districts than any higher loyalties. With the right moves they could be amenable, but they were very ground-level and had some of the strongest unions, making outright hostility towards them a bad idea for even Federal agents.

Zhi took off his wide-brimmed hat, making clearer eye contact with Li.

“There’s some suspicion this might be part of a larger series of murders. That’s—”

“You mean the Vampire?” the other Sentinel came up then, no longer content in the background, and with some verve in his voice.

“That’s all I’m at liberty to say.” Zhi’s face went dark.

“Sentinel Chaleb.” Li gestured, “Apologies, though it’s a legitimate question. It’s been around the stations. Could it be that killer?”

“Impossible to say either way until I’ve had a look, eh?” the Investigator tilted his head.

Chaleb. The man must have been from somewhere rural before becoming a Sentinel in Tianshi. His name, inflection, and appearance – paler and with sandy hair – had the twinge of Goth in them. Didn’t much matter, but it was an observation Zhi made.

“Here.” Li stepped aside, gesturing to the body that lay half slumped onto its face in the damp. Zhi got in close for a better look.

Man of about middle age, perhaps seventy-eight, as he seemed in good health. His hair was dark and short-cropped, messy now that the damp had worked through whatever gel it looked like he’d used. He was dressed in simple formalwear, with the open-front black jacket that went down to about his knees, and the black underclothes to match.

“Victim was a Mr. Jia Ming, as our first data responses have come through.” Li informed, “Local. Worked at a distribution firm for signage products, I think. We took his datapad and are seeing about getting permission to access it from next of kin.”

“Injuries?” Zhi asked.

“Broken collarbone and shoulder on the left side—” he could see it, the way the joint folded in on itself in an odd way, “Though the coroner scan didn’t think that was simultaneous with main cause of death. They’re still processing the data.” She didn’t need to point, as it was obvious the man’s throat was cut wide open. It was clean, yet broad, as if done by a swordsman in an action vid. The man’s skin had gone ghost pale in death from how much of his blood had flowed out onto the pavement.

“He was found around 2 a.m. this morning.” Chaleb interjected, “The owner of this sandwich shop was closing up and found him.” He pointed to the wall on their right, against which the dumpsters sat.

“You say the shoulder wasn’t simultaneous with cause of death.” Zhi stood back up, content in verifying the facts.

“No, but it wasn’t from a blow either. The blunt force trauma doesn’t seem to match up from what the scans show. The pattern looked more like—”

“Impact from above?” Zhi shot in. She was good. Maybe trained to be a Sentinel.

“How’d you know?”

“Oh that’s spooky.” Chaleb shook his head, “Absolutely the Vampire. Did you see that one clip online? They were saying they could probably scale sheer walls.”

“Yeah so can I, if you sweet-talk my quartermaster enough.” The Investigator cut him off, “Was there anything else of interest?”

“Possible cam footage. We can’t get it, though.” Li gave him.

“Why not?”

“It’s the security cam from the sandwich shop. The owner’s spooked, maybe drowsy. They didn’t want to give us access.”

“I’ll talk to them.” Zhi assured, gesturing with his hat in a vague direction “away” from the scene, “Do you want to be involved, then?”

Li nodded, signing off to Chaleb that she’d be leaving and that he should guard the area of the corpse. It might be good, if the Sentinel had talked to the storeowner beforehand, to have her there again. With luck, the civilian might be put more at ease by the continuity.

As they got out of earshot of the other Sentinel, rounding the corner of the alley side by side, Li turned towards the Investigator.

“Do you think it’s the Vampire, then?” she asked, though the look on her face told Zhi that she wasn’t keen on using the name, her pink eyes squinting.

“I’m getting sick of hearing that word.” Zhi walked forward another pace, annoyed at the stop, the sign and door of the sandwich shop visible just down the road.

As far as he knew, the nickname had been picked for the style in which the killer worked. Clean kills, along with the untraceable escapes. Still sounded stupid to him, but then most spree-killer nicknames tended to be.

“There’s been a lot of strange things in the news. People have been putting together all kinds of theories.” She continued, trudging beside him, “There were those signals they were talking about from the Jingshe belt that they said were nothing a month later. Then that meteor strike just a few weeks ago near Shuguan, and the murders in Shuguan they stopped reporting on after a week, and now these deaths going from city to city all the way here.”

“So what then, alien serial killer from outer space?” Zhi tried to sound as sarcastic as possible, wishing they could just pick up the damn pace.

“Maybe? There’s precedent. The Men of Iron came from space. We came from space.” She wasn’t wrong.

“Sounds like a fun story.” The Investigator just brushed it off as they reached the shop. The glass sliding door was barred with a shutter but knocking still produced a solid sound.

“I’m just saying, that’s what the theories have been online.” Li finished her piece, face flushing a little as if she’d been embarrassed at getting so caught up in the theory.

“Don’t believe everything you read on the net.” Zhi replied. The Sentinel glanced at his eyes – the man couldn’t have been much older than her based off looks, but his eyes – they seemed to be weighed down, drooping with some deep fatigue the rest of his face resisted.

There was a clanking, a latch-releasing kind of sound, and one of the individual panels that made up the collapsible door screen pulled away to reveal the eyes of a middle-aged individual. A woman, maybe, though as a city-man Zhi never made assumptions by habit.

“You’re back?” they asked.

“I heard you might have recordings that could help us.” The Investigator spoke up, while Li just provided aesthetic support, “Really all I’m interested in. Wouldn’t take a moment of your time, and I won’t cause any trouble.”

“Who are you?” their eyes were brimming with concern.

He flashed his badge, though he doubted they’d recognize it by training, “Federal Investigator. This might be important; you’d be doing us all a big favor.”

They shook their head, “I-I don’t want to get involved with anything. This is all really messed up.”

“Yeah, that tends to be the case.” He nodded, “May I ask your name?”

“Ling.” they gave.

“Your shop?” Zhi asked.

“It’s my shop, yes.” They answered.

“I’m not fully authorized for this, but I could promise you a degree of protection if you agree to help me, Ling.” Zhi tried his luck, “Maybe a vacation ticket as a gift? You can leave town for a little bit, and I imagine even if there is danger it’ll have blown over by then. Does that sound amenable?”

They seemed to mull it over for a bit, before their eyes conveyed a nod, and the latch shut. A few moments later, and the automated rails of the door screen were lifting the metal plates into the ceiling, and they were let inside with the accompanying ring of a bell.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” Ling stammered, “It’s just this kind of stuff never happens out here. Maybe the occasional thief, but nothing like this.” They ushered the two inside.

It was quite a large shop, with a good amount of sitting room. Zhi suspected outdoor seating might not be so popular in this town, what with the fog drifts being predominant for most of the year. It was amazing the greenboxes on the buildings were in good order.

“Here, just follow me. I haven’t checked the footage. Just download it off, if you want. I’d really rather not look at it.” The shopkeep was rather short, old in appearance but with a youthful demeanor and a neat bun hairstyle. Altogether regular and tidy, and very out of place in any kind of trouble.

The duo was led back through the shop, past the kitchen, up a flight of stairs, and through a locked door to the second level. Their destination was one of several doors lining the hallway, like a janitorial closet. Ling gave them access with her datapad. It was a small room, though very neat and with an impressive computer setup, with multiple monitors and a decent unit from what Zhi could surmise.

“Pretty heavy-duty stuff. This all for security?” Li inquired.

“This building is actually bigger than just this shop. There’re some offices upstairs, a few other food places around the back, and uh, some apartments. Very compact. I live here too.” They explained, “It’s just I’m also the building manager, so I deal with ensuring most of the security and utilities.”

It wasn’t so uncommon. Zhi just didn’t know how they had the energy to run an eatery while also being the community in-between for the whole building. He’d be as high-strung if he had to deal with anything more than what his one job already dumped in his lap.

The civilian logged in and gestured to the chair, stepping out of the way of the two officers.

“Just, uh – do what you need to do and then you can just leave it. I’ll give you space.” They smiled, “Oh but uh, just the security cam footage please.”

“Of course.” Li assured.

“Yeah, I’m not looking for a lawsuit, I’ll just be a moment.” Zhi was a bit brusquer.

“Strange one.” Li commented once they were alone, as she leaned over Zhi’s shoulder to watch him at work.

“Overworked. Could’ve been anything, they’d have snapped from the stress. Just unfortunate it had to be a murder.” Perception was something of a trade specialty. Having dealt with all manner of civilians who had actual things to hide, he’d grown accustomed to sussing out the weird from the suspect.

Li watched with some surprise as the Investigator brought up one of his hands. She hadn’t noticed until now, but he wore a drab brown glove on just one hand, having done most of his gesturing with the other until now. He pulled off the covering to expose unfleshed augmetics – a silver and angular surrogate with many odd details about its surface. With a few internal adjustments, as the various components moved on their own, one prong stuck up from his index finger. He inserted the interface probe into the input port of the computer. At once, his operations on the monitor moved ten times faster, as he navigated as quick as thought.

“Cool aug’.” she commented, as one cyborg to another.

“Trade tool.” He said without much passion.

In moments he’d located the cam files and sorted through the different streams from the few sentries around the building to the one that sat at the edge of the rooftop, watching the alley. So much security. If he was a Sentinel he’d maybe be concerned that something unsavory was up in this commune, but it wasn’t his department. Maybe some kind of hedonist club. So long as it was nothing sketchy it wasn’t a problem anyways.

“Alright, and—” he muttered, as he spun back the hours to the night before, looking for the moment at which the body on the pavement would stand itself back up again.

“There!” Li pointed, as if he couldn’t see it. The man had been cutting through the alley, and a whirl of something fast had dropped him like a bag of rocks. Zhi did his best to zoom, but the resolution was lacking in the darkness.

“Someone over him.” He assessed, “Holding him down.” He pointed with his free hand. On top of the form of the victim was a hunched figure. Dark, though its head stood out by a faint glint in the shadows. It was stooped over the man, holding him there as he writhed, doing something. They waited.

There was a sudden flash of movement. The figure’s arm came up holding something in its hand, and the victim’s head jerked back with it. His throat had been slashed. Without pause, the killer stood and rushed with almost inhuman agility over to one of the dumpsters, vaulting off it, then the sheer side of the wall, and they were out of frame.

“What on Cairn?” Li muttered.

“Wait.” Zhi wanted to check something. He rewound the footage, back before the first attack. He played it slow, watching it unfold as the dark figure returned to the kill, and then shot up into the sky.

“Augmetics? How’d they fall like that?” the Sentinel asked.

“You’re killing me. Please.” Zhi shushed her, his gaze trained on the screen. She glanced at him in irritation but noticed something had come into those drooping eyes. They were locked on the monitor like a sniper’s scope.

“Here.” He pointed again. It was at a portion of the roof’s edge just caught by the camera. There was a shadow and – a foot. A black-clad boot, resting just at the very corner of the camera’s periphery.

