Story As the Story Crumbles | Updated: Aug 2nd

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Prompt and Assorted | Dancing in the Rain
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    • Dancing in the RainShe got caught in the rain, soaked to the bone along with everything on her person, but when she takes shelter from the rain, she finds herself meeting some very interesting people. Sometimes the worst situations lead to the greatest outcomes. At least, she hoped meeting these people would be a good outcome.

    Everything was soaked. Her clothes were soaked, her bag was soaked, the work papers and her phone - all of it completely soaked as she stood under the shop awning. Tears blended with the rainwater on her face, sobs pouring from her chest unhindered. It was all she could do to remain standing tucked against the building.

    “Hey, you ok, miss?”

    The smell of cigarette smoke curled around her as her head snapped up, surprise interrupting the sobs. The shop door had opened and a man was leaning from the door frame looking at her. He took a step out of the door and straightened, facing her properly. “Want to come in and dry off? I’m sure a coworker has something you can wear while your clothes dry.”

    She glanced at the shop, overwhelmed. The shop itself looked sketchy with things she didn’t recognize being sold and promoted. The man himself was in black skinny jeans, black tank top with some sort of graphic on it, and black knee high boots that had a full lace work and buckles. He wasn’t overly build but his tattooed arms looked like they could hold her in place with ease.

    His brown eyes, though, were kind, careful, like he knew what he must look like to her and was doing his best not to scare her off. He felt bad for her - it was clear on his unshaven face - but it wasn’t demeaning like it could have been. If she was reading him right, he felt bad for her situation than anything else.

    Her grip on her bag tightened. “O-ok,” she finally uttered.

    He grinned at her. Beyond the slightly yellow coloring, he had a perfect smile. “Awesome. Come on in and we’ll get you wrapped up in something warmer.” He gestured into the shop even as he called into it. “Hey, Lacy! Come give this lady a hand!”

    There was a shout from the back of the shop as she stepped in. He closed the door before stepping around her, whatever response sent back at his words jargon to her ears. He kept walking towards the back and seemed to understand the jargon because he shouted in turn, “Well then it’s a good thing she isn’t a customer!”

    He disappeared between a set of shelves near the back. She remained dripping at the entrance but her gaze didn’t stay where he had vanished.

    Now in the shop, she could see that it was a lot of everything. The area she stood in held the register to her left and music of all formats to her right. Instruments were tucked in along the walls or hung from the ceiling. The short racking that separated the music section from the rest of the shop was filled with knickknacks, small purchase items, and snacks. There was a section at the end that held a few clothing items. The section beyond the music section was books. Lots and lots of books packed into tall bookcases. Beyond the register was all sorts of games and game components. The short glass cases that defined the register area were packed with card packs, boxes of loose cards, all variety of video games, and dice. A lot of dice. The high shelves behind the counter that stretched along the wall were packed with figurines both in and out of boxes. There were wall units under the high shelves beyond the counter that held DVDs and video games for a wide range of consoles.

    She found herself coming to a stop at the end of the music section at the start of the book section. The shop was far larger than it looked from the front. The tall shelves that held the games hid the opening in the left wall that led into a space full of tables. The tables were empty and the chairs tucked in neatly but the walls were covered in posters and a number of white boards and tv screens. There was a second counter that looked like a coffee shop counter with a display case of goods and a menu hanging on the wall. The remainder of the back area of the shop and wall were filled with racks of clothing and other accessories.

    “On top of being a popular hangout space, we do an assortment of tournaments and DnD nights so the cafe’s been the best decision we’ve made with the old restaurant kitchen.”

    She jumped, spinning around to face the new voice. The stranger she found herself facing had sounded female but her first visual impression said male. The stranger’s hair was short, the strands barely tall enough to hide the fingers that ran through it briefly. The outfit didn’t help. The stranger was wearing a blue jeans overalls dress over a black and white striped short sleeved shirt but there was no bust to be found. If the drape of the dress was anything to go by, though, the stranger’s body shape was more female than male with narrow shoulders and waist and wide hips.

    “There’s also a few old arcade games in an office offshoot of the gaming room but I doubt that’s of much interested sopping wet. I’m Alix. Or Lacy, if you listen to Lent.” She frowned and the stranger grinned. They too had a slightly off white perfect smile. “It’s a blend of Alex and Alice. Just replace the ‘e’ in Alex with the ‘i’ in Alice and you get my name.”

    “Why?” she found herself blurting through chattering teeth. The shop wasn’t exactly cold but it was cool enough that she was now freezing.

    Alix shrugged, the grin now an encouraging smile. “Why not?” They gestured towards the doorway on the other wall. “Come on. Lent’s running a few towels through the dryer to warm them up for you and I’ll see if I have anything you can wear.” The stranger started for a door opposite the space full of tables. “If nothing else, we’ll find something in the shop in your size that you can have.”

    The door led into a hallway that ended in a door a stretch to the left. A staircase ran along the opposite wall. The stairs and the hallway itself looked recently renovated compared to her first impressions of the shop. Her gaze drifted as she waited for Alix to close the door and take the lead; there were two other doors on the wall that had the door for the shop.

    Alix took the stairs slowly, looking to her as they kept talking. “Lent owns the shop with his husband and leases out the second floor apartment to a small fraternity of a nearby college. Good batch of boys. They do a lot around here.”

    They came to the second story landing as the only door opened on the wall opposite the top of the stairs. Two young men looking like stereotypical jocks stepped out and immediately beamed at Alix.

    “We wondered what Lent was hollering about,” the first of the two commented, both of their gazes drifting to her for a moment.

    “Do you need us to get anything?” the second offered, voice softer, calmer than his companion. “We’re doing a quick grocery run Picking up Lent’s list while we’re at it.”

    Alix shook their head, starting for the next stretch of stairs. “I have an order in for the shop so don’t buy anything for it, regardless of what Lent says.”

    “Ay, Captain!” the two men chorused. The softer spoken one started down the stairs as the first one paused at the edge of the stairs. “You sure you don’t need anything Alix? I could always call Brooke. She and a number of her girls live close by.”

    “I’ll send a text if I need anything,” Alix returned, a large smile on their face. “Promise.”

    The young man gave a determined nod before barreling down the stairs. Alix rolled their eyes before leading the rest of the way up the stairs. “Good batch but they can be a bit much sometimes.”

    The third landing had a slanted ceiling over the stairs, as if they had stepped into the attic of the building. The only door on the landing was open into the apartment beyond and she hesitantly followed Alix into the very modern, very well kept living space. The apartment was an open floor plan with vaulted ceilings. The entire right wall was windows. Whatever view was beyond was obscured by the rain and she turned her attention to the rest of the space as Alix disappeared through a door at the other end of the space past the kitchen.

    Chatter drifted into the living space as her shivering subsided. It was warmer in the apartment than it had been in the shop - not to mention the two flights of stairs she had climbed. A man she didn’t know stepped out of the bedroom with Alix.

    “This is Lent’s husband Derrek.”

    “Pleasure.” Derrek offered his hand and a soft smile. She shook it, unsure. “Lent’s getting the towels laid out in our bathroom. We figured you’d appreciate a hot shower before changing into something else.” Derrek turned his gaze onto Alix. “You were checking to see what you had?”

    “Yeah. It’s downstairs, though, so I’ll be right back.” Alix paused at her side, meeting her eyes with a serious expression. “Are you comfortable with that? I can have one of the boys go check, or even Derrek if you’d feel more comfortable with me here. Not that either Derrek or Lent will do anything.”

    “I-I-”

    “Bathroom’s set up,” Lent announced, stepping out of the bedroom. He met her gaze with that kind, careful look again. “ And we’ll just negate that situation. Derrek and I will start prepping the shop for open while Lacy takes care of you. Bathroom door does have a lock on it, as does the bedroom door if you need to barricade yourself in.”

    She found herself nodding, watching the tension leave the two men. “Take as much time as you need,” Derrek encouraged. “And if you need anything, just let Alix know. They know where everything is at.”

    “Thank you,” she offered quickly as the two men started for the door.

    Alix shifted their weight, gaining her attention again. “Checking to see what I have will only take a few minutes but I can stay outside the apartment for fifteen or thirty minutes, if you want to be alone.”

    “Why are you all doing this for me? Letting some stranger into your home like this.”

    Alix smiled gently. “Lent told me he found you crying on the doorstep looking like a drowned rat.” Her cheeks colored in indignation and Alix laughed, hands gesturing in a placating manner. “It was said as an expression rather than a description. He was very concerned about you. Derrek had to actually talk him down from the panic that started to set in.”

    “Panic?”

    Alix’s expression softened. “He may look gruff but Lent’s a mess like the lot of us. He over thinks everything and, while he’s getting better, he still frets over every little action. It’s why we’re all a little more blunt that what people expect around here, why there is so much communication. It helps everyone not worry about misstepping or poor impressions.”

    She gave a breathy chuckle at that. “That doesn’t seem real.”

    Alix grinned. “Oh, trust me. It was extremely difficult adapting to it. But, it’s been worth it. I love working here because of them.” They shrugged. “Clientele helps a bit with that too.”

    She glanced at the front door. It was still open and the sounds of happy, very enthusiastic chatter was echoing up the stairs. Her grip on her bag tightened.

    “Hey.” She looked back at Alix. “If you’d rather, I can just call you a lift and send you out the back door without anyone being the wiser. You don’t have to take their offered hospitality if you don’t feel comfortable doing so.”

    She looked towards the stairs again as a roar of several different laughs came from the stairwell. “You’ll stay out for the time I ask for?”

    Alix nodded. “I’ll either put the clothes or a note saying to raid the closet outside the bedroom door. Won’t even get close to the bathroom.”

    Some of the tension left her shoulders and she smiled. “Thank you.”

    Alix grinned. “Of course. How much time do you want? 15 minutes? 30?”

    “Fifteen’s just fine.”

    “I’ll be back at half past, then.” Alix paused in the process of closing the front door. For a moment she watched as their expression turned thoughtful before they looked back at her. “Hopefully the next time you find yourself soaked like this, it’ll be from dancing in the rain rather than whatever it was you went through; that it was by choice, rather than bad timing.”

    She chuckled softly at that. “I don’t really dance.”

    “What if I was dancing with you?” Surprise filled her. She wondered if Alix noticed as they added, “Could make it a bonding moment with new friends.”

    “Friends?”

    Alix grinned again and despite all the stress and apprehension, she found herself mimicking it. “I will bet you that if either Derrek or Lent let you out of here without gaining your name, number, and a few tidbits about you at minimum, I will call you a limo to take you home. The fanciest limo I can find on such short notice.”

    She laughed at that. “Seriously?”

    “Absolutely.”

    “What an absurd thing to bet,” she commented around giggles. “And what if you are right?”

    “I teach you to dance.” She blinked, taken aback by that. Alix’s smile was soft, endearing. “That way you have no excuse to keep you from dancing in the rain.”

    With a waterlogged phone in her bag in some stranger’s home over a shop she’d never dreamed of visiting conversing with the strangest of people, she found herself relaxing in this stranger’s presence and taking the bet. “Only if you agree to dance with me.”

    Alix beamed at her. “Always.”
     
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  • Index
    • Prompt and Assorted | Sunrise
  • Index
    • SunriseAll she had to do was get away. If she got away for long enough, he'd come to her rescue. She knew he would. She just needed to give him time.

    She had no proof he would come for her, no guarantee that his words had been anything more than lies, but still she ran with the belief he would come to her rescue. The density of the trees started to give way to fields. The scattering of trees that remained were her only protection from the things they were firing at her.

    The thunderous sound of hooves was growing louder. It was only a matter of time before they overtook her.

    She didn’t recognize it at first, mistaking it for the forest or something on her person. But when there was a familiar snort from somewhere behind her right shoulder, she realized what she was hearing was wings. There was the sound of snapping wood and leather, and a horrendous sound she didn’t look back to investigate. Instead, she reached for the pegasus that started running with her and grabbed at its harness.

    It was awkward and painful as she tried to run and pull herself up at the same time. Her entire side flared in pain when it connected with the pegasus’s side harshly. The pegasus kept running, wings ready to carry its weight back to the clouds, but she didn’t dare ask it to stop. Not when she didn’t know how close the danger was.

    She got an arm over the creature’s back just before the wings out of sheer luck but she couldn’t get her legs up. What strength she did have wasn’t enough to pull herself up.

    Her hand was slipping.

    She tried regaining purchase on the far side of the harness. The pegasus jerked under her as her grip slackened and for one, fear filled second, she was falling away from the creature’s back.

    A hand grabbed her wrist and yanked her onto the pegasus’s back. She barely had a chance to register what happened before the chest beneath her rumbled with a shout. “Eun!”

    It felt like the pegasus bucked and she grabbed at the material covering the chest, clinging even as a solid arm pinned her in place. The switch from ground to air was uncomfortable on the back of the pegasus but the scent from the material and chest and arm erased her discomfort. “Trax.”

    “You’re safe now,” he soothed, voice a low rumble in his chest. “I’ve got you.”

    She went lax in his hold even as her hands tightened around the fistfuls of fabric. “I’m so glad it’s you.”

    Silence settled over them, or maybe she had simply passed out. When she opened her eyes again, the sky seemed to be missing a number of stars.

    “Elizabeth?”

    He always spoke her name with such care, like it would break if he said it too harshly. And maybe at one point it would have but now it seemed more precious than fragile.

    “I’m ok,” she offered in lieu of the non-question. “Did I fall asleep?”

    “Only for a few minutes,” he assured her. “The sun should be rising here shortly.”

    She tensed in his arm, fear filling her chest as she grabbed at the layers of fabric against his chest. “Trax,” she started, her voice wavering, but his hand buried itself in her hair, rubbing at her skull in a gesture she recognized.

    “It’ll be alright,” he assured her softly. “The sun can’t harm me now.”

    The soothing gesture did nothing for the confusion and panic that surged forward. “What? How? What do you mean?”

    His soft expression gained an edge of pain. “It is nothing-”

    “Vertraxus, don’t you dare say it’s nothing I need to be concerned about!” He blinked at her, as was his normal reaction when she used his full name. “The sun is poison to you! If it’s not going to affect you, then that means-” a sob choked her- “that means-”

    She pressed her face into his chest, crying as she felt his arm press against her back, his hand still in her hair. If the sun wasn’t going to kill him, that meant he would die before the sun could do it. He curled around her but he didn’t say anything. Not till the sobs had petered out.

    “Eli,” he coaxed, drawing her exhausted attention away from whatever in between she had been staring at. “Look.”

    She looked first up at his face before looking out to the horizon where his gaze rested. There was a strip of bright sky against the dark land below as the sky above shifted in colors from the darkest blue above their heads to a brilliant bright color she had no name for. On the back of the soaring pegasus, she watched as the sun broke the horizon.

    “I had always wanted to show you the sunrise from above the clouds,” he offered, voice soft and barely a rumble in his chest. She felt oddly heavy, cold, like the night had taken the heat from her body and the sun wasn’t giving her the warmth she needed to feel. “But I never could.” His arm tightened around her as she sagged a bit more into his chest. “‘Then be the day you show your heart the breaking sun be the day your heart knows no more.’” She knew those words, somehow. She couldn’t remember why, though. “I had always believed it was to me and only me.” There was a pause, one that held the promise of more words, and she waited. “But then I met you.”

    Oh. That’s right. She had read it once. He hadn’t liked it when she had but at the time she had taken pleasure in harassing him. But no matter how much she annoyed him, he had always been so kind.

    “Eli.” She frowned as she opened her eyes. Strange. She couldn’t remember closing them. “You know I love you, right?” She nodded. Or, more accurately, she tried to. Her head was heavy but her tongue seemed heavier. “With all my heart,” he muttered into her ear, the words weighed down with emotion.

    It took far too long for her to realize those words had been filled with tears. She wanted to reach up, to touch his face and reassure him she wasn’t going anywhere, that she was just tired and needed to sleep, but he held her so carefully despite how tightly he was gripping at the fabric of her shirt.

    The blink felt like it took an hour. When she could see again, she didn’t understand the blotch of color on her dress. It stretched from her lower ribs all the way down to the middle of her thigh. She let her eyes close, wondering if the blotch of color was why he was crying.
     
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  • Index
    • Prompt and Assorted | Howling at the Moon
  • Index
    • Howling at the MoonShe knew things. She knew things that no human should ever know, yet she did. And now, because of these things that she knew, she was being dragged across the universe to another planet simply because what she knew was of value to him. Not that she was complaining. He had saved her life - countless times now - so it only seemed fair that she told him what he wanted to know. If he was against them, she was all for telling him everything she knew and fully committing to helping him when she was done.

    She landed hard on the other side of the portal, his arms still securely around her. He cussed in that guttural language of his as she sucked in a breath and choked on it.

    “Damnit,” he snarled near her ear as noise filled wherever they were at. Choking on the air she was breathing, she shoved at him, at the hands on her, desperate for space to breathe but he wasn’t unmoving. Voices filled the noise and she finally registered that others had arrived. “I can but I need a synthesizer.” His voice sounded strange. It rumbled more than it was supposed to. It wasn’t till he shifted under her that she realized he had her against his chest awkwardly upright. “Here,” he urged, his voice loud despite the volume not changing as he shoved something against her face. “Try this till we get a synth on you.”

    The mask smelled awful but the first pull of breath cleared the choking immediately. She inhaled greedily for the few seconds it took to calm her system back down. He moved around her, a rumbled, “Thanks,” accompanying his movement. “Let’s get this situated on you.”

    She supported herself as he handled what looked to be a bulky collar. It took a second before she realized what it reminded her of. She pressed her left hand against the piece on his chest that was part of the accessory he wore that wasn’t quite a necklace but shaped as one. She felt his chuckle through her hand. “Exactly,” he confirmed, getting the older model to cooperate. “Unfortunately, all we have are old ones but it should work just the same. Here.”

    The piece was heavy but nothing she couldn’t deal with. She hoped. Oddly enough, it was heaviest on her chest rather than her shoulders like she expected, but it wasn’t heavy towards the ground. It was like gravity had rotated for the part on her chest so that it was drawn to some point in her chest or beyond it, making it feel like someone was pressing their hand into her chest. He worked the mechanism closed behind her neck without having her move meaning at least one arm was in her face. She couldn’t smell him through the mask. “Don’t remove that mask until I say. I have to get it set to the right atmosphere.”

    Her gaze wandered over what he wasn’t physically obscuring. Wherever they had been dumped, they were surrounded by people. There was a large number that looked like him, that seemed to share his species. The rest were a wide variety looking like things she never thought actually existed.

    She wasn’t sure if she was surprised or not finding she was the only human.

    “Alright,” he offered, his voice cautious. He pulled back enough to look at her. “Try that.”

    She pulled the mask from her face and took a breath. The smells hit her first but she didn’t immediately start coughing. She breathed normally, waiting.

    Nothing happened.

    She looked up at him, nodding. “We’re good, as far as I can tell. May take a while before any negative impacts show.”

    He nodded, getting her to her feet. “By then we’ll have gotten you a proper one and checked over.” He placed his hands on her shoulders, keeping her close to his front. “Skra.”

    One of the stranger looking people stepped forward. “Yeah, Boss.”

    “Go let Surge know I need a new model prepped for a being from AE206.” The person nodded - or bowed? She couldn’t tell - and hurried off as his attention moved others. “B’trel, Kors. Let Lady Vetalia know I’ve returned with company. She’ll want to know who it is but tell her she has to come to me to find out. I’m trusting you to stand strong against her.”

    “Understood.” “Right, Boss.” A duo hurried off, one looking like his species. The other was...strange.

    They were all strange, honestly, but she supposed that was a lack of exposure than actual fact.

    “Tellran, get Sri. Tell them I want to see them at medical in ten minutes. Hyrn, get there before us. Ask for an isolated room. Tell them nothing more than I’ve requested it for private use.”

    “On it,” was offered by one as two others dashed off. The crowd had thinned significantly.

    “Neris, stay. The rest of you back to duties. If I hear word’s gotten out, I know who I’m skinning.”

    There was a chorus of affirmations and assurances as all but one body left. The last being’s tail swayed back and forth calmly, yellow eyes on the both of them. “Do you have anything she can wear that’ll hide her for the time being.”

    The tail gave a sharp flick as the being blinked. “Probably, but I doubt it will be enough to disguise her for long.”

    “I’m not worried about that. As long as it’ll last through medical, that’s all I care about.”

    Another sharp flick but the being had tipped their head in thought. “I need two minutes.”

    “You have three.”

    The figure dashed off. He sighed, his touch slackening on her shoulders. She looked up at him finally. “You could always save yourself the headache and send me back.”

    He laughed at that before giving her a toothy grin. “After I went through all the trouble to drag you here? I don’t think so.”

    He put pressure at the center of her back, directing her through the hallway. The entire place seemed to be made of metal, like it was some sort of underground world. She kept her eyes on the structure of the world around her as she pointed out, “Can they all really be trusted?”

    His hand moved to her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I trust them with my life.”

    She raised an eyebrow at that. “I highly doubt my life has any equivalence.”

    He gave her a toothy grin. “Oh, it doesn’t. You are far more valuable than I am.” She smacked his side at that, gaining a bout of laughter from him. Silence settled between them for a short moment after before he spoke again. “They will be discrete and follow orders. They have no reason to question any of it and no one here would know your significance. Not yet, at least.”

    “Thus the need for discretion.”

    An affirming hum escaped his chest. “I wouldn’t put it past them to have word out for you here in an hour, if not sooner.”

    “Is that possible?”

    He shrugged. “Whether it is or isn’t doesn’t matter. We have to act as if it is. Will make it easier in the long run.”

    The hallway ended but the walkway didn’t. He kept walking and she followed out onto a suspended walkway. The majority of the view was taken up by massive buildings but what she could see had her coming to a stop.

    “Do you….” she started, unsure how to ask it. “Is it a sort of cloud cover or is your sun and sky always like that?”

    Beyond the right hand railing the horizon was visible, as was a good chunk of sky and a hardy amount of the city they were apparently in. The way the sun was faint in the sky reminded her of the sun from her planet being obscured by clouds enough to cut the brilliance of the sun without completely negating the light. But this was different. Instead of the clouds she was used to, the entire sky was a dusty tan color and the sun was still a pinprick of concentrate light, though diluted by whatever was in the atmosphere.

    “There’s a layer of cloud in our atmosphere that is unchanging. Weather clouds occur under it but it never changes density.”

    It reminded her of a ceiling and she wondered if the faint pinprick of a sun shining through would be enough to keep her sane while she was there. “Strange.”

    “It’s what is.” His hand went to her back again and he urged her on. “You’ll get used to it.”

    As they crossed the last of the walkway, she tried seeing if she could feel this sun’s light on her skin. It wasn’t till they crossed the threshold into the new hallway that she could tell. It was faint but it was there. It would be enough if she needed it.

    “Boss.” They stopped, turning to look back at the person that had come up behind them. She racked her brain for a name.

    “Neris,” he spoke, sounding pleased. That was it.

    The person offered the neatly folded bundle. “This should be sufficient enough to get them through medical.”

    “Excellent. Go help B’trel and Kors with Lady Vetalia. She should be needing a lead by this point.” The person nodded before taking off back the way they had come. She watched them leave as he shook out the bundle. “Good. This’ll do perfectly. Here. Put this on.”

    It looked to be similar to a ruana with an additional hood piece. The ruana piece was massive and counted more for a blanket on her than a garment of clothing but his hands were sure as he draped it over her shoulders lopsided so that he could pull the longer side over the other shoulder. She wasn’t sure it would stay like that but he pulled the hood piece over her head. The hood itself wasn’t overly large. It kept close to her head but extended enough in front and over her face that her features would be partially obscured. The rest of the fabric of the hood piece covered her shoulders and the top of her torso. If the weight was anything to go by, the back was longer than the front and stopped somewhere mid back.

    “Excessive,” she muttered.

    “Effective,” he corrected. “It’s going to get cold the deeper we go for you.”

    She frowned at him. “Won’t it for you too?” She distinctly remembered him shivering right along with her when they had to wait in the cold building.

    That toothy grin was back. “Oh most definitely but there’ll be things for me to wear. This way we don’t have to get you something on top of hiding just what you are.”

    He took the lead. The ruana was heavy around her but the while the stretch of fabric came to her ankles all the way around, it didn’t impede her movement. It also didn’t get hot. It got warm, but not hot.

    That could be from the air of the space itself, though. She could feel it nipping at her face like a winter breeze and watched as he gave a full body shudder. “Seems like they’re keeping the whole place an icebox now,” he growled out, not sounding pleased.

    For a stretch they walked in silence, just the two of them. But then the hallway opened into what was clearly a very popular thoroughfare and the lack of talking came from the ears that could overhear. He cut a path through the crowd with ease and it wasn’t long before people were stepping out of his way long before he reached them. She kept step behind him, staying close and keeping her gaze on his back. She can ogle at the world later.

    The density of the crowd fluctuated but there was always another body on the route they walked. She wondered if there had been a path they could have taken to avoid all the people.

    The hallways they walked through gradually got narrower. The final hallway they ended up in was barely wide enough to walk abreast with someone. Most coming towards them stopped and put their backs to the wall. He was bulkier than most and barely left any room for those walking the hallway to pass. Still, he would turn his torso as he passed them, giving some acknowledgement as he gave them what space he could offer as he passed.

    The entrance for medical was in this narrow, seemingly endless hallway, and when he turned and stepped through the doorway, it startled her. She followed suit regardless and found it to be a hive of activity. There were good spirits but some of those there looked to be in pretty bad state, be it from injury or illness.hyrn tellran sri

    “Boss.” Three bodies cut through the crowd towards him. The forward most was the one he had sent ahead to medical. Something about asking for an isolated room. “This way.”

    The one in the back was the one he had sent after somebody, leaving the middle person to be that somebody.

    That somebody did not look pleased. “Why did you have Tellran wake me?” the person asked, the words biting without actually snapping at him. “Vex is capable of handling anything you need assistance with.”

    He reached out, placing a hand on the person’s shoulder. “Trust me, Sri. If I could have avoided getting you involved, I would have.” He focused on the one that had spoken, still following their lead through the maze of hallways. “How far, Hyrn?”

    “Just a few more doors.”

    “Do you still need me, Boss?” the one that had fallen into step beside her inquired.

    They gained his gaze. “For now.” That gaze flickered to her. “Keep an eye on her for me for the time being.”

    Had the situation not been so serious, she probably would have been annoyed but after seeing so many people and knowing just what he was protecting her from, she happily accepted whatever aid he gave her, even if she didn’t know or fully trust the person herself.

    “Here, Boss,” the person leading spoke, stopping at a door.

    He reached back and made sure she entered after the Sri person. The one keeping an eye on her kept pace . He entered after all of them, barring the one at the door who stayed outside and closed the door behind him.

    “Take the pieces off. Let Sri check you over,” he directed at her. “I want to make sure that you’re not injured.”

    She pulled the hood piece off first. There was a sharp intake of breath from the one he had told to keep an eye on her. His eyes narrowed at the person, for Sri had only narrowed their eyes. “There a problem, Tellran?”

    “No, Boss,” Tellran offered, voice sure, unwavering. “Just surprised.”

    She frowned at that as she pulled the ruana off, rolling it before passing it and the hood piece to him. “I take it that’s more of things I don’t really know.”

    He nodded, turning his attention to Sri. “You are able to check her over, correct?”

    Those narrowed eyes turned to glare at him. “Of course, but I do not like the implication of one of them here.”

    She frowned at that as he shrugged. “Regardless, she’s here and needs to be checked over. She’s an asset I want to stay living if at all possible.”

    Sri waved him off and approached her. Their expression softened, though it still looked severe. “Do you have a name, child?”

    She glanced at him. He simply arched an eyebrow at her. “Illa,” she gave, the nickname enough for now.

    “Alright, Illa. Let’s get you checked over.”

    The process was rather quiet for the first of it. Sri had her strip down further to make sure the clothes weren’t hiding any injuries. Beyond a number of scraps and bruises, she was fine. Sri poked at a few bruises and put some ointment on the scraps that needed them, coaxing the details to their origin during the menial task.

    She hadn’t thought much of the answers till she caught sight of him watching her as she dressed. There was a look in those eyes that, though she knew he was no danger to her, made her uneasy. She had no qualms with him knowing but to see the righteous fury on her behave was off putting. Thankfully Sri took his attention by speaking. “Outside of the expected scraps and bruises from what she’s been through, she’s got a clean bill of health.” Sri finished scribbling something down before glaring at him. “Now, why exactly is she here. You know the risk of her presence here, not to mention what else could come after her.”

    He seemed to brush Sri’s concern off leaning back in his chair. “I am aware of the risks. They’re nothing compared to what we gain from her.”

    Sri’s expression flattened. “You speak as if she is nothing more than an object to be used.”

    “At this point, I wouldn’t care if that were the case,” she spoke to Sri. He shifted oddly in her peripheral but when she glanced at him, he had simply sat forward. “This is better than the alternative, at least.”

    “Mmmm, you are not wrong,” Sri ceded before returning their gaze to him. “Is there any reason for me to remain now?”

    There was a knock on the door before he could respond. Instead, he called to the door. “Come in.”