“What kind of camera—? Ah.” The Investigator check the readouts in the corner of the footage, “Microreceptor. Explains the resolution as much as why our perp didn’t catch the camera.” Partial-3D microreceptor, a kind of microcam preferred for being very small and discreet in part, but also for its unique rendering pattern. You could “rotate” microceptor footage in three dimensions to some degree, making it easier to spot details in normal blind spots.

“The peripheries on these things are usually blurry.” Zhi spoke. Li had some familiarity, but she was more focused on the footage, “But if I uncrop the frame let’s see what we can get.”

He did so, as the whole edge of the recording pulled back to show the actual rendering of the scene. It was circular, the center in full clarity while the edges feathered out in the peripheral vision of the microceptor. Li gasped, while Zhi sat still as a dead man.

It was a humanoid figure perched on the edge of the rooftop, kneeling as if ready to leap. The outline was blurry from the recording technique, but the image was clear enough. Human, or humanoid, with a black skintight suit enveloping its entire body. Faint distortions in the silhouette suggested items strapped to the figure’s frame, though it was hard to tell.

What was clearest was the face. Inhuman, twisted, insidious. It was a mask, as far as Zhi could tell. He hoped it was, at the very least. It was made in the shape of a leering white skull, distended at the cranium into an elongated form that curved back over their shoulders. As if that was not strange enough, one eye was absent, instead being replaced with a much larger augmetic lens, which swept back with its own tube casing parallel to the side of the mask. The distortion gave them just the bare form – the stylized skull, the one odd eye, the freakish head, all set atop the otherwise sleek, lithe body. Zhi restarted the footage and watched the ghoulish shape leap from out of obscurity down into the alley, crushing the unsuspecting man beneath its weight. going about whatever it had subjected him to before the final cut.

Li didn’t say it aloud, but she thought it in her head. The word seemed right, for such a ghastly anomaly. “Vampire.”

Zhi wished he could’ve been happy with finding his mark. Instead his thoughts were flooded with threads, choices. There was going to be untold friction with the CSS, to say nothing of the matter of catching whatever this – thing was. Its skull face just leered with cold, unmoving expression as he rewound the footage again, staring into its empty mask eyes. The body of a human – and the visage, the movements of something else.

The world of Cairn did not yet have an answer for this.

[precuredaily]

Precure Day 150

Episode: Yes! Precure 5 02 - “Full Throttle Passion, Cure Rouge!” Date watched: 2 October 2019 Original air date: 11 February 2007 Screenshots: https://imgur.com/a/xjAlUBg Project info and master list of posts: http://tinyurl.com/PCDabout

Ah, man, what a good episode. We learn a bit more about Nozmi and Rin’s bond, about Coco’s past, and about the villains. Plus there’s some great character beats. It’s still kind of a dense episode like last time but since it’s not introducing everything there’s some room to enjoy the moment. Let’s start!

The Plot

Nozomi can’t wait to tell Rin about becoming a superhero but Rin thinks she’s just playing around and is a little concerned at how spacey she’s being. Nozomi continues to insist that she’s telling the truth as they wait for class when Coco, in his human form, walks in, introduces himself as Kokoda Kouji, and announces he’ll be their homeroom teacher for a while.

(Notably, his family name basically amounts to “It’s Coco”, or you can derive “Coco” from the first syllable of each name)

After class, Nozomi drags him outside, and he explains that he wanted to stay close to her for the sake of Precure. Rin overhears this and asks what’s going on, so Coco explains to both of them about his homeland which has been devastated by the Nightmare Corporation, and how he needs the Dream Collet to restore it. Rin is understandably skeptical, but after Coco accidentally transforms back into his true form in front of her, she begins to believe his story. Nozomi asks her to become a Precure with her but Rin declines.

At the same time as this is happening, we get to see Nightmare headquarters for the first time: a giant, spooky skyscraper. Girinma announces to his boss that he’s found the Dream Collet but it slipped through his hands. The boss, Bunbee, mocks him and tells him that he needs to find the Collet for the sake of their boss, Despariah. 

Back in the classroom, Komachi and Karen come looking for Nozomi to ask her what happened in the library the other day, but Rin tells them she isn’t around. Later Rin flashes back to a time when she and Nozomi were young children, and Nozomi got hurt. Her worry is that Nozomi is impulsive and will hurt herself without Rin’s help. Nozomi also recounts the event to Coco, explaining that with Rin’s help she was able to forget the pain and keep moving forward. Coco segues this into an explanation that his best friend is trapped in the Dream Collet, and they need all 5 Precures gathered to release him, as well as to gather all 55 Pinkies to make a wish and restore the Palmier Kingdom. A Pinky happens to show up right there, but Girinma has been antagonizing Rin, chasing her to where the pair are, and Rin begs Nozomi to stay out of this Precure business, it’s too dangerous and she’ll get more than just hurt. Nozomi, however, is confident now, and tells Rin to watch her as she fights for Coco’s dream. She transforms into Cure Dream and begins to fight Girinma,

At the same time, Urara is sitting on a bench, practicing her lines: “I don’t want to put my friend in danger.” At that moment, a red butterfly flies past her, and her curiosity gets the better of her, so she follows it.

On the battlefield, Girinma has turned a lamppost into a Kowaina and uses it to grab Dream while taunting Rin for being scared, as he says that this is what happens to the fearless. Rin flashes back to her childhood again, this time she and Nozomi were walking down the street at night when a large bird flew in front of them and spooked Rin. Nozomi wishes the fear away and helps Rin stand up and keep walking. Rin says that of course she’s scared of the monsters, but what she’s most afraid of is losing Nozomi, her best friend, and she wants to do anything to help her now! At that moment, the butterfly appears and lands on Rin’s wrist, transforming into another Pinky Catch and allowing Rin to transform into Cure Rouge! Rouge battles Girinma, insisting that she and Nozomi have always been together, and will be together forever, and then launches her special attack at him: Precure Rouge Fire. This takes the form of a butterfly trailing a rope of fire, and it knocks Girinma into the Kowaina, freeing Nozomi and allowing her to use her finisher to destroy it.

Girinma retreats, the girls reconcile, and Rin says being Precure was too dangerous to let Nozomi do it alone. The Pinky is still around and Coco instructs Nozomi in how to catch it in great detail.

DX Pinky Catch in stores now, only ¥2000

As the two girls and Coco celebrate their victory, we see that Urara was spying on them from behind some bushes, and she asks out loud to herself “What’s a ‘Precure’?” DUN DUN DUN.

The Analysis

Rin is my favorite character in Yes 5, which is why she’s my avatar while I work through this series. This episode really demonstrates what I like about her: she’s very down-to-earth, kind of snarky, and gives Nozomi a lot of crap, but it’s because she truly cares about her and Nozomi isn’t exactly a clear thinker. She worries about her friend, and worries that she’s overstepped herself. Rin was surprised to see how Nozomi had matured without her realizing it, because she met Coco and found something to work towards, but she was still getting into trouble, so when Rin saw the extent of the danger she was in, she couldn’t do anything but to save her friend. Remember this down the road.

This is our first proper introduction to the Nightmare Corporation in their natural setting. Unlike the ANCIENT EVIL of the last three seasons, Nightmare is just a business, and their business model includes opportunities for advancement and presumably higher pay. Instead of being destroyed, failure means termination. Their secret base isn’t a cave in an alternate dimension, it’s a conference room in an office building, and the board is made of a bunch of people with Kowaina masks on.

Since the major theme presented so far is finding and chasing your dreams, having an oppressive corporation as the villain faction makes an interesting foil and a very interesting commentary on Japanese society, where conformity is everything and corporate employees are often expected to work brutally long hours at the detriment of their health.

We get to see just how much of a dreamer Nozomi really is in this episode. As soon as Coco says he wanted to watch over her at school, she blushes and assumes he means he wants to date her, which she’s certainly amenable to. Then, in a gag that results in him falling on top of her in a compromising position, she blushes deeply before pushing him off and declaring that she has a very specific plan for her first kiss: under a Christmas tree with her boyfriend. (remember this!)

Another good gag is that Urara has a penchant for reading scripts that tie in quite nicely to whatever is happening at that time. In episode 1 she reads “You have to find your own path yourself!” right as Nozomi is running by wondering what she should do with her life, and in this episode she says “I don’t want to put my friend in danger” at precisely the moment Rin is thinking that about Nozomi. I don’t remember this gag from my previous viewings of the show so I’ll be eager to see how frequently it happens. 

Speaking of her, I really like how they keep the other cures-to-be involved in the show before they actually get to transform. Urara is usually sitting alone, practicing her lines when someone or something comes along that grabs her attention. This is how she wound up spying on Nozomi and Rin’s fight, and will play into her becoming a cure. Komachi and Karen are also fun. They were baffled by the magically restoring library the previous day and want to ask Nozomi for an explanation. Their slightly different reactions betray their personalities: Karen is concerned about the wellbeing of the school and students with unexplained phenomena occurring, while Komachi views supernatural events as an exciting change of pace. Karen calls her “curious” for that, but Komachi says she prefers the term “inquisitive”. She’s similar to Honoka in that regard. Anyway, since it’s still a few episodes before either of them gets to transform, I’m glad that the writers thought up a natural way to have them around and incorporate them into the story, which makes it more natural when they do finally get to go. There have been shows that basically introduced the new cure the same week as her first transformation, not counting pinks for obvious reasons, so going back and seeing a show where they laid the groundwork is retroactively refreshing.

It’s interesting to me that despite being nearly 20 years old the first time I watched Yes 5, I didn’t really recognize how blatant the product placement was. The Dream Collet is clearly a toy, although unlike some artifacts from the previous seasons it at least looks like it could reasonably be a sacred artifact from a mystical civilization. The Pinky Catches are fairly small toys compared to the phones of the last three shows, being essentially large digital watches, or wrist-mounted v-pets. I always thought the fact that you have to open the glass cover to transform was a little weird but it’s not the end of the world. What really gets me, in the sense of “how did I not realize they were peddling toys”, is the bit at the end where Coco gives Nozomi a very detailed lesson on how to catch a Pinky, which for all intents and purposes is just opening the lid to the watch, shaking her wrist around, and then closing the lid. I assume there were some interactive elements in the toy where you could play with the captured Pinky but I don’t really know. Within the show, opening the lid gives Coco an instrument to lure the Pinky over to the Precure catching it. For Nozomi, this episode, it’s a bell. I don’t remember if it changes by cure or by Pinky or what so we’ll find out together.

Catching 55 Pinkies constitutes our Macguffin quest of the year, but since there are so many of them, each individual one isn’t a major event like the Prism Stones, Heartiels, or getting seven Miracle Drops and I’m pretty sure a lot of them get caught offscreen after a while. So far they’ve done a good job of not making it seem like the Pinkies are the be-all end-all of the plot.

I would be remiss if I neglected to mention that Rin’s seiyuu is Takeuchi Junko, who notably voiced Kenta in Splash Star immediately preceding this, but is probably most notable for being the voice of Naruto. Rin’s voice is a little higher pitched than in those other roles, which I assume is closer to Takeuchi’s natural speaking voice.

Additionally, Girinma is voiced by legendary seiyuu Nobuyuki Hiyama. His list of credits is extraordinarily long but he’s recognizable for his high-pitched voice. Notable other parts include Freezen in the second Max Heart film, Viral in Gurren Lagann, and Ikkaku in Bleach. Something I like about Girinma that I almost forgot to discuss is how he sounds very sly and confident when speaking to the girls, but pitiful when facing Bunbee. He stammers a lot in the office because he’s afraid. Also, his name is derived from kamakiri, the word for a praying mantis. Now you know!

Also there was a funny Kamen Rider reference near the beginning and that pleases my toku-loving heart.

I do want to talk about the music, and the clothes: both school uniforms and Precure outfits, but I will save those for a later post. Next time, things are going to get lively and lemon-scented as Urara takes center stage. Look forward to it!

Pink Precure Catchphrase Count: 1 kettei!

[a-corndog-named-schibbs]

Fangs, Fur, and Phantoms - Chapter 5

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Next Chapter

Back at it again with more spooky fun.  Coran finds weird uses for a communion wafer.  Lance accepts an offer he’d rather refuse.  Answers are finally found.

Note: Contains religion (Note within a note: author was raised Protestant. If you’re familiar with Catholic liturgy and notice she got something wrong, please let her know so she can fix it)

Enjoy!

“God, the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son has reconciled the world to himself  and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins; through the ministry of the Church, may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

“Amen,” Lance murmured.

“May the Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ, the intercession of the Blessed Virgin Mary and of all the saints, whatever good you do and suffering you endure heal your sins, help you to grow in holiness, and reward you with eternal life. Go in peace.” Coran said from the other side of the screen.

“Already got the eternal life bit, thanks,” said Lance, under his breath.

“Do we need to do this again so you can confess to sassing a prophet?”

“Nah, I’m good.” Lance stepped out of the confession booth.

“How about Mass?  When was the last time you had that?” Coran asked, also exiting the booth.

“I think I can go without tonight.”

“Well, let’s test that, shall we?” said Coran, reaching over to the altar and picking up a communion wafer from the dish.  He approached Lance and pressed the wafer to his forehead.

Lance winced.  When Coran pulled the wafer away, a slight pink mark appeared where it had been.

“Better to be safe than sorry.  I’ll get the blood bag.”

“It didn’t hurt that much…”

“It’s not supposed to hurt at all,” Coran pointed out, “If you want to take care of your immortal soul then you’ve got to take the treatments.”

Lance sighed, “Oh, all right.”  He certainly understood why he took Mass.  He was the one who had asked Coran to help him find a way to do so, his family’s faith one of the few ties to his past he had left.  That didn’t mean it wasn’t frustrating, having to take Mass nearly every night just so he could walk past a crucifix without fear of getting a headache.

Lance watched as Coran retrieved the cup used specifically for vampire-friendly Mass (no need for the other congregants to drink wine from a cup that had had blood in it the night before) and poured blood from a blood bag into it.  He then recited the invocation and presented Lance with the cup.  Lance drank it down.

“There,” said Coran, “Let’s try this again.”  He picked up the communion wafer and touched it to Lance’s forehead once more.

“Nothing,” said Lance, “Now you’re just a guy holding a cracker up to another guy’s forehead.”

“Good.  That means it worked,” Coran set the wafer down and patted Lance on the shoulder, “I’m glad you stopped by tonight, Lance, it’s always nice to see you.  Tell Keith I said hi and try not to get into too much trouble.”

Lance smirked, “But you’d be out of a job if I didn’t.”

“I’m serious, son.  If you come in here next week and tell me that you’ve…I don’t know…eaten a five-year-old or something—“

“Coran!  I would never!  Five-year-olds aren’t nearly ripe enough to eat.”

Coran raised an eyebrow.

“Kidding, just kidding,” said Lance, “You take care of yourself, Coran.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As Lance exited St. Groggery’s, he noticed a man across the street, standing by a rather expensive-looking car and illuminating the pavement with his phone’s flashlight.

The man looked up and noticed him, “Excuse me, do you think you can help me with something?”

Lance crossed the street, “What do you need, man?”

“I seem to have dropped my keys, could you help me find them?”

Lance almost didn’t catch the man’s words.  Up close, he was strikingly attractive.  Tall as hell and slender, but not without muscle.  His facial features were an elegant, refined sort of handsome and his long platinum-blond hair showed signs of being well cared-for.

“Sure,” said Lance, “Sure, let me just…” He knelt down and peeked under the car while the stranger held the flashlight, not that he needed it to see in the dark.  After a moment, he spotted the keys and fished them out.

“Here you go.”

“Thank you so much.  I was worried they’d gone down a storm drain.  I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come along.”  The man put his hand on Lance’s arm.  Lance had mixed feelings about the gesture, though he couldn’t seem to bring himself to shake the other man off.

“Oh, it was nothing really.”

“Still, I’d like to show my gratitude in some way.  How about I get you a drink?”

“I, uh, I don’t drink…alcohol.”

“I know,” said the man, pulling the collar of his shirt down slightly to reveal his collarbone.

Bad idea, said Lance’s brain, even as his arms reached for the man and his legs carried him forward.

The man pulled him into a nearby alleyway and pressed him against the wall.  Lance’s head spun.  He could already smell the man’s blood, could practically taste it on his tongue.  It would taste so good to have blood straight from the source for once.  The last time he had had a fresh meal was…

That snapped Lance out of his trance.  The only person he did this with anymore was Keith.  You just got out of confession and already you’re trying to eat from a stranger, what’s wrong with you?  Lance took a step back, “I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t.  I need to get home—“

His words were cut off as the man shoved him backwards against the wall, a hand wrapped around his throat.  Lance tried to shake him off, but the stranger only pushed him harder into the bricks, lifting him off his feet with astonishing strength.  Lance squirmed against the man’s grip.  It would take more than choking to kill him, but the lack of oxygen was making his head spin.

Something hard and pointed pressed against his chest, right above his heart.  Lance looked down.  The man was holding a wooden stake, poised to stab him with it.

“I assume you know what that is.  If you so much as scream, it’ll be the last noise you ever make.”

The man set Lance back on his feet.

“What do you want?” Lance hissed, rubbing his throat.

“You’ve encountered two individuals by the names of Agents Shirogane and Prince, yes?”

“Yeah…” said Lance, remembering the agents that had come to Keith’s house the other day.

“They work for an organization known as the Paranormal Bureau of Investigation.  An organization that hunts down creatures like you and me.”

“What’s your point?”

“I want you to kill them for me.”

Lance’s lip curled in disgust, “Let’s assume I have any intention of humoring you.  Give me one good reason why I should do this.”

“Besides the fact that they would hunt you down and throw you in a cage if they knew what you are?”

Lance shrugged, “Plenty of people have tried to hunt me down before.  No one’s caught me yet.”

“I figured you’d need a bit of extra motivation,” the man pulled out his phone and pulled up an image, “How about this, then?”

Lance’s stomach dropped.  A picture of Keith filled the screen.

“He’s your lover, isn’t he?  Such a handsome boy…It would certainly be a shame if anything unfortunate happened to that lovely face.”

“Listen,” Lance growled, “If you think you can scare me…”

“Not good enough?  How about this, then,”  The man swiped across the screen and an image of two children playing in a backyard slid into view.  The picture was slightly blurry, as though it was taken covertly.

“These are your…oh, what was it?…great-great-grandchildren?  I don’t know how you keep track.  Their names are Nadia and Sylvio, aren’t they?”

“You wouldn’t dare…” whispered Lance.

“You don’t want to know what I would dare to do.”  The man let Lance go.  “You have until Saturday.  If Agents Shirogane and Prince are not dead by then, I will personally track down and kill everyone you love.  Oh, and one more thing,” the man turned and faced Lance once more, “When you do kill those agents, be sure to tell them Lotor sent you.”

***

In addition to its quality coffee and friendly customer service, Mochas & Magic also sold second-hand books.  Allura figured that was as good a place as any to do research on local folklore.

She had decided to perform this particular task solo.  Shiro was busy interviewing Mr. and Mrs. Griffin about the incident and Allura figured she might get better results if she went alone anyway.  If this Colleen woman’s daughter really had information on New Altea’s supernatural population, she might benefit more from a girl-to-girl chat.

As Allura pushed open the door to the coffee shop, she heard Colleen’s voice ring out, “Welcome to Mochas & Magic!  Come on in!”

Colleen was stationed behind the register today.  Beside her was a rather large young man in an apron, sliding trays of blueberry scones into the display case.

“Oh, I remember you,” said Colleen, as Allura approached the counter, “You and that young man were in here yesterday, talking about vampires.”

“Yes, that, uh, that was me,” said Allura, trying to keep her voice down.  The young man in the apron was giving her a strange look.  “You mentioned your daughter knowing a lot about folklore.  I was wondering if I could talk with her for a bit.”

“Well, I’m sure she’d be happy to discuss it with you.  Hunk, do you know where Katie is?”

“I think she’s shelving books right now,” said Hunk, still not taking his eyes off of Allura.

“Thank you,” said Allura, “That’s very helpful of you.”

“Are you writing a YA novel?” said Colleen.

“Hm?”

“Is your research for a YA novel?  We get a lot of authors in here doing research for novels they’re writing.”

“It’s just for a personal project,” said Allura, before making her way to the bookstore section of the shop.

A young woman in her early twenties was stocking the shelves, climbing a stepladder to reach the highest ones.  She had short, brown hair and large, round glasses.

“I’m almost done,” the woman said, “One moment.”

“Are you Katie?” asked Allura.

“Yeah, but you can call me Pidge,” the woman said, stepping down from the ladder, “What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping you could help me find some books on a certain subject,” said Allura, casually scanning the bookshelf nearest to her.

“Depends on the subject, I guess,” said Pidge, “What were you looking for?”

Allura picked up one of the books off the shelf.  The cover was emblazoned with the word Beowulf.  She flipped through the pages idly.  “I’m just looking for information on some of the creatures in this area.”

“Like what?  Foxes and raccoons?”

“More like werewolves and vampires.”

There was the barest flicker of worry on Pidge’s face, but it soon disappeared.  “I hate to disappoint you, ma’am, but creatures like that don’t actually exist.”

“But your mother said people came here to research the subject all the time.”

“Well, yeah, but not like actual researchers.  Cryptid hunters and teen romance novelists, those kinds of people.”

“So you’re saying supernatural beings aren’t actually real?”

“That’s absolutely what I’m saying, yes.”