    The door opened to reveal a new stranger with the one of the originals she had seen. He stood, stepping towards the door. “Surge. Did you bring it?” The new stranger grinned, holding up a slimmer version of the synthesizer she already wore. His back was to her but she could hear the grin. “Excellent. Thank you, Skra.” The one from before nodded - or bowed; she still couldn’t tell - and left, dismissed. The door closed behind the new stranger. “Fit it to her.”

    The stranger approached her. Despite the instinct to move away, she stood rigid still for the new stranger. She hated how they stepped so close to her front that her nose almost brushed against their chest. The second set of hands stroked at her neck unnecessarily but before she could get a word out - before she could even react - both sets of hands were gone. The stranger was thrown across the room into the wall. It said something about his behavior that the door handle remained untouched.

    He stood between her and the stranger and the violated feeling ebbed some. “Only the collar or you will regret ever answering my summons.”

    The stranger was quaking, hands close to their chest, as they gave very quick, almost aggressive nods that they understood. She wondered if the stranger was mute or simply not speaking.

    This time the stranger walked around her. She didn’t even feel them and while that was off putting in and of itself, he was standing before her eyes on the stranger. If the stranger did anything, he would follow through with his threat. She knew enough to know it had not been an idle threat. The old synthesizer slipped from her neck and for a moment, she panicked. But when her hand pressed into her chest where it had rested, she pressed the new one into her chest. She stared down at it, surprised.

    “How does it feel?” he asked.

    “Like it’s not even there.” She looked up at him, confused. “Does yours feel weightless?”

    He nodded before turning a glare on the stranger. “As much as I want to kick you out, I have need for your knowledge. Go sit near Tellran.” The stranger scurried off. She didn’t miss Tellran moving away from the stranger when the stranger settled. “Illa.” She looked to him. “I need you to tell me what you know of the Dyurn.”

    There was a noise from the stranger - something like a squeaky squawk - but it was forgotten as Sri stepped forward, glaring at him. “You cannot be seriously asking her about that. She wouldn’t even know what that is!”

    “They have a mark on their body generally left visible that looks like a cat howling at the moon?” she clarified. He started laughing, the sound more of a bark than a genuine laugh. She grinned even as she defended herself. “What? You’re going to tell me I’m wrong?”

    “Not necessarily,” Sri spoke up as he apparently lost it, sitting back down. “Though I think they prefer something more striking than a cat.”

    She shrugged. “But that is the Dyurn, correct? Those marked with the howling moon.”

    “Yes, that’s correct,” he assured her, coming down from his giggle fit. The grin he sent her was vicious. “Tell me everything you know about them.”
     
  • Index
    • Event Writings | Altruistic Endeavors | Inktober 2020
  • Index
    • Altruistic Endeavors | Inktober 2020A new way of doing Inktober


    He hadn't thought much of it. The trip, specifically. They had been planning it for a few months and he had been looking forward to the break - everyone probably was. He took advantage of the trip's timing to play his own prank after the one he had suffered through a year back. Yeah, he wasn't thrilled about hiking the distance to the lake to be there as the sun rose instead of driving it but it seemed like a fitting payback. Only when the day trip to the lake starts being weird does he start doubting his initial thought.

    Maybe they should have stayed closer to home.



    Prompts are bold in each entry.

    Day 1: Fish
    Day 2: Wisp
    Day 3: Bulky
    Day 4: Radio
    Day 5: Blade
    Day 6: Rodent
    Day 7: Fancy
    Day 8: Teeth
    Day 9: Throw
    Day 10: Hope
    Day 11: Disgusting
    Day 12: Slippery
    Day 13: Dune
    Day 14: Armor
    Day 15: Outpost
    Day 16: Rocket
    Day 17: Storm
    Day 18: Trap
    Day 19: Dizzy
    Day 20: Coral
    Day 21: Sleep
    Day 22: Chef
    Day 23: Rip
    Day 24: Dig
    Day 25: Buddy
    Day 26: Hide
    Day 27: Music
    Day 28: Float
    Day 29: Shoes
    Day 30: Ominous
    Day 31: Crawl


    • The morning mist hung thick in the air as the gravel shifted under each step. The sun had yet to peak out from behind the horizon but the early morning was full of enough pre-dawn light to see the trail. He shifted the heavy tackle box strap higher on his shoulder as a voice came up from behind him.

      “How much farther, Tye? I wanna go back to sleep.”

      He chuckled, glancing back at his companions. Four other bodies trailed behind him but it had been the closest one that had complained. “Not much farther,” he assured them, smiling. “Just over this hill and we’ll be able to see the lake.”

      “Man, why you have to pick something we couldn’t just drive to?” another spoke up.

      “Oh, we could have driven to it,” he commented, nonchalant. He giggled at the uproar that came from behind him and he grinned at them. “Payback’s a bitch, ain’t it?”

      “Payback for what?!” the second speaker squawked, echoed by the first.

      “Last year. To the date.”

      Silence fell briefly before three of the four started muttering amongst themselves trying to figure out what he was talking about. He reached the top of the slope and looked back. The fourth companion had fallen back again but he wasn’t concerned. They were keeping a steady pace and their footfall was sure, if not a bit slow. The still conversing trio came to a stop without realizing it and their stopping drew the fourth’s gaze up. They smiled at him, repeating, “I’m fine. Just slow.”

      “I know,” he assured them. “We’re almost there.”

      They nodded, gaze flickering over the trio. He watched as they shifted their weight before inputting, “He’s talking about the prank you guys pulled last year. The one where you made him believe there was a killer in the woods and had practically turned the camping trip into a horror movie.”

      He turned away as the realization finally dawned on the others.

      “Oh, shit! That was a year ago?” the last one to speak exclaimed.

      “Aw, come on, Tye. That was last year! We had said we were sorry.”

      “Yeah, man. It was just a joke. Can’t hold it over our head forever.”

      His eyebrows rose at that last comment but he didn’t look back. “I’m not holding it over your heads. We’re even now.”

      He didn’t care to listen to the rest of their words. The fact that he was leading was annoying but he was the only one to know where they were going. Lora and Cole - the only others that knew the area - would be joining closer to nightfall with the vehicles and the rest of the camping gear leaving him to dish out his revenge.

      He shifted the strap of the tackle box up on his shoulder again. Though why he had to choose something that tortured himself in the process on some level was beyond him.

      Thankfully they were on the downhill stretch of the trail. Easy going compared to the uphill climb.

      He looked back twice, both times searching out the fourth companion behind him. It was hard to match their pace when he wasn’t beside them and it was frustrating.

      The trio rushed past once the trail opened up onto the beach. He slowed to a stop, listening as the fourth companion’s footfall came to a stop at his side. Over to the right the sun had managed to free itself from the horizon, coloring the morning in brilliant colors and quickly burning off the morning mist.

      “Beautiful view,” the fourth companion commented as there was the sound of a zipper opening. A brief clatter of something and the rustle of another, silence fell between them enough for him to hear the faint clicking of the camera’s shutter going off.

      “Worth the early morning hike?” he inquired, doing his best to keep his tone curious and light and not filled with the worry in his chest.

      They looked up at him as the camera lowered, drawing his gaze enough for him to take in the brilliant grin on their face. “Always.”

      It pulled a grin on to his own face as there was a shout from the water’s edge.

      “Oi! We gonna fish or not?”

      He chuckled. “Yeah, yeah,” he called back, waving the third companion off. He liked him but he wasn’t done with the fourth quite yet. Gesture made, he placed his hand on his companion’s head, offering, “You’re always welcomed to come try your hand at fishing.”

      They nodded with his hand on their head. “I want to see what pictures I can get but I’m still down to trying. You said we’d go down the river to try our luck?”

      “Yeah, sometime after lunch.”

      They nodded again. “I’ll try at the river if I don’t get bored beforehand.”

      “K.” He moved his hand to the tackle box strap and shifted it higher on his shoulder again. “Don’t wander too far.”

      He started for the trio as the camera shutter sound drifted to his ears. “I won’t,” they promised.

      The first two of the trio were entertaining themselves with something. He didn’t care what as he looked to the third companion. He gained a cheeky little grin. “Asked them out yet?”

      His face was on fire immediately at the comment and he swatted at the other. “Shut up,” he ground out, desperately trying not to glance back to see if they had heard.

      The other gave a low chuckle. “They didn’t hear me,” the other assured him, easily reading him. “But you ought to.”

      “Ought to or not, I haven’t,” he snapped, shoving the tackle box into the third companion’s hands. “So drop it.”

      “Only for as long as it takes for you to act smitten around them again.”

      “Orlean!”

      The third companion - Orlean - laughed, ducking his attempt at smacking him again. He glared at the other and Orlean just grinned at him wandering over to the other two. “Sam, Dean, we can finally start fishing.”

      “Oh sweet!” the second companion - Dean - cheered, running out from the shallows by lifting his feet ridiculously high out of the water. Sam - the first companion - shoved at him when he got close enough and Dean toppled right over. She started laughing as he went under for a brief second. “Hey!” Despite the annoyance in his voice, there was laughter in Dean’s expression.

      “Dean’s all the bate we need, Orlean,” Sam chimed between fits of laughter. “Thanks, though.”

      He couldn’t see Orlean’s face but the eyeroll was very obvious. “Leave Dean alone, Sam. Just because he turned you down doesn’t mean you get to bully him.”

      Dean, not helping his case, brought a fist to his hand and let out a long, “Oooh!”

      Sam kicked at him for the commentary, though it was more a spray of water than any actual attempt to kick him. “Shut it, you. Or I’ll really try to drown you.”

      Sam stormed out of the shallows and went back towards the trail. He watched her go as Orlean helped Dean out of the water.

      “Did you really have to say that? She was just playing,” Dean asked, settling on his own two feet.

      “I’m not wrong.”

      “I know, but it’s still a sore topic.” A breath filled with the sounds of the forest and the lake lapping at the shore. “Please go apologize to her?”

      Orlean let out a long sigh. “Fine, but you both have to rein in your stupidity. I want to actually enjoy our time out here.”

      He finally looked over at them, catching Dean’s cheeky grin. “I make no promises.”

      Orlean let out another long sigh but turned away from Dean and trekked after Sam who had in turn settled on something just inside the treeline. He watched Orlean walk away, listening to Dean finish splashing his ways out of the shallows and approach him. “Hey, Tye.” He looked over and realized Orlean had handed Dean the tackle box. “Mind showing me how while we wait?”

      Orlean and Sam wandered back over as he was walking Dean through how to securely attach a lure to the line. Sam took a few things and gave Orlean a refresher. By the time the last of the morning mist had burned off, four lines were bobbing in the water. He had settled near the lines content to babysit the lines while enjoying the scenery. Orlean was beside him with a book open. Looked to be homework unless the art history textbook counted as light reading. Dean was back in the shallows now stripped down to his shorts and binder. Sam had found a rock near Dean and was currently engaging him in some sort of chat. They were too far off for him to hear anything other than the melody of their voices.

      “Where’s Beckett?”

      He glanced over to Orlean at the question but the other hadn’t removed his nose from his book despite asking. He turned his gaze towards the left. The river itself was farther down the lakeshore but the shoreline quickly got rockier and less beach-like in that direction. Beckett - the fourth companion - was currently squatting in the rocky edge of the lake, camera pointed at the water and bag abandoned further back. “Taking pictures to our left.” He looked back at Orlean. “Why?”

      “I can watch the lines. You put bells on them, after all.”

      He frowned at the other but he neither gained more nor the other’s gaze. It left him guessing - and probably very accurately - what Orlean was implying. With a huff, he got to his feet. “Holler if you need anything.”

      He got waved off without a glance in his direction.

      The pebble beach made a soothing sort of noise as he walked along it. It shifted and changed as the rocks changed shapes and sizes till he was hopping from large rock to large rock avoiding the muddy bank below. The outcropping Beckett had moved to was a ways off from the group but they had stayed within sight and beamed at him when he managed to join them on a large rock at the water’s edge. “What’re you taking pictures of?” he asked, gaze where the camera was pointed.

      “Fish.”

      He could see a school of tiny fish darting among the rocks and barely a hand’s distance into the lake itself. “Getting some cool shots?”

      “Yeah.”

      The camera shutter went off a few times. He liked Beckett - a lot - but there were times like these that left him floundering for something to say. But as Beckett shifted, took another few pictures, and then moseyed along the rocks towards the river, he settled into the silence, hoping he was the only one feeling awkward about it.

      Beckett stopped, looking back at him as he started after them. “You ok, Artemis?”

      He met their gaze. “Yeah,” he offered honestly, “just trying to think of something to talk about.”

      “Did you want to talk? I could start us off with small talk if that would help.”

      He chuckled at that, coming to a stop just outside of their reach. “Not unless you want to talk to. I don’t mind not talking if you don’t want to talk.”

      Beckett blinked, expression neutral. After a moment, they turned and started across the rocks not in the direction they had been going in. It took a second before he realized they were heading to their backpack. He followed after and caught up easily. Just as with the hiking, Beckett was slower across the rocks but he knew their footfall was far surer than his. As if to prove the thought right, his shoe lost traction and slid down the edge of the rock he was stepping onto. There was another rock underneath so his foot didn’t go very far but he did pinwheel and pitch forward dangerously. Beckett started, turning to him.

      “You ok?”

      He gave them a sheepish smile. “Yeah. Just lost my footing.”

      Beckett nodded before continuing on. He watched his footing more closely and knew Beckett was keeping a closer eye on him now too.
     
    Last edited:
  • Index
    • Fanfiction | Kepler's Story (Undertale)
  • Index
    • Kepler's StoryAn Undertale Fanfic

    Grief is hard for even the strongest to handle and he never counted himself among the strongest. Brittle for as long as he could remember, Sans poured everything he had into aiding the Overworld Project now that they had a neutralizing agent thanks to Gaster. He did it to avoid the grief he knew he wouldn't survive.

    Life didn't let him succeed with that for long.

    After collapsing at work, Sans received news that changed everything. No longer able to ignore the grief, no longer healthy enough to keep running, Sans gives in and does what he can to get better - to get stronger - so that he could be there for their souling. He owed them that at minimum.

    His form was not built to go through any of this. He knew that in his core as finitely as he knew his own magic. If he lived long enough to see the Overworld, it would be a miracle.

    If he lived long enough to leave behind a few good memories for their souling, then he would gladly let go when his time came.

    Knowing his luck and his brother's stubbornness, there was no way Papyrus was letting him leave any time soon.

    Notes:
    Though this can be read as a standalone, this does follow immediately after Othertale. Some things may not make sense if you read this first, not to mention the few spoilers that are contained within.


    • The lab was quiet when he entered it. Everyone else was either celebrating or getting much needed sleep and he envied any of the latter. He turned on the terminal he had been at as a half thought crossed his mind. Would there be any others suffering from the events of the day? Heck, the Incident itself - Incident? Really? That was the best he could come up with? - had been less than 24 hours ago and for a large number of those in the Lab it would have been the first severe attack they would have been subjected to. Things like that just didn’t happen in the Underground. Sure, a bar fight or a brawl broke out occasionally, and there’s always the random bloke that just ups and loses it but nothing like-

      The chirrup from the terminal brought his spiraling thoughts to a halt. He stared at the screen completely lost for a brief moment before his mind found itself back on the task at hand. He could spiral his way into a panic attack later. Right now, there was work to do.

      It wasn’t till someone placed a plate donning a fat, hot burrito that he became aware of the people in the space around him. He grinned up at the person offering him food and offered some words but whoever it had been and whatever he had said were gone from his memory as soon as he focused back on his terminal. He rubbed at his face feeling raw but the sounds of the lab now had his attention and he couldn’t seem to isolate from it like he had been.

      The burrito was delicious but he lacked the appetite for it. It should probably concern him - he was sure his magic was in desperate need of a refuel - but he just couldn’t seem to care enough about it to look into it. So he put it out of his mind and focused on the lab around him in order to eat as much of the burrito as he could without being aware he was doing so.

      There wasn’t a single face he recognized, not that it meant much. With the previous night having dragged on till four in the morning, he wasn’t surprised to see people who had not been present or who had gone to bed far sooner. Though he had a sneaking suspicion that a few of the folks were from the previous night even if he couldn’t remember them; the clock did read three in the afternoon.

      Time could certainly fly when he was lost in his work.

      Papyrus interrupted his work a good four hours later with a worn expression. “Come on,” the lankier skeleton offered. “Let us get some dinner in you and the both of us off to bed.”

      A smile pulled itself across his face. “You cooking?” he asked, doing his best to distract himself from the dread that had settled over him.

      Papyrus chuckled. “I can if you are willing to help. I am...too strung out to do it on my own tonight.”

      Guilt and empathy twisted his soul. Of course he wouldn’t have been the only one to suffer from yesterday’s events. Papyrus had been on the front lines with him, had witness and even recovered-

      “Always willing to help, Pap,” he nearly spat even as he tried to keep his faux happy mood. “Just tell me what to do.”

      The smile Papyrus returned looked dull and Sans was immensely grateful that the dining space and attached kitchen were bustling. The crowd there greeted the two of them warmly, happily, and while he easily went with the cordial nature of the space, his muted awareness of Papyrus had him unaware of how withdrawn Papyrus became in the midst of it.

      Sans lost himself in that haze of friendly people and happy conversations so much that the view of his door shocked him; Papyrus’s words curled around him, soft in the nearly empty hallway. “Sleep well, Sans.”

      Panic shattered the good mood he had been in and he clamped down on it, words tumbling from his tongue in something that sounded almost carefree. “You too, Pap. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

      He gained a huffed laugh for his efforts but nothing more. Papyrus patted his shoulder before walking away.

      Sans couldn’t get himself to move from that spot till Papyrus was out of sight. He entered his room and closed the door, gaze roaming over the small space even as the panic started to slip out of his grasp. One night. He could get one night of good sleep. It wouldn’t kill him.

      It shouldn’t kill him, he amended.

      He shot awake barely an hour later. His magic scraped at his bones, churned in his chest, and it was all he could do to swallow back the wails of despair that wanted out. His hands shook as he pressed them to his face. He sucked in air that he didn’t need with the desperation of someone drowning. The blankets seemed to tighten around him and he shoved them off, stumbling to his feet into the middle of his room. No, there was no way he was sleeping. Not a chance.

      He shoved a fresh change of clothes on but couldn’t get the lab coat on; what he was already wearing felt too tight on his bones and magic that even the thought of pulling the coat on made him want to tear at his clothing.

      He did a cursory glance of the hallway before he dashed back to the lab. If he was kicked out, he’d go to his personal one, but there was no way he was going to try sleeping again anytime soon.

      The dream hadn’t stuck around once he had woken but the residual effects lasted for hours. As long as he didn’t remember whatever horrors his mind had conjured, he would take the side effects.

      Papyrus came for him every night for dinner and every night Papyrus bid him goodnight at his door. Sans would step in and piddle around for an hour before slipping back to either the lab or his personal one. How his brother hadn’t caught on after two weeks of him ditching sleep was beyond him.

      In hindsight, Papyrus probably knew from the beginning but that would mean Sans would have to face why Papyrus had let him get away with it for two whole weeks.

      But as he entered his lab after bidding his brother goodnight for the fifteenth night in a row, he found Papyrus waiting for him with arms crossed and looking as tired as Sans was pretending he wasn’t.

      “Oops,” rolled off his tongue. An involuntary grin spread across his face as the word. “Guess you caught me.”

      “Sans,” Papyrus started, the word heavy and disappointed and it snapped something in Sans that he hadn’t even been aware had being taut.

      “Oh, come on, Pap,” he cut in, the words heavy and unnecessarily sharp. “I’m a grown skeleton. I can handle a few nights of little sleep. It’s not harming any of my work.”

      Papyrus clenched his teeth as Sans caught the barely suppressed flicker of orange magic in his brother’s sockets. The other’s entire form had tensed despite the exhaustion that curled the long spine forward and hunched the shoulders. “No, but it is harming you and I am done standing aside and letting you wear yourself down for something that can wait.”

      That…stung. That stung in a way that Sans had not been expecting from his brother. It poked a hole in the little bubble he had managed to shove the worst of his emotions into causing it to leak. “Can wait,” he parroted, unintentionally baring his teeth as he did so. “Something that can wait. Papyrus, I don’t know what rock you’ve been living under but this work cannot simply ‘wait’.”

      Whatever shift happened in Papyrus’s expression, he didn’t understand it. “There are others that can handle it long enough for you to take a much needed break.”

      “Break from what!?” he barked, feeling as if his brother had just shoved him to the edge of a dangerous cliff. “I’ve barely been able to do anything for the last four months and now that I’m finally being of use, I need to take a break? No!”

      Papyrus actually rolled his eyes at that and it infuriated him. “Sans, that’s not-”

      “That’s not what you meant?” he challenged. What little magic wasn’t holding him together coiled around every bone, around his face, and it left him with the urge to scrape at his bones till it faded. “Then what did you mean, Papyrus. What in the stars above did you mean.”

      That was the last thing he could clearly remember of the argument. Whatever his brother had said to counter his challenge, whatever words had followed, he couldn’t remember. All he knew was that whatever had been said had been bad. Really bad. The wounded, betrayed expression on Papyrus’s face before the other skeleton had turned and stormed off had left him unable to focus on his work. Whatever had been said had those that had been witness to the fight watching him with apprehension and unease.

      It was also the last point in time that he had been able to keep track of time.

      The rough patch left by the argument hadn’t lasted and Sans was quickly swallowed by the mountain of work that had to be done. Every hour of every day there was something to work on, something to keep him busy. When they finished crunching numbers to see if they had enough of the neutralizing agent - if the volume of the planet’s atmosphere was still close to what they were using in their calculations, they barely had enough - focus shifting into plans on how to distribute the neutralizing agent. Countless brainstorming sessions led into working out three different plans, expanding upon them and seeing which one would have the highest rate of success with the fewest amount of people being exposed to the atmosphere of the Overworld.

      If he slept during any of it, it was due to exhaustion. Sometimes he would sleep deep enough that he got a good four or five hours of actual sleep before the nightmares woke him. Most of the time, though, he was barely lucky enough to get a full hour before he was up against his own volition. Luckily eating hadn’t been his sole responsibility like sleeping was but that didn’t mean he was eating enough, let alone well enough to keep his magic levels above the bare minimum.

      It didn’t take a genius to make the conclusion that his lack of self care was probably why he found himself groggily waking up on the lab floor surrounded by far too many people. An odd sort of numb resolve stuck around as the world around him drew his attention.

      “Easy Sans,” Undyne’s voice urged. It was unusually gentle and low, wrapping around him as if it could block out the rest of the lab. Or maybe he was just too tired to be able to focus on more than one thing. “We’ve got a medic on the way to check you over before you start moving around.” He heard her weight shift above his head. “Do you know where you are? What happened?”

      “I passed out in the lab,” fell from his mouth in a fat tongue slur of words.

      Someone jumped in at the tail end of his statement. “More like dropped dead.” He frowned. That was one of the new - to him - humans on the project. What was their name again? “You collapsed without any warning. Right in the middle of tasks.” Conner? Cooper? “Nothing like your normal napping.”

      Tanner. That’s what it was. Smart, if not a touch more insecure than normal newbies. Most were to some extent in the beginning and Tanner was green enough to still have the insecurity that came from a simple lack of knowledge. Hopefully both insecurities the human housed would fade the longer Tanner stuck to it.

      Undyne’s voice brought him back to center. A small part of his mind prodded at the idea that he should be concerned by that. “Looks like the medic’s here.”

      There was chatter over him but he couldn’t care less. Despite the open sockets, he had no magic to pool into eyelights to see clearly what was going on. For a brief moment, it brought his thoughts to Papyrus wearing glasses while reading and he wondered if his brother needed them since the forced trait shift. Surely he had plenty of magic to spare now to keep his eyesight exceptional without thinking about it.

      A cool hand curled around the base of his skull and top of his spine. “Sans? Are you still with us?”

      “Yeah, I’m still here,” he offered. The words still came out fat tongue slurred but it seemed understandable enough.

      “Good. I’m Dr. Hendrix. I’m going to check you for injuries and see if we have to brace anything before moving you. While I work, I want you to hold a conversation with Undyne.”

      Annoyance rolled under the numbness that had yet to leave him. “Do I have to?”

      There was a heavy pause before Dr. Hendrix stated plainly, “Yes.”

      “Fantastic,” had more bite to it than he had intended and he was sure he felt the roll of Undyne’s magic as she rightfully took offence to that.

      “Well, lucky for you I actually have things we need to discuss,” Undyne all but growled at him.

      “Don’t rile him up too much, Captain,” the doctor warned, though it came across more like a drawl than an actual warning.

      “Not planning on it.” She shifted her weight and he got the distinct impression she was glaring at him. “Though, if talking about his brother riles him up, that’s on him.”

      “The heck we need to talk about Papyrus for?” He mentally winced when the words slurred together horribly.

      “You haven’t talked to him in four months.”

      He wanted to deny it had been that long, that they had only just had their argument last week. “So?”

      “Sans,” she berated. But instead of continuing with whatever she had planned on saying, she sighed instead. “Look. I gave Papyrus that first two weeks off because I had to. It is literally expected that family is allowed time to grieve the loss of a loved one. I wanted to give him more than that but he fought me even on the mandatory two week minimum. But then I hear you don’t even show up to the fucking funeral only to have a verbal brawl with him over it after promising you would be there…” He heard her suck air through clenched teeth, holding it before she released it in a sharp breath. “He refused work at the Lab after that.” His soul dropped at that as he finally forced his magic to make eyelights. A crisp view of the lab from the floor assaulted his mind. He ignored it for the sake of looking up at her as best he could lying on his side. She met his gaze with a glare that seemed wounded somehow. “I’ve been forced to put him on probational patrols in the same neck of the woods your house is in. He’s been there for a little over two months now and you haven’t even fucking noticed.”

      Dr. Hendrix’s voice was jarring. “Alright. Nothing broken, nothing we have to brace. See if you can’t sit up on your own, Sans. Carefully.”

      The noises of the lab slammed into him and he flinched from them. It seemed as if his fall had barely created a pause in the chaos.

      He sat up with surprising ease, though that was more relative than accurate. His magic was taut around his bones and soreness and fatigue followed the actions. The doctor was watching him like a hawk as he got himself standing before anyone could say otherwise.

      Dr. Hendrix’s expression tightened but they didn’t tell him off for it. “I’m making you ride on the stretcher.”

      “I can-” he started but the doctor held up a hand.

      “Don’t care. You’re riding on the stretcher.”

      He swallowed the desire to push the subject. He was fine, he was standing. He could walk to the medical ward.

      But then he walked the short distance to the stretcher and nearly collapsed a second time. Undyne’s hands suddenly appearing under his arms was the only reason he didn’t hit the floor. Dr. Hendrix helped Undyne get his situated on the stretcher. His face burned in shame but he conceded. He turned his focus onto counting the lights they passed under, ignoring those that walked with him and those that they passed in the halls.

      “Hey,” curled gently around his thoughts and he found himself blinking awake to find Undyne was looking at him with her hand on his forehead. They were still walking. “Gotta stay awake, Sans.”

      “M’tired,” was the only thing he managed.

      The left corner of her lips upturned in a smile. “I’m sure but right now the doc needs to finish up checking you over before allowing you to sleep. Concussion is still a real possibility.”

      He didn’t reply and Undyne’s little half smile fell.

      “So why haven’t you been sleeping?”

      He made a face at her question, hating that she apparently knew, hating that she was still touching his forehead, hating that he was answering anyways. “Don’t care for the nightmares.”

      “Papyrus said he tried to get you to go see a grievance counselor.”

      That...he didn’t remember that. “I’ve been busy.”

      “How? You were supposed to be barred from working the first two weeks.”

      He shrugged. He couldn’t remember if anyone had or not. The prospect of a solution coming in a human lifetime had been far more potent than some grief policy.

      “You do realize I will be speaking with Asgore and Toriel about this.”

      He tensed at that. He knew it had only been sheer luck that the two boss monsters had been busy with other things that they hadn’t come and forced him to face that two weeks without distractions. “Leave them be, Undyne,” he tried despite knowing it was futile to try. “They’ve got their hands full with those three. No need to drag their attention away quite yet.”

      To his surprise, Undyne’s expression tightened. Apparently the Dreemurrs taking in Chara along with Frisk and Flowey hadn’t sat right with the Guard Captain. He hadn’t really paid much attention to what had actually happened. All he knew was that Chara had been found within that first week after the Incident and that the Dreemurrs had taken them in right along with Frisk and Flowey. He knew that none of it had been an easy process but he didn’t know to what extent nor how many of those challenges still existed. Undyne looked down at him with an expression he couldn’t understand but the words to ask her about it stuck in his throat. “You know I can’t, Sans. This is serious and they have to be made aware of it.”

      The bed turned and Undyne’s touch left his forehead. A conversation started somewhere beyond his head but the small room he was pushed into muddled the words.

      According to the clock on the opposite wall, it was an hour later when Dr. Hendrix sat down at his bedside with his file in hand. Unease weighed on his soul as the doctor rubbed at their eyes with a heavy sigh before looking up at him. “I have contacted your brother and am simply waiting on his arrival before going over the following information.” Their hard gaze scrutinized his face as they threatened, “If I find out this behaviour was done with prior knowledge of your current condition, I will be having words with several people and you will not like any of it.”