Without warning, Allura tossed the book she was holding directly at Pidge’s head.  Pidge yelped and held up her hand and the book stopped just short of her face, hovering in midair.

“Are you sure?” said Allura.

Pidge lowered her hand and the book dropped to the ground, falling open, “Well, shit.  You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“Well, now that we’re done with the playacting, we can get straight to business.  What can you tell me about the werewolves in this area?”

But Pidge didn’t seem to be in a cooperative mood at the moment.  “You’re one of the agents who interviewed Keith, aren’t you?” she said.

“So you know Mr. Kogane, do you?  Can you tell me anything about his whereabouts on the night of James Griffin’s death?”

“I knew it!” said Pidge, ignoring her question, “I knew there was some sort of men-in-black thing for supernatural beings.  Are you part of the government?”

“Now who’s being a conspiracy theorist?”

“It’s not a conspiracy theory if you’re right.”

“Look,” said Allura, “I don’t want to accuse your friend any more than you do.  If there’s anything, anything at all you can share with me that might help clear his name, it would go a long way toward helping him.”

Pidge sighed, “Listen, I can’t give you any hard evidence, but whatever you’re looking for, whatever killed Griffin, it’s not a werewolf.”

“I’m not saying I don’t believe you,” said Allura, “but how do you know this?”

“Because I did some scrying.  We went to the place where the body was found and I contacted Griffin’s spirit and saw what he saw when he died.  And let me tell you, it wasn’t a werewolf that killed him.”

“Well, what was it, then?” said Allura, “Can you describe it?”

“It was dark, so Griffin didn’t get a good look at it.  But it was big.  Bigger than a werewolf, that’s for sure.”

“So, a bear?”

Pidge shook her head, “Bigger than that, even.  And it had these horns…”  She held up her hands near her head to illustrate, “And these eyes that glowed and it looked like…like a…”  She glanced down to think and froze.

“Like what?” said Allura.

“Like that.”

Pidge pointed down at the book on the floor by her feet.  It was open to an illustration depicting a huge, horned creature with a human grasped in its enormous hand.  The caption on the page read, “Grendel carrying his prey to his lair”.

For a moment, Pidge and Allura could barely move.  Then, Pidge scooped up the book.  “I have to show this to Hunk.”

“I have to make a phone call,” said Allura as Pidge left the room.

Allura pulled out her cell phone and called Shiro.  “Come on, please pick up, please pick up, it’s important.”

After the second ring, Shiro answered, “Allura?  Something wrong?”

“Shiro, you owe that Kogane kid an apology.”

“Hmm?  Why’s that?”

“Because I think I just figured out what actually killed James Griffin.”

[jfastereft]

"A TRINITY OF EASTER BONNETS* - FOR THE NEWLY RESURRECTED!?"  Easter Sunday: April 21, 2019 [Monday!   in Australia!!]

 "NO, IT'S NOT!" a poem  a.k.a.: "You Mean It's NOT Halloween?  Oh, That's Why!"

 "'No, it's-NOT-Halloween!-It's-EASTER!!'    "Oh, sorry, that-must-be-why,

There-hasn't-been much spooky-candy  in-The-Store, as-I've-wandered-by,

And Dracula's teeth (generally-a-good-seller) are-half-price-off-on sale,

While little Bunny-People-are-out, wig-gl-ing their tail[s]!

And The Zombie Crawl's unusual, for it's-being done with a cross!

Dang! I-really-missed-it-this-year! But it's-not a total loss!?

 Yet, it-explains-a-lot, for, in October, when-I-really-thought-it-was-Easter,

I got no eggs-and-one-girl-was-annoyed, when-I-taped-a-tail-on-her-keister,

But, eventually, she-dressed as a bunny      and shook it pretty well!

Dang it!  Yeah!  I-wonder - if I will go to H - L L -

For mixing-up these holidays, in such an-unrighteous-fashion!

I've missed the candy, and now my dandy     costume     I-can't-cash-in!!

 So, I-better-get-t'-thinkin'-'bout going to Church, [early] Sunday morning,

When Jesus was tri-um-phant, as-a-vampire, without warning!

LIVE FOREVER, BUT DON'T BITE TWICE,

'CAUSE YOU-ONLY-LIVE          FOREVER!           So-try-and-be-nice!

 THEY-say HE-had-some-candy though, when-he-came-out-from-The-Tomb,

But no one would approach-eth Him!  We're-so-cautious-from-the-womb,

Afraid that we might just-get-"bit," turned-into-Deathless-" Folk!"

They-all-thought-The-Resurrection [Thing]      must-be a-media-joke!

 Y'-know, just like Mich[ael] Jackson,     That Guy could really sing!

And-a-a-rou-ound-Hal-lo-ween,    He-was-The-Trick-or-Treatin'-King!**

 fin   <3

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lYac9O3GYTM

* - or is that Sonnets?

** - King-Of-The-Chew, The Candy Chew, with-Chocolate-Mashes-and-lic-or-ice;

And He was real great at parties!  One word, Sweetheart: "FOOT-FE-TISH!"

  "THE WAY!" a poem, a.k.a.: "Party Hardy If You Want Your Lordy, Lordy To Wakey-Wakey!"  

 HE's risen!!   Dang, He's UP AGAIN,

Walking here, amongst all men!

'Tis-no "party trick," for The Son's Arisen!

The rock is rolled! It's-a-ROCK-&-ROLL-vision!

As Jesus Christ (That Guy's Alive),

As He steps from the tomb, He "takes a dive,"

In-the-flowers       over there,

And-when-He-looks-up,       there's HER stare!!

 With His face all dirty - and stinky too,

She sees Him there, &-says: "What-did-you-do,

With-My-Lord,     you garden-er?!"

And Jesus sees [that] He-can-fool-her?

 "Well, yes!" He lies; "I'm-the-land-scrape-designer,

But I did see Your Lord, OFF his recliner,

Walking-over-there - and-saying GOOD BYE!"

(But This Girl can-see The Glint in His eye!!)

 Since-Jesus-is-a-lousy-liar, She knew it was Him!

"Oh, Lord, [you're] such a kidder!"  and, although-proper-&-prim,

She-made-a-run-for-Him, and-He-said: "HOLD ON!

You've-got-[on]-your-"Sunday-Best," and-I'm-covered-with-lawn!

So, don't touch me now; I'll clean up pretty soon,

But - JUST GO-TO EVERYONE, & WE'LL FLY TO THE MOON!"

 "Well-NOW, take you time, Lord!  Everyone's mostly in jail!

They were celebrating YOUR WAKE!  I-will go-get bail!"

 Anyway!  That girl wasn't actually MARY!  Her-name was: Dory,*

(I just thought you-might be interested in getting The True[r] Story!)

 Anyway, eventually, Jesus DID "clean up" and He did realize,

WHY HE AROSE!!!   This-here's a big surprise!

You-see, it was REALLY because of the drunken orgy wake,

Because they all were drinking - and SHOUTING, for Goodness' sake,

And Jesus, dead and sleeping, must-have-heard-something-like this:

"A WAKE!  A WAKE!" and-it-must-have-filled-Him-with-[such]-bliss,

To-know-{that}-everyone-wanted-Him-to-wake-up, come-out-[of]-The-Tomb-&-party!

Strange, but true:     IF YOU-HAVE-A-WAKE, BE REAL HARDY,

For your exuberance can be infectious - and even wake The Dead!!!

And I got this from A REAL GOOD SOURCE!  It's-what-an-"ancient-text"-said!

 [And I've ALSO got some REAL-QUALITY, residential property, a-Florida-estate,

Nestled in some once-wet-land, and the-scenery is GREAT!

We can ALL live there, praising The Lord each day,

And PARTY HARDY, Lordy, Lordy!   It-is: THE JESUS WAY!         :) - Hooray!  OK?

 fin <3

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_krpSi8o1Qw

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Lu41LulQos

* - Keep on swimmin'!

  "NO APOLOGIES NECESSARY!"  a poem   Easter Sunday!!

 That's right! Complainers love-to-complain, and-coughers-love-to-cough!

Another-Easter-Time-arrives where JESUS-WOULD-LOVE TO-GET-OFF,

Being-hung-UP-on-that-pole [AGAIN!] spending (I imagine) too-much time,

Suffering      and bleeding,         so churches-can-celebrate-and-pine,          

And think-about-and-focus-on           Their-Crucified-Lord, again,

Crying into their "GIVING cups," lamenting all their sin!

 We-are-the-soldiers, as before,    pulling-the-garment-of-The-Lord,

And we PLAY FOR IT - and laugh and sing, and hope we can afford,

A-lot-of-drinks, at-our-favorite-pubs, when we exchange THE garment;

Let's take our helmets from-these-spears - and plunge-[them]-into-this-varmit!

 With swords and shields and spears -        Let's have a bloody, good time,

And, if we're lucky, at the local bars,   we'll-commit-a-little-crime!

Some rapes and mutilations! Perhaps, a-young-girl-can-be-"groomed!"

I just-love-another-Sweet, Sweet Easter,   especially-as-HE-lies-"entombed!"

 And, then, after all the rapes and murders, we'll [REALLY]-celebrate-The-Season!

SUNDAY MORNING SURFACES! and things are calm!  The reason?

Every-one's passed-out or dead, but few of them are "giving!"  

And here comes Jesus, out-of-The-Tomb, Yes, sir!  He's really LIVING,

The-Good-Life, and-a-once again, He greets His friend named "Mary,

and He says (for-the-2000th-time), "I beg you, Friends; don't tarry!

FOR, I'VE DEFEATED 'SATAN,'       & I ' M PUTTING-HIS-FEAR-AWAY!

This is IT!  Welcome, Everyone!  to-a GLORIOUS, BRAND NEW DAY!

Where NOW there is no need to suffer!  You-don't-have-to any-more!"

He tells all this - to-the Disciples,    but Satan      will just snore,

Knowing that he's surely got - [another] 3 hundred, sixty five,

Days-to-convince EVERYONE(?) that-ANOTHER-Easter's-not-no-"jive,"

That-is THE WAY! The-Way-Of-The-World,    Of-This World of HIS:

"[Let's] just-keep-re-enacting  the-same-old    [liturgical]-Show-Biz!!!"

Until THE BLOODY END OF TIME - or-until someone gets wise,

Declaring-this,   that: "Heavenly existence       is HERE, before our eyes!"

 We need-not keep a-spinning - the same old Ritual Wheel,

For Jesus has declared [triumphant?]  His-ancient "Brave New Deal!"

We just need     to accept it,    and stop-all-this   being fooled,

BUT!!  We-DO love celebration SO MUCH     - and of-being-RULED,

By systems-of-government, and-medicine - and, of course, pompous-religion!

CAN'T WE DISCOVER? Let's open our eyes: THE DOVE IS JUST A PIGEON!