      His sockets widened at that even as he frowned, confused. “What-” barely made it out of his mouth before he was cut off by the door opening a second time.

      Papyrus slipped in looking as tense as the last time Sans had seen him. Some of that tension eased when their gazes met. Papyrus crossed to his other side, looking to Dr. Hendrix. “I was told this was something dire.”

      Sans glanced at Papyrus. Why had his brother been told it was dire? All he had done was pass out and he was sure that was from a lack of sleep and eating properly.

      Oh.

      He could see how that would be considered dire.

      “In more ways than one.” Silence fell heavily over the room as the doctor looked between the two of them. Sans wanted to say something to get the doctor talking, to find out whatever this horrible news was and face the consequences of his actions so that he could go back to drowning himself in his work but he couldn’t get the words out. Papyrus’s hand found his shoulder and gave it a squeeze as Dr. Hendrix looked briefly at the file before meeting Sans’s gaze. “From what I’ve gathered, you have not been eating properly nor sleeping regularly. Is this correct?”

      He offered a confused, drawn out, “Yes.” Hadn’t he already admitted that? Hadn’t others?

      “And are you aware of how little magic that has caused you to have?”

      He gave a half shrug. “I’ve kind of figured.”

      “Right.” Every bit of him hated what that one word held within it. “And are you aware that you are carrying?”

      Wait. “What?”

      “What do you mean ‘carrying’?” Papyrus asked before he could. He could hear the same confusion he was feeling in his brother’s words.

      That tight, berating expression on Dr. Hendrix’s face eased with surprise, though the disbelief stuck around when only one of the doctor’s eyebrows rose. “As it sounds. Sans, for all intent and purposes, is pregnant.”

      Pregnant.

      He watched as the doctor’s gaze moved to Papyrus, watched as the doctor’s lips moved, but he couldn’t hear what was being said. There was an odd roaring in his skull but he couldn’t hear anything else. There was no way he was carrying. He couldn't be carrying. The last person he had done that intimate dance with was not only dead, they hadn’t even been aiming for that. Skeleton monsters had the hardest time carrying, let alone conceiving. A new soul would have been absorbed before it could even properly form even if they had managed to accidentally sire one. He hadn’t been maintaining it, hadn’t been giving it the much needed magic all new souls required from the carrier. Stars, he wasn’t even built for that! He would most likely dust before he even got to...got to see...

      Familiar boney hands were cupping his face as the sound of his brother’s voice cut through the roaring in his skull. He found himself desperately clinging to his brother’s wrists not remembering grabbing at them. His brother’s voice was nothing but a different kind of noise but it was enough to cause the dam to break.

      He wept. Grief and fear churned through him and it was all he could do to not shatter in Papyrus’s hold. Papyrus pulled him up against the other’s chest and wrapped those long, strong arms tightly around him. He hollered into his brother’s chest not wanting this, not wanting any of it.

      He must have cried himself to sleep because when he opened his eyes, the room was much darker and his position on the bed had changed. Papyrus was still beneath him, an arm tightly wrapped around him. There was flickering light on the walls as if there was a tv on but he couldn’t hear it. He felt lethargic; oddly enough, though, his bones felt lighter and his magic looser. He pulled his arm out from under himself and gently pushed at Papyrus’s chest to sit up. The lankier skeleton met his gaze, arm remaining snug around him.

      All the words were thrown between them unspoken, thickening the air as Sans floundered for something to say. Papyrus’s jaw worked as if the other was chewing over his own words.

      “Dr. Hendrix is keeping you overnight for observation,” Papyrus offered finally, his voice low and barely above a whisper. “Undyne stopped by. She wanted me to inform you that you have been put on probation for the next six months by the Dreemurrs as reprimand for not taking the required two weeks off in addition to you refusing to work in a healthy manner during the time since. They are allowing you to do moderated work from home but you are not allowed back in the Lab for the next six months. Your probation starts when you are released from the medical ward and after the allotted six hours to gather personal belongings and the necessary materials for the moderated work.”

      “And the…” he found himself trying to ask but the words died in his throat. He couldn’t ask, couldn’t make it real. Not yet. Not till he saw it for himself.

      Papyrus dropped his gaze briefly and for a moment his mind was filled with the worst meanings. Papyrus met his gaze again. “The new soul is still nested with yours.” He let out a shuddering breath, the relief that rushed through him like adrenaline quickly followed by guilt and shame. “Dr. Hendrix has not shared the information with anyone and has stated the two nurses that had assisted will not gossip. Patient privacy notwithstanding.”

      “Is Dr. Hendrix...are they able to..."

      Papyrus shook his head. “Dr. Hendrix only came across the new soul while they were checking for signs of Falling and other soul afflicting ailments. They have suggested a list of doctors but I think your reaction threw them off. The list is rather short.”

      “What do you mean?”

      A slight frown pulled itself across Papyrus’s expression as the other seemed to mull it over. “You started panicking,” he stated plainly. “It took a while before either of us noticed but it may have been more due to the panic having to get through the shock of finding out first.” Papyrus shook his head but Sans couldn’t tell if it was dismissive or meant for something else. “You reeled back and Dr. Hendrix took one look at you before jumping to their feet, trying to calm you down. I hadn’t even realized how panicked you were until I was on the bed getting you to face me.” His expression tightened. “It’s Alex’s, isn’t it.”

      His entire body flinched from that statement and the grief that had quieted shot to the surface again. He found himself engulfed in another tight hug and he clung to his brother as he let the grief rush over him. He lacked the strength to fight against it anymore.

      He calmed down feeling worn but awake. Papyrus had a hand on his skull, thumb absentmindedly rubbing against the bone. He adjusted how he was resting against his brother, seeking a position that was more comfortable. Once he found it, he leaned his head back to look at his brother’s face. “I feel like I should ask why you think it’s Alex’s.”

      Papyrus laughed at that, though the sound of it was breathy. He was grateful when Papyrus kept his gaze trained on the tv. “I would have been surprised if it had been anyone else’s.” Papyrus’s arms tightened around him. “And concerned. Even before all of this you were never overly promiscuous.”

      Sans dropped his chin. He didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to make it real, but he was going to have to face it head on regardless of how ready he was for it. “Yeah,” he offered in the silence between them. “It’s,” the words caught in his throat briefly, “it’s Alex’s.”

      Papyrus curled around him, those arms pinning him to the larger chest. “Oh, Sans.” He clung right back. After a long, comforting pause, Papyrus assured him, “You won’t be alone in this. I will help in any way I can.”

      He shook his head. “You shouldn’t have to deal with my mistake.”

      Papyrus moved back, forcing him to look up and meet his brother’s gaze. “This is not a mistake, Sans. Things like these are not mistakes.” That determined, compassionate expression fell. “But it will be hard on you in so many ways and I would understand if you chose to say no to this.”

      A pain of something sharp shot through his soul as the implication behind Papyrus’s words registered. He shook his head, offering adamantly, “If I can bring this new soul into the world, I want to, Pap.” He realized his hands were shaking. “If I can carry it to term, I want to if for nothing else than selfish reasons.” He tore his gaze away from his hands, seeking out Papyrus’s gaze again. There was a lump in his nonexistent throat trying to choke him. He managed to speak around it. “I want to hang onto the last piece of Alex I have with all my soul.”

      Tears streaked down Papyrus’s long face but the other didn’t seem to notice. Instead, Papyrus pulled Sans’s head to his shoulder. “Then rely on me. You’re going to need magic until either your magic levels back out or the soul is born and I am more than happy to help in any other way you need. You just have to ask.”

      Sans laughed. It was light and barely had any sound to it, but it carried his relief and grief and whatever else he was feeling. “That’s not an easy thing to do.”

      “I know.” Those long arms tightened around him. “At least try? If not for me then the soul you carry?”

      Sans buried his face more into Papyrus’s shoulder. “Yeah. I’ll try.”

      That night wasn’t the best of sleep but it was more than he had had in the previous four months. Even Dr. Hendrix had commented on it as they came in to discharge him before diving into the discharge orders.

      “This,” Dr. Hendrix gestured with one of the pill bottles; it sounded nearly empty, “will give you a night of deep sleep. I am only giving you one week’s worth and no, I am not giving you more. The only reason why I’m even giving this to you is because your body needs the rest but going too long without dreaming will be harmful to your psyche.” They passed the bottle to Papyrus as if Sans wasn’t to be trusted. Sans mentally shoved the assumption aside. Dr. Hendrix was giving everything to Papyrus because Papyrus was the one actively reaching out for the materials he was being sent home with. The decent sleep seemed to only make his bones feel heavier so he let Papyrus take the burden of remembering all this because he sure wasn’t going to at this point. The doctor held up the second bottle. It sounded full. “This is to assist with sleep when that is empty. It’s natural and far less addictive. I am giving you six weeks worth. I will only refill it once and only at the request of a therapist you have been seeing at least once a week. If they say you are making good progress but need the assistance for another six weeks, I’ll allow a refill.”

      He nodded under the doctor’s sharp look. They had discussed the need for him to have a therapist and to actually go through with the grief counseling before the meds were even brought out. Papyrus had made him a therapy appointment for later that day before the doctor had even shown up. Papyrus had been ready to fight him on it but Sans knew he needed help - professional help. Sans wasn’t sure what he thought about seeing the same therapist as his brother but Papyrus had stayed with this particular therapist even after the grievance counseling so they had to be a good soul for Papyrus to stick with for so long.

      The final bottle was presented but it made no sound. “These are nutrition supplements. This will help your physical form regain some much needed strength. Unfortunately we only give enough for four weeks per prescription so you will have to either pick up the refill every month or arrange for it to be shipped to you. There are five refills lined up but the last two may not be required. You don’t have to come back to me but I want you visiting your physician in four months for a wellness check. It will be up to that check whether you need the last two refills or not.”

      “Thank you Dr. Hendrix,” he offered warmly.

      The doctor nodded. “I did not reach out to your previous providers about any of this since I was not sure who you were seeing now so when you do see your doctor - and the one specifically for the new soul - inform their office to reach out to me. I’ll pass on your files.”

      “You are not one of the regular doctors in the Lab, correct?” Papyrus put in as the doctor stood.

      “Correct,” the doctor parroted. “I took on a few shifts here for a colleague but I can leave my information if you think coming to see me in four months will work better than your normal physician.”

      “Our last one retired a couple of months ago,” Papyrus informed them.

      The doctor nodded. “I’ll be back with my information, then. Give me five minutes.”
     
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  • Index
    • Fanfiction | Gaster's Involvement (Undertale)
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    • Gaster's InvolvementAn Undertale Fanfic

    They named it the UNDERGROUND Initiative; not the most creative name but it got the point across. In the end, it was the only option to give humans and monsters enough time to find a solution, if there was one. The growing toxicity of the atmosphere was forcing the world to change and as long as the UNDERGROUNDs held as they were supposed to, then the theory was centuries if not millennia could be spend on the problem without dying from simply breathing.

    At least, that was the initial propaganda shown to get people to help out. Once trapped in a massive cavernous tunnel, priorities shift. Oh, there was always work to do - the Overworld Project never stopped and there are still teams of scientists trying to find solutions - but the world population has been divided haphazardly into numerous UNDERGROUNDs and communication between them was shoddy at best. If one did find the solution for the toxic atmosphere above, there was no telling how well they were going to be able to let other UNDERGROUNDs know.

    The problem with time is that it blurs the line between good and bad, obscuring the truth with history and blending those that should never have been blended - the shared initialed name W.D. Gaster being one.

    Notes:
    Though this is considered the prequel and can be read first, it is designed to be read after Othertale.


    • Corsiva watched the souling sitting just to the right of the bottom front step, content with digging in the dirt.

      At least, one of the souling’s forms seemed content digging in the dirt. The other was staring off, hands draped between their legs but not actually resting against anything. Not for the first time, the elder wondered at what was going through the souling’s mind. They were still too young to articulate anything, let alone understand the concepts being asked of them. Answers would have to wait until the souling was speaking of their own volition before any sort of questions could be asked.

      “Una.”

      The title of sorts drew the elder’s attention from the souling to the souling’s sire, a young, worn skeleton Corsiva knew would not get to see the souling grow into adulthood. The elder knew it wouldn't be by choice but it didn't make the fact any less sad. “I see you still parrot my souling’s name for me.” The other skeleton flinched, sorrow draping over that worn soul far heavier than the impending war. Corsiva was quick to rectify that. “I am not reprimanding you, Garamond, and you know as well as I do that Montserrat would have been very happy and relieved to hear you have remained family even after her Dusting.”

      The sorrow the elder had seen did not ease but the other did smile weakly in return. “I know. I just..." The skeleton’s gaze drifted to the souling in the dirt. “After everything we’ve been through, I never thought...it all just..."

      Corsiva patted Garamond’s arm. “You don’t have to explain. Calibri would be in a tizzy if I let you kill yourself over our daughter’s choice.” The elder sent Garamond a shrewd look. “We all know the risk of carrying. Even when it is more likely for the new soul to fade than the carrier, it is still very possible. Do not diminish her choice with sorrow and regret.” Corsiva gestured to the souling in the dirt. “Cherish what remains of her instead.”

      Silence settled over them. Corsiva studied Garamond’s face as the other watched the souling. The sorrow faded from view but that did not mean it had left. Corsiva was about to have at him over it when that expression turned to something the elder did not care for. Words stalled out in a nonexistent throat.

      Garamond’s voice was harder, emotionless even, when it cut through the silence that had thickened between them. “They’re getting serious about this whole war nonsense. I’ve received orders to head East for training before hopping the ocean.”

      Dread filled Corsiva’s soul. “What of the souling?”

      “Can they stay with you?” Garamond met the elder’s gaze. “With your family? I’ll make sure they’re not a burden on you but it would be best if they didn’t come with me.”

      Corsiva knew that but the others probably didn't. “Don’t you worry too much about that. Just come home alive and in one piece for them and we’ll call it good.”

      Garamond chuckled, gaze drifting back to the souling. “I’ll try.” The smile that had been there fell. “Things are getting really bad, Corsiva. Do what you can to keep them out of it for me, will you?”

      “I’ll try, but if they gained anything from Montserrat like I’m sure they have, they’ll find a way to make their own trouble.”

      To the elder’s relief, that pulled a fond smile to the other’s face. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” Garamond placed a heavy hand on Corsiva’s shoulder. “Thank you, Una.”

      Garamond trotted down the steps at a quick pace, hands quickly finding the top of both heads. He knelt in the dirt beside them and Corsiva caught a muttered “Dings” to the one playing in the dirt and a muttered “Decos” to the one staring off in among the words he shared with the pair. If they understood his words, they showed no sign of it though little hands did hold onto his arms as he spoke.

      It was when he started back into the house Corsiva inquired, “Will you be telling the others?”

      He paused in the doorway, hands on the doorframe and handle. He looked back, brow furrowed slightly in thought. “I’ll try but orders are to ship out as soon as I’m packed.”

      Corsiva gave him a very flat look. “Waiting till the last minute, were we?”

      Garamond shrugged. “I only got the notice ten minutes ago.”

      The screen door snapped shut behind him.

      Corsiva looked back at the souling, finding the one not digging in the dirt staring at the elder. Barely half a year existing, a souling for another nine years still, the one not digging was watching the elder as if they understood what had gone on, what had just transpired despite the lack of reaction before. Deep in the elder’s soul, Corsiva hoped not. The blessing of the skeleton race was longevity and that meant that the souling had time. There was no rush to understand, to age, and as of yet, the souling had made no show of exceptional mental growth outside the norm for their kind.

      Still, the pinpricks of eyelights stared at the elder, watching even when Corsiva looked back.

      Not for the first time and certainly not for the last, the elder wondered at what was going through the souling’s mind.

      Gravel shifted under his feet as he ran, an urgency shoving him forward that he only recognized but didn’t feel. He was going to be late, later than he should be and far later than he had planned to be. Already he could feel his brother’s awareness shifting away from the other’s surroundings and that would do no good.

      The brick wall that ran the length of the trail he was pounding down was easily three times his height. It was a calculated risk, one where the consequences nearly outweighed the benefit.

      Nearly.

      With a well placed construct against the ground, he vaulted over the brick wall into the air over the rushing traffic on the other side. He crafted two constructs barely big enough for him to hold onto and yanked himself through the air, trusting his dark clothing to keep the drivers below unaware long enough for him to get back out of sight.

      A bone construct protruded from the building wall as the ones in his hands disintegrated. He grabbed onto the horizontal bone and redirected his downward momentum horizontally. The bone disintegrated leaving no trace of its existence behind as he tucked and rolled on the pavement back up into a run.

      Something they had both decided was curiosity flittered through their soul and he sent back what they had decided was patience.

      His brother only reminded him of the encroaching deadline in turn.

      The streets he dashed through were strikingly quiet compared to the traffic he had vaulted over until he came out onto another major thoroughfare. This one was mostly foot traffic and many of the bodies in the crowd were a good sign he had not gone horribly awry. Again, his brother’s awareness was on him but he ignored it for the sake of following the tether of their soul.

      The pull on their soul eased abruptly. He reached out and grabbed at his brother’s hand without having to look, said brother already falling into step just behind his right shoulder. Their soul was humming now that its two forms were close together again, making it nigh impossible for him to not know where his brother was, how he was standing, and where his attention was.

      “I made it on time,” he spoke, though there wasn’t much inflection to his voice. There never was. Neither of them really understood how to change that quite yet.

      “Verdana is looking for us,” his brother informed him, just as inflectionless as he was.

      “And Arial?”

      “We will have his attention if we do not find Verdana soon.”

      His brother’s hand slipped from his as the other moved away, disappearing into the crowd off to his right. United, they sent a pulse of magic through the crowd too faint for most to notice. The pulse pinged every soul within a diameter the width of the street itself giving them a good magical view of who was where and which had magic at what levels. He noted the three adults that perked up at their Check. The younger children in the area - those younger than them - giggled at the sensation. Very few of the guardians noticed the odd giggling and even then only one seemed concerned.

      His brother tugged at his awareness. He cut through the crowd following the tether of their soul. He found his brother just as they came to a small collection of familiar souls.

      “Wing Dings, Wing Decos,” one of the older spoke, sounding happy. “There you two are. Getting into much trouble?”

      “No Corsiva,” they answered together.

      The elder laughed. “Oh, come now, you two. You are children. Children are meant to be getting into trouble.”

      “Do not encourage them, Una,” their uncle spoke. The tone affirmed their uncle’s cross look. “They are already enough to deal with without them behaving like other spawn.”

      “Come now, Arial,” Corsiva countered, expression still happy. “They are only children.”

      “They are more mouths to feed,” Arial spat back. “Montserrat and Garamond should have never-”

      A hand latched onto their uncle’s shoulder, yanking him off balance to force him to take a step back and turn. “Arial,” the assailant warned, “enough. Montserrat would have-”

      “Would have what, huh!?” Arial grabbed at the front of the assailant’s jacket, yanking at them as if he could draw them closer. The assailant simply bent closer. “Montserrat is Dust. She can’t do shit to me now, and neither can that deadbeat partner of hers.” Arial shoved at the assailant but the force didn’t seem enough to get the assailant to move. Instead, the other simply took a large step back as if to humor the gesture. “If Garamond ever shows his fucking face, I’ll make sure he’s Dust just like she is. Dumping his fucking brats onto us like we’re some charity.”

      “They are our family, Arial,” the elder spoke out, voice steady. They watched the signs of recognition flicker across Arial’s face; there was a threat in the elder’s words, one that even they knew better than to cross. “Unlike you, they cannot support themselves.”

      Arial scoffed but said nothing more. The assailant crossed to them and he felt his brother shift a foot closer to him. They knew they were not wanted - Arial was not the only one to make that clear - but the only one they knew that actually cherished their existence was Corsiva. The one now before them seemed to care about all little things but that did not mean they were anything significant in the other’s gaze. “We are moving to the main event. Do either of you need food?”

      Dutifully, they shook their heads no. Asking for food outside of meals was not allowed even if his use of magic earlier had brought a mild hunger to their awareness. They could ignore it. It wasn’t like it was a gnawing hunger, anyways.

      The one before them didn’t stand immediately. This close he was able to pick up on the minute tightening of the other’s brow that was their only hint they had not been believed. “If you are sure.” The other stood. “Let us get moving before the crowd gets too thick.”

      “Verdana,” Corsiva spoke out and the one before them paused. “A moment.” The elder smiled down at them. “Run along with the others.”

      His brother’s hand was already in his as he turned away from the adults. His brother had no trouble keeping pace with him, staying close to his right shoulder as they followed the small group through the crowd. None of the group reached out to them or kept an eye on them. He would not be surprised if Arial was actively trying to lose them in the mass of people. Unfortunately for Arial, that was impossible.

      “Come here, souling.”

      Verdana’s voice was the only warning they had before the other was hefting them up onto either shoulder. They held onto each other’s forearm behind Verdana’s head for stability as they settled. Verdana kept a hand on their outside hip and leg while moving through the encroaching crowd towards the small group not far off. They were now a good head taller than the majority present which caused eyes to turn to them in surprise and amusement. Verdana was the tallest of the group but, then, compared to most, the only small ones of their group were them and Corsiva. Even Arial who was shorter than Verdana was still among the tallest of the crowd.

      His brother squeezed his forearm, bringing both of their attentions to the stage. A hush settled over the crowd as three monsters stepped out onto the stage. The smallest of the trio - though it was only relative; all three were larger than all but a select few in the crowd - stayed back a few paces as the largest stepped up to the edge. The monster was adorned in regal attire, a crown nestled between curled horns marking this monster King Eragore.

      “My people,” King Eragore spoke, the deep words carrying through the crowd with ease. “Thank you for celebrating with us on this most wondrous day.”

      The crowd cheered. His gaze left the stage, taking in the audience now enraptured by the monsters on stage. ‘My people’. Those two words held nothing to the scattering of humans in the crowd and yet they cheered all the same. Monster ranking had never included humans and not for the first time he wanted to know why.

      “It is with great joy and pride in my soul that I am able to present to you now the Crowned Prince, Asg-”

      Sound shot through the silence left behind by the crowd. It tore screams from unsuspecting bystanders. Verdana turned, giving them a clear view of the end of the street to their left. It wasn’t till he saw the smoke billowing from a vehicle several blocks from the edge of the crowd that he realized it had been an explosion. There was an uneven line of humans approaching. He could make out objects held by the approaching group, watching as a few dashed forward.

      “Guards!” King Eragore barked. “To the defense! Form a line! Do not let anyone pass!”

      The Crowned Prince was at the front of the stage, yelling at the same time, “Civilians, start moving west, towards your right! We’ll lead you to safety!” Already the Queen was on the ground, pulling one of the flags free of the stage. The pole wasn’t much taller than she was but the flag on it snapped this way and that, making a very clear marker for the crowd to follow. “Do not shove! Aid those around you!”

      The crowd around them surged towards the top of the street after the Queen’s guiding flag. He wondered if it was only due to the Crowned Prince’s words that prevented the crowd’s fear from overruling their common sense.

      “Verdana, put the souling down and go help.”

      Verdana looked down at Corsiva as Arial walked up, smashing his fist into his palm. “About time there was some action,” Arial stated, looking eager. “Been itching for a fight.”

      “You are to follow the King’s orders, Arial,” Corsiva reminded him as they were placed on their feet. “Do not engage unless allowed to.”

      “Yeah, yeah,” Arial drawled, rolling his eyelights. “Come on, Verdana.”

      He and Verdana were quickly swallowed by the crowd, the others of the small group already out of sight. Only Corsiva, his brother, and him were left behind. Corsiva placed a hand on their shoulder, pulling them with the flow of the anxious crowd. “This way, you two. Best we vacate the area with everyone else.”

      His brother’s hand was in his without him knowing if he had reached out or if his brother had. They dutifully went where Corsiva directed even as a second explosion went off behind them. More screams echoed around them but they felt none of the panic the crowd did.

      For a second time, the crowd surged around them. What hand Corsiva had on them was shoved away as a stumbling body cut between them. His brother lost his balance, crashing to the ground. He held tight to his brother’s hand even as pain filled his palm where his brother had scrapped his own right hand against the rough pavement. A raw aching started in his right ankle. He tugged his brother up and quickly changed sides. There wasn’t much he could do against the pain - his or his brother’s - but at least he could help his brother walk should the pain get too much.

      A glance back revealed they had been swallowed by the crowd. He shot off a check, keeping the range close, and found Corsiva had drifted to their right, towards the edge of the street and the crowd, aiding someone there. The elder’s magic was stronger meaning that Corsiva was healing someone. He turned to follow to get his brother the same healing.

      Something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He shifted his weight back, bringing his brother ahead of him. His brother looked up, looking towards what had caught his attention, and as one, they reacted without much thought.

      Magic surged forward, slamming into the alleyway with enough substance that all three humans noticed it immediately. None of them bore magic which made the next part far easier. Bone constructs shot out of the ground and walls, fencing the three humans in. The most solid part of the makeshift hold was the wall separating the humans from the defensive line the forward most human had pointed a gun at.

      “The line.” He followed the gesture that accompanied his brother’s words and took in what his brother was seeing. They were too far to see details but they could make out the defensive line buckling under the pressure from the antagonizers. Another good shove and they would breach the line.

      He adjusted his hold on his brother’s ribs as the other wrapped the injured leg around his left. With three solid feet on the ground, they launched themselves into the air, the massive bone construct disintegrating as soon as they were clear. He took control of their descent as his brother sent their magic down ahead of them. A fence of bones shoved its way out of the ground forcing the group of antagonizers back. It didn’t stop the assault - weapons were still firing and magic was still being thrown around - but it gave the defensive line a chance to regain their footing. Two different lines of bones formed on the antagonizers side, wave shaped but well constructed, both gaining the defensive line a bit more space. A third was formed behind theirs, curving back to create a makeshift cover several were ushered under.

      Several short bones appeared in mid air between them and the curved wall of bones like rungs of a floating ladder. He easily descended down them, slowing their movement enough that when they touched the top of the curved wall, they had come to a stop.

      Something was shouted. He didn’t understand what it had been but it was easy enough to guess when the majority of the weapons were turned on them.

      They didn’t care.

      With a shift of weight from both of them, magic surged forward and skyward. Four massive skull constructs formed over the line of bone. The crowd before them shrank back but didn’t retreat. The lower jaws split as they opened wide. An orb of brilliant magic formed at the back of each maw. It started small but grew rather rapidly in size giving off a noise between a hum and a whine that increased in pitch the larger the orbs got. That noise alone held a very real threat that they could not back.

      The weapons pointed at them fired.

      An array of bones solidified before them, their magic taking the barrage without shattering.

      Beams of pure magic fired from the floating skulls into the crowd.

      Odd how the screams from the antagonizers were nearly identical to what they had heard earlier from the crowd behind them.

      The beams sputtered out. The skulls remained open wide as magic started to slowly gather again.

      The crowd before them scattered.

      Massive hands closed around the back of their necks and yanked them off the curved wall. All of their constructs shattered. The ground was unforgiving when they were thrown to it ripping a shared cry of pain from them.

      “Ignorant soulings!” King Eragore barked, a hulking shadow over them. He met the King’s gaze first, aware of the buzzing, shifting crowd around them. “Do you even know what you have done! They will use that against us seeking retaliation for the souls you took!”

      “We did not take any souls.” Silence settled heavily over them. He repeated, “We did not kill anyone.” He pointed towards where their line of bones had been, suppressing the wince from his throbbing shoulder at the action. There was no distinction between his pain and his brothers. Everything just hurt. “They are still alive. We simply pinned them.” Sure enough, the handful that had been caught in the beams of magic were getting to their feet. Some wavered but none looked severely injured. “All we did was increase the amount of gravity they were under until they could no longer stand.”

      It had been a gamble, a risk they had been willing to take if it meant the line wasn’t broken. They weren’t used to utilizing Blue Magic - Gravity Magic - in that fashion but the slow integration of Blue Magic into the beams of pure magic had done exactly what they had intended for it to do.

      The fact that their skull constructs had never inflicted damage before went without saying.

      For a moment the crowd around them watched the aggressors scurry off. He kept his gaze on King Eragore, waiting. The King glared at him. He merely looked back, unperturbed, waiting. They could hold their own against the boss monster long enough to put distance between them and vanish from sight, if not incapacitate him.

      “You two will be reprimanded for your actions here today,” King Eragore growled. A roll of voices started to surround them. “Especially if there is fallout from your choice of actions.”

      He realized it was outrage coming from the voices around them only when some of the forms surged forward. It was interesting to watch surprise fill the King’s expression. Familiar hands wrapped around his ribs, lifting him up and away from the King. He managed to not cry out again as the pain gained an echo from his brother. Verdana tucked him into the crook of one arm before accepting his brother in the other from a stranger. The two that had thrown up the outer bone walls were between them and King Eragore, yelling at the larger monster, and they were not alone. Numerous others were placing themselves between King Eragore and him and his brother.

      “My King,” cut through the noise like an explosion despite the voice’s actual volume being softer than most of those yelling. Silence fell immediately as the crowd parted ahead of the Crowned Prince. “What is going on? Why did you pull the soulings from their perch?”