And-haven't-we-been-"pigeons," My Friends!  PIGEONS!? long enough?

Turning-over ALL our lives     to Demons, who-love-to "bluff,"

And say [that] They're "in charge - and they've got a REAL GOOD plan,

IT'S: THE SACRED! Yes, THE-sacred-STATUS QUO,   for-ev-ery  girl and man!

And - Let's just keep-on going -             down the same old road!"

 Will-we-always-bow-to-temptation?                You-know, we're often told:

"That PROS-PER-ITY (whatever THAT is)     is JUST AROUND THE CORNER!" Why-don't-we-stop and look-'round-there,     but NOT as some, poor mourner!

 Yet [everyone's-shouting] "No!    (pause) There-must-be-more-we-must-DO!"

 No, NOTHING MORE! just-NO-APOLOGIES, for-liking-to-EAT-&-S - R - W!*

 So, anyway!  Happy Easter AGAIN!  It's almost 6 A. M.!

Which is - time-to-eat-and-get-dressed-up - and-to-practice-another-AMEN!

And-when-you-go-to-church-and-sit-in-your-P'EW, counting-blessings in your life,

Remember, that   each-GOOD-Nazi         sat-with-his-good wife,

And they would sit there and worship -     for as many Easter morns,

As The World would allow!         While angels blew their horns!!    

 YET, HERE, DEAR FRIENDS, I DON'T SUGGEST - that-you-skip-Church-today,

But-you-should-know, It's-a-social-convenience!  So weigh what they-all-say!

TAKE GOOD ADVICE - and apply it,         with-what "free will" you got,

But don't buy in - to politics!   For LOVE's what Jesus sought!          :) - Happy Easter!

 fin  <3

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I-ayuqk8Y20

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=686k9qcmzkw

 * - Of course, now-The-Bible    don't say much -   'bout Jesus and the ladies,

But-He-ate-a-lot, for-THEY-called-Him-"A-Glutton," &-He-surely-did-like-babies!!

[footloose-travel]

A Little Walk on the Wild Side

        Our plan once we reached Florida was to stay at our friend Sandy’s in her trailer on her property until we purchased our own new travel trailer. The day we arrived, the people that were staying in her “little house” were moving out early, so we got to move in the same day! This worked out perfectly and it has a nice kitchen to cook in, plenty of room to move about and make ourselves comfortable, great WIFI and close to the Drop Zone. Sandy’s “big house” is just a few steps away making it easy to share some great meals and quality bonding time.         The big RV Show in Tampa was the first thing on our agenda and we made sure to be there when it opened. It was mobbed and there were hundreds of mobile homes, trailers, RV’s, etc on display. Fortunately we had a good idea of what we wanted since going into this thing blindly would have been definitely overwhelming. After looking at quite a few and talking with some salespeople we found the Rockwood Travel Trailers that were recommended to us by an Airstream salesperson. We found a model that looked about the right size, with a slide out for more space and a nice livable interior with all the amenities. After 7 months of living in camper vans in Australia and New Zealand, and 19 months throughout Europe, this travel trailer will really feel like luxury with more living space. We talked it through that evening and did more research online to make sure this brand was reliable, then decided to go for it. We waited a day and went back to the show the following day with our friend Sandy in tow. Sandy has had several trailers and knows a lot about them plus we value her opinion and she is fun. We all agreed upon seeing it again that it felt right and John went off to find a salesperson. It’s funny that the first day they were all over us but as the days wore on they became a lot less enthusiastic. I remember the feeling from my own working days and this actually worked out to our advantage. John came back with a sales guy and we all sat down while he tiredly said, “If I give you rock bottom price without anymore negotiating, this is as low as it goes, are you ready to pull the trigger?”. John said “Yes”, the guy did a bit of a double take (he would have been a lousy poker player) and we got down to business. He gave us a price even better than we expected and Sandy badgered him into also ensuring we got the spare wheel cover that was not on the display unit but was supposed to be included. By the end of the process we were all laughing and joking and it turned out to be a worthwhile and entertaining experience. We still got the lowest floor model price even though it was already sold and just need to wait for a new one to come from the factory. This works out well for us and allows more time for John to sky dive.         When we were in Europe John did 72 skydives in Portugal at the previous year’s Christmas Boogie. He was in his glory and worked hard at improving his skills. After that as we traveled about he only got 7 jumps in Greece. So when we got back to the US he was not feeling current and was anxious to bring his comfort and skill level back to where it was before. His first few jumps at Z-Hills (Sky Dive City) were not up to his standards and I could tell he was stressing about it although he didn’t say anything. Then as the weather got better and he got more jumps in with some friends of his skill level, he got his “Muchness” (from Alice in Wonderland) back. After that he was belly flying, doing the RW (Relative Work formations) and swooping with ease. Ah, nothing like getting your Muchness back.         Coming back to the US so far has not given us too many “adventure points” and that is why our posts have been fewer than usual. The familiarity and not having to be in an environment where we don’t know the culture or language has its positive points, but also is not as challenging. We have been trying to keep up with walking every day and have been going to the Upper Hillsborough Preserve in Zephyrhills. It has a really different look and feel with the Spanish Moss draping over the giant oaks and the flatter but deceivingly sharp layers of Palmettos stretching out all around. Sometimes it feels a little spooky and lately when we went on our walks there was hardly anyone around. There are paths to follow and one day we walked pretty far in from the road and came upon a couple of pickup trucks parked by the trail. We were surprised to see this since we hadn’t ever seen vehicles back there and speculated that maybe it was the guy who worked at finding lost parachutes when a jumper had to cut away to their reserve. I jokingly said that maybe it was hunters, and we walked on. After a while we turned around to head back and as we approached the parked trucks we saw 2 hunters in camouflage with rifles. Neither of us realized there was hunting going on here since we had never seen any wildlife on our walks or any signs indicating hunting. We stopped to talk with them and they enthusiastically showed us their guns that turned out to be Muzzle Loaders using black powder. One guy in particular who was standing closest to me was waving his rifle around and I kept moving out of the way. It did concern me the way he was holding it and he laughed and said it wasn’t loaded. I had no way of knowing that and they both found it amusing. They told us the next day was the last day for wild boar and deer hunting with Muzzle Loaders and to take care if we were walking about in the Preserve. Needless to say we did not go back the next day. We had no idea there were boar in there and will now stick close to the open paths next time we go. I think a little walk on the wild side deserves maybe a few adventure points.         For all the photos see John and Charlotte’s flickr sites. Just click on either of our names.

[weeklyhumorist]

Debuting on Broadband: The Book of Zuckerberg 

Ding dong! Hello! Facebook is the best way to salvation!

“The company [Facebook] is intensifying formal partnerships with faith groups across the United States and shaping the future of religious experience.” — The New York Times, July, 25, 2021

  Hello! My name is Elder Zuckerberg and I would like to share with you the most amazing update to my book. The good book. The Facebook. Not only can you follow your friends, but now, you can also follow God with the help of the new worship features available to you. That’s right, sinners. I brought God to Facebook so you can experience salvation. Because God appeared to me personally in a vision and said, “Zuck, this is the future of worship. Heed my call and I shall reward you with more money.”

But I’m not doing it for the money, I’m doing it for the good of the whole human race. Word. Amen.

Ding dong! Woof Woof, Dogs4Eva community! Might we suggest for you, this book of likes and shares. It’s your chance to devote yourself to a higher power. Or better yet. The highest power. (That’s me.) Save your souls from dalmatian damnation. Join me and get into the good graces of God. He doesn’t go to temples or churches or gurdwara anymore. He only appears through me and my tools. You don’t want to chance it and go to Twitter–I mean, hell–do you?

Heck, I, Elder Zuckerberg, was once an atheist but now I’m back to believing, because I can’t sell you a product that I don’t use myself, right?

Hallelujah! Now join this new sermon feature on my book.

Poke. Poke. Yes, you with the Justin Beiber fan page. I’m spreading the word of truth. You might be Beliebers, but it’s time to become true believers. It’s super fun to hang on Facebook with Jesus Christ. Or Moses. Or Muhammad. Whoever. The important point is you get to test new features like prayer requests or avatars you can dress for service with prayer shawls, skullcaps, or communion dresses. We have a full closet of goodies we’re going to roll out for you to purchase — we mean borrow for a small donation.

Hey! Tagging you, TherapyAnonomusGroup! I’ve got a feeling that you could be feeling a whole lot better than you’re feeling today with our new worship feature. You might be charged for service, but we’ll turn off those sad feelings. These little details are all listed in our terms and conditions. Also known as our religious doctrine. Want a prayer? That’ll be $10. Fundraising? Great. I’ll take a tithe. Lonely, anxious, scared, looking for a place to belong? That’s why you’re on Facebook, right? So now, just sign up for our Godly service, and you’ll be all set. Pour your heart out to us. We’ll try to hold onto your secrets.

There’s no limit to what we can do! Me and you! But mostly me!

Hey, hey, hey, BotoxBuddies! This book can give you the secret to eternal life–not just eternal youth. Convert to our way of religious gatherings. Promise we won’t try to sell you holy products. Just maybe suggest every so often that you enlighten your spirit along with your body. It’s not an invasion of privacy that you’re getting ads to join a church popping up in your feed just because you wrote “God I hope this Botox works” in Messenger. It’s just God himself working through algorithm to reach you. He really wants you to sign up for virtual service or else he might send you spooky Mormon hell dreams. Just saying.

This book will change your life! Trust the heavenly father (of behavior tracking).

Word up, CampMomsGroup. Are these your kids in those photos? That’s great. We’re testing family service. Worship with strangers who can see into your home. We have so many friendly faces. In fact, that “choir boy” Jack is really Biff who’s doing forty years for a little misunderstanding outside a bar. We know that because of our new virtual confession feature.

Don’t holy ghost us! Friend us today. We’ll let you in and show you how it’s done. God commanded me to launch this book and stick it into every home. What, aren’t you ready to be redeemed?

  Debuting on Broadband: The Book of Zuckerberg  was originally published on Weekly Humorist

[theprotectmeconeparadox]

RvB Season 17: Ep10 "Killing Time"

"I wasn't shot"

"hey! Hey! Shoot me!" Wash please don't add onto my torture

Locus: What are you doing??

Why is his voice different? Or is it because he actually cares?

"Trying to... Get... Shot?"

"Please, don't" Locus/Wash shippers must be flying through the roof

Locus is actually not killing anyone... Good for him!

Sister can have all the hots she wants for Locus, too, as long as she leaves Tucker alone so I can have my Tuckington

"everyone get out! I'm gonna fuck that guy! IM ACTUALLY ENCOURAGING HER! DO I SHIP IT? PROBABLY!

"that's not our Donut, listen" "I'm gonna blow you!" WHAT DO YOU MEAN NOT YOUR DONUT I DON'T WANT DONUT TO STOP MAKING INNUENDOS

"...To take on Krovos" shit DONUT

"want one of my shotguns" SARGE MUST CARE IF HES WILLINGLY GIVING WASH ONE OF HIS SHOTGUNS

"If he's single, there's no hope for any of us" WTF DOES THAT MEAN!?

Simmons don't hurt yourself baby!

"Grif, go in that hallway over there?" I don't know why I paused that honestly I just liked that moment.

Ok nevermind I love that Grif was fucking with Simmons that warmed my heart

"It was just a prank, bro!" WAIT BULLETS CAN GO THROUGH JUST FUCKING SHOOT GENKINS

"I don't go to parties, dear, they come to me." FUCKING PREACH QUEEN

"Cool" YES I AGREE

Wtf CABOOSE made the fine choice of choosing the club??

"Thank you, spooky nightmare"

"Church's first death" ONLY THIS SHOW CAN SAY "FIRST" DEATH

ok

Maybe not this show

I'm looking at you, Supernatural

Genkins is LITERALLY losing it

"uh, guys? I shot at Grif through the portal" THANK YOU SIMMONS NOTICED

"of course! We shoot Grif, why didn't I think of that" oh I love going back to old roots

"Wash"

"On it."

Babies!

"bow chicka wow wo..." DONT FUCKING DARE FINISH THAT SENTENCE GENKINS

HOLY SHIT

That was grusome!

"Damn" why was that hot coming out of Wash's mouth

"Shoot the bastard" AMEN

"Stick together, okay?" *Sword* "No matter what he throws at us" BABY

WHERE. THE FUCK. ARE. MY. BABIES

"Mom?" Shit no KAI!

"Who's there?"

"No, no I got rid of you!"

"You did what?"

"No, please!"

"Take cover!"

"No. Now way. Not happening."

I

I got nothing

I'm speechless

[wisheskiran-blog]

Best Exam Wishes

Most often students get stuck in tension during exam time. The stress and fear of exam can harm their preparation. Funny exam status and short exam quotes is helpful to reduce such kind of stress about exam. Here we are offering you the best exam status and exam captions which are so sweet and cool. We have covered up this post by various kind of status about exam so that you can get status about before exam, during exam and when finally exams over. Lucky for you that you will find here both exam time status and exam over status. Share funny exam status with your classmates and friends cause they also have the right of having fun and being stress free. Feel free to post these exam statuses on Whatsapp, Facebook, Instagram, Twitter or any other social media.

Funny Exam Status I am in a relationship with studies and it’s complicated.

A girl may not help you to get lot of marks but Marks help you to get lot of girls so Love your studies not girls.

Pen, Pencil! Ruler, Eraser and Sharpener! Ready for the last finale! It’s over, Great! The life seems good, the life seems good!

I wish I could fit a memory card into my brain for Exams.

The night before exams is like a night before Christmas. You can’t sleep and yet hope for a miracle too!

School exams are memory tests, in real-world no one is going to stop you from referring a book to solve a problem.

I wish exams came with a 50/50 option.

A Thermometer is not the only thing that gets a ‘DEGREE’ without having a ‘BRAIN’! A silent message for all students.

It’s very easy to be number one: find the guy who is number one, and score one point higher than he does.

To be a good professional engineer always start to study late for exams. Because it teaches you how to manage time and tackle emergencies.

What happens in an exam: Tik tock, mind block, pen stop, eye pop, full shock, jaw drop, time up, no luck.

Biggest Mystery of Maths, 1000s of years passed, Millions of theorems derived, Millions of formulas made, but still, X is unknown!

Funny Exam Caption I hates studying for exams, Is there an APP for that?

Will it be easy? Nope. Worth it? Absolutely.

You’re allowed to scream, you’re allowed to cry, but do not give up.

Everything was just going perfect, then exam comes…

Hey google,why don’t you sit next to me during the exams?

Funny-exam-time-status-images-dp

One of the best caption written on a clock in an exam hall.. “TIME WILL PASS. WILL YOU?”

Happiness is … the last second of your final exam.

Prepare well! Take two inks; you may never know when one pen will stop writing!

Not everyone who takes extra paper during exams write extra sense.

Explore More : Inspiring Exam Status

Don’t let shabby grades smear your beautiful personality.

Tomorrow is my exam but I don’t care because a single sheet of paper cannot decide my future.

My school cares moor about the uniform then about my education!

student + dying = Studying.

Exam Time Status Keep calm and study like Granger.

You might not make heaven if you cover your script during an exam. Sharing is caring!

Good luck passing the exam and my deepest early condolences if you don’t.

Our education system doesn’t teach us team work, When we solve our tests in collaboration with others, they call it copying….Foolish people.

The brain is the most outstanding organ. It works for 24 hours, 365 days, right from your birth, until you step in the exam hall.

A bottle of wine contains more philosophy than all the books in the world.

Exam offer! Bring a copy on exam day, scratch and show it to your nearest “professor” win free trip to principals office, and enjoy 3 years vacation at home.

If you cry on seeing the question paper it is an insult. If your teacher cries on seeing your answer paper, it is your achievement…

Thousand words of any teacher does not hurt much..But the silence of a friend in the examination hall brings tears to the eyes..!

100s of years have passed, millions of tomorrows have come, but still hope is alive in all students, Tomorrow I will definitely start studying.

Also Read : Inspirational Exam Quotes

Sometimes I think to write LOL at the end of every answer in exams 🙂

I was thrown out of college for cheating on the metaphysics exam, I looked into the soul of the boy sitting next to me.

Exam Over Status The exam is over = OH YEAH! Result comes = OH SHIT -_-

Oh…this is truly the best feeling after endless anxious days of downloading innumerable pages into your head…feels so light… Ahh!

Amen brother – Final exam… done and dusted. At least till results day.

Oh my God! I’ve got my last exam today, so this was a little spooky lol. Wish me luck!

And what about getting a degree? Writing the thesis was more stressful than preparing math… But now I’m finally free! 😀

Funny Exam Quotes

No more pencils, No more books, No more teacher’s dirty looks. Out for summer, Out till fall, We might not go back at all.

Yes, finishing that last exam is the best!! And I’m totally bummed, I’d love to come to (Institution’s Name) but sadly I cannot!

I’m so happy the stress month is over! So glad that exams are over!

Such sweet relief — particularly that extra-special, mega-rare, highly-anticipated LAST-last exam.

Sometimes, we finish the exam and sometimes, the exam finishes us.

Exam Funny Status Feet away, Professor Dema stood, carrying a large gunlike weapon with both her hands and a snarl on her lips. This was not the way final exams were supposed to go.

Why we sometimes write ‘Etc’ in Exams? Because it means… E – End Of, T – Thinking, C -Capacity.

It takes 15 trees to produce the amount of paper that we use to write one exam. Join us in promoting the noble cause of saving trees. Say no to exams!

Recipe for success: Study while others are sleeping; work while others are loafing; prepare while others are playing; and dream while others are wishing.

Dear friends, Exams may come and go, Marks may come and go, But once you go mad, You will be mad forever, So be cautious. A study in restrictions. Spread awareness 😛

80% of the exam is always based on 1 lecture that you missed and 1 topic that you didn’t prepare.

Dear Math, please grow up and solve your own problems, I’m tired of solving them for you.

Lovely days in my life, Childhood days, School days and collage days, Horrible days in my life :only exam days.

A Thermometer is the only thing that gets a ‘DEGREE’ without having a ‘BRAIN’!

Why is it so EASY to fail but so HARD to SUCCEED?

Exams are like Girl friends, 1 Too Many Questions.2 Difficult to Understand.3 More Explanation is Needed.4 Result is always FAIL!

I know I am something, because God doesn’t create garbage.

If you are given an open-book exam, you will forget your book.

Examinations – the only way to know something at least for a few days.

You May Like : Funny Study Status

Why study for exams? Are they not about what you know, not about how much you can cram into your head the night before?

What is the main reason for failure? .. I think it’s EXAMS. What do you think?

Every burned book enlightens the world.

When we have no idea what to write in the exam paper and the supervisor comes and says, “Please cover your answer sheet.” It’s LOL…

Here we compiled most funny exam status for Whatsapp which you can use as exam time status on Whatsapp even on Facebook. Also you can use these as status updates for other social app which you like.

[investnlord]

Bus Driver

Bourbon: ***

 Bourbon: you shift in your seat

this bus is like

forty years old

your hands have been in the same position on the steering wheel for the past hour

as you adjust their placement

you feel your skin peel from the fake leather

it stings

a little

the mojave desert stretches for miles before you*

 Hardcastle: (okay please hold)

 Hardcastle: What's my next stop

Chi-town

or Gay Bay?

We rolling to hot out here what's my cargo?

Also

Are there any polar bears around?

Breaker breaker

Crank up the Alex Jones*

 Bourbon: you are going to the flag stop in tucson

where you will stop

sleep

and promptly turn around

back to bakersfield

this is

your route

you turn the dial on your pocket radio

now all you can hear in your earbuds is alex jones talking to his guest

"well now frank these sorcerers sound real spooky"

"real dangerous"

alex says

frank, his guest responds:

 Hardcastle: (I'm prepared to sit back and let you RP a whole Alex Jones cast about sorcerers)

 Bourbon: "yes well uh huh a small group of sorcerers, no bigger than a standard midnight cabal, with the appropriate amount of silver"

"how much silver are we talking here?" asks alex jones

 Spaghetti: (yeah this is awesome)

 Bourbon: "not much at all alex, just a little, just a little, and that's all you need to light up nagasaki"

"and i mean really light it up"

alex jones cuts off his guest "well we've got to take a break here but when we get back i want to dive in here, really get to know what we're dealing with on the sorceror front"

a commercial plays for MyPillow, Sean Hannity's favorite pillow

 Spaghetti: (spotify has that ad a lot too)

 Bourbon: you look in your rearview

a lanky

spooky?

dangerous man

fidgets in his seat#

 Bourbon: (ok Spaghetti you're the man and # is your stomper stamper)

 Spaghetti: i am the man

i am a spook

 Hardcastle: (1 Knuckle to the next)

 Spaghetti: i'm spooky and full of

danger

 Hardcastle: (S-T-O-M-P   S-T-A-M-P)

 Spaghetti: and chutney

I smile into the rear-view

it's not a happy smile#

 Bourbon: it's a

spooky smile*

 Hardcastle: Is he

Law Enforcement?

Am I

drunk?