      All but the two from their small group moved from before the King. The two from their group merely looked to the approaching Crowned Prince, holding their ground. The Crowned Prince came to a stop just ahead of Verdana at Verdana’s side.

      “Why are you not with your mother, Asgore,” King Eragore challenged instead.

      He caught his brother’s gaze as they came to the same thought: there was no love lost between King and Crowned Prince despite the proclamation earlier.

      “I had been bringing up the rear of the retreating civilians, making sure no one was left behind as our Queen led them to safety,” the Crowned Prince spoke. The words were formal and well measured. “I had looked back to make sure the last of the citizens had made it past when I caught sight of the soulings looking in the direction of the defensive line. They not only successfully captured three assailants in a side alley that were aiming to disrupt the line from behind, they noticed our line buckling under the force of the assault. Had they not taken the focus off of our people, we would have Dust on our hands instead of the political media challenge that is potentially ahead of us now.”

      He knew immediately what the Crowned Prince had done as King Eragore bristled.

      “And you think that will be better?” King Eragore growled, falling for it in the heat of his emotions.

      “Is it not?” the Crowned Prince countered curiously.

      King Eragore did not answer him. For a brief moment, the King glared at the Crowned Prince before turning that glare onto him and his brother before turning it on Verdana. “They will face the consequences of their actions. Expect to be contacted about it in the coming days.”

      The King turned sharply and cut through the surrounding crowd, storming his way towards the cluster of civilians on the other end of the road. The crowd swarmed them as soon as the King was clear. He wondered if the circle of space that had been made around Verdana and the Crowned Prince was intentional or not.

      One of those from their small group hurried forward, hands going to his brother. “Let me see them, Verdana.”

      “Are they alright?” the Crowned Prince asked as Verdana lowered them back to their feet.

      Verdana offered without looking up, “They will live, my Crowned Prince.”

      The Crowned Prince waved him off. “Just Asgore, please. Or at least Prince Asgore if you have to be so formal.” The Crowned Prince looked to them. “And while I am glad they will live, that was not my question.”

      A shudder raced down his spine as he felt the pain from his brother’s ankle fade and echoes of semi-familiar healing magic ghosted over his bones.

      “They are fine, Prince Asgore,” the one healing his brother assured. “A few scrapes but nothing serious and everything easily healed.”

      He watched his brother gently grab at the other’s wrists as the green healing magic soaked hands moved to his brother’s ribs. “No. That one is Decos’s.”

      He shared in the other’s confusion. There was so much echoing that he hadn’t realized any of the injuries they had sustained had been solely his. Without thinking, he reached up and pressed at the point his brother had kept from being healed. Pain flared from the spot and he hissed from it. A different set of green healing magic soaked hands pressed into his chest and shoulder, blocking off the entrance and exit of a bullet wound.

      “That is..." Prince Asgore started, sounding flabbergasted.

      “They are a souling of two bodies, my Prince,” Verdana offered in a low voice. The crowd had not encroached into the privacy bubble it had unintentionally created. “Their soul echoes injuries and sensations between the two forms.”

      He caught Prince Asgore looking at Verdana with something he interpreted as horror; which seemed odd so it was probably inaccurate. “For their entire existence?”

      “It is dulling as they grow stronger. They are not as sensitive to each other’s experiences as they had been newly formed.”

      The silence was not filled by another question like he had been expecting and stretched through the amount of time it took for his brother and him to be fully healed.

      “Who are their parents?” Prince Asgore finally asked.

      Verdana shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “Montserrat and Garamond, my Prince. Montserrat Dusted shortly after the souling was newly formed 43 years ago.”

      “Garamond Gaster is the other?” Verdana hummed an affirmation. “He left for overseas after his partner’s passing, then.”

      “What do you mean “left for overseas”?” Arial barked. The crowd parted enough for Arial to walk into the circle assisted by some stranger. No one else batted an eye at the stranger so he assumed only he and his brother didn’t know who this person was. Arial was clutching at the right side of his ribs. “What? Are you telling me that that good for nothing heap of bones is on the front lines of some war our country is supposedly staying out of.”
      “Arial,” the one that had healed his brother bit out.

      Prince Asgore made some gesture as he stepped in, neutralizing the situation. “It’s quite alright,” the Crowned Prince assured the speaker before looking to Arial. “Garamond Gaster was enlisted to aid in negotiations. He has been working hard to keep us out of the brewing war overseas and has been a strong advocate for peaceful negotiations.” The Crowned Prince frowned. “Has he not been in contact with his family since his deployment?”

      “Garamond was family by marriage, my Prince,” Verdana put in, cutting off Arial’s words before they could form fully. “He was the last of his small family group.”

      Corsiva’s voice joined in. “He has reached out a few times but the work has kept him very busy.” The crowd barely moved yet Corsiva popped into the circle as if the crowd hadn’t existed. “My son-in-law is easily swept up by his work, which only amplified the challenge he already had with object permanence, even with those he loved and adored. It is part of my son’s strife with him, though Montserrat never seemed bothered by it.”

      Prince Asgore glanced at Arial but gained nothing beyond an annoyed stare. “I can look into why he hasn’t taken time to visit home.”

      Corsiva brushed the offer aside. “Garamond has utilized his leave, my Prince, don’t worry about that.”

      The elder was dismissing the Crowned Prince’s worry and it confused him why those privy to the conversation held their breath. The Crowned Prince was very clearly not the King.

      “If you are sure,” Prince Asgore conceded. “May I speak with the soulings for a brief moment?”

      “If that is what you desire, my Prince,” Corsiva offered formally.

      The frown on Prince Asgore’s face deepened. The large monster stepped to him and his brother, kneeling to be at eye level with them. It was a rather impressive feat, seeing as the monster was easily three times taller than they were. The others backed up to give them some semblance of privacy. “Hello little ones,” the Crowned Prince offered with a pleasant smile. “I am Asgore. What are your names?”

      “Wing Dings,” his brother offered.

      He followed his brother’s words with, “Wing Decos.”

      “Are you two all well and healed now? No more pain?”

      They shook their head no. The gnawing hunger was not the pain the Crowned Prince was asking after.

      “Good. I’m glad.” To his surprise, the Crowned Prince sounded and looked genuinely relieved. “I wanted to offer you my thanks for your actions today, as well as an apology on my father’s behalf. Despite his fears, I believe your choice of action was not a bad one, especially since it did not cost either side any life. Still, it should not have been left to soulings to end the confrontation and I apologize for that.” There was a breath of silence, one where the Crowned Prince looked them both over. “I look forward to seeing what you two accomplish as you grow older.”

      Prince Asgore made his way back through the crowd slowly, conversing with many there as he went. The majority of the crowd followed his lead towards the clusters of civilians that were wandering back.

      “Come along,” Corsiva spoke to their small group. “Best we follow Prince Asgore’s lead.”

      He took his brother’s hand following after the group. Corsiva and Verdana fell into conversation leaving him and his brother to be ignored by the others.

      A familiar hand closed around his neck from behind pulling him to a stop. A glance at his brother and the faintest of echoes were enough to see Arial had grabbed his brother in the same manner. “Don’t expect any aid when King Eragore comes after you two,” Arial threatened. He shoved them forward and they stumbled under the force of it. “You two should know better than to get messed up in adult business.”

      Arial stormed between them after the group.

      His brother took his hand again. “Our actions saved lives and they are mad at us for it.”

      “We have seen this before. There is more to their thoughts than the obvious.”

      His brother turned a blank gaze to him but he kept watching Arial’s retreating back. “That is not what I was getting at.” He met his brother’s gaze. “If we keep doing things outside their unspoken rules, they will limit our movement more.”

      “They would be welcome to try but you and I are aware of how lacking they are on that front.”

      A faint shout of their names drew their attention back to the small group. Corsiva had stopped and turned back as the rest continued on; Verdana was heading towards them.

      “You were successful, then.”

      “Of course.” The weight of the bag resting in the cavity between ribs and pelvis rubbed strangely against his bones but it meant that what he had procured was secure from scrutiny. Even without checking he knew the bullet had missed it completely. “Wryn sent well wishes for you and is looking forward to seeing you again.”

      His brother nodded. They watched Verdana approach in silence for a moment before his brother spoke, “How long do you think it will take them to figure it out?”

      “I doubt the majority ever will with as unwanted as we are. Corsiva will soon enough if not already. Verdana may be the only other one.”

      Silence settled between them. Verdana closed the last stretch of distance in that slow pace. “Are you two ok?”

      They nodded.

      Verdana reached down and lifted them up onto either shoulder. “We best get you two food. You must be starving after such an impressive display of magic.”

      He glanced at his brother. That had been impressive? They had barely used a third of their magic, including what he had done to get back from his little outing.
     
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  • Index
    • Fanfiction | Harry Potter and the Altered Timeline (Harry Potter)
  • Index
    • Harry Potter and the Altered TimelineA Harry Potter Fanfic

    It's the same story, the same string of adventures. The only difference: Severus Snape chose to become a large influence on how Harry Potter grew up.

    He just didn't expect his choice to include becoming roommates with Black and Lupin.

    To keep Harry safe from the very world that had labeled a child The Boy Who Lived, the Savior of the Wixen World, and from Albus Dumbledore who would doom the boy despite all the old wizard's good intentions, Severus reached out to Madam Gold - the head of the global organization IPPA - who aided in a discreet relocation to a different continent entirely, good jobs for Black and Lupin, and a solid, blended education for Harry until Hogwarts.

    With Black as one of Harry's guardians, Severus highly doubted Harry would make it through his seven years at Hogwarts, one of the safest locations in wixen Europe, without getting into all sorts of troubles. Hopefully the life threatening situations would limit themselves to one encounter, if any, for those seven years. There was only so much Severus could do to keep the boy safe and he would never expect Harry's friends - other children - to keep the boy safe. That responsibility was for the adults to succeed and fail at.



    • There had been no warning, no news of what was going on, when the Dark Mark inexplicably faded. Everyone bearing the Dark Mark knew what that meant but to what extent and by what means would only come to light in the following hours. For most, it was a dangerous waiting game until more information came.

      Waiting wasn’t something he could afford to do. As soon as the realization had sunk in, he rushed out the door heading towards someplace he had no right even approaching. The faded mark on the inside of his left arm drove him to step foot into Godric’s Hollow before the sun had even risen.

      Godric’s Hollow was cold, snowy, and very much asleep in the early hours of that November 1st. Remnants of the previous night's festivities were the small, sometimes random but often plentiful, tracks in the snowy lawns, the decorations still on windows and doors, and the faint scent of smoke barely clinging to the air. He could hear the faint scraping of someone cleaning off a car a street over, the only note in the stillness that anyone else was awake at the ungodly hour. It left him far too aware of the pulse in his ears, the lack of air in his lungs, and the skittering of electricity under his skin barely registering underneath the dread of what he was expecting to find.

      He had never been to the house. What little reconciliation he had done with Lily - and in turn Potter - before the pair had gone into hiding had gained him the home’s rough location but nothing more. There had been the Gryffindor hope that they would be able to pick up where they had left off once the war calmed down. He had wanted to push but had chosen to respect their desire for time.

      If there was any regret, it was obscured by other emotions.

      The gaping hole in the roof and the tang of spent magic in the air was a good indicator he had found the right house.

      The door was open ahead of him. Already he could make out a foot on the floor as he approached. He and Potter had only managed to become neutral acquaintances but that didn’t stop the bitter guilt from clawing at his chest when he stepped around the prone body. Madam Gold had been right; Potter was not the same boy that had enjoyed bullying him at Hogwarts and neither was he. Holding onto what had happened wasn’t going to serve anyone and yet here he was very tempted to fight against that belief. If he and Potter had just stayed enemies, he wouldn’t be grieving some half known stranger dead at his feet.

      He paused long enough to close Potter’s eyes, the only display of emotion he was willing to show for the man.

      The stairs creaked as he ascended to the second floor. He had no idea where Lily might have fled to but he knew if he wanted answered, the best place to start was the gaping hole in the roof.

      She was lying in the middle of the nursery, glassy green eyes open wide and her hair a red halo around her head. Grief he hadn’t been ready for slammed into him. He stumbled and hit his knees at her side. There was no heat left in the body and barely any movement left in the limbs. Wails of pain and grief ripped themselves from his chest as he held her lifeless form.

      He should have never given the Dark Lord the words he had caught out of sheer chance. But even he knew that hadn’t been an option at the time. Hindsight being 20-20 was good and all but it changed nothing. He had done this, had signed Lily and Potter’s fate by following a man he could not separate himself from. Oh, he had tried to correct the wrong as soon as he had realized just how much it affected those he cared about, but it had not been enough. Not even Dumbledore had been able to protect her and rage rushed through him at the thought.

      The rage burned through his body far too quickly. It took a large chunk of the raw grief with it leaving him exhausted and sad. With the utmost care, he laid her back down on the floor and got to his feet. He had to go. If he knew Dumbledore well enough, the man would already know what had happened, if not soon, and he didn’t dare stick around for anyone to find him at the scene. He gave the body of his dear friend one last look before starting for the door.

      A noise behind him made him jump. He found the glowing tip of his wand pointed at a child before the gesture had even registered in his brain. He jerked the wand tip up and away from the child, meeting strikingly green eyes on an injured face.

      The injury looked like lightning stretching across the child’s face. The worst of it was on the child’s forehead above the left eye, blood oozing from a lightning bolt shaped scratch. The rest of the injury was raw, branching over the child’s face like a branch of lightning does in the clouds or electricity through wood.

      For one heart-stopping moment, he didn’t understand what he was looking at. Why was there a child there? The child had to have been no more than a year old, a mop of dark hair on its pudgy little head, a red and raw injury on its face, and striking green eyes that were staring at him. Just staring. The child made no noise, made no effort to get any more of his attention, and the realization of who this child was sank into him. It was quickly followed by a thought.

      Harry Potter, the son of Lily and James Potter, had just survived the Killing Curse.

      Harry Potter, a child of barely more than a year, was the first person to ever survive the Killing Curse.

      He was at the crib railing unable to remember making the decision to approach. Dumbledore’s people would be there soon enough to get the boy, he was sure of that. But what if the old man wasn’t sending someone. What if all his assumptions of what Dumbledore had put in place to try and protect the Potters was wrong?

      Where would Dumbledore hide the boy if someone did come?

      The child- Harry didn’t make any noise as he picked the boy up. He moved to cast a quick spell on the boy’s bleeding forehead and raw abrasions before thinking better on it. Instead, he cast the Patronus Charm, flinching at the doe that came prancing out. “Lupin. Black. Get to Godric’s Hollow as if your life depends on it,” he ground out, voice shockingly hoarse to his ears. “Lily and Potter are dead. Their son somehow miraculously survived. If you don’t get here before Dumbledore does, you will not see him again.”

      Not that he had proof of that but he wouldn’t put it past the old man to bury Harry in some hollow somewhere till he was old enough to attend Hogwarts. Too many people - with good and bad intentions - would want the boy. He flicked his wand and sent the Patronus off. It vanished through what remained of the outside wall.

      He entered the small bathroom across the hall. To his utter relief and mild surprise, he found muggle medical supplies among the magical ones in the cabinet. He pulled out the non-magical supplies and gathered them on the counter by the sink before sitting Harry down. He bent over so that his eyes were level with the boy’s and spoke calmly, “I’m going to clean your face and put a bandage on it.” Half a second later, he mentally berated himself. The child was barely one. If he understood a single word coming out of his mouth, he’d turn his entire wardrobe into a rainbow of colors and patterns more akin to Dumbledore’s tastes. He carefully ran his hand through the boy’s hair, tracking how far back into his hairline the abrasions went and if it branched out more.

      To his consternation, it did, but there wasn’t much he could do about it beyond rubbing some ointment on any of it that was raw. Proper care would have to wait for when they had more time.

      He grabbed a washcloth and soaked it with warm water. He carefully ran it over the boy’s face gaining a high pitched whine of pain for his choice of action. Automatically words spilled from his lips. “I know it hurts but you have to keep quiet for me.”

      Those striking green eyes found his face and stared. Either the boy understood and fell silent or he managed to just not cause the boy any more pain, forever watched by those green eyes. Setting the dirtied washcloth aside, he put ointment on the worst of it before pressing a bandage into place. He used one of the large adhesive ones rather than following through with his initial desire to wrap the boy’s head. If Lupin and Black didn’t arrive soon, it would serve him better to have the boy as inconspicuous as possible.

      With the worst of it covered, he picked the boy back up and went into Lily and James’s room. He didn’t want to go back into the nursery. Any supplies the boy needed could be easily purchased. Instead, he grabbed the warm blanket from the bed and haphazardly wrapped the boy in it, bundling him up so that the fall chill couldn’t touch him.

      The stairs seemed to creak louder than when he had ascended them. Harry pressed closer into him and he was certain the boy was out by the time his foot connected with the ground floor.

      He could see two forms moving quickly towards the house through the still open front door. He discretely got his wand in his free hand. It wasn't until he was outside the wreckage of a home and could make out the two distinct forms of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black that some of the tension in his back eased. Instinct had him sneering at the pair but he didn’t stop walking towards them.

      They got to him as he passed through the front gate and he found himself at wand point. He rolled his eyes as Black demanded, “What are you doing here. And where’s Harry.”

      Severus gave him a flat look, tempted to curse the man just because he could. “What do you think the bundle I’m holding is, Black,” he spat in retaliation. He turned his sharp gaze onto Lupin. “You’re welcome to go double check but there isn’t much time. I doubt Dumbledore will waste any time sending someone. If you want to keep the boy with you, you’d best take him and go.”

      Confusion crossed both their faces but it was Lupin who lowered his wand first. “Severus,” the man started, startling him with the use of his first name, “what are you talking about? Aren’t you here on Voldemort’s orders? Aren't you part of...” there was a vague gesture towards the damage of the house, "that?"

      He wanted to bash his head in on the nearest hard surface. Why was he even trying with these idiotic Gryffindors? He glared at them both, even as a little voice in his head pointed out the question he had glossed over was a valid question. “If you think Dumbledore won’t send him off to be hidden away from everyone in the Magical world then you are both stupider than I originally thought.” Both of them bristled at that but he waved them both off. “Look, we don’t have time. Either take the boy and hide him yourself or let Dumbledore send him off to Merlin knows where until he’s able to go to Hogwarts.” He shot a pointed look at Black. “Even then I don’t think he’ll let you see Harry much.”

      “But I’m his Godfather!”

      He arched an eyebrow at the man. “I’m well aware. Why do you think I contacted you two first?”

      Lupin’s gaze was searching when he realized the werewolf was staring him down. He grew defensive under that light brown gaze but the man spoke before he could tell him off. “Why are you helping us rather than just letting Dumbledore handle all this?”

      He wasn’t sure he had an answer for that but one curled into his thoughts and over his tongue before he could check it. “The only living family Lily has left is that stuck up sister of hers and Petunia is the last person - Muggle or otherwise - that Lily’s son should ever know.” His disgust showed as he added, “Even if you are Potter’s friends, she trusted the two of you enough with Harry to name at least one of you his Godfather so take him and run. I’ve done my good deed for the century.”

      He made to dump Harry into Black’s arms but the boy shifted in the blankets, bringing his attention away from his issues with the two men before him. The boy’s face scrunched up which he was sure only agitated the injury on his face. He shifted the boy’s weight to free one hand and he brought the cold appendage to the boy’s face. Harry nuzzled against his palm as if the cold hand felt as good as a warm one in normal circumstances.

      He wasn’t sure if the heat coming from the boy’s face was from his hand being cold or if the boy’s body was starting to fight off any potential infections.

      With care he was oblivious to, he passed Harry off to Black, warning the man, “His face has been injured from what I’m assuming was the Killing Curse he survived so don’t press against it if you can help it. The bandage is covering the worst of it but there’s still raw abrasions in his hairline and down his face. He’ll need to be checked by a mediwitch at some point. There’s no telling what residual magic may still cling to him.”

      “Severus.” He jumped, looking to Lupin as Sirius’s attention went to Harry. Lupin had a strange glint in his eye. “Why aren’t you taking Harry?” Sirius must have straightened up at that because Lupin shot past Severus’s shoulder, “You being Harry’s Godfather notwithstanding.”

      Severus gave Lupin a flat look. “I don’t care for children. Besides, unless I am horribly mistaken, both of you would have been around the boy plenty enough to know how to take care of him.”

      “We don’t really have a suitable place to take him.”

      Confusion washed over Severus and he looked between the two men. Black was gently bouncing the boy. “What do you mean you don’t have a place to take him? Where the hell have you two been staying?”

      Black shrugged as Lupin explained, “You said it yourself, Severus: Dumbledore would hide Harry if he got his hands on him. If Dumbledore would go out of his way to hide Harry from the magical world, don’t you think we owe it to Harry to do the same? Neither Sirius or I own any home outside of wizarding neighborhoods that are suitable for a child.”

      Black’s expression turned curious and thoughtful. “He’s not wrong. The old place is a stone’s throw from Diagon Alley.” He shrugged. “But it’s under some serious charms. I haven’t been there in a long time so I can’t vouch for its condition, nor what’s still trapped inside.”

      Lupin glanced at the man before focusing back on Severus. “If we’re hiding Harry, that means we’re hiding him from Dumbledore, too.”

      It was a question. How it was a question, he had no blasted clue, but he knew there was one in there. He huffed, annoyed. He hated this, hated the spot Lupin had put him on. He glared at the werewolf, demanding, “You do realize you are asking a known Death Eater for assistance in hiding the person who has just defeated the Dark Lord.”

      There was movement to his right, their left, and all three heads whipped around to stare at the end of the street. There was a chance they hadn’t been spotted yet but whoever was approaching would get a good view of them soon.

      “He’s Lily’s son,” Lupin spoke, bringing all of their attention back to center. The words and the next held the urgency they were all now feeling. “And I like to think that trumps even your loyalty to Voldemort. Otherwise you wouldn’t be trying to hide Harry from even Dumbledore’s grasp.”

      He realized what Lupin was insinuating with that last statement, came to the conclusion that Lupin was saying he had already arrived at, at the same time Black did and both men looked at Harry. The boy was sound asleep again but they all knew that if Dumbledore got ahold of Harry, the boy would be weaponized as soon as the Dark Lord returned. And he would return. Despite the defeat that evening, there was no doubt in any of their minds that this wasn’t the end of the war. It wouldn’t be that easy.

      He gave in. “Fine.” He shoved his hand into a pocket and pulled out a piece of card stock the size of a Muggle business card and a cheap pen; he didn’t remember why they were there, not that it mattered now. “But you have to do as I say or you jeopardize everything I’ve done to keep myself safe.” He scribbled out an address, working to make it as legible as possible with the awkward angle. “Go to this address. Use Muggle means to get there and no magic inside unless it’s an emergency.” He glared at Black. “If you can’t live like a Muggle until you come up with a better location, I’d suggest picking a different hole to hide in.”

      Lupin looked up from the card, asking before Black could snap some comment, “Will you be coming with?”

      He fought the sneer that leapt to his face and wasn’t sure he managed the straight expression he had aimed for instead. His ability to mask properly was failing him in the wake of the emotional chaos. “At some point.” He glared at Black even as he dug into another pocket. “I don’t trust you two to not damage the place.”

      “Oh, come on,” Black snapped, rolling his eyes. “You think that-”

      Severus grabbed his wrist. The man jerked back but the bundle of child and blanket shifted forcing the man to not fight him. He pressed a key into Black’s palm, hissing, “Don’t break anything or so help me I will skin you alive for a new hearth rug.” He turned to Lupin, putting distance between him and Black. “Expect me in a few days. I will run interference with Dumbledore and bring any sort of mail you may get.” He shot a warning look between the two of them. “Remember: absolutely no magic.” As an afterthought he explained, “It’s a flat far removed from any wizarding community. Any magic expended there will create a target you won’t be able to hide.”

      “Yeah, yeah,” Black responded, waving the hand clenching the key around.

      Lupin held his gaze, offering in turn, “We’ll see you in a few days.” There was a glint of something in that light brown gaze he couldn’t decipher. “Be careful, Severus.”

      He nodded, watching the two men walk off at a brisk pace.

      He glanced to his right. Whoever was out for an early morning stroll was most likely unable to discern more than vague shapes when it came to him and the two retreating men. Just to be safe, he headed along the road to his left and turned onto the next road over. He walked down it far enough to not be seen before apparating away.

      Word of what had happened got ahead of him. Those that had once feared the Dark Lord celebrated the tyrant’s downfall; an inexcusable amount threw the Statute of Secrecy out the window to do so and Severus was far from surprised when he found that the muggles were catching on.

      Lily and James Potter were spoken of with reverence. Harry was named the Boy Who Lived and worshipped for it but no one knew what had happened to the boy. He hated the title they had given the poor boy but at least the world wasn’t quick to figure out where he had gone.

      It was five long, grueling days before Dumbledore managed to pin him down instead of the few hours he had anticipated. The conversation was the last thing he had to do before he could make the promised appearance at his own flat and he was looking forward to it being over.

      Dumbledore’s office looked unchanged since the last time he had seen it and he wasn’t sure if that was comforting or off-putting. Dumbledore massaged the bridge of his nose under the half moon glasses, still very clearly agitated. “Severus, I have been very patient with you but enough is enough.” He allowed himself a raised eyebrow and nothing more. Dumbledore seemed put out by it but kept talking. “Wherever you have the boy tucked away will not be strong enough to protect him.”

      He didn’t respond when the older man let silence hang between them. It was a moment before Dumbledore sighed. “Severus. Please. He will be safer with his aunt. Blood magic-”

      “With all due respect, Headmaster,” he cut in, quick but as respectful as he could manage. “The boy is well and safe where he is and will be far happier than he could be with Petunia Dursley, blood magic be damned.”

      A bad taste settled at the back of his tongue saying her married name. He had checked in on her after “kidnapping” Harry to make sure Petunia hadn't become some goddess since their last interaction. He had done it on the chance that Dumbledore’s plan for the poor boy was to send him to live with her.

      Petunia hadn’t changed. She wasn’t as vile as he had remembered but the parts of her personality that had always rubbed him the wrong way were still there. The walrus of a man she had married wasn’t much better and it would be a miracle if their son didn’t become just as bad. After watching her dote on her “Duddey-kins”, he was certain that if Harry had been dropped on her doorstep with nothing but a note - honestly, what had Dumbledore been thinking with a plan like that?! - Harry would have always come second to the rotund child, if he received any love at all. Harry was a saint of a child compared to Petunia’s son and that was from the first 15 minutes alone of watching the small muggle family from afar.

      “Severus.” He prided himself in being able to hide that particular flinch. A disappointed Headmaster was nothing compared to what awaited Lily’s son if he gave in now. “You cannot guarantee he will remain safe from rogue Death Eater hands. When the time comes, he will-”

      He cut that argument off immediately, allowing his annoyance at that show. “I guarantee he is as safe as he would have been with Lily’s sister, if not more. He is not being left unattended while I am here, Headmaster. Do you honestly think I would be that careless?”

      The urge to roll his eyes at the man’s mild surprise nearly escaped his control. “It would seem you will not budge on this matter.”

      It was pointing out the obvious but at least they were finally getting somewhere. “Correct.”

      The older wizard sat back in his chair. “Alright, then. In exchange for allowing you to keep Harry safe as you see fit, you will tell me who you have helping you watch over him. Additionally, you will take up the Potions Professor position here at Hogwarts when Horace retires.”

      He gave the other a flat look. “You are aware I have turned that position down twice already, not to mention Slughorn is perfectly suited to the position.”

      Dumbledore waved him off. “I will not compromise on this point, Severus.” The man gave him a steady stare over those half moon glasses, the jovial glint that was normally present gone. “Horace is retiring after this school year leaving me short a Potions Professor. You have become an exceptional Potions Master and having you here would benefit the students greatly. Not only that but it will make it easier for me to ask about Harry without having to drag you halfway across Europe. Knowing who is helping you will ease my worry.”

      “You already suspect who they are.”

      That jovial glint was back and he hated it. “I have my speculations, yes.” The man’s expression threatened to break out into a wide smile. “Are you confirming them, then?”

      That time he did roll his eyes. “I will teach Potions only if you refrain from reaching out to either of them about Harry or to Harry himself until the boy is at Hogwarts. If you need to contact them, I have somehow become their post owl in this arrangement and will make sure they receive whatever missive you want to send.”

      “Excellent!” Dumbledore announced, clapping his hands. Severus rolled his eyes again before massaging the bridge of his nose, half listening as the Headmaster went on about something that was probably important.

      He left that office an hour later shaken to his core. He stared at the bundle of letters in his hand for a long moment before he made the long trek to the apparition points outside the castle gates.

      A hearing. An actual hearing. Despite the reassurance Dumbledore gave him, dread and apprehension bubbled up and tried to choke him. There was no way that even with Dumbledore’s word he was avoiding Azkaban.

      Making it to the flat was a miracle all on its own. The spare key turned easily in the lock under a surprisingly steady hand. He barely registered that the place was lively instead of eerily quiet like it usually was until he had closed and locked the door behind him.

      “Severus.” “Bout time, Snape.” Both calls greeted him, pulling him out of his reverie. He blinked at the two men. Lupin was stepping out from behind the kitchen counter as Black greeted him from the living room floor. Harry was seated in front of him playing with some blocks Black was apparently helping him stack. Both men were wearing muggle attire he had never seen before and appeared to be in good health.

      He caught Lupin’s expression shifting first. Black wasn’t far behind and spoke out before Lupin could. “Woah. What’s wrong with you? You look like death warmed over.”

      “Severus.” He turned his attention to Lupin. He should have hated the concerned look on the man’s face, of how it carried on the man’s voice, but something was choking his emotions. “Is everything alright?”

      He swallowed against the cotton in his mouth. “Dumbledore isn’t pleased Harry’s gone missing but we’ve reached a compromise. He won’t take the boy as long as I teach Potions and keep him updated.” The celebration he had expected to follow never came and it left him feeling oddly raw. He gestured with the bundle in his hand. “I have a number of letters for the both of you and snippets of news.”

      Lupin crossed to him and took the bundle without dropping his gaze. Instead of moving away, the man touched his arm and he flinched from the contact. Lupin’s hand stayed in place. “Anything else?”

      Severus found himself glaring at the man. “Not of any concern to either of you.”

      He stepped out of the man’s touch and started for his room.

      “We left your room alone,” Black called after him. He paused in the alcove that held his door, the bathroom door, and the door to the spare room. He looked back. Black added, “We took over the other room but your door’s been closed since we got here. Remus kept us as contained in the bathroom as possible but we may need a second one if you’re planning on sticking around.”

      There was a part of him that wanted to respond with something snarky but his mouth wouldn’t work. So, instead, he turned and went to his room, closing the door behind him.

      When he left his room in a state that wasn’t seated in shock a good number of hours later, Black was missing and Lupin was sitting at the kitchen table. The wood surface was decorated by the contents of the bundle he had brought in. A frown pulled at his face as something seemed off about the table.

      He gained Lupin’s gaze. “We bought a new one from the muggle shop not far off. The other wasn’t going to be big enough for three grown men and a growing kid.”

      He gave Lupin a flat look. “You do realize it is just you and Black here, right?”

      Lupin shrugged. “We can put the round one back if you’d prefer. We broke it down and stored it.”

      He rolled his eyes. The table was simplistic in design and despite it having been bought by Lupin and Black, he had to admit it was rather nice and fit the space far better than the round one that had been there originally.

      Lupin shuffled some of the pages around. “Dumbledore mentioned you have a hearing coming up.”

      What little peace he had gained vanished at those words. The muscles in his legs, arms, and chest tightened and he crossed his arms to hide the physical response under a display of annoyance. Dumbledore needed to keep that long, crooked nose out of other people’s business. He had been serious when he had told Lupin - and subsequently Black - that it had been none of their concern. “And what of it?” he bit out, glaring at the other man.

      Silence stretched momentarily between them as Lupin held his gaze steadily.

      “Do you want either Sirius or me to go with you?”

      He found himself staring at the werewolf. It took far too long for his brain to process that. “You’re joking, right?”

      Lupin shook his head, picking up a page from the table. “It was actually a suggestion from Dumbledore but we figured it would be better to ask you than to just follow his words.” Severus snatched the offered page and started skimming. Lupin let him read most of it in silence before adding, “I don’t think it’s a bad idea.”

      He scoffed at that. “Of course you wouldn’t.”

      “Having someone there who you know is on your side will ease the strain of the trial.”

      “I will be fine.”

      “Severus.” He flinched from the unexpected hand on his forearm - he hadn’t even realized the man had stood - but Lupin’s hand didn’t let go. “Take Sirius with you.” He opened his mouth to immediately strike that idea down but Lupin cut him off. “He’s well known for being on Dumbledore’s side and having a number of those that would be in attendance seeing old school rivals getting along would speak greater than if I was there.” Lupin gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “Sirius’s name still carries weight, Severus. Let him use it for some good.”

      He frowned. That sounded almost like, “Are you saying Black volunteered himself?”

      Lupin looked to the letter he was still holding before looking at the table. “It hadn’t been outright. He had been pissed that Dumbledore would even suggest we do anything to help you out but I think that was old habits from school and the suggestion being shoved at him after a lot of other information.” The man idly pushed pages around. “He had thought it over, though, and had commented that if either of us were to join you, it should be him. Said it would look halfway decent if nothing else due to the old blood ties. It would give you backing by old blood, even if he’s the black sheep of the family.”

      He didn’t have a response to that feeling like he was trying to keep his footing on a sheet of ice. It was far easier to change the subject than face whatever that implied. “Where is Black anyways?”

      “There’s a street fair a few blocks over that has decorated the street with all sorts of lights and he wanted to check it out. He used Harry as his excuse so we’ll see how long they’re actually gone.” Lupin focused on him, gaze searching. “You left two letters in that bundle that had been addressed to you. Sirius read them before I realized they even existed. When he passed them to me, he looked shaken. I read them as well.”

      Severus pulled out one of the chairs and sat down just to put distance between him and Lupin. The desire to cross his arms over his chest in a defensive manner nearly made it past his control. “The information in them pertained to the both of you. It only seemed right you were brought in on the conversation.”

      “North America, though?”

      “The specific community you and Black would be moving to would be far removed and far different than anything you’ve heard when it comes to what state any of those countries are in. I have worked with Madam Gold for some time and I would strongly suggest not turning away her generosity. She’s willing to offer you both jobs on top of the housing arrangement, an offer you won’t get anywhere else.”

      “But that puts a larger gap between you and Harry.”

      He met Lupin’s steady gaze, touched and distraught at the notion. “As if that matters. What matters is Harry’s safety and he’ll be far safer in another country than staying here. It also guarantees you both work without you two having to put yourselves within easy grasp of potential killers should news of you two taking care of Harry gets out.”

      Lupin’s jaw worked but whatever words the man was rolling around never fell past those closed lips. Instead, the man turned his gaze back to the table and pulled the other letter closer. “This Madam Gold wishes to come and speak with us - all three of us - about housing and work in addition to bringing along a trusted medical professional.”

      “Harry still hasn’t been seen for the injury, correct?”

      Lupin nodded with a fallen expression. “It seemed safer to not take him to St. Mungo’s after everything but I only know the basics when it comes to the muggle medicines. I’ve just been following your lead, mimicking what you had done for him that first morning.”

      “Madam Gold will bring in someone from outside the country. They won’t care about what’s going on in our part of the world and will keep their mouth shut.”

      A soft smile pulled at the other’s lips. “That much faith in this Madam Gold?”

      “She has earned that much respect from me. Despite what any of you may have perceived, the Dark Lord was not the only recruitment I went under. Luckily for me, Madam Gold’s recruitment was completely voluntary, meaning I could leave with my life without some visible mark and regret.”

      He hadn’t intended the last handful of words but it was beyond his tongue before he could stop it. He wasn’t sure if Lupin understood that or had simply respected his privacy on the matter because the man simply asked, “When should we be expecting them, then?”

      “Tomorrow, some time around nine in the morning. I figured it would give us time to get up and get going for the day without being too late.”

      Lupin nodded, gaze on the letter in hand. He gained a mild amount of amusement watching as what he had said dawned on the other man. Those light brown eyes landed on him again. “You’re staying the night, then?”

      He raised an eyebrow. “Am I not allowed to crash in the bed I purchased in the home I am currently paying for?”

      “No, no,” Lupin quickly assured him. “Just surprised was all.” The man looked back down at the letter in hand but he doubted the man was seeing any of the writing. “Despite everything,” those eyes returned to him and he hated that he couldn’t decipher the man’s look, “despite the changes I can see, I fully expected you to still be that wrathful boy we knew back in Hogwarts and retaliate against Sirius and myself with the viciousness Death Eaters are known for.”

      Severus huffed and caught the surprise at his reaction. “Oh, I’m sure it will be a very…eventful stay.” His expression returned to a more neutral one. “But I think having Harry in the middle of all this will temper any sort of confrontation.” That neutral expression flattened. “Not by much, but enough that an actual brawl will probably wait until morning.”

      He blatantly ignored the comment about seeing changes. That was a headache inducing conversation best left for another time - or never, if he had a say in it.

      Lupin chuckled at that. “Oh good. We’ll all need a good night’s sleep to be able to deal with tomorrow.”

      He silently agreed as he let his gaze drift off. Seems Lupin had the same sentiment about the change comment.

      “When is your hearing?” He tensed at that. “Dumbledore didn’t say.”

      “Three weeks. The 26th.”

      Lupin nodded, falling silent.

      Black returned with an unconscious Harry tucked into his side, stroller folded and tucked under the other arm. Belatedly he noted that, between the two of them, they had remembered to attain muggle coin to buy what Harry would need and anything else the two men wanted. Black smiled sheepishly at Lupin until he realized Severus was sitting at the table. Surprisingly, Black managed a curt nod and he returned the gesture out of habit. There was no way a simple letter from Dumbledore changed the man in a matter of hours.

      “Snivellus.”

      And there was the proof. He rolled his eyes. “Black,” he countered coldly. “Have a pleasant walk?”

      Black frowned at him. “Yeah,” the man offered, drawing the word out in his confusion. “The street fair was cool to explore. Harry liked all the lights they had strung overhead.”

      He raised an eyebrow. It seemed his return quip had gone over the man’s head. Dismissing the desire to make it more obvious was easier than he expected. “If you didn’t try any of the stalls, take Lupin with you the next time you go. He’ll be able to point out the ones you would enjoy.” He blatantly ignored the two varying expressions of surprise aimed at him. “I’ll be staying the night.” He stood slowly. “And if you are so heavily invested in tagging along like some show dog,” he met Black’s gaze steadily, doing his best to keep his expression neutral and closed off, “the hearing is on the 26th. When Dumbledore gives me the remaining information, I will let you know where to be when.”

      A different surprise crossed Black’s face. “You’re ok with me tagging along?”

      He waved the man off. “I could care less whether you did or not. Just don’t make a scene if you do. Now, if you will excuse me, it’s been a long few days. I’m going to bed.”

      “Night,” Black called after him, the word hesitant.

      “Sleep well, Severus,” Lupin offered more sincerely.

      A shudder shot down his spine as soon as the door to his room was closed. He felt cornered with the two men there and not even the door to his room seemed enough to provide him space from them. Had Madam Gold not requested his presence, he would have been at his other hovel dreading the coming hearing. Just for the day, he told himself as he readied for bed. Then he could leave and never see the three of them again.

      Harry’s curious expression filled his mind and he blatantly ignored the pang of regret. The boy was safe and well protected. After tomorrow, there would be no reason for him to ever interact with the boy until their paths crossed at Hogwarts.
     
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  • Index
    • Prompt and Assorted | Demon Parade
  • Index
    • Demon Parade
    Prompts:
    Demon Parade
    Image Prompt:
    artwork by nkim illustrates on tumblr and other sites. Image itself contains a nighttime view of a building that could be an ornate mansion or regal museum of old origins - most likely European - with light filled windows that had the majority of the background colored in orange, brown, and dark blue. Cloaked and hatted phantom figures that have no real body and are wearing masks to note where a face should be running from right to left over the rooftops. In the center of the image is the only human appearing person wearing similar attire with a robed cat riding on their back.
    this was a suggested prompt; image was provided by another

    Chatter filled the streets as bodies ebbed and flowed from establishment to establishment, the majority of the crowd joyous and content. Oh, there were those who were not - he could spot them as easily as someone wearing an outlandish color in a sea of gray - but they were few and far between, isolated individuals compared to the masses, be they truly isolated or not.

    “Lively night.” The voice was amused as it drifted from the body walking at his side, an echo of his own thoughts. He glanced at his companion, curious. Kelnt was known for having a strange view of the world but where many would whisper about how strange the other’s ideas were, he liked the unique perspective. It kept him on his toes, kept his mind flexible. He received a grin for his glance. “A good night. Don’t you think, Green Bean?”

    He chuckled, though it was mostly due to the nickname rather than Kelnt’s words. “This city is always lively. Certainly nothing different than last night, nor the night before, nor the night before that.”

    “Ah, but see, that’s where you’d be wrong.” Kelnt wrapped an arm around his shoulders, tugging him close. The well toned body flexed against his arm under the layers of clothing they were both wearing. “Tonight is a good night for much more than the mundane. Can you guess why that is?”

    He shifted the arm pinned between them, the holster of Kelnt’s weapon pressing almost painfully into his forearm as he did so. With a final, awkward tug, his arm came free behind them and he gripped at Kelnt’s shoulder. “Are you sure you want me to guess? You seem eager to point out what I am too green to notice.”

    Laughter bubbled out of Kelnt high and full, a joyous, almost childlike sound that joined the symphony of the city streets. “You’re learning quick! Good.” Kelnt grinned at him again. “Guess.”

    He turned his gaze back to the world around him, trusting his companion to not run him into a stranger or a stationary object. The city looked the same as it always did on their patrols. The patrons of the different establishments were in good spirits, those that were not were barely a drop in the sea of content, and the city thrummed with the content of the crowd in the warm night of early spring. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with the warmer temperatures, would it?” he guessed, turning his gaze back to Kelnt.

    Kelnt grinned at him. “Possibly.” Without warning, Kelnt jerked him in a different direction. “Quick. This way.”

    They cut through the crowd nearly colliding with others twice before Kelnt released him. He stumbled slightly as the alleyway swallowed them. It was more of a side street than an alleyway but no vehicle would make it through. Shops spilled into the narrow stretch between buildings, people walking through it as they would any other street looking for good food or other desired goods. The only difference between this side avenue and the street they had just vacated was the amount of people wandering through. He counted two dozen right off the bat but nearly half of that were the workers of the establishments. Kelnt shot him a grin before starting down the alleyway as if it was familiar ground he had walked a million times before.

    He fell into step beside Kelnt, waiting. He did a lot of waiting with his companion but being patient had served him well in the past with Kelnt and he didn’t expect that this moment would prove past experiences wrong.

    Kelnt's hand closed around his wrist, tugging him into the path of the fire escape. There were already folks scattered up the structure so when Kelnt started up the ladder, none of the workers nor pedestrians batted an eye at his companion. He followed suit as soon as there was space on the ladder.

    Up they climbed, weaving across and up as they moved from stairs to landing to stairs again. Kelnt cleared the rim of the roof with a fluid arc over a well planted hand against the masonry. He used the ladder instead of trying to emulate his companion. When he made it to the roof, though, Kelnt wasn’t within the immediate vicinity. It took a moment before he caught sight of his companion meandering around the far side of the roof access. He hurried after Kelnt but the moment he dashed around the same corner, an arm caught him across the top of his chest stopping his movement immediately.

    Kelnt grinned at him, pressing a finger to that laugh filled grin with a wink. Kelnt removed the arm across his chest before grabbing at his wrist and leading the way. His companion’s movement was fluid, quiet, in a way that he had learned to imitate any time he saw it. This way and that they moved across the roof until they were on the next building, and the next. Soon they were streets away from where they had been at and he was starting to worry they were straying too far.

    “Here,” Kelnt whispered, gesturing ahead. “Sit with your back against the wall.”

    He ducked around Kelnt without glancing at his companion, settling against the wall about where Kelnt had gestured. Kelnt joined him, settling bodily against his side in the process. “Definitely was cutting it close. You should be able to see the first one…now.”

    Movement drew his gaze towards the rooftops before them. For a moment, he didn’t understand what he was seeing until one stepped onto the roof directly before them.

    The rooftops were dark but the streets below glowed bright enough to cast light on the figures he and Kelnt were watching move across the rooftops. The figures themselves seemed to not have arms as the fabric that draped from perceptible shoulders hid much even as it drifted in the air. Wide brim hats with squared crowns were underlit by the streets below which did nothing to bring more details to the figures’ faces. It wasn’t until a second one passed close enough that he suspected that was partly due to masks. The figures were lightly stepping but their strides were so wide, it was like they were lightly leaping from point to point without effort.

    Kelnt tapped his knee before discreetly pointing. He followed the gesture with his eyes and found him gaze landing on a figure that was different from the others. For one, the top article of clothing the figure was wearing was longer than the others and tailed. Additionally, there was something on the figure’s back. No, not something.

    “Is that a cat?” he asked in the softest whisper he could manage, hand coming up as if it would help keep the sound between the two of them.

    “Possibly,” Kelnt responded equally quiet. He could hear the grin in his companion’s words. “That is the Grand Marshall. Well, not the possibly-cat, but the person the possibly-cat is on the back of.”

    “Grand Marshall?” he parroted. “Like, for a parade?”

    Kelnt leaned forward allowing him to see the grin at the edge of his vision. “Exactly. What you are glimpsing is the Demon Parade. Something that normals don’t get to see.”

    He frowned, finally turning his gaze away from the Grand Marshall lightly leaping across the main street with the rest of the figures. “Kelnt.” He gained a sidelong glance that held an expectation that worried him. “What do you mean by ‘normals’?”

    Kelnt smiled but it wasn’t the same as previous grins before. This one seemed far more human - far more genuine - than anything he had seen in a long time. “Care to guess?”
     
  • Index
    • Prompt and Assorted | Somewhere Unfamiliar
  • Index
    • Somewhere Unfamiliar
    Prompts:
    Somewhere Unfamiliar
    Image Prompt:
    artwork by @vonnabeee on twitter. Image itself contains an expanse of water - be it a massive lake, sea, or ocean - with hinds of land along the horizon line. A massive skeleton sits at the top of the image barely half risen from the water. One hand only has a few fingers raised out of the water and the jaw is handing crooked from the skull. The sky behind the skeleton is a blend of orange and pink, causing an interesting not quite red look. In the foreground at the bottom of the image is a person. They appear to be standing on the water with a blue light glowing from beneath their feet and only where their feet are at the water. They hold a staff and are dressed in what looks to be a robe of some sort, like a graduation robe cut short before the knee. They wear a round broadrim had with hair the same color as the sky blowing towards the right of the image. There is blue along the staff that is hidden by the person's torso.
    this was a suggested prompt; image was provided by another

    There was always talk that Magic could only be wielded by those touched by Unvera, the God of Worlds. Those touched by Arevyn, the Goddess of Life, could not handle Magic.

    She hated that men were Unverante - those touched by Unvera - and women were Arevynuos - those touched by Arevyn. She hated that it was predetermined by gender and not by proof. She had proof and no one believed her.

    No matter how loud she got, the Magi always ignored her when she said she was Unverante. They would laugh and throw her out, calling for her head to be checked. No one, not a single Magi, would work with her even when she tried to show them her proof.

    So she learned on her own. Magic became her teacher and she would sneak into the Archives to learn what Magic couldn’t teach.

    It did not take long for others to take notice of her skill. Long hair was common among Magi leaving only her body for her to hide and the Magi garb hid a lot. The only problem was that she had to hand make hers; it made her stand out even more than her skills. The reputation of the Magic Haired Magi preceded her and soon she was being asked to do greater and more complex jobs from more powerful clients.

    When the Highest - the top of the Magi - started turning their gazes to her, she knew she risked everything by continuing to work with Magic and yet she couldn’t stop what she was doing.

    The courtyard was packed when she entered the trap. The staff in her hand innately glowed with Magic so there was nothing she could do about that. They took it as a threat anyway.

    She opened her eyes to find herself somewhere unfamiliar. Water stretched in every direction and lapped at the ankles of her boots. A soft wind pulled at her hair the same color as the sky above, the same exact color people associated with Magic. She made a slow rotation, looking for anything other than the endless water. Nothing broke the horizon so she coaxed the Magic from her staff to fill the space beneath her boots and with her first step, she started walking on water.

    The blue Magic in her staff drifted around her hands before it started drifting towards the right.

    She followed the makeshift compass point for a long time. The magic beneath her boots silenced her footfall but the soft wind danced around her, filling the empty world with rolling clouds, and allowing her mind to wander.

    The land masses probably hadn’t simply appeared on the horizon but when her attention was suddenly pulled back to her surroundings, they were dark on either side from the mass rising out of the water far too close.

    A skeleton larger than a mountain pulled itself out of the water yet it passed through the surface without a single ripple and no water clinging to the bones.

    “Ah, what a disappointment,” rolled around her as if the voice was coming from everywhere at once. “Humanity should have treated you better, my child.”

    A soft smile brightened her expression. “You could always send me back, Blessed Unvera.”

    Unvera’s laughter curled around her, comforting and reassuring.
     
  • Index
    • Prompt and Assorted | At least I'm still here
  • Index
    • At least I'm still hereNearly two days without sleep, Soren finds himself alone not far from the small family he had just helped stay alive - not once, but twice, now. The entire ordeal has left him with questions and the only one who could have answers would be the deity that had lent him her powers all those years ago. Hopefully he didn't do anything stupid in his exhausted state.

    “Ahmed!” Soren stilled on the balcony as his attention moved to the level above him. He recognized the voice as one of the women from the bazaar that had thanked him profusely for bringing Ahmed home. Her hurried footfall came to a stop not far off behind Soren; if he glanced over his left shoulder, he’d be able to make out her face. “How is your husband doing?”

    “He is doing well,” Ahmed said, joy and relief thick in the man’s voice. “As is the babe.”

    “So they both made it through the birth? I heard from Mariam that there had been a moment where something had gone wrong.”

    “Nothing that the Goddess of Life couldn’t handle.” The sound of rubbing fabric informed Soren that the habitual gesture of reverence for the Goddess had been made by both people even as Ahmed kept talking. “From her sending through Soren, my husband and our child are both still in this world. Had he not given life to Dabir when he had, I am certain I would be mourning my husband instead of speaking with you. What would have come of our child is known only by the fates that had woven the path of his death but I fear I would have lost our child within moments of Dabir’s passing.”

    The pair moved away, beckoned by the midwife’s voice from within Dabir’s room. Soren settled against the stone wall of the balcony, back to the now vacant terrace above him as he turned his attention to the hints of the city he could see between the buildings. How was it that the last forty-eight hours felt longer than the entire time he had been away from home?

    He buried a hand into his hair, fingers wrapping around strands to hold himself in place. He knew why. Beyond making sure Ahmed had made it home safe, he had been Ahmed’s last hope in making sure Dabir survived child birth. Soren wasn’t Hilde, wasn’t proficient in any sort of medicine, but he had magic and the ability to heal some and that apparently had been enough. He had feared at the time that it hadn’t been, that Ahmed’s faith in his ability to help was misplaced, but it had worked. Dabir had made it through, blessing the couple with a baby girl the couple had cried over once the danger had passed.

    He hadn’t been able to rest since pushing thirty-six hours without sleep from everything combined.

    His thoughts churned of home and his family, of “what had been” and “could be”s, leaving him raw and numb all at once. The image of the newborn child being placed on Dabir’s chest with the couple huddled around the wailing form crying from the fear and relief was burned into his mind. He couldn’t shake how it made his chest ache nor how it pressed in on him as his mind warped the image. It was quick to replace Dabir with Hilde and Ahmed with Garlock but no matter how greatly he desired to be included, to be there if - and when - a child was born to the three of them.

    A bitterness filled his chest but he resolved himself against it. He could not fault Hilde and Garlock for ever wanting kids and his absence would not become an excuse for them to deny themselves a larger family if that was what they wanted. Gods knew he had never considered it before now. He was content with their small family and felt no desire to make it bigger. But, then, what had changed? He had been there for Fannel’s second and had thought nothing of it. Now, though, farther from his family than ever, he couldn’t get the thoughts to stop. Endless speculations around a child - or two, or more - spun around his head until he felt nauseous with it.

    He jerked away from the wall, the rough texture scratching at his forearms as he did so, as a thought assaulted him. The top of the wall dug into his palms enough to be noticeably uncomfortable but he barely realized he had even grabbed the top of the wall. He stared at some in between space as his mind filled with him in Dabir’s place, a child on his own chest with Garlock and Hilde at his side and he wasn’t sure if it was hope or dread that cut through him.

    It could wait and he knew it should but the desire to rid himself of the image, to hear that he was wrong and that his mind had just gotten away from him had him digging out Shar’s sigil. The wooded token was a familiar weight in his palm when he pulled it out of his bag. It was rubbed smooth and stained from the years of handling and battle since Garlock had carved it for him but her sigil was still striking against the grain and it still worked. For a moment, he clenched it, struck by the sudden want for her to not answer his call, but then he forced his hand loose around it and sent it lazily twirling between his fingers with the mild doubt she would even have the answers he sought.

    He didn’t have to wait long.

    “Ready for home already?” Shar’s voice curled around him, a tease as it danced on the wind between them. From one moment to the next, the space behind him became occupied by a form only he could see if he cared to look. She came to a stop somewhere to his left on the small balcony and he wondered distractedly if she would have molded her form to be his height. “Not that I’m overly surprised to find you eager to return, what with all that has happened. More disappointed at your lack of tact for your hosts.”

    The chuckle came out as a huff, amused but strained. “That little faith in me?”

    She gave him a skeptical look when he finally looked at her. “I know how you are, Soren. Or are you denying that your thoughts are currently focused on home?”

    He chuckled properly this time. “Not denying that,” he assured her, “but, no. I did not call for you to take me home. I’m not done here yet as I’m sure you are well aware.”

    “Then why did you call for me?”

    He settled his back against the balcony wall, gaze going to what he could see of Dabir’s room. There wasn’t much in the way of sound coming from it but the windows and doorway were still illuminated. Idly the wooden token moved between his fingers in a slow twirl. “Probably off of a misguided desire for answers but I didn’t want to stew in my thoughts if I didn’t have to.”

    The distance between them diminished as she came to stand at the wall herself. “Then ask. It’s certainly not going to get you anywhere prattling on as you are without asking.”

    Somewhere on the street a story below them someone laughed. Other voices quickly chased the sound to fill the din of the moment it took Soren to get his mouth working again. “I know very little about the genie who gave birth to me,” he found himself stating, starting at a point he was certain was irrelevant to her but soothed the part of him that didn’t want to hear the answer. “Dad rarely talked about them and I’m not sure he even remembered them well enough to answer my questions once I started asking. But the one thing I do know is that when Dad fell in love, it had been with a genie of a male form who changed to a female form because they wanted to have me.” Voices increased on the level above them but he couldn’t quite piece out if it was coming from Dabir’s room or beyond it. It took a moment for him to regain his train of thought. Gods he was tired. He didn’t want to face this. “Dabir…” He lost where that thought had been going. “I know I’m not like Dabir or any others that are like him, but I am able to go between male and female at will as the genie had. Does that…” He pulled in a breath trying to steady himself. It didn’t work. “Does that mean I can get pregnant?”

    “As you are now? Probably not.”

    He rolled his eyes, grateful that part of it was out of amusement. “Female, though?” he clarified, his tone remaining neutral.

    Shar’s expression closed off out of the corner of his eye and Soren knew it was a warning to watch where he tread. “Having children will not get you out of my service, Soren.”

    Had he not already been leaning against the balcony wall, he would have had to scramble for it. He closed his eyes against…was it anguish? or relief? or sorrow that bore down on his chest. “So that’s a yes, then,” slipped off his tongue. A joyless smile pulled his lips from his teeth as he added with heavy sarcasm, “Great.”

    “Soren,” she started but he waved whatever it had been off.

    “I’m not planning on getting pregnant, Shar,” he assured her, that bitterness in his chest filling his words. He tried to regain some control and failed. He wondered if it was the exhaustion loosening his tongue or the culmination of the last few days. “I wanted to know so that I could avoid getting pregnant. I’m in no place and have no right having children of my own when my life is so interwoven with your whim.”

    Shar’s form bristled and Soren felt the wall leave his back. Without thinking he had put his weight back onto his feet, ready for an attack he was confident wasn’t coming. Shar retorted, “Do not put the blame on me. It was your choice to accept our deal as is your choice to have children or not.”

    The sigil bit into the inside of his fingers as he gripped at it. Indignation shot through his chest and he met her gaze with what most likely came across as a glare. “Don’t put words into my mouth, Shar. You know as well as I do that I take full responsibility for my stupidity and anything I’ve chosen to do out of it. It was my choice to accept your offer of power and aid all those years ago as it was my choice to accept the consequences of my actions. That doesn’t mean I don’t have a right to feel cheated by the current circumstances every once in a while.”

    “Then change the circumstances if you’re so unhappy.”

    It was a challenge, a trap, but it slipped right through every emotion pressing down on him and snapped what control he had left. He let out a short bark of a laugh, the grin that pulled across his face far too sharp to be amused. “Change them? And risk what I have now? As shitty as it’s been being away from home for the majority of the year with only a month at a time with my family - if I’m lucky - I’d much rather that than risk never seeing them again simply because I think this is all bullshit!”

    The breath he sucked in had to be warm but it felt like ice in his throat, tearing at it much the same the lump in his throat was. “Just because I changed and found a better path to walk that wasn’t chasing after vengeance and shadows doesn’t change the fact that I accepted your help in the first place. It is your right to uphold me to our original agreement, as it is your right to take the payment you see fit for such a favor and I don’t have any right to challenge it when you’ve already being kinder with me than you would have others.”

    The edges of his vision blurred with tears but he blinked, suppressing them for just a bit longer. The action, though, quelled more than just tears. A numbness shot through his system calming him down and he didn’t have it in him to fight it, to hold onto the indignation that had driven his rant. “No. It doesn’t matter how much of a normal life I want now or will miss out on - no matter how much of any child’s life I’ll miss out on if we ever decide to have kids - at least I’m still here. At least I still get to be with them even if it's only for a moment every year. I'm not risking that for the small iota of a chance that it could be better.”