Give me answers in rhyme

... Where is the next roadside diner?*

 Bourbon: you start to feel a little lightheaded, a little loose

are you drunk?

let's see

you smack your lips, taste the back of your mouth

nothing like whiskey

you find the bottle under your seat

mostly full

no, you're not drunk

the commercial ends and alex jones comes back on

you try to fit his words into

rhymes

 Hardcastle: (oh boy)

 Bourbon: "welcome back to coast to coast am we're here with frank who has some interesting things to say about sorcerers"

you are having a lot of trouble making alex jones rhyme

frank says to alex

 Spaghetti: (has a nice meter)

Spaghetti: (we make our own rhymes at home)

Spaghetti: (better FLAVOR)

 Bourbon: "yes well i was saying before the break that sorcerers can and will destroy entire cities"

alex needs to know how to identify a sorcerer

"well alex it can be difficult but with a little intuition and a lot of independent conjecture, you can usually pick out the sorcerer in any group of people"

you roll your eyes back to the fidgeting man#

 Spaghetti: i quietly work some phlegm toward the top of my throat to make my voice

extra spooky

"you know.. some say

that the quickest way to identify a sorcerer

is to just look in the damn mirror "#

 Hardcastle: (oh jesus)

 Bourbon: you watch the man mouth those words

but his voice comes through the earbuds*

 Hardcastle: Is his voice in my head

IS HIS VOICE IN MY HEAD

Gramma told me

She told me the devil would meet me on the road in the desert

She said he'd be there and come at me in my home I made on the road

Got no roots devil'd take ya na

I remember that forum I came across on the internet

Salt

Salt fortifies the spirit

and raises bp

I reach between the seat for my bottle

not the jameson that's for a different sinnin'

no it's the kikkoman

real shit

hardcore I tip it back and guzzle

guzzle until the magic man is drownt

One hand on the wheel steady for Christ*

 Bourbon: you pull hard on a bottle of full sodium soy sauce

you probably drink half that thing

you do not cough

you do not breathe heavy

you are tall in the face of sorcery

you place the bottle of soy sauce back where it belongs and as you pull your hand away

it brushes against

well

you pull it out

and

it's a colt .45 revolver

you put it right back

anxiety courses through your body

Great Tower Rock coming up, four miles#

 Spaghetti: (sorry boys we're starting to prep dinner lemme catch up)

Spaghetti: (holy fuck guzzling kikkoman, gripping the wheel with the other hand)

 Spaghetti: my hand moves the slightest bit forward

"woah nah nah, we don't need none of that now why don't you put that down now see how about we head onto that great tower rock up yonder"

i smile my spooky, shitty smile#

 Bourbon: (swamp sorcerer)

 Bourbon: Great Tower Rock, 2 miles

again you hear the man speak in your earbuds

you feel

amenable

to his

requests

other men on the bus are starting to look fidgety*

 Hardcastle: Other Men?

Who else is here?

 Hardcastle: (Do they see the horror before them?)

Hardcastle: (Is Spaghetti that sheriff from the 'nam txt?)

 Bourbon: (i mean you're driving a bus to tuscon)

 Spaghetti: (no it's just the voice in my head

Spaghetti: so he shall be the voice in yours)

 Hardcastle: I need to whip this up into a Denny's until all is revealed*

 Bourbon: (Spaghetti it's very programmery of you to open a parentheses in one line and close it on the other)

 Bourbon: Great Tower Rock, 1 mile

you see it

you've seen it many many times but now it is a place of refuge

you can get your shit together at Great Tower Rock

Great Tower Rock had been a landmark for '49ers coming across to california

it had been a fort, a market, a post office, and the site of a battle between 80 lost Mormons and a number of indians

now it's mostly the location of a denny's

you pull the bus over and park#

 Spaghetti: some laughs are warm

some laughs, full of mirth

i'm not

" hyuck hyuck hyuck hyuck "

"been a'hile since my last grand slam.."#

 Spaghetti: (fucking denny's)

Spaghetti: (i am amenable too the denny's)

 Bourbon: the fidgety man loves grand slams

people start to exit the bus

it's lunchtime, they guess*

 Hardcastle: "Ya'll get back heyuh in time to ride"

I wait til everyone is off the bus

wait to make my move*

 Bourbon: they exit the bus

just the fidgety man and you#

 Hardcastle: ( I knew it)

 Spaghetti: "so.. how bout it? when's the last time you set that sausage between your lips?"

"really.. really got it in there. sunny side up t'boot" #

 Spaghetti: (sorry we're drinking weird wine and i'm not sure i know how to be spooky)

 Bourbon: (wait are you trying to hurt Hardcastle in a private way)

Hardcastle: (what)

 Bourbon: he stares at you*

 Spaghetti: (i think i'm just trying to spook him.. maybe privately

Spaghetti: idk, makes him uncomfortable

Spaghetti: i'm a little uncomfortable)

 Bourbon: (just sounds like)

Bourbon: (the sausage)

Bourbon: (is)

Bourbon: (a euphemism)

 Hardcastle: (for a dick)

 Bourbon: (yeah)

 Spaghetti: (yeah it is

Spaghetti: i can re-do ?)

 Bourbon: (nah)

 Hardcastle: Shit

Oh christ

Oh Jesus Christ help

I just

push

I push him back into the aisle

so hard I fart a little na

I just holler and wail

OH CHRIST

I book it for the Denny's*

 Bourbon: your shove pushes the man back into his seat

you book it for the door to the bus but

there's

four men

circling the door outside#

 Spaghetti: (ok onions are sweating)

Spaghetti: (oh man now i'm sweating loook at this)

 Bourbon: (look at you)

 Spaghetti: "nah i know the grand slam is a temptin' one"

"sausage all glistenin"

"yolk all encirclin the other lesser foods"

"kinda like my boys are encirclin the lesser of us men"

"now ya'll can book it for that there fine eatery"

"or you can talk with us for a flick"

i pull out my zippo lighter

a bullshit shitty lame dragon is engraved on the front#

 Bourbon: the trashy man gestures with his dragon lighter

silver

you look at the men circling the door

they are all

trashy

but are they dangerous?*

 Hardcastle: Shit

Trashmen

Make a break for the front door

seek refuge

sweaty steamy refuge*

 Bourbon: there's only one door to the bus

you pull on the lever to open the door

it opens

but the trashy cabal closes ranks#

 Spaghetti: "my boys round 'em up pretty good yes sir yes sir.."

"now what really brings you out to these parts?"

"no one come to see Great Tower Rock in at least fifteen trips round 'the ol' flashlight"#

 Spaghetti: (that's years boys)

 Bourbon: answer him, boy*

 Hardcastle: soup

I am in the soup

Jesus Christ

they've come for me

Grammah

Grammah help

I didn't mean to go in the barn

they dared me

I chased the ball

and they saw me

the rats

and they ran then

but now they're here grammah

they here

they hear m breathe and my blood

they want it

I am ungrounded

It is here that the spirit rises in me

and the .38 spcl snub nose rises from my ankle holster

I put it to the dome of the stomper stamper

I stand ready*

 Bourbon: you pull the trigger

the plate in the back of your head

explodes

lights it up real good

just like nagasaki*

 Bourbon: ***

[kaminosoath]

BALDUR: -This is a bit of a sight, as it turns out. His door is wide open and there are some boxes outside of his room, with various labels written in very careful script. The sound of shuffling and scurrying inside can be heard-- quite a bit is left in his room to go through, and baldur MAY have had a bit of a hoarding tendency, now that he's left to examine his belonginsg in details, but the whole process has been strangely invigorating to him. A lot of old memories. A lot of good memories, too. Currently, he's looking inside of a big chest full of various trinkets he's collected-- some beach glass, bottlecaps, and rocks and bits of wires he found particularly interesting, and also probably thought were magical. He seems to be doing some digging, occasionally setting aside a few things in various little piles.-

STATIK: =There is a small skip to her step as she ambled down the hall, more cheerful than she has been in a while! What a week, honestly! She slowed once she was in sight of the boxes and approached them, bending over at the torso to read the labels. Poking her head into Baldur's room, she smacked a hand on the doorframe, leaning up against it.=

STATIK: yo baldy! are you spring Cleaning? ...autumn Cleaning?? whatCha doin?? ⚡

BALDUR: O-O -JUMP a little as he hears the smack on the doorframe, turning away from his tiny-pile building to face the door.-

BALDUR: oh

BALDUR: you

BALDUR: have definitely surprised me

BALDUR: hi

BALDUR: also

BALDUR: no

BALDUR: but maybe also incidentally yes

BALDUR: incidental to the other thing i am doing which is not cleaning o-o

BALDUR: but more of an

BALDUR: reorganization

BALDUR: and removal

BALDUR: ... to a different place

STATIK: =short wave of the hand as she pretty much invites herself in, squatting down in front of one of the piles he had laid out.=

STATIK: ohhhh i get it ⚡

STATIK: you got too muCh stuff so youre finally taKing the next step ⚡

STATIK: STORAGE! ⚡ ⚡

BALDUR: o-o

BALDUR: you could say that

BALDUR: and i am

BALDUR: also maybe storing myself

BALDUR: in a different house o-o

STATIK: ...

STATIK: liKe down the hall different? ⚡

STATIK: or dirt ground different? ⚡

BALDUR: o-o

BALDUR: dirt ground

BALDUR: i think

BALDUR: um

BALDUR: maybe sort of like

BALDUR: under the dirt ground different oxo

BALDUR: i am going to stay on avalon for a little while

STATIK: =Her brow rose= this isnt another one of those things, is it? where youre planning to bury yourself alive or something ⚡

BALDUR: O-O is that a thing people do

BALDUR: its more like a cave BALDUR: with amenities

BALDUR: and without bears

BALDUR: no bears in the cave

BALDUR: just me and my things and my amenities

STATIK: sometimes! ⚡

STATIK: people do funKy things if theyre dared-- ⚡

STATIK: so youre going ⚡

STATIK: with all your stuff ⚡

STATIK: and all yourself ⚡

STATIK: in a prepared destination from whiCh you do not intend to return? ⚡

BALDUR: well

BALDUR:

BALDUR: kind of yes oxo

STATIK: =why is there a churning in her belly? She's going to distract herself by picking up an item from one of his piles and turning it over in her hands=

STATIK: you Can baCK out of dares any time, oKay? ⚡

STATIK: it doesnt matter if people Call you ClucKbeast, if you dont wanna you dont have to ⚡

BALDUR: oh

BALDUR: its not like that

BALDUR: ouo

BALDUR: i mean

BALDUR: i do not mind it if people call me things like that

BALDUR: because i have been for most of my life

BALDUR: and likely will continue to be myself despite all efforts o-o

BALDUR: that is ok though

BALDUR: have you ever visited the forest

STATIK: BALDY no no no ⚡

STATIK: dont just taKe it, dude! ⚡

STATIK: even if its true it's still rude ⚡ KC

STATIK: =She's running her thumbs over the thing now, and eventually uses one hand to place it back in the pile.=

STATIK: onCe or twiCe ⚡

STATIK: oCCasion doesnt really Call for it ⚡

BALDUR: -it's smooth beach glass. Pretty, and probably came from some kind of brown bottle.-