    For a long moment, Shar simply studied his face. He wasn’t sure what had changed or what she had been waiting for but she blinked and it was like that long moment hadn’t happened. She stepped closer, cupping his cheek with a fond little smile. He didn’t miss the tightness in her expression that gave warning ahead of sharp words. “You foolish mortal. And what if I told you my wife has two souls waiting for you. Would you finally stand up for yourself and finally confront me?”

    “Two souls,” he parroted dumbly. He swallowed, recentering himself as best he could when the world felt like it would fall away at the next shift of air. “Two children. Through Hilde.”

    Shar rolled her eyes. “You are ridiculously dense at the most inopportune moments, you know that?” She jabbed him in the gut with a finger, spitting as if it were a threat, “Two souls for you to bring into this world. Two souls destined to be given life by you through your very body.”

    The world really did fall away - or maybe that was just the strength being suddenly leached from his legs - and he threw an arm over the balcony wall to stay upright.

    There should have been thoughts racing through his head. There should have been noise or at the very least a mantra of panic but all he found as he leaned over the top of the wall was the image of Dabir and Ahmed with their newly born child shortly after birth. All he could seem to get to form in his head was “two, two kids” over and over, and it did nothing for him to get himself reoriented. Abruptly he looked to her, “Garlock’s?” tumbling off his tongue at her long before his brain caught up.

    She rolled her eyes again but this time he caught the humor in the expression. “Unless you’re planning on doing something stupid.”

    He shook his head in response as his legs took back his weight. He couldn’t really feel them but they held. He ran a hand through his hair, gripping at the strands as if it would be anchor enough to keep him from spiraling even more. “Two kids,” he repeated as if saying it again would be enough to get his mind around it. “With Garlock.”

    It did the opposite. Instead, he found despair clawing at his chest, a grief he hadn’t been expecting joining the mix as he met her gaze. She was standing before him at her full height, expression closed off to him. “Well?” she challenged. “I’m giving you a chance to have a say in your circumstances, consequence free. What are you willing to live with to have the life you want, Soren? How would you change your circumstances?”

    His mouth was dry but hope was a powerful force shoving words over his lips. At first they were stilted but the more he spoke, the stronger and more sure his voice became. “I would…I would have to talk with Garlock and Hilde about the specifics but…” The breath was steady in his chest. “When the first child is born, you can’t call on me for ten years. For ten years you let me and my family raise that child and any others that may follow. Once that ten years has passed, for every decade we are raising our children you get a year of my time. Whether that’s a year all at once or spread out over the ten years in month increments, it doesn’t matter to me, but if you don’t choose to do the full year at once, nothing can take me away from home for longer than a month every six months. Once the youngest turns 20, you can take me away as often as you like but I get to be home for three months minimum at least twice a year.”

    An incredulous look filled Shar’s expression. “That’s all?”

    He shrugged. “That is what I’m starting with but not what I’m settling on. I still want to speak with Hilde and Garlock but it seems reasonable enough. It gives me time to be with my family, to raise one I never thought I would get.” A wistful little smile tugged at his lips. “Even before the homestead was ransacked, I had never thought of having my own family. My siblings and the families they would make and their children I would have helped with had been enough.” That little smile fell into a neutral expression. “I want the chance to live the life I had believed was out of reach. I want the chance to live the life I glimpsed through Ahmed and Dabir. But that doesn’t mean I hate what you’ve been asking of me. To be your blade has never been a hesitation and I will gladly continue. I only ask that you allow me my family and the chance to rest with them in turn.”

    The wind curled around them as his words came to an end. His heart pounded in his chest and he knew if he wasn’t careful, the hope would kill him far more swiftly as any consequence she sent his way. Time moved on around them yet neither of them moved or spoke. Again, she was the one to break the stillness. She stepped up to him, reshaping her form so that they were the same height before she cupped his cheek again. “I will see you in two days, Soren. Do try and get some rest.” She took a step back, a smirk accompanying the mischievous glint in her eye. “And depending on how much trouble you get into, I might actually consider giving you a real chance to change your circumstances.”

    She was gone in a flurry of feathers before he could respond. The wooden token was pinned to his chest, the edges of it digging into the inside of his fingers and palm from how tightly he was holding on. He closed his eyes against the urge to cry.

    “Soren.” Ahmed’s voice was searching and gave no sign that the other had witnessed anything. Soren opened his eyes and tucked the wooden token back into his bag as if he hadn’t just been through the emotional ringer. Ahmed beamed at him, quickly crossing the balcony to grab hold of Soren’s wrists. “Good. You are still here. Come. Dabir and I wanted you present for the naming.”

    “Ahmen,” Soren started but Ahmed waved him off, grinning from ear to ear.

    “None of that. And do not worry. Both Dabir and I have come to the conclusion that if we used your name, you would not have taken that as the honor it was. So you will be present instead.”

    Soren couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped his chest. He was certain there were going to be a lot of things over the next two days that were going to be in his honor that were more than he deserved but as long as Ahmed and Dabir were involved, he trusted the couple to not overdo it at least.

    Two more days before he had to decide whether or not he was going to start the conversation about children with Hilde and Garlock.

    Two more days before he returned home.
     
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  • Index
    • Prompt and Assorted | Wayward Souls at Halftrot Inn
  • Index
    • Wayward Souls at Halftrot Inn
    Many grand adventures begin in a tavern or inn, or some place where unlikely paths cross and companions are found.

    The Halftrot Inn is one such place, filled with an eclectic assortment of guests and staff that make any wayward soul's stay pleasant. Or, at least, it should be. This time, though, the Halftrot Inn finds itself tangled in the adventuring that usually stopped at its doors. Two of its guests go missing and while it's not hard to figure out how or why, it is left to a ragtag company of smaller companies to not only find but rescue the two missing guests without risking the lives of those that help them along the way.


    • Halftrot Inn was never truly still no matter what time it was. Granted, three o’clock in the morning was far quieter than three in the afternoon but there was always someone at the front desk doing something and at least two other staff members working somewhere on the property.

      Niko loved those early morning hours. Not because of the quiet - oh Gods, no; she lived for the noise and bustle of the day and the secrets and information that slipped through it - but because of the occasional body that wasn’t supposed to be up at those hours. It wasn’t very often someone bustled in from outside too early in the morning to be considered normal - or unconcerning - and it was even less common for someone to leave, but it happened. It always happened.

      The clock had just chimed the quarter hour past four when the front door opened. She stilled her hand, pen lifted from the page to not blot the ledger. Two individuals entered before the door was shut with some care, soft chatter drifting between them. Niko placed the pen off to the side and offered the pair a welcoming smile. “Welcome to the Halftron Inn. What can I do for you?”

      The shorter of the two stepped forward, lowering their hood with a smile. White fur dominated the stranger’s features, though red tabby fur covered the top of the head and feline ears. The tabby patch created a sharp white point between the ears high on the stranger’s head and cut crisply down to the temples only to become a soft curve towards the back. The fur around the throat starting under the chin and continuing down into the collar of the stranger’s attire was semi-long and spilled out around the stranger’s neck like a fluffy scarf. “Good morning. Do you happen to have any rooms available that can fit three?”

      Niko fished out another book. Something seemed oddly familiar about the feline stranger. Most of her attention was on gleaning as much detail of the pair as she could while she went through the motions of checking the strangers in, rattling off the current options and answering their assortment of questions. The taller of the pair never pushed back their hood so if there had been any hints to why the feline was familiar, it wasn’t going to be found with the hooded one.

      No, her clue came when Tavey Folt, the Halftrot Inn’s resident dragonborn came around the corner from the stables and staff quarters corridor with arms laden with a few saddle bags and escorting an aviary. More specifically a kenku - named Kenku, apparently, if she hadn’t misinterpreted the hooded figure’s wording - and the realization dawned on her. Her gaze returned to the feline as she kept the realization to herself.

      Without seeing what lay hidden beneath clothing, the feline looked exactly like the cat from her dreams; specifically, the less than normal dreams she had been having for the past few weeks.

      She refused to entertain the idea that those specific dreams were visions. Stuff like that was made up hogwash to scam people with. She had seen it plenty of times on the streets of people pawned out of coin by a fake fortune or vision of the future. Intuition and instinct were only marginally believable. Niko wasn’t unfamiliar with instinct; it drove even the kindest of souls to kill when cornered just as it drove breath into lungs without thought. Intuition was something else. Intuition was being able to tell when a trap was more than a harmless joke, or when there were no obvious reason to actually distrust the shopkeep yet the drive to leave without looking back can’t be ignored. Intuition was narrowly avoiding getting picked up by people looking to earn a good bit of cash in the Underground Market because a different path home was taken on a whim. Niko was familiar with those things but even then she was certain it was more coincidence than actual forces at work.

      And yet she was hesitant to simply label the dreams as nothing more than weird, repeating dreams. Whether that was because of something like instinct urging her not to or if it was some sort of logical conclusion she had unconsciously come to, Niko simply knew when to pay attention and when to brush a dream off.

      If the not-dreams had been actual visions of the future, of possibilities, maybe it would have been easier for her to accept something like Futuresight being the cause and a legitimate thing. But no. The not-dreams were cryptic imagery that never really made sense until some missing bit of information was brought to her attention, oftentimes in the form of whoever was involved. On top of that, they were usually far and few between; the last one had been a single not-dream with no repeats two years prior and it had ended a three year streak of no not-dreams.

      Her dreams - regardless if they were normal or not - were always complex with a touch of bizarre but they never left her feeling off kilter and never grew more vivid if they did repeat on the rare occasion; and no repeat was ever a true reiteration of the original. The not-dreams never changed no matter how many times they repeated. They would start out fuzzy and hard to remember but with each repeat, the not-dreams became clearer and clearer as if the images were imprinting themselves into her memory. Each time she woke from one, she was left feeling out of place for a long while and it only got worse as the not-dreams grew clearer.

      Even now as she exchanged a room key for the hooded figure’s coin, the not-dream was filling her head so clearly, it almost obscured her sight.

      The not-dream had been simple enough: a white cat with red tabby markings on its head and down part of its back was carrying a little black bird by the scruff of the neck as if it was a kitten. The red furred, long-haired tail was held straight and high as the cat trotted on three legs along the sandy shores of some body of water; the cat’s right leg was missing at the knee yet it walked as if it still existed. The little black bird was curled as a kitten would have been but instead of simply hanging from the cat’s mouth, the little black bird was curled around a tiny humanoid figure and seemed quite content with doing so. The tiny humanoid was chest to chest with the little black bird and hung limp so that lanky limbs dangled past the little black bird’s body and swayed with the motions of the cat’s walk.

      Where the cat and little black bird looked forward and quite content, the humanoid looked back, chin resting on what counted as the little black bird’s shoulder with a tired gaze locked onto the mass of shadows that kept pace not far behind the cat. A thin strip of shadow stretched from the mass along the ground at the cat’s feet only to behave in a way that she had never seen shadow behave.

      Near the cat’s front paws, the strip of shadow stretched up from the sand and was firmly wrapped around the humanoid’s right wrist. She could never figure out if the shadow held on like a hand or a manacle but the hold always looked unbreakable.

      When she first had the not-dream, there had been the vague impression of a cat carrying something that wasn’t a kitten around like a kitten and it had bugged her for a good hour or two. She didn’t even notice the humanoid until about the time both cat and little black bird had become distinct against the sandy beach. It wasn’t until the most recent repeat that she had been able to see the mass of shadows. It had taken that same repeat for her to notice that the cat was well aware of something following it.

      As the trio left, she wondered after the hooded figure. Were they the humanoid from the not-dream? She was rather tempted to assume they were but she knew things weren’t always as clear cut as she first assumed.

      Not that the current not-dream on her mind was a good example of it. It seemed pretty straight forward to her. The humanoid was being followed, and knew it, but was doing nothing to keep the little black bird and the cat out of it. Though that probably wasn’t from a lack of trying; the little black bird had been wrapped around the humanoid and the cat had been carrying them both. But the fact that the cat was the only other one to be blatantly aware of what haunted the humanoid’s trail seemed weird. Surely the little black bird knew what was after them.

      Or was it being sheltered from it?

      The only answer Niko got in the days that followed was that, yes, the hooded figure had indeed been the humanoid in the not-dream. The trio had booked their room for a week and on their first day of stay, quickly showed their worth by entertaining the dining room for a good many hours. The feline - a tabaxi named Talley Oaken - was no bard but played the hurdy-gurdy as well as any bard Niko had met, though the instrument itself was new to Niko. The music ranged from energetic and uplifting to morrose and drawn out but it was all greeted with applause from those in the dining room.

      Kenku was something different entirely. Niko had heard rumors that kenku only spoke in mimicry but she had never met one before to learn if that was true or not. It had sounded as if it would be a very limiting thing. Oh, how Kenku proved her wrong.

      Kenku and the hooded figure - a moon elf that went by Ravin that refused to give his full name after Talley had confirmed ‘Ravin’ was only a nickname - had joined Talley on the little stage in the corner of the dining room that first performance. Ravin had looked rather uncomfortable up there and had merely patted out a beat on the inn’s spare drum. It was clear he had never learned to properly play but he was good enough to keep a steady beat. Kenku, as a stark contrast, seemed quite content being up on stage with Talley and happily stood at her side as she settled center stage. The first song started with Talley’s first few notes and then Kenku opened its beak.

      The entire place was shocked when the notes of a church organ became accompaniment to the hurdy-gurdy, the consistent beat of a drum tolling just underneath. Neither Talley nor Ravin reacted to the sound so it was apparent the trio had done this before but to have someone vocalize the exact sounds of a church organ - including multiple notes overlapping - was disarming. Her Pa informed her the second night that the sounds of the organ weren’t exactly perfect seeing as he himself could tell it was only mimicry long before he had entered the room but Kenku was good enough to fool the masses and even some of those who had better ears than most.

      Niko was not surprised to find her Gramp and Gran speaking with Talley and Ravin the third day of the trio’s stay as she arrived at the front desk for her shift. Of the words she caught, her Gramp and Gran were finalizing a short term contract with the trio that included a discount to room and food if they continued to entertain as well as pay. It was the standard stuff; she had walked bards through the same exact contract when they inquired about work for room and board. They even catered a similar contract to those looking for other work; extra hands in the stables, kitchen, and housekeeping were always welcomed.

      On the fifth day of the trio’s stay, the front doors swung open to familiar faces. With only a few hours before midnight, she and her Gramp were going over the books for the shift exchange. Her Gramp looked up and immediately greeted the familiar faces by name as he made his way out from behind the front desk. “Terrel Lambrax! Good to see you, old friend! Good to see you in good health, Emrynth.”

      “Kole, my friend!” Terrel called out, grinning broadly. “It has been too long!” The pair hugged, a mildly amusing sight seeing as her dwarven Gramp was almost half the height of the human he was hugging. Neither seemed to notice or care about the height difference as they roughly hugged each other before her Gramp turned to Emrynth.

      Emrynth gave her Gramp a genial smile as their hug was much more sedated. “How are June and the twins?”

      “June’s still the same spitfire I fell in love with all those years ago,” her Gramp assured. “Brax and Kelsca are taking care of their families as Stormshields do. Brax is still looking to taking over once me and Junebug retire.”

      “That’s good to hear!” Terrel said. “Brax around now? I have some goods he might be interested in.”

      “He should be in the kitchen.”

      Terrel nodded and left for the kitchen through the dining room. Her Gramp turned to Emrynth and returned to business, asking, “How many rooms are you looking to use and for how long?” The front door opened again. “Is it just the two with you this time?”

      At least two other bodies entered behind the small cluster at the door but Emrynth and the two others standing with her blocked Niko’s view.

      Emrynth glanced back in surprise before smiling. “Not quite. We have two others as part of our company but they went with your stable staff to help with the carts and animals.” Emrynth turned to properly look at one of the new arrivals. “Are you still looking to continue on with us?”

      “It will solely depend on how long your business takes and the weather fairs,” someone said. The voice was kind, cordial, but there was a crispness to them that edged the words in contempt.

      Someone else added with a grin on their words, “We can manage our own rooms, though. No need to include us in your plans.”

      Her Gramp cut in before Emrynth could comment. “Let’s get started with checking you all in. There will be plenty of time to debate who is paying for who and for how long as we wait for your other two.” Her Gramp returned to the front desk, focusing on her for a moment. “I’ve got this one, Niko, if you want to go check in with your father and Terrel.”

      Niko shook her head. “I’ll stay in case we have any other guests come in.”

      She didn’t realize she had erred until she caught how his lips pressed thin for the briefest of moments. He had been dismissing her but, for whatever reason, he wasn’t going to force her. She wasn’t sure why he wanted her to leave but she knew better than to look as if she was trying to eavesdrop.

      She grabbed the bank ledger with the intent of doing work she would have normally saved for later in her shift but when she glanced over the group one last time, it was immediately apparent she would not be able to focus on anything, let alone the conversation.

      Two tieflings, one mere inches taller than the other, stepped around Emrynth’s two companions. The taller came into view first, blue skin the same dark, rich color of the blue velvet she had seen in the very expensive clothing shop in town. The taller’s horns reminded her of cow horns with their smooth texture and how they came to a sharp point but that was the extent of the resemblance. The horns came from the back of the tiefling’s head and curled forward, mimicking the curve of the back of the skull until straightening out at the top of the head and ending at the front of the face. The points were situated directly above the point of the tiefling’s eyebrow.

      In contrast, the shorter tiefling had skin a pink Niko couldn’t exactly describe. It was as if someone had blended the purest pink with a pink a shade or two redder and the pigments only increased the pinkness of the color rather than the purest pink taking on the redder shade. It was startlingly bright without being the same startlingly bright as pale skin could be. On top of that, the shorter had two sets of horns compared to the taller’s single set. The larger of the sets started at either side of the shorter’s head and went back to corkscrew downwards twice. The set was ridged in a way that spoke of the same rings she had seen on the horns of rams. The smaller of the sets sat at the top of the shorter tiefling’s forehead probably at the hairline directly above the center of the eyes.

      Beyond those two major differences, the two could have easily passed as siblings. They both had the same thick, curly black hair that filled the space between skull and horns like clouds being lazily contained. Their eyes were similar in shape and black sclera but the shades of their irises were a touch different; the taller had irises that could have easily been a combination of blue, green, and gray where the shorter had irises of a more silver blue. Still, close enough to pass as siblings.

      As soon as the shorter tiefling had stepped into view after the taller, a not-dream rushed her. Strangely enough, it was the only one that had never really given her any details.

      The figure in the not-dream never became more than a form made of shadow but she was always left with the impression that the shadow figure was rather dapper. The not-dream always started with the dapper shadow figure finishing crafting what looked to be an oddly rounded glowing cup with a jewel or precious stone set into one of the faces. The dapper shadow figure would admire the handiwork, turning it this way and that and viewing it from different angles only to be startled upon finding a red string tied to the glowing cup. The red string was striking in the dark environment and against the dapper shadow figure’s form but that never seemed to be what the dapper shadow figure cared about. No, the dapper shadow figure would always tug on the string as if the string would come free with a good yank but it never did. When it became clear it was not coming off, the dapper shadow figure would start to follow the red string, protectively cradling the cup close to the chest. The cup, ever glowing and now floating, would hover just above the dapper shadow figure’s palm as the dapper shadow figure’s curled fingers kept the glowing cup from floating away.

      The red string always led to a very detailed pile of random things, from a fishing rod, a half finished shirt, and well worn shoes to a pile of candies and rocks, a feather, poppy flower, and the massive shell of some sort of turtle. To her, it looked like a pile of odds and ends with no real purpose - a pile of knick knacks at best, rubbish at most - but the red string led into the pile and the dapper shadow figure would move things out of the way to follow it deep into the pile. The red string always led to a band of metal that could have been a ring or a bracelet. In one of the faces was the same stone as the glowing cup had embedded in one face. Unlike the glowing cup, the band of metal wasn’t glowing.

      The not-dream always ended as the dapper shadow figure picked the band of metal up. There was no expression for her to see but she was left with the impression that the dapper shadow figure didn’t quite know what to do with the new discovery. Beyond that, she had never really understood the significance around the two objects and the red string connecting them. Even now as she came face to face with the two tieflings for a brief moment she wasn’t sure she understood it any better but she had learned something upon seeing them.

      For whatever reason, those objects represented the two before her and somehow they were connected.

      Or had been connected.

      A second not-dream waited until her thoughts slowed their tumbling over the first not-dream but the time between the two was far less than she cared for.

      All she had done was habitually glance over the gathered persons at the front desk. The two tieflings and Emrynth were right at the edge, both tieflings leaning against it while Emrynth remained standing tall. The two that had entered with Emrynth were still near the door as if to give those at the front desk some space. A third person, though, was standing within reaching distance of the two tieflings like a shadow. She had seen the person trail behind the tieflings as they had first approached the front desk but what she had missed was the small shield on the person’s left forearm that was now predominantly on display at the person’s chest where their arms were crossed.

      It had never dawned on her to connect two not-dreams until she had seen the person’s shield. The second not-dream had been of an indistinct figure steadily trudging through a thigh high substance; the only discernible detail had been the shield on the left forearm. As the figure trudged on, each hand held onto a rope that led to a gem larger than the shield floating along behind the figure. The gem at the end of the rope in the figure’s right hand was softly glowing while the gem at the end of the rope in the figure’s left wasn’t. Beyond that, the gems looked identical in cut and color as if made from the same material. There was nothing to say why only one glowed and the other didn’t.

      With the two not-dreams now very vivid in her mind, she now understood what that second not-dream had been implying. The person behind the two tieflings was the only reason those two tieflings were even interacting. She still didn’t understand the significance of the cup and band of metal but she knew that the tieflings had been represented not by the objects but by the stones embedded in them. And, for whatever reason, the person standing behind them was willing to keep them together even through whatever it was the person was trudging through.

      Though not knowing why one stone was glowing and one was not made her nervous.

      The person behind the tieflings met her gaze a moment before her Gramp placed a hand on her shoulder, startling her. His touch pulled her gaze from the person and she was left to suppress a shudder. She felt oddly cold. “Niko? Are you feeling ok, sweetheart?”

      She nodded; the motion brought her attention to the headache blooming at the center of her skull. “Yeah, I’m ok, Gramp. Must have let my thoughts wander too far.”

      Again she caught the thinning of his lips. He was letting it be as she said despite not believing her and it left her almost as uncomfortable as when he had been disappointed that she hadn’t recognized the dismissal for what it had been. Still, he surprised her with a gentle, “Alright, then. I’ll be here for another hour yet so don’t feel like you’re stuck here.”

      She knew it wasn’t what he had wanted to say - his eyebrows hadn’t let up their furrow - but it seemed enough to soothe some of the worry out of the lines on his aged face and he turned back to his discussion with Emrynth and the two tieflings. The conversation was coming to a close as Emrynth and the taller tiefling were taking their respective keys from her Gramp when chatter drifted from the staff corridor that led to the stables. Niko immediately recognized one of the voices and straightened, the barely touched bank ledger abandoned and forgotten.

      Her Pa stepped around the corner accompanied by Tavey and two strangers. Tavey was bringing up the rear carrying quite a few bags. Her Pa was carrying a similar amount while the remaining strangers had a bag each.

      Niko was not prepared for the third not-dream to overtake her. Whether it was from the force of the third not-dream shoving itself at her or from it being the third consecutive not-dream in less than an hour, Niko faltered under the onslaught and was swallowed by the sharp details of the most potent of the not-dreams she had been having once again.

      A storm raged against the town yet neither the Halftrot Inn nor the buildings of the town shuddered under its force. Niko stood in the middle of the abandoned round where the main east-west road terminated at the middle of the main north-south road being battered relentlessly by the storm. She couldn’t fill her lungs with enough air. The rain was coming down so hard, every inhale was watery, yet every exhale seemed to only give the wind more opportunity to pull even more air from her lungs. She tried to move towards the safety of the Halftrot Inn but when she turned towards home, she found herself down some alleyway she knew she should have recognized. Yet when she turned to try and walk it, she was back at the center of the round with her back to City Hall facing the east-west road cutting through the town ahead of her.

      Each time she tried to go home, she found herself someplace in town that should have been familiar but wasn’t. Over and over she tried until she couldn’t even remember where home was. Was it to the right, or the left?

      Or was it dead ahead?

      The first step forward didn’t throw her into some random part of town and she felt like weeping. She moved to sprint down the road before her eager to be out of the storm but something slammed into the back of her neck and cut into the tops of her shoulders, snapping her face down towards the mud.

      Her face hit wood instead and her blood ran cold as it felt like every hair on her body stood on end. She shoved herself upright but there seemed to be no strength in her arms and it took far too much effort to even manage to get to her knees and elbows.

      A massive chain was haphazardly draped beneath her hanging from something around her neck. Her arm took her full weight with ease, though she couldn’t remember getting from her elbows to her hands, and she tugged at a thick, heavy metal collar that was too tight around her neck. She made to scream but she couldn’t get her voice to work.

      She stumbled upright suddenly finding strength back in her limps and she tried to get away from the length of chain. It snapped taut when she stood straight.

      There was nowhere for her to go.

      She tried screaming again. Her voice was there - she could feel it - but the wind and rain was in her face again stealing her breath and her scream. It wasn’t fair. In a fit of anger, she grabbed at the chain and started yanking against it with all her might. She would get free even if she had to do it on her own.

      She didn’t realize the storm had stopped until something fluttered past the left side of her vision. She whipped her head around, gripping at the chain as if it would protect her.

      A bird of a beautiful blue with wings and long, deeply forked tail edged in a faded black was laid out on its stomach far beyond her limited reach. It was impossible to tell if the bird was injured or not but a part of her was saying it didn’t matter. What mattered was the danger they were both in and she had to get to it before something else did. She tried reaching for it anyway, struggling against the chain that bound her in place. A startled scream escaped her as the chain yanked her towards the ground seeming to shrink of its own accord. Stuck now on her knees, she looked back towards the bird.

      Every hair on her body stood on end as it felt like tiny pinpricks raced across her spine and the back of her skull. Two humanoids with weapons in hand were approaching the bird. They reached down and grabbed the bird by a wing and pulled it up; the bird was easily half as tall as either humanoid. The two humanoids turned and started to drag the bird away. She screamed after them to let the bird go but she couldn’t get her throat to work. No matter how hard she tried to scream it was like she had no voice.

      It wasn’t sound and it wasn’t movement that drew her gaze from the bird being taken away; it was the absence absence.

      The storm was gone. The town was gone. She existed in an emptiness that was completely dark save for the ground she knelt on and the chain she still gripped tightly. The ground she was on was illuminated as if it had some sort of internal light source that was muted in a way that reminded her of sunlight through a bed sheet. The patch of illuminated ground was a rather good sized circle much like the round before City Hall.

      A path of the same illuminated ground stretched towards where the bird was being dragged away but the path had faded out of existence barely paces from the circle she was at the center of. Three other illuminated paths came into existence, one at each remaining cardinal direction. The one opposite of the faded path now behind her ended at a point a good distance from the edge of the circle and a pale humanoid with shadows clinging to its body stood at the center of the path, a cat missing part of its back right leg standing on the humanoid’s shoulders.

      At the center of the path to her right stood a figure with a rope in each hand that was as short as the chain Niko was still clinging to. At the end of each rope was a gem of identical cut and color with the bottom most edge dragging in the dirt. Only the gem hanging from the figure’s right hand glowed. A shield on the figure’s left forearm reflected the glow of the path beneath the figure’s feet.

      At the center of the path to her left stood a creature that looked like a deer but was not any kind of deer she had ever seen. For one, the creature was much larger and for another, the antlers didn’t look right. There was a bend to them that curved the overall shape inward more than what she was used to seeing. Caught in the center of the antlers floating about the creature’s head was a ball of fire, flames flickering off the top of it as if someone had put a campfire in a high rimmed bowl and made the bowl invisible. The fire spluttered as the creature lowered its head as if to bow to her.

      The humanoid before her stepped forward first but the creature to her left and the figure to her right matched it pase for pase before all of them came to a stop at the boundary of the circle she was in. The humanoid raised its right hand, the figure its left, and both presented her with a familiar looking blue feather. The fire in the creature’s antlers sparked and popped before spitting a feather skyward undamaged from being within the flames. Somehow the feather stayed aloft over the flickering flames.

      She didn’t remember getting to her feet, let alone having any slack, so when she turned to look towards where the bird had been, when she took a step with that motion, the jerk of the chain shrinking startled her. She immediately turned back around and gripped at the chain with both hands but it didn’t shrink anymore. There was no slack now but she wasn’t being forced to her knees.

      The feathers had yet to be lowered.

      Her hands tightened on the chain. If she told them, there was the chance the chain would yank her to her knees. But she couldn’t go after the bird; that was certain to pin her to the ground with no chain to even sit up with. She didn’t want to be chained down like that; she feared what would happen if she ever was.

      Turning her body so that it faced the figure with the gems, she pointed towards where the bird’s path had been as she painfully gripped the chain with her other hand. The chain started to shrink but her gesture seemed to break whatever spell had kept the others out of the circle. In an instant the circle was invaded and the chain was shattered by one of them - the flurry of movement around her made it impossible for her to track who it had been - before they all took off down the path that was no longer illuminated.

      The weight of the collar was still heavy around her neck.

      “Niko.” It was her Pa’s voice, low and gentle as it always was, but she could hear the note of worry in it. His massive hand stroked the side of her head and she wondered if that was the first time he had done it or the fifth. “Come on, little one. Back awake. You can do it.”

      It took a good few seconds for her to get her eyes open and a good few more for her brain to make sense of what she was seeing. As soon as the amorphous blobs of color and light became shapes and people, she immediately knew where she was and what had happened.

      The splitting headache was downright excessive.

      “Pa,” she said. Or tried to say, as the simple word caught in her throat as a croak and she made a face at its lack of form. She swallowed and tried again. “I’m ok, Pa.” Her voice wavered but the words were actual words and not just half formed sounds. “I’m alright now.”

      Relief quickly filled her Pa’s face and it pulled a gentle smile to his ever gentle expression. “As you say, but I think it best if you are in bed for the night.”

      “I can work around a headache, Pa,” she tried to reason but he was already scooping her into his massive arms. She didn’t fight him as the motion exasperated her headache.

      “You can,” he agreed, “but there is no need for you to. One night resting will not cause harm to the inn.”

      “You say that,” a very familiar voice said, drawing both her and her Pa’s attention towards the dining room. Her Da was jogging over already nearly to their sides when he spoke again. “And yet you’ve seen what she’s capable of when left to her own devices at the hand of boredom.”

      Her Pa chuckled, a rolling rumble she felt in her bones tucked against his chest as she was. “I will take blame should she do such things. More, though, is my faith that sleep is much more desired. Headache tonics are best when they bring sleep with the relief.”

      Her Da met her gaze immediately. “You have a headache?” His hands - smaller than her Pa’s but still large in their own right and still properly bigger than her own - cupped her face before slipping into her hair carefully searching for tenderness. “Are you hurt? Did you hit your head?”

      “If she is hurt somewhere, it won’t be on her head.” The taller tiefling offered a half smile as everyone’s attention fell onto them. “I managed to at least catch her head before it hit the floor but I can’t say the same thing for the rest of her. I figured a bruised wrist would have been preferred over a head injury.”

      Her Da nodded. “Thank you.”

      It was a complete statement but the tiefling still grinned and happily offered, “Swift.”

      To Niko, it seemed like an odd sort of response, but her Da understood and gave a nod. “Thank you, Swift. You have our gratitude.” Her Da’s hands left her head and she fought down the urge to grab after them, to keep them close. Her Da turned his attention to her Pa. “Get her to bed; I’ll help make sure things get squared away as you do.”

      Her Pa bent down and pressed a kiss into her Da’s head, muttering something in Orcish that was too garbled for her to understand. Her Da responded in kind; despite his words being a touch clearer, it still sounded like garbled Orcish to her ears.

      Her Pa was quiet as he carried her down the staff corridor. Before she knew it she was being placed on her bed and tucked in tight. Her Pa stroked her hair as he said, “I will retrieve the tonic and return. Remain resting until then.”

      “I will, Pa. Promise.”

      He kissed her forehead, one that lingered for a good moment before he stepped out and closed her door behind him.

      Despite past habits, she had no desire to move from under the covers. The headache had been agitated by every small movement her Pa and Da had made with her and not moving brought blessed relief she knew would only be aided by the tonic her Pa was fetching.

      On top of that, her mind immediately returned to the not-dream she had just relived. She shuddered at having to relive it after the last time it had happened. It had wrecked her for an entire week and there was no telling how long it would haunt her now. She hadn’t needed to be told what it had meant in the end. It had been very clear with its message the first time the not-dream had invaded her sleep.

      If she tried to go after the one captured, she would suffer the same fate, if not worse. Even pointing others in the right direction wouldn’t completely erase that possibility.

      She shuddered again. The fact that it was an aarakocra at the center of it all was unsurprising. She knew too well that anything counted as exotic would gain a pretty coin in the Black Market and an aarakocra that wasn’t the standard variations of the region definitely counted as exotic.

      So did kenku, now that she thought about it. There had never been a kenku in town and that in turn would mean that Kenku was just as likely to get snatched if not more so since people had actually seen Kenku performing on stage. It would only be a matter of when before someone made the first attempt. Hopefully the trio never truly separated and it would keep any attempts from succeeding.

      She couldn’t remember where the little black bird that had represented Kenku had been in the not-dream. She was certain it hadn’t been with the humanoid and cat but that only left far too few other options.

      Her Pa knocked gently on the door before entering, disrupting her thoughts for a moment. He smiled gently as he returned to her side. “I will assist in your taking of the tonic so be patient and do not rush movement.”

      “Ok,” she said simply.

      The headache had become a manageable thrum in her temples during her Pa’s absence but it flared anew when his hand slipped under her back and slowly propped her upright. The tonic was bitter on her tongue and tasted equally horrible. She grimaced at the taste. Her Pa exchanged the tonic vial for the glass of water on the bedside table. She greedily drank down the cool water to wash the aftertaste away.

      “May you have good rest,” her Pa said softly once she was tucked back into bed. He kissed her forehead again. “Sleep well, little one.”

      “Good night, Pa. Love you.”

      “I love you as well.”

      The door clicked shut behind him and she sank into the darkness of her room. For a brief moment she wondered after why she had collapsed. Whether it had been a toll on the body, the mind, or some outside factor she would probably never know but she knew one thing.

      There was one last not-dream unexplained which meant there was one last person to meet before she was left with simply point the direction.

      That person arrived two days later.

      Well, two days wasn’t completely accurate. Though it was technically the second day, it was barely an hour into it when the front doors opened and two strangers entered the inn. Niko, back at the front desk as if nothing had happened, looked up from the papers she had been sorting. Both figures were heavily cloaked against the raging storm beyond the inn’s walls but still looked completely drenched. She smiled and welcomed the two warmly. “Welcome to the Halftron Inn. What can I do for you?”

      The shorter of the two by almost a head stepped up to the front desk first, lowering the sodden hood with some care. “Do you have any rooms available? Two beds would be preferred but we can make do with whatever is available.”

      “Sure, let me check. Would you prefer the first floor or second?”

      “Depends,” the taller said, coming to stand behind the shorter’s left shoulder. “What do you have available?”

      She had just flipped the ledger to the right page when the taller figure pushed a surprisingly less sodden hood back.

      The last not-dream finally made sense.

      It was a good thing she was quite used to going through the motions without needing all of her attention on what she was saying or doing because her thoughts were very much not on what she was doing. Her heart was thudding against her chest as she rolled the sudden information around in her head. The fact that the strange deer creature with the fire between its antlers had represented not one but two people she could get over but the onslaught of everything else was taking a hot second longer for her to accept.

      The not-dream had been the simplest, most cryptic not-dream out of all of them; even the figure trudging through the thigh high substance had a clear message without the specifics.

      The odd deer with the fire among the points of its antlers never moved in the not-dream. It stood stock still in the middle of a snowy forest whose canopy was ablaze. That was it. That was the not-dream; and until two days ago, she hadn’t really accounted for it being more than a really weird dream, it being a not-dream notwithstanding. When it became clear it was a not-dream, she had assumed it was about one person, that the weird fire deer would make sense once she met that strange someone. But no, the deer and the fire were completely different and the fact that the snow on the forest floor appeared unaffected by the fire raging in the canopy had indeed been significant.

      Whoever these two were, one of them was set to burn everything in their path for a single goal, including burning themself out in the process. The one represented by the odd deer was untroubled by the other’s fervent nature. They stood steadfast under the flame and was the reason the flame was still managing to only burn what they intended to burn. She had no idea if the fire was literal or not but it made sense thinking back on it now that she knew the fire and the odd deer were two different people.

      She waved after the pair as they started for the stairs towards the second floor. They fell into Dwarvish as they walked away but they kept their voices down so she couldn’t hear any of their words.

      It seemed only time would tell which was which and just how literal that fire was.
     
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  • Index
    • Fanfiction | The Fifth Descender (Genshin Impact)
  • Index
    • The Fifth DescenderA Genshin Impact Fanfic

    They weren't supposed to come to Teyvat. Kaveh should have known better than to coax the otherworlder from their path, to have left things be.

    No, wait, that wasn't fair to Kaveh. Alhaitham had asked. He had been curious, just as Kaveh had been eager when the otherworlder had changed directions to at least fly by. Kaveh couldn't have known the Fatui had been watching the otherworlder. Kaveh couldn't have known that Alhaitham would end up leaving him in Sumeru City - unconscious, alone- no, Lesser Lord Kusanali was with him. Lesser Lord Kusanali had sent Alhaitham with Wanderer to get the otherworlder, had...had.......

    He really hated nausea. The pain he could deal with but the nausea could go away and never return.

    Maybe he should try and get some more sleep. It would be nice to wake up to a rescue, especially with how bad his injuries were.

    They were looking for them, right?

    Content Warning: Do be advised that starting in Chapter 2, there is talk about wound care and vomiting. Nothing is overly explicit however keep in mind I am not trained on wound care beyond First Aid training and thus information may be inaccurate.


    • Kaveh was still hovering, not that Alhaitham was surprised. It had only been a day since he had returned to work so some hovering was to be expected; no, the thing that was odd was the nature of it.

      Usually by the time Alhaitham returned to work, Kaveh was less attentive, less present in a sense, and oftentimes antsy to get back to work in a greater capacity. Kaveh wasn’t behaving like that. Alhaitham watched him, book lying open and temporarily forgotten on the table, as Kaveh quietly worked on some illustration. From what glimpses Alhaitham had managed around Kaveh’s normal behavior of hiding it before Alhaitham could really see it, it didn’t look like Kaveh’s normal work. It had looked a bit too abstract, less focused, or perhaps too complex for a simple sheet of paper to hold, like Kaveh was trying to capture how the stars hung in three dimensional space in a two dimensional image. But despite Kaveh’s appearance of working diligently away on his latest piece, Alhaitham knew better. Kaveh’s gaze was focused on the in-between space rather than the page itself. Instead of precise, almost dance-like, long movements from Kaveh’s arm, the movements were small, fleeting, and seemed to drift more than to dance. Even his expression - which could range from a scowl of frustration to a lax concentration - was blissful in a way Alhaitham had only ever seen on Kaveh’s face once and he didn’t care to see it for a second time.

      Despite those oddities, Kaveh was as attentive as the man had been for the last three days. Even now, Kaveh’s gaze lifted from his work and focused on Alhaitham as if he had felt Alhaitham watching him. Part of that blissful expression slipped into something more familiar, something Alhaitham had seen regularly during those three days. “Need something? A break, maybe?” Kaveh started putting down his materials, careful to make sure the project was covered from prying eyes, but Alhaitham didn’t bother working out a response. Kaveh’s gaze unfocused like the man was focusing on a thought for the brief instant that it took for Kaveh to stand; there would be no point in saying anything when Kaveh would feel the real answer anyway. “Yep. Breaktime. Come on.” Kaveh came to a stop at Alhaitham’s side and grinned at him. “Let’s go take a walk and then you can come back to your reading. We’ll see about getting some food into both of us while we’re out.”

      The idea of eating anything sent a curl of disgust through him. He wasn’t hungry despite knowing he was supposed to be if not outright starving. It had certainly been long enough since the measly amount he had managed to consume earlier in the day to not be.

      Kaveh’s expression softened; he was grateful it held no pity. “I know but you have to at least have something small. We’ll try your go-tos and work from there.” Kaveh’s hand closed around Alhaitham’s upper arm and he automatically reached up to grab ahold of Kaveh’s forearm. Kaveh wasn’t strong enough to pull him bodily from the chair but the tug was enough for Alhaitham to move under his own power. “If all else fails, I did bring a few crackers so you can have those and some water when we get back. And juice, if you can manage it. Get some other nutrients in you as best we can.”

      Appreciation was thick in his chest as Kaveh reseated Alhaitham’s headphones back into place, even going as far as to make sure the noise canceling was active before the lift had even arrived. Had the remnants of the illness he had suffered through not been present, he would have found this attentiveness irritating. Kaveh led the way at Alhaitham’s side filling the space between them with words. It was clear Kaveh had no expectation of Alhaitham’s participation but Alhaitham did what he could to be attentive of the other’s words.

      It quickly became apparent that he was incapable of tracking anything Kaveh said. Moments would slip through his fingers and he would find himself suddenly aware of Kaveh’s words and the world around them like he had just woken from a dream. Kaveh was always in his line of sight whenever he came back to awareness with a patient cheerful expression and oftentimes something being offered. Most of it was food that Alhaitham turned down but there were the occasional trinkets, a number of which were shown without intent to buy, a rarity with Kaveh. It wasn’t often they walked the market and Kaveh wasn’t relying on Alhaitham to not let the other man buy every trinket that caught his interest.

      When had his head gotten so foggy?

      “How about this?” Coming back into awareness at Kaveh’s question, the blended smell of fresh bread, a mix of spices, and vegetables was the first thing he was able to focus on. It took a moment before he was able to actually understand what he was looking at even as his hand was already closing around the filled bun. He wasn’t sure why he took it. It wasn’t like his appetite had returned. But maybe a part of him knew he needed food and the filled buns had always been a safe option.

      He recoiled from the texture first and the taste second. Kaveh’s hand was under his in an instant, slipping the filled bun free of his grasp and quickly replacing it with a bottle of water. “Drink,” Kaveh directed, his voice still that same carefree sort of tone it had been in all day.

      Alhaitham took a long drink before returning the bottle to Kaveh. “I can eat it,” he said, his gaze on Kaveh’s face.

      Amusement bloomed across Kaveh’s face and the man smiled at him. “You could,” Kaveh agreed, lifting the bun to take a bite, “but I’d rather you have something that you want rather than the first thing I hand you.”

      That wasn’t exactly right. Kaveh had handed Alhaitham plenty of food throughout however long their walk had been. This was simply the first he had taken. “Kaveh,” he started but they both knew he didn’t have the words to follow it.

      Kaveh offered him that smile again, the bun already half gone. “Come on. We’ve got two more stalls to check out on this street.”

      In the end, it was the least expected item that had drawn Alhaitham’s appetite out and the pair of them returned to the sanctuary of the Grand Sage’s office with several skewers of barbecued meat and icy drinks. Alhaitham started for one of the small side tables but Kaveh had other plans and promptly walked towards the balcony with the plate of skewers. Alhaitham - now ravenous - followed after as irritation pulled at his chest. “Kaveh,” he started but Kaveh waved him off as the other man opened the balcony door with his elbow and back out onto the balcony itself.

      “We’ve been in the stuffy office all day. Let’s at least eat out here. Look. There’s even some nice seating here.”

      Sure enough, the blanket and cushions Kaveh had put out there the day prior were still there ready to be utilized. Alhaitham had somehow managed to forget all about them and stood just past the threshold holding their drinks as he watched Kaveh settle in the middle of the cushions, shoes tucked neatly at the edge of the blanket. Kaveh reached for the drinks as soon as the plate of skewers was safely placed on the low table and Alhaitham handed the drinks over without much thought.

      The blanket was cool against his bare feet as he joined Kaveh. Habit had him sitting straight with one leg tucked tight forcing the other to be propped higher than the other. It kept him sitting upright as Kaveh passed him a still steaming skewer. The meat on it was gone before Kaveh had finished his first bite.

      Kaveh filled the silence with soft chatter between mouthfuls. Alhaitham contributed very little and settled into the cushions once he was sated. Despite the voracious appetite that had seized him, Alhaitham had managed half of what he would normally have consumed. Kaveh didn’t comment on it, coaxing instead for Alhaitham to at least finish his drink before he took the unintended nap he was heading for.

      He wasn’t sure he had managed to drink all of it before falling asleep.

      What he did know was that a lot of time had passed by the time he had woken up. The balcony had been warm and well lit but was now dark and while he was warm thanks to whatever Kaveh had draped over him, the air on his face was cool. He sat up, letting whatever covered him slide to gather on his lap, and found Kaveh as soon as he started looking around.

      The sky beyond the balcony was speckled in stars. The only reason Alhaitham was able to see anything was the light from the door and the two lanterns mounted on the wall. Even then Kaveh’s face was cast in thick shadows as it was pointed up towards the stars, oblivious to the rest of the world. The other man’s back was bare of its normal split cape. That particular item was now gathered in Alhaitham’s lap along with his own cape piece.

      Alhaitham stood. The fog he had dealt with during their walk was gone. He refused to acknowledge just how severely he had needed food and a nap as he walked over to Kaveh’s side. The railing was still warm as he leaned back against it, letting his forearms take his weight as Kaveh took his gaze. Even then Kaveh didn’t react to him. Kaveh’s eyes were locked on the stars without really seeing them and that blissful look was back on his face. A thin string of unease pulled taut through Alhaitham’s chest. “Something interesting got your attention?” he asked, half expecting to be ignored.

      “They’re so free up there.”

      The unease was masked by curiosity and intrigued but not wholly forgotten. “Oh? And who are they?”

      Kaveh shrugged, a half formed gesture that could have been a simple shift of weight had Alhaitham not known better. “Another otherworlder, kind of like the Traveller.”

      Alhaitham turned his gaze to the stars knowing he wouldn't be able to see whatever held Kaveh’s attention. Kaveh had connected to this otherworlder on a level Alhaitham couldn’t even fathom. Being an Empath was rare among Sumeru’s populations - possibly all across Teyvat if his research was anything to go by - and Kaveh was proving once again that he was not on the same level as other Empaths. The part that concerned Alhaitham about it all, though, was how connected Kaveh had become to some otherworlder who hadn’t even touched Teyvat soil. The last time Alhaitham had witnessed Kaveh get so entangled with another, it had ended poorly and he had foolishly believed - or naively hoped - that the first time had been the only time Kaveh would ever suffer through such an entanglement.

      “Are they coming to visit?” Alhaitham asked, turning enough for his body to face Kaveh.

      Kaveh’s bliss slipped at the edges as he thought. “They’re curious but they have somewhere else they wish to be.” That bliss came back full force and Kaveh leaned into the railing with enough weight that Alhaitham instinctively straightened, unconsciously - irrationally - thinking Kaveh would put too much of his weight over the railing. “They are going to fly by! They’ll be close enough to see!”

      With a hand still hovering over Kaveh’s arm, Alhaitham looked up, eager in a way he would never verbalize to see even just a glimpse of whatever had enthralled Kaveh. The seconds turned into minutes and although time seemed to stretch on longer than it really needed to, Alhaitham didn’t say anything. He moved about, obviously, into something more comfortable when it became apparent the otherworlder wasn’t as close as he had originally assumed but he never broke the silence. Neither did Kaveh, still leaning heavily on the railing, gaze still locked on the night sky above.

      Kaveh spotted them first. “There!” he exclaimed, this time leaning so far over the railing he teetered on the edge of falling. The back of Alhaitham’s fingers ran against Kaveh’s spine as he took hold of the other’s shirt collar through the opening in the back. He yanked hard enough to bring the man’s weight back onto the balcony but did nothing more as his gaze searched the portion of sky Kaveh was pointing at.

      For a breath, Alhaitham thought he wouldn’t be able to make the otherworlder out, only for something he had assumed was nothing more than another twinkling star to get larger in the sky. Alhaitham vaguely noted the rail pressing into his gut as he watched that star slowly grow in size until it was nearly as large as Alhaitham’s hand spread wide. It slowly started to dip down in the sky, like it was coming to land not far from Sumeru City, before a tail started to appear and it banked to the right. It flew across the sky in a brilliant streak of light, golds and blues most prominent of colors in the trail left behind. For a long minute it continued its horizontal trajectory before banking steadily south with a lazy arch skyward.

      Alhaitham withdrew from the rail with a fond smile on his lips. Kaveh was still enthusiastically waving to the otherworlder even if the otherworlder couldn’t see it and Alhaitham was content to let him wave to his heart’s content.

      Something on the far hill the otherworlder was rounding caught his eye. Just as his gaze settled on the hillside in confusion, a beam of light flashed into existence anchored to the point on the hill and continuing on into the night sky, a beam of light that cut right through the cluster of light that was the otherworlder.

      A wretched, guttural, fear- and pain-filled scream tore itself from Kaveh as Alhaitham watched the otherworlder’s trajectory drop dangerously. The beam of light had been brief, like a lightning strike, and had burned itself across his vision. It made the details of the balcony hard to discern but he could see Kaveh enough to watch as the man finally tipped over the railing.

      Alhaitham wrapped one arm around Kaveh’s waist as the other hooked around the front of Kaveh’s shoulder. He pulled Kaveh back, pinning the man to his chest even as Kaveh thrashed against him, desperate and panicked. “Kaveh,” he grunted, struggling to maintain his hold on Kaveh. “Calm down. We’ve gotta-”

      A second beam of light shot into the sky, this time from a different location and far less blinding yet still very visible against the night sky. The otherworlder hadn’t yet managed to regain any of the altitude they had lost but they had made distance. Already they were nearly the size of any other star in the sky and the beam of light seemed as thin as spider silk. There was an interruption in the otherworlder’s path but they were too far away for Alhaithan to tell if the second beam had made contact.

      “Go! Keep going!”

      If Kaveh’s shouting was anything to go by, the otherwordler had managed to dodge that one.

      “You can do it! Just get high enough! Come on! Get higher!”

      Alhaitham lost track of the otherworlder as the distance between them grew too great. If he had to guess, the otherworlder had to be near Aaru Village at that point.

      “Come on! One last burst! You can do it!”

      Kaveh was trembling. He had probably been trembling since the moment Alhaitham had pulled him back from the rail but it was only as he turned his gaze from the sky that he noticed. Without thinking, he shifted his hold to check Kaveh over for injury, hands pressing against Kaveh’s sides, back, chest, but nothing broke Kaveh’s gaze. Nothing gained him so much as a hiss of pain or a flinch, not even when he pressed a spot that he knew was ticklish.

      Irrational or not, he was immensely grateful the Empath ability was only of the mind and not shared by the body as well.

      “Yes! Just a bit more and you’ll- NO!”

      Kaveh lurched forward, breaking what measly hold Alhaitham had of him and slammed into the railing. The railing created the brief second Alhaitham needed to wrap his arms around Kaveh again and yank the fervent man back from sure death. Tears were streaming down Kaveh’s face, a sheen of sweat covering what exposed skin Alhaitham could see as Kaveh seemed unable to stand anymore. The trembling had turned into tremors yet Kaveh’s gaze never wavered. Alhaitham sank to his knees as carefully as he could with Kaveh pinned to his front.

      Kaveh’s breath shuddered. “No, you have to- I know it hurts. It hurts so much.” An ache settled in Alhaitham’s chest. He had thought he had heard Kaveh speak in every way possible but this… “But you have to get higher. You have to get out of here. Come on. Just a bit more strength and you’ll…” For a moment those heartbroken words stilted to a stop. Alhaitham - foolishly - thought that was it; the otherworlder had pulled their strength together and was going home; but then Kaveh tensed against him. “No. No, don’t pass out,” Kaveh urged, frantic in a way his body seemed unable to replicate. “You have to get away. You have to- No! They’re there! Don’t fall asl- No, they’re right- NO!”

      Kaveh lurched forward as if he could reach the otherworlder but Alhaitham moved with him, his arms tightening around Kaveh’s chest. Panic seized his chest when Kaveh’s dead weight nearly threw both of them to the floor. With a quick weight shift, he managed to drag Kaveh’s body around enough to get the other laying against him. That panic flared into terror at the thought of Kaveh keeling over dead from whatever connection he shared with the otherworlder flickered briefly into existence but the tremors were still going strong and Alhaitham could feel Kaveh’s chest rise and fall from where his hand was splayed on the other’s chest.

      “Alhaitham?”

      He looked up, startled by a voice he hadn’t heard in quite some time. There, standing on the railing as if she had floated down from the stars themselves, was the Dendro Archon. She hadn’t changed; she was still wearing that small dress of green and white on her small form with nothing on her feet. In contrast, the person who stood on the railing beside her Alhaitham only half recognized. The stranger was dressed in predominantly blues and black and had a wide brimmed hat from which a pair of ribbons hung from the back rim. He was certain he had seen them before but his mind refused to hand over a name.

      He turned his attention back to the Dendro Archon. “Lesser Lord Kusanali.” The words scratched at his throat and fell heavily from his tongue. Five different questions tangled into a knot deeper down, choking off anything else he might have said. He flexed his jaw as anger churned through him. No, he refused to do this now. He had questions and at minimum he had to know why she was there.

      “Oh no.” She hopped down from the railing, her eyes on Kaveh and a sad expression settling into place. The Dendro Archon settled on the ground at their side as she placed one of her hands on Kaveh’s arm. “I had hoped he hadn’t been bound so tightly when I had heard his screams.” She shifted back on her ankles, looking to her companion. “Wanderer, will you please take Kaveh to the Sanctuary for me and then send word for Tighnari in Gandharva Ville.”

      Unfortunately, the name didn’t sound familiar.

      The stranger huffed but stepped off the railing with an odd amount more grace than the Dendro Archon had. “Fine. But don’t expect to get anything other than an earful from that Forest Ranger when he chews you out for not taking him to any of the doctors here.”

      Wanderer bent down to pick Kaveh up but paused when Alhaitham’s arms tightened. It had been instinct, he wanted to snap but the words wouldn’t come forth. Instead, he met the stranger’s incredulous gaze with a flat one of his own, daring them to do something about it even as he fought to relax his hold.

      The Dendro Archon’s small hand settled against one of his arms. “It will be alright, Alhaitham. Wanderer won’t cause him any more harm. He will be well protected and well cared for in the Sanctuary.”

      Alhaitham gritted his teeth, his grip flexing before finally going lax. Wanderer’s arms slipped under Kaveh, rubbing against Alhaitham’s chest and legs in turn. He expected the contact to be rough but the stranger’s movement was fluid and careful, even going as far as to make sure Kaveh was well situated before standing. A small fraction of his worry eased. “I’ll be back,” the stranger said before hopping up onto the railing. A burst of anemo energy churned the air on the balcony as the stranger stepped off and disappeared from sight.

      “Do you know what happened?” the Dendro Archon asked.

      Alhaitham shook his head. There was a weight on the back of his tongue, almost as if the words had physical form he had to talk around, and all he managed was a garbled, “Can guess,” out of the complete sentence he had wanted to say. He tried clearing his throat but that only made his throat feel more raw. “I…We saw…parts of it…from here.”

      He clenched his jaw even as he sucked in a breath to try and calm down. To his relief, the Dendro Archon didn’t react to his stagnant speech.

      “The first attack?”

      He nodded. “And the second,” Alhaitham said. There was a tightness to his throat but talking was getting easier. “After that…I only had how…Kaveh reacted to go off of.” Another shuddering breath and slowly words were easier to say. “Kaveh had talked as if the otherworlder could hear him. He tried to convince them to leave while they still could but it…the third attack hit. Kaveh’s trembling had turned to tremors from it and the way Kaveh talked…” That ache returned, heavy and thick at the memory, stagnating his breath for a moment. “The rest of his words were too broken for a clear picture but I believe there was either a fourth attack or the otherworlder fell unconscious and into the awaiting arms of their attacker. He passed out with the last one, regardless.”

      The Dendro Archon nodded her head. “From what little more I could see, it was the former, though that does not exclude the latter completely. However, it does create a problem. We can hope that they have landed far from the reach of those who were attacking them but if they truly landed in their arms…”

      “We’re out of time.”

      She nodded again. “I will send Wanderer with you but I suggest you take others with you. Not very many more, though. Too many and you risk being slowed down.”

      “You’re sending me after them?”

      Those large, not quite human green eyes focused on him curiously. “You know what is at stake if we take too long and I doubt we have time to fill many more in.” The Dendro Archon stood and brushed off her skirt as if it was dirty. “I will stay with Kaveh and make sure he is ok. On the off chance something goes wrong or if I find more information, I will do my best to let you know as soon as possible. I have never tried to communicate across that far of a distance before but in theory I should be able to reach Wanderer.”

      Alhaitham frowned. “Reach?”

      She held out her hands to him. “There are a few people who I can talk with, mmmm… telepathically, I guess you could call it.” When he didn’t react to her reach, she bent down and took hold of his hand. “Wanderer is one of them, though not by design.” Oh. She was trying to help him stand. He tucked his legs under and stood without putting his weight on her. “I can speak with the Traveler in the same manner, though that is due to everything that has happened. I will try reaching out to the Traveler as well but I have no idea if the connection is strong enough. It seemed improper to continue such ways of communicating while the Traveler wasn’t within the city, let alone Sumeru itself so I fear I won’t be able to bring the Traveler to your aid.”

      “But if anything changes…”

      “I’ll let you know through Wanderer.”

      “Are my ears burning or are you two actually talking about me?”

      Wanderer landed on the railing again. For a brief moment, Alhaitham caught sight of Wanderer’s hat as a halo of anemo energy before returning to its natural state. The Dendro Archon took a few steps towards Wanderer, answering, “I was letting Alhaitham know that you will be joining him to go find our guest.”

      Wanderer raised an eyebrow at her as he crossed his arms. “Does it have to be me?”

      The movement fluttered long strips of fabric hanging from the back of Wanderer’s outfit, strips of fabric that suddenly reminded Alhaitham of something similar. Alhaitham gathered up Kaveh’s split cape and his own.