BALDUR: there are many things out there

BALDUR: spirits and entities and things i have been searching for traces of since i was

BALDUR: able to see things o-o

BALDUR: it is amazing out there

STATIK: =absentmindedly begins putting the beach glass in rows, organizing them through the color spectrum.=

STATIK: oh so you see grim grinnin ghosts now? is this a new thing that happened when you were away? ⚡

BALDUR: yes

BALDUR: with a camera though O-O

BALDUR: do you want to see the pictures

STATIK: =she glances up and she looks....pretty skeptical.=

STATIK: ....sure..... ⚡

BALDUR: ouo -he GESTURES HER OVER as he pulls out his camera and begins excitedly bringing up the album of pictures he's taken.-

BALDUR: -there are definitely some strange images to be seen... shadowy, humanoid shapes. Glowing auras around unfamiliar-looking people and strange plants. Luminous balls of light that look a good deal like will-o'-wisps. A photograph of a human-looking woman with feline eyes and sharp fangs...-

STATIK: =squints as she peers closer. She was fairly sure at least most of these were photoshopped but the last one of the human-looking not-quite-human woman...=

STATIK: what the aCtual heCK ⚡

STATIK: =the last time statik swore around baldur, sirius scooped her up like a field mouse and bopped her on the head=

BALDUR: oh

BALDUR: do you like that one o-o

BALDUR: i think her name was lyra

BALDUR: she invited us to a dance

BALDUR: and when we awoke she was gone

STATIK: =she glanced back and forth from the photo to baldur=

STATIK: sure you werent short a few Caegars? ⚡

STATIK: or a Couple Kidneys? ⚡

BALDUR: o-o i dont think so

BALDUR: but if we were

BALDUR: then she left no scars or marks

STATIK: =runs her hands down her own face= youre luCKy you werent spirited away into the inner worKings of a blaCK marKet where youd never be heard from again!! human Christ, baldur! ⚡ ⚡

BALDUR: ouo

BALDUR: oh wait was that a bad thing

STATIK: DK

STATIK: YES! ⚡ ⚡

BALDUR: would

BALDUR: there be a black market in a forest oxo

STATIK: i have no Clue and i wouldnt Know beCause my faCe isn't on a milK Carton! ⚡

STATIK: but if there were, a deep darK spooKy forest is where i'd have my base of operations ⚡

BALDUR: o-o

BALDUR: its not that spo-oky

BALDUR: once you get to know it ouo

STATIK: =stares at him slightly slackjawed=

STATIK: nope, still spooKy ⚡

STATIK: AND it maKes you smell liKe outside ⚡

BALDUR: like pinewo-od and grass

BALDUR: isnt it nice ouo

STATIK: sure, if i were a woodland Critter ⚡

STATIK: =despite this, she's smiling=

STATIK: if i were a rabbit or a woodpeCKer, maybe ⚡

BALDUR: you would make a pretty go-od rabbit though o-o

STATIK: =wiggles her nose like said rabbit=

STATIK: i would? ⚡

STATIK: are you trying to entiCe me in order to lure the unsuspeCting into the deep darK foresty jungle where we Can meet all Kinds of people like your ghosts and my organ thieves? ⚡

BALDUR: o-o

BALDUR: well maybe a little bit

BALDUR: i would mostly just say that its an invitation to visit sometimes though ouo

STATIK: ...

STATIK: you really ARE leaving ⚡K'I

BALDUR: ...yes

BALDUR: i was

BALDUR: packing things

BALDUR: but then i found this and

BALDUR: i thought it would be nice to make all of these into something

BALDUR: for everyone else

BALDUR: since ill be gone a while o-o

STATIK: i Keep deCiding youre suCh a weirdo and then you do something sweet n thoughtful liKe this ⚡

STATIK: you told siri yet? ⚡

BALDUR: ... no

BALDUR: i was hoping maybe i would have something to give

BALDUR: when i do

STATIK: =She laughed, but it wasn't a mean one=

STATIK: you Know you Could give her a used napKin and she'd still Cherish it beCause it was from you ⚡

BALDUR: yes

BALDUR: but thats gross oco

STATIK: ehehehe ⚡

STATIK: just sayin! ⚡

STATIK: when you say youll be gone a while, that also means youll be baCK, right? ⚡=stares at him with her eyes=

BALDUR: yes o-o

BALDUR: the future is a mystery

BALDUR: but my intent has power

STATIK: upon your return are you gonna be an all powerful guru ⚡

STATIK: liKe that one historiCal human figure aChieving enlightenment to the highest degree? ⚡

BALDUR: um

BALDUR: that is a lot of pressure to put on myself i think o-o

STATIK: oh right ⚡

STATIK: =pats him heartily on the back=

STATIK: totally forget what i said there ⚡

BALDUR: i will come back with pictures though o-o

BALDUR: that seems appropriate

BALDUR: right

STATIK: but ⚡

STATIK: how Can you Charge your phone ⚡

STATIK: if youre in the woods? ⚡

BALDUR: oh um

BALDUR: im going to have a generator O-O

BALDUR: ...

BALDUR: i like the wo-ods but i do not think i would survive if i was completely isolated

STATIK: =pats his back again= yup.... ⚡

STATIK: good plan! ⚡

BALDUR: thank ou

BALDUR: and

BALDUR: i guess ill be returning quicker if it turns out to be miserable

BALDUR: but i dont think itll be like taht

STATIK: =people are LEAVING and she doesnt like it!=

STATIK: maybe! i guess youll have to see! ⚡ KD

STATIK: youre not staying all by yourself out there, are you? ⚡

BALDUR: sort of o-o

STATIK: .............................

STATIK: ghosts dont Count ⚡

BALDUR: there are other alive people in the forest

BALDUR: but i am not staying with them o-o

STATIK: you mean the Cat human who surprisingly didnt harvest your organs when she had the ChanCe? ⚡

BALDUR: no-o-o-o

BALDUR: i mean

BALDUR: other forest dwellers

STATIK: ....rabbits? ⚡

BALDUR: o_o

BALDUR: kikiyo and kougah

BALDUR: i am just not staying with them because

BALDUR: of stuff that happened

STATIK: =CHOKES????=

BALDUR: ok i guess you know about the stuff that happened

STATIK =KOFF WHEZEINHAAAALE= 8C

BALDUR: o_o

BALDUR: i understand your reaction

STATIK: 8C

BALDUR: the situation is

BALDUR: complicated

STATIK: you need to find a roomie who is not one half of them ⚡

BALDUR: oxo

BALDUR: yes

STATIK: YES ⚡

STATIK: 8I

BALDUR: .........

BALDUR: anyways

BALDUR: its just going to be me mostly for a while

STATIK: so is KiKi gonna be the one to CheCK in on you every so often? ⚡

BALDUR: yes ouo

STATIK: at least theres that ⚡ =glances over at the boxes=

STATIK: are orChid and aunt rose gonna help you with those? ⚡

BALDUR: yes

BALDUR: orchid is

STATIK: well ⚡

STATIK: youre gonna be missed by a bunCh of people ⚡ C8

STATIK: =trying not to be emotional=

STATIK: i bet your familys gonna miss you lots ⚡

BALDUR: i

BALDUR: yes i suppose

STATIK: DUH of Course you are! ⚡

BALDUR: ouo

BALDUR: i appreciate it

BALDUR: it is going to be a worthwhile experience though

BALDUR: i have already learned a lot o-o

STATIK: liKe what? ⚡

STATIK: some wilderness survival, i hope? ⚡

BALDUR: yes

BALDUR: which things to avoid

BALDUR: to not be consumed o-o

STATIK: what about building a fire? ⚡

STATIK: =deep voice= winter is Coming ⚡

BALDUR: O-O

BALDUR: now i just know youre being silly

STATIK: but it is! ⚡ KD

BALDUR: that is

BALDUR: actually accurate yes

BALDUR: ...

BALDUR: there will be a fireplace though o-o

STATIK: but what if you run out of matChes or your lighter breaKs? ⚡

BALDUR: um

BALDUR: ill have to go to town i guess

BALDUR: and get new ones o-o

STATIK: but what if the snow is too deep? ⚡

STATIK: or what if theres a blizzard? ⚡

BALDUR: ... o-o

BALDUR: gosh

BALDUR: um

BALDUR: i dont know

STATIK: friCtion ⚡

BALDUR: o-o

BALDUR: oh ok

BALDUR: so

BALDUR: i guess that oxo

STATIK: i thinK you'll be fine as long as you have emergenCy matChes ⚡

BALDUR: i will put that on the list o_o

STATIK: oh heCK dont looK at me like that ⚡ DK

STATIK: you Know what? ⚡

STATIK: =she pulled a thing from her sylladex and handed it to him=

STATIK: sparK igniter ⚡ KD

STATIK: i niCKed it from ruleus's lab and left an iou ⚡

STATIK: it's been about =glances up at the ceiling= two sweeps? ⚡

STATIK: but i have a feeling you need it more ⚡ C:

BALDUR: oh

BALDUR: oh my god

BALDUR: thank you O-O

STATIK: youre welCome! it would suCK if you suCCumbed to the elements, and i really dont wanna see that happen ⚡ 8D

BALDUR: i

BALDUR: yes i think we are in agreement

BALDUR: i do not want to succumb o-o

STATIK: great! im sure sirius will be pleased to hear that is not in your plans ⚡ C:

BALDUR: has she been ok

BALDUR: ive been kind of busy a while o-o

STATIK: well ⚡

STATIK: she freaKed out when you went missing and didnt answer anybody, but when it turned out you were oKay she freaKed out less ⚡

STATIK: and then more reCently she freaKed out when mom told her sillys got Knifed at a party ⚡

BALDUR: oh

BALDUR: yeah um

BALDUR: that was kinda dumb of me

BALDUR: and

BALDUR: uh

BALDUR: o-o

BALDUR: what

STATIK: hahahaha yeah it Kinda was! ⚡

STATIK: =she nodded= he totally landed himself in the hospital ⚡

BALDUR: O_O

BALDUR: thats

BALDUR: uh

BALDUR: is he ok

STATIK: well...no ⚡

STATIK: he got STABBED ⚡

STATIK: but from what i hear he's alive so theres that ⚡

BALDUR: maybe it was a

BALDUR: gentle stabbing

STATIK: it was an assassination stab ⚡

STATIK: silly just got in the way ⚡

BALDUR: ono

BALDUR: who was

BALDUR: assassinated

BALDUR: or

BALDUR: supposed to be

STATIK: oh some friend he met there ⚡

STATIK: shes important i guess? ⚡

STATIK: i dont Know muCh about her ⚡

BALDUR: do you know her name o-o

STATIK: 4 Chan? ⚡

STATIK: something like that ⚡

STATIK: i dont remember ⚡

BALDUR: thats

BALDUR: ok

BALDUR: thank you anyways oco

STATIK: youre welCome! ⚡ CK