      “Yes. I want to make sure Alhaitham and those he chooses to go with him have another powerful Vision bearer at their side. Not to mention your talents will make finding our guest that much easier. Even with Alhaitham’s talents, you are able to get higher than Alhaitham is which will lend itself to tracking our guest or any of their pursuers.” The Dendro Archon was the size of a child and very much looked like one with her hands clasped behind her back and smiling gently up at an unamused Wanderer. “You can think of it as a task for me, if that helps.”

      Wanderer scoffed. After a breath, Wanderer replied with a crisp, “Fine, let’s get this over with.”

      The Dendro Archon looked to Alhaitham. “You will ask others to help you, won’t you?”

      “It won’t be just the two of us,” he assured her, handing Kaveh’s split cape to the Dendro Archon. “Keep an eye on him for me.”

      She offered him a rather sad sort of smile. “Do your best to return with little injury, as well.”

      It went unspoken how bad it would be if Alhaitham never returned.

      Alhaitham was unsurprised to see Cyno standing at the bridge to Aaru Village when he and Wanderer arrived. What did surprise him was who was standing next to him.

      “I would have expected your duties with Aaru Village would have kept you from helping,” Alhaitham said.

      Amusement flickered across Candace’s face. “That explains why I heard about this from Cyno. No, I made arrangements for Aaru Village in my absence after Cyno arrived last night asking about the shooting star. I saw where it fell and assumed it was best to simply join the expedition rather than give you a crude map, especially when he was unable to tell me who all was involved.”

      Cyno shifted his weight as he spoke up. “I expect we will find Fatui at the heart of all this. Their activity has been unusually high in the areas where those beams of lights came from.” Cyno nodded towards Wanderer. “And if he is the only other person you’ve managed to get to join us, I would strongly suggest accepting Candace’s offer and have her join us as well.”

      “I will not stop her from joining us if that is her choice. Has there been any evidence any of the Harbingers have been present?”

      Wanderer snorted behind him as Cyno shook his head. “Not in the areas I’ve checked but that doesn’t mean we won’t find them where the otherworlder fell.”

      “You’ll most definitely find one there. This was far too organized to just be some underlings doing their dirty work,” Wanderer put in, sounding a bit too pleased by that fact. Wanderer turned his gaze onto Alhaitham, a flat look crossing Wanderer’s face. “We don’t have time to stand around for pleasantries. Talk while we walk or I’m going on ahead.”

      Alhaitham looked to Candace. “Lead the way.”

      The trek from Aaru Village dagged and disappeared in equal parts. Once Candace announced they were reaching the area where the otherworlder had landed, they had nearly made it to the border of Sumeru. They walked parallel to the southern border scouring the sands for any sign of the otherworlder and Fatui activity. Wanderer went from walking among the group to using anemo energy to get as high as he could before gliding along their walking path, searching the dunes for any sign they were in the right area.

      Wanderer caught sight of the crater at the same time Cyno caught sight of the Fatui. “Wait,” Cyno called out. Candace and Alhaitham stopped immediately. Candace stiffened on the edge of Alhaitham’s vision; she had spotted them before he had.

      “The one we’re looking for crash landed a good few miles to the south,” Wanderer said as he landed in the middle of the group. “Doesn’t look like it matters, though. Those Fatui have left a nice line in the sand leading right to the crash site.”

      “Is anyone able to make out the otherworlder?” Alhaitham asked, squinting in the direction of the tiny dark shapes off in the distance. The sand under his foot shifted and he found himself sinking knee deep into the dune. “Curses,” he muttered as he pulled himself free. “There’s sand in my shoes.”

      Wanderer must have heard him because when he looked up as Cyno started talking, Wanderer was looking at Alhaitham with an incredulous look.

      “Not yet but it’ll be dark soon. I say we tail them until they camp or, if they keep going, we use the darkness to our advantage and strike them as they move.”

      Candace nodded in agreement. “We’ll only attack once we’ve got eyes on the otherworlder.” She looked to Wanderer. “You will be the fastest out of all of us so it would be best if you are the one to take the otherworlder and run. Cyno and Alhaitham can hold their attention and I will make sure you have cover.”

      Wanderer turned his incredulous look onto Candace. “Are you sure that’s such a good idea? I mean, the Dendro Archon did vouch for my strength and it’s not like going up against some Fatui underlings is anything new to me.”

      “Then you will be able to protect the otherworlder on the off chance any get past me.” Candace looked to Alhaitham and Cyno. “Any objections?”

      Alhaitham shook his head. Cyno voiced, “We’ll adapt as we need to. We still don’t know if they have any of the Harbingers with them.”

      The Fatui didn’t stop to camp until the sun had long since disappeared below the horizon, a horizon that was only discernible due to the moonlight on the dunes. To Alhaitham’s surprise, Wanderer didn’t say anything about the plan again, not even as they moved to one side of the Fatui camp and Candace and Cyno went to the other.

      “I see them,” Wanderer muttered suddenly. At a glance from Alhaitham, Wanderer pointed towards the back of the elongated Fatui camp, towards the darker reaches of the camp itself.

      Alhaitham wasn’t sure how he hadn’t spotted them before. The otherworlder practically glowed in the moonlight, a mane of hair that looked nearly white spilling over the edges of whatever they were laid out on. The sheet that covered them looked dull in comparison.

      Wanderer shifted in his peripheral, drawing Alhaitham’s gaze again. “Still no sign of any of the Harbingers.” A deep frown pulled across Wanderer’s face, barely visible in the shadow of his hat while his eyes seemed to glow as he met Alhaitham’s gaze. “The shorter the interaction we have with these Fatui, the better.”

      Alhaitham was all for making this as short as possible.

      He rushed into the air over the camp with a pull of dendro energy. He took half a second to note Cyno and Candace dashing in, illuminated by bursts of electro and hydro energy respectively, before plunging to the camp below. Immediately, dendro energy condensed and the chisel-light mirror already hovering behind and over his left shoulder gained a second as blade shaped dendro projections slammed into the ground, catching two Fatui by surprise and alerting the rest to his presence.

      He directed the two chisel-light mirrors around to his front and spat, “Diffract,” as he sent them over the area before him. A small area was contained in dendro including a number of Fatui before reflecting dendro energy within for the few seconds it existed.

      He hated the sensation of being nearly depleted of dendro energy.

      With the burst spent, Alhaitham darted around and tagged as many of the Fatui as he could with dendro so that Candace and Cyno could cause more damage. Dendro cores started littering the camp Candace’s wake and Cyno’s electro attacks were sending them as sprawling shots into the Fatui.

      A burst of anemo illuminated the darker reaches of the camp for a few precious seconds. Alhaitham’s gaze snapped to the area as smaller instances of anemo followed rapidly after. With a final swipe at the Fatui closest to him, he darted forward, tailing Candace as she converged on Wanderer’s location.

      Wanderer gave one last vicious slash of anemo before Candace intercepted his assailants. Alhaitham rushed the Fatui at Wanderer’s back. Cyno seemed to come out of nowhere and overwhelmed the Fatui in his place, allowing Alhaitham the chance to make sure Wanderer had the otherworlder and a clear path out.

      Alhaitham wasn’t sure what it was that had tipped him off - maybe it was Candace’s gaze locking onto something over his shoulder or maybe he picked up on the person’s presence without realizing it - but he lacked the dendro energy to rush out of harm's way like he instinctively wanted to. Pain ripped through his right side and it was all he could do to not stagger to his knees as the pain stole the strength from his right leg. He grabbed at the injury and was unsurprised when his hand pressed against wet fabric and raw skin. His stomach dropped out as he realized his hand would do little to stifle the bleeding. Something had torn open his side deep enough that just putting pressure on it was going to do absolutely nothing if he kept fighting.

      “Fascinating.” He dragged a foot in the sand as he turned to face his assailant, watching as the new arrival twirled some sort of bladed weapon in their gloved hand. The blade glistened red. “I didn’t anticipate you moving so quickly without the use of dendro energy.” The blade snapped still. “I wonder if you can dodge this one, though?”

      The new arrival gestured over their shoulder with the blade.

      Alhaitham barely had half a second to even see the circle of bright light before a very familiar beam appeared. It was brief yet the camp went unnaturally dark when it vanished. Alhaitham staggered from attempting to dodge but he knew he hadn’t been fast enough on his own. The left side of his face felt like it had been burned and his left shoulder was uncomfortably hot even under the several layers that covered it. With a significant portion of his vision obscured by the afterimage, he barely made out the electro energy being expended as Candace came to his side.

      She yanked on his arm towards the direction Wanderer had gone, shouting, “Go! Run!” before throwing herself into the fray to aid Cyno.

      A part of him fought the notion of leaving the two of them behind. Logically he knew he couldn’t fight anymore but Cyno and Candace were no match for the new arrival. Not with whatever weapon had been fired at him. Even a glance towards the beam’s trail proved just how destructive that beam of light was. Anything that had been in the beam’s path bore a hole with scorched edges. The dunes beyond the camp had sections sagging and resettling, swaths of glass looking as if they were glittering as the sand shifted around them.

      Had Cyno been any later, Alhaitham was certain he would have been killed.

      Running was a challenge. While adrenaline had numbed his side, it numbed his legs too. He forced his legs through the motions but it felt like he was struggling through muck, seeming unable to run as fast as he normally would have been. As soon as he had enough dendro energy, he rushed into the air and glided towards the teal blip on the dune ridge that had to be Wanderer. His feet touched sand far too soon but it didn’t matter. He had to keep moving.

      It wasn’t until he was nearly on top of them did he realize Wanderer had been followed by two Fatui.

      Alhaitham slashed at one before catching the other with a dendro projection, drawing both of their attention to him. It wasn’t until he nearly got hit in the face by one of their attacks that he realized the dark spots in his vision weren’t the afterimage. Even if he suddenly had enough dendro energy for a rush, he knew it wouldn’t be enough to take care of the two in front of him.

      Anemo energy overtook one of the Fatui before Alhaitham saw Wanderer land heavily in the sand, his hat returning to its original state. Taking Alhaitham’s place, Wanderer unleashed a burst of anemo energy that knocked one Fatui off their feet and made the other one stagger. Wanderer shoved at him. “Go take care of the otherworlder.” A vicious grin crossed Wanderer’s face. “I’ll deal with them.”

      Despite how rapidly Wanderer had appeared, the otherworlder had been carefully placed into the warm sand, situated so that they were propped more as if they were sitting into the leeward side. Wanderer had taken pains to wrap the otherworlder snuggly in the sheet that had been draped over them as well as a second similar piece of fabric. Alhaitham wouldn’t be able to carry the otherworlder as Wanderer had been. He tugged at the wrappings to free the otherworlder’s limbs, leaving behind handprints and streaks of crimson in his wake. His hands shook as he buried his right knee in the sand and tugged at the otherworlder. Their deadweight was surprisingly less than he had expected, being enough pressure on his back for him to know they were still there but light enough that he didn’t actually feel encumbered. Or maybe that was the adrenaline. He hefted them higher on his back as he stood, his arms hooking under their knees to keep them in place.

      A beam - larger this time than the one that had been aimed at him - obliterated a clear line through the dunes. For half a second, there was a gaping hole through several dunes and even from where he stood he could tell the beam had bore through the cliffs in the distance. Then gravity took hold of the free hanging sand and pulled.

      The sand under his left foot gave way.

      A massive portion of the dune was missing. Glass glistened on the edges of the damage and clearly marked where sand stopped and stone began. Be it by design or pure chance, the beam had cut through the dune grazing the top of bedrock. Only, instead of leaving a scrape of barren hard earth, the beam had revealed a cavity in the bedrock with a depth Alhaitham didn’t have time to guess at. The entirety of the dune was collapsing around Alhaitham and he was going down with it.

      He pulled the otherworlder to his front and threw open his glider.

      Even braced for the brief lurch in movement his vision blackened dangerously as he drifted towards the gaping hole beneath. There was very little he could do to get his vision back without simply waiting. It cleared enough for him to make out a light off towards his left, back in the direction of the Fatui camp.

      Searing heat erupted across his upper back as an all too familiar lurch made his stomach drop out. He managed to open one eye enough to see a smudge of white and blue and teal quickly filling his vision before he succumbed to the pain and passed out.
     
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  • Index
    • Event Writings | RPA Fall Event 2023
  • Index
    • RPA Fall Event 2023An Assortment of Writings

    "Reality hits you when a burnt orange leaf twirls down from above and brushes against your right shoulder. No. This is definitely not Downtown.

    You are in a glen. Alone.

    Only soft buzzing noises and a gently bubbling brook accompany you. You feel welcome in this glen; the fates did bring you here for a reason after all. Fairy tales spring to mind as you wander the faint worn paths through the glen. Tales of fae creatures, of hags, brownies and spirits. How they all communicate with the human world through fae circles. Perfect circles made of mushrooms or other things. Circles that did not look natural in their construction...more like they were planted purposefully by magical hands.

    Will you dare to cross into the circles? Who knows what lies within..."

    RPA Fall Event 2023 was a small writing event. Within the event, there were a number of writing events. Some were single piece entries that had a prompt and word limits, others had several chances to participate throughout the month. Each section contains the content for that given event.

    Each event entry was written to a different word count or equivalent cap as per the rules of the event. Black Cauldron Circle (Writing Marathon) had different caps for each entry.
    Miasmic Green Mushroom Circle (Story Prompts)
    Miasmic Green Mushroom Circle (Story Prompts)In order to get out of the magic circle you entered, you'll have to make your way through the decrepit mansion you've found yourself trapped within. Do well to meet the tasks of the deceased head on or who knows what the ghosts will do. Prompts will be posted weekly. Stories should be 2 to 6 paragraphs long.

    • Tell me a dark tale, what happened when the lights went out?

      Instinct stopped her feet but there was no fear in the action. She dragged Apollo’s leash through her hand, directing the dog back to a tight heel position. He willingly complied and she only half noticed as her graze drifted across what had once been her brightly lit street. Voices of those who had been outside enjoying the warmer evening drifted on the faint breeze. Candles and flashlights started brightening windows and porches but due to the street being tucked away from any major thoroughfare, those would be the only bits of light the street would see for a while. She wasn’t surprised when a house a street over was suddenly illuminated; the owner’s vehicle had been decked out with a whole array of lights in addition to the standard pair of headlights. Her hand covered the glowing home easily as she tipped her head back, seeking out the night sky above.

      The moon was barely a sliver in the eastern horizon allowing the stars to shine bright and the sky was filled with them. The Milky Way was a massive streak of color across the sky far clearer than she had ever seen it in person, let alone in the heart of civilization. It was absolutely breathtaking and she stood there staring at it until her neck couldn’t handle the position anymore.

      Apollo - eternally patient and the bestest of boys - had laid down on her feet content with her not moving as he had been with their walk not a moment ago. A smile spread across her face as she tugged a foot out from under him and rubbed his fluffy head when it came up at her movement. He got up without a command on her part and she started them back on the path home.

      The lights being out certainly made things challenging when there was no moon to offer more substantial light than the stars alone. She would have missed her home completely had her neighbors not already been on their porch with their candles still lit. Quite a few more had been added to the railings in the time she had been star gazing and quite a few other bodies had joined the few that had already been there. The larger cluster called after her to check on her and she assured them that she would be fine and had quite enough light sources to navigate the darkness long enough to get to bed.

      A seemingly absolute darkness closed in around her as the front door closed behind her yet years of repetition made it easy for her fingers to find the deadbolt and lock the door in a single motion. Apollo shook himself out when she freed him from his harness and the metal rings of his collar softly clinked together as he padded towards the kitchen for some water. Hanging up the harness was a bit harder but she did manage to at least find the hook without too much struggle and her shoes were kicked off haphazardly next to the door before she followed after Apollo, her right hand absentmindedly following the wall. In theory the flashlight on top of the fridge should still have some battery life left.

      Adrenaline pinpricked its way down her spine as the wall ended at the kitchen. Her finger tips landed on a cool stone counter as she stilled, straining to hear or see whatever had sent goosebumps up her arms. There had been something there, something had caught her attention and not in the good way. At least, she thought there had been. Maybe she had been mistaken? But, then, why couldn’t she hear Apollo drinking or moving about on the hardwood and linoleum? Whatever it was moved faster than she could because she got the glimpse of a shape out of the corner of her eye before she knew no more, one of many victims to fall before the lights came back on.
    Translucent Mushroom Circle (Story Prompts)
    Translucent Mushroom Circle (Story Prompts)
    The fae creature’s mirror has gifted you with a writing prompt. Dare you take up her challenge? Please create a short story either beginning with or inspired by the quote prompt. Entries should be between 100 and 1000 words.

    Each piece is a different story.

    • This story begins with a letter.

      Now, mind you, the letter itself is inconsequential. It is nothing more than the catalyst for everything else that follows; however, had the letter not been written for a purpose that it would inevitably never fill, our story wouldn’t exist. The people that were meant to meet would never meet and the entire plot of our story would cease to exist.

      Fortunate for us, the letter is written and handed to the young soul tasked with carrying it to the recipient. Our young soul - a boy of no more than 14 years named Nick - took the letter and did very well in making sure it remained undamaged and unread. Unfortunately, young Nick is not destined to become a hero on this journey, nor is he destined to see his task completed. Barely days into his journey, the caravan he had joined was ambushed and his life was brought to a swift end. The letter, safely tucked into the lining of his bag, went unnoticed in among the rest of the other looted belongings.

      The lush fields Nick had known so well gave way to burning sand. The bag the letter resided in had been emptied of anything important but one of the ambushers - a man in his prime of unknown years named Doran - had kept it for it had been a new bag when Nick had started his short journey. Though Doran didn’t put it to use, he tucked it in among his own belongings until he made it home. At this point, the letter was four months into its journey and had nary a chance of ever reaching the hands of the intended recipient.

      The recipient of the bag, however, was Doran’s youngest niece, Jenna. Having just entered her seventh year of life, Jenna had been thrilled with the gift, happily giving her uncle a tight hug before rushing off to the bedroom she shared with her five older siblings. With the swiftness of a determined child, she quickly filled the bag with the small collection of treasures she had gathered over the years - a collection she had stashed beneath a loose stone in the floor under the bedding. It was a child’s collection so don’t fret too terribly about what exactly she deemed worthy of hiding; none of it was any more substantial than the letter still hidden in the lining of her new bag.

      Besides, that collection would change as our young Jenna aged. It would go from interesting stones and straw dolls to scarce supplies and the occasional pilfered food from merchant carts in the short eight months that followed. During the ninth month, Jenna would lose the bag as she raced through the city attempting to avoid being killed by invaders. Whether Jenna lived or died is for another time. Instead, the bag is once again rifled through and tossed aside where it would remain for two weeks before the soul we have been waiting for finally stumbled across it.

      Now, something you must know about the soul that finds the bag this time. They are not quite like most other protagonists in these sort of stories. Usually the protagonist is a youth of 16 or 18 years pulled into the role of hero - be it willing or unknowingly - and, at this point, would be easily 20 or 21 years of age. No, this protagonist is a seasoned soldier by the name of Briar who has made it to 27 years through a lot of training and skill, and a dash of luck. He is not one looking for glory or was forced to take on the role of hero - no, that role was already filled by someone he counted as a dear friend and had promised to protect - yet he is the one who finds the letter in the failing lining of the bag. He had picked it up out of the far chance it would hold the secrets to what had happened to the empty and barren town he now stood in only to catch sight of the letter as he moved to toss it back where he had found it.

      The seal had long since melted, staining the letter and envelope with a blotchy patch of color. The paper itself was soft from wear and yet the envelope had done well to protect the letter within. The letter fell apart at the creases despite the care he had taken when unfolding it but the strokes of ink were still legible enough to read. The information it contained was well and outdated but it was the fragment of information they had been missing. With quick words and even quicker orders, Briar and company started for the city young Nick never returned to.

      It wasn’t the quickest of journeys, nor the most direct in route. The company Briar led found trouble nearly as frequently as trouble found it. Thankfully the majority of the encounters would do little harm to the company but it easily doubled the length of the journey. By the time the company set foot over the threshold where the letter had been written, the letter’s journey came to an end, returning two years after it had been sent away. The sender, a young woman now of 24 years named Cynthia, was surprised both at its return and the bearer of it, for Briar bore the crest of the King the letter had been intended for.

      A King who died at the hand of his own brother. A brother who would blame Cynthia’s kingdom for the ‘assassination’ and started the war that would raid Jenna’s home and force Briar to take up arms alongside the King’s son doing everything he could to keep the Prince out of harms way until he found the letter warning the King he grieved for about the threat that was his very own brother.

      A letter that would have arrived barely two hours too late had young Nick not been killed.
    False Morel Mushroom Circle (Five Words, One Story)
    False Morel Mushroom Circle (Five Words, One Story)
    Five things that were seemingly unrelated were given as a prompt every week. The task was to take these five things and combine them into a short story each week. Entries may be anywhere from 500 to 1,500 words.

    This is one continuous story. Each week's words are in bold.

    • “I cannot guarantee it will work, my King,” he reiterated for what felt like the millionth time.

      The King only waved him off. “Yes, yes; you’ve said as much. That’s why there is new blood in your circle.”

      He hated that phrasing even as his gaze fell onto said ‘new blood’. There would be six of them casting but three were not folk he had ever met. Two of them looked like children - barely into adulthood if at all - while the third looked competent and well into his fourth decade of life. The frown buried under mustache and beard deepened. The two children would be easy enough to counter but the older was going to be a challenge. He was going to have to tread carefully if he didn’t want to get caught.

      “Their presence and assist is no guarantee, either, my King,” he repeated nearly as frequently as his first remark, “as I have informed you the last number of times you have brought in someone new.”

      The King laughed and capped him hard on the back. He staggered under the abuse but let it slide. “Come now, Old Willow. Don’t count them out until you see for yourself how powerful they are!” The King grinned with far too many teeth at the older of the new folk and the fellow gained an amused look before bowing his head with a bit more flourish than was necessary. It made him even more wary of the fellow. The King turned his gaze back onto him. “I went to great lengths to find the most powerful and the most skilled. This time-” that dangerous look was back, the one he had seen far too frequently since the King had suggested this plan- “this time it will work, and we’ll finally have ourselves a Hero that can take down the Demon King.”

      No, they wouldn’t. He refused to allow it.

      With a deep bow, he offered, “May it be as you say, my King.” Without another word, he crossed to the remaining two.

      Prince Cassian looked up from the aged journal before passing it to Apprentice Eirena, a concerned frown pulling at the Prince’s expression. “Again, then?”

      He nodded. “Your father is determined for this to work.” He stepped within Prince Cassian’s space to gently take the book from Apprentice Eirena hands, keeping the Prince’s body between him and the rest of the room. He whispered, “Be wary. I do not trust the oldest of those that have been brought to join us. I have no doubt in that one’s skill to be able to see what we are doing and correct our mistakes.”

      Apprentice Eirena’s expression lost what little emotion had been there. In contrast Prince Cassian let out a sharp breath, anger evident in the Prince’s expression for only a moment. “We will be relying on you to divert as much as you can. Should it come down to it, we will follow your lead.”

      He nodded, straightening his immaculate beard out of habit. The book sat heavy against his chest in an inner most pocket but it was a comfort more than a hindrance. “Best not delay this more, then; to the magic circle with you.”

      In his opinion, the circle was excessive but it made sabotaging the first attempts easier. The King had gotten too frustrated with the delays, though, and had the circle embedded into the stone floor itself. The powder of animal bones he had assured the King was significant in creating the circle colored the groves white. The fact that the craftsmen hadn’t made a single mistake in the circle had been the most disheartening fact. Even missing a seemingly insignificant line would have been enough; unfortunately, it was perfect, and the King knew it.

      He came to a stop at his designated point on the circle. Prince Cassian was to his right, Apprentice Eirena to his left, and the fellow he did not trust directly across from him. The other two stood opposite the Prince and Apprentice. The three newcomers would know the spell, he had no doubt. The King was always far too thorough at making sure those he chose would do the job well. So, without another moment of hesitation, he put his hands out over the circle and closed his eyes.

      Magic seemed to wander around them, drifting as if it were waiting.

      The fellow across from him acted first, snapping the magic in the room taut before forcing it into place.

      The backlash from the assault on the circle nearly brought him to his knees. He felt an echo of pain in his knees from the other four and a wave of dizziness from Apprentice Eirena and the two younger newcomers. The one across from Prince Cassian nearly passed out, only kept conscious due to the Prince managing to weather the backlash far better in turn. He poured his magic into the circle and quickly started to weave it around the magic the fellow had forced into place. The magic fought his coaxing but slowly it started to settle, first from his point on the circle then from Prince Cassian’s. Between the two of them, they got two thirds of it calmed before Apprentice Eirena was able to help. The fellow seemed not to care about what they were doing and continually poured more power into the circle.

      There was no way he was going to be able to stop this one.

      The realization filled his chest with sorrow and regret but that didn’t mean he was all out of options. Guiding the Prince’s and Apprentice’s magics into a weave with his own over the magic to keep it stable under the fellow’s unrelenting strength, he quickly wove a second spell directly under the first. It was an incredibly simple spell but the complexity came with weaving it into the first unnoticed. As the initial spell started to activate, he slipped the second spell in under the weave his, the Prince’s and Apprentice’s magics in the hopes it would be enough to hide the spell from sight.

      The spell activated with a burst of light bright through his eyelids.

      Blinking into the dim room, he distinctly heard the King cross into the circle. “Did it work?”

      “The spell activated, my King,” the fellow offered, the words pseudo-pleasant and causing his proverbial hackles to stand on end.

      The King came to a stop in the middle of the circle as the details of the room slowly returned. “Then where is my Hero?”

      The center of the circle was void of a person but the tang of spent magic spoke of the spell’s success. The fellow’s gaze fell on him for a moment and for that moment, he feared he had been found out. “Perchance it was a fault in the spell’s origins, my King.”

      He shook his head, stepping forward. “The spell itself is well and solid, achievable with the right amount of balance across the circle.” The very lie he had been using to keep the spell from working. The very lie that had landed them with the unnamed fellow who was too powerful for his own good. “It is possible that our work to maintain the integrity of that balance as you inundated the spell with power may not have been enough to harmonize the magics and keep the spell stable enough to maintain accuracy.” He turned his gaze to the King. “The Hero may simply be someplace out, brought to this world but not as precisely as we intended.”

      “Can you find him?”

      He went to calm the King’s enthusiasm but the fellow spoke first. “Should be easy enough. The residual magics alone would be a bright enough beacon to find, my King.”

      “Excellent! Farris! I put you in charge of the search. Old Willow-”

      “Should your appointed require any assistance, I am findable,” he quickly put in, making sure the words came off short but sounding tired. “Let us not denote your appointed’s ability so quickly as to force unneeded help unto him. Until then, I have research to continue and lessons to attend to.” He bowed deeply and held it. “Unless you have another task for me.”

      The King laughed and smacked him on the back. “Right you are, old friend! Quite right you are. Off with you and yours, then.”

      “May I join him, Father?” Prince Cassian asked, stepping forward. “They are my lessons he is attending to.”

      “Of course, of course,” the King said dismissively and the three of them slipped out of the room.

      “Basket cases,” Apprentice Eirena muttered as she closed the door to his tower. “The whole lot of them.”

      Prince Cassian sighed. “I’m unfortunately inclined to agree with you on that.” The Prince focused on him but he ignored it in favor of opening the window. The air smelled thickly of rain. “What now, Wilhelm?”

      He closed his eyes as a breeze curled against his face. “We save the Hero.”
    Black Cauldron Circle (Writing Marathon)
    Black Cauldron Circle (Writing Marathon)
    It was said that Morgana had crafted a potion so potent that it could rewrite destinies, unravel time, and invoke the very essence of Halloween itself. This concoction, known as the "All Hallows' Elixir," held the power to reshape reality during the witching hour on the eve of Halloween. Little did those who would dare accept her challenges know that the All Hallows' Elixir held not only the power to change the world but also the power to change them. Morgana's tale had only just begun, and the forest whispered its secrets to those who would listen. New challenges will be revealed every 48 hours at the bottom of this post. Be sure to check back regularly!

    • In a minimum of 150 words, describe the witch's encounter with a mysterious moonstone, a rare and enchanted gem said to hold the secrets of the night. This moonstone is the first ingredient for her potion.

      The sun was hot on her back so it should have been impossible to discern the gem from the rest of the stones along the riverbed. Had she not turned it over searching for the sprouts of river grass she needed, she would have walked right by it. Instead, the underbelly of the moonstone glittered for less than a second in the corner of her vision but it was long enough to draw her attention. Picking it up revealed nothing magical about it; the gem looked much like a water smoothed stone, the same off white as quite a number of the stones in among the riverbed. Holding it up to block the sun with her thumb and forefinger wrapped around it, she waited.

      Seconds turned to minutes turned to a quarter of an hour but no matter how much her shoulder burned, she held it.

      Waiting for the tell tale glitter of a moonstone.

      At the cusp of her arm giving out on its own, the faintest hint of a glimmer filled her with anticipation. With sheer will she kept her arm aloft another ten until the underside of the moonstone looked reminiscent of quarts as the faintest of glows emanated from it. Blindly she grabbed for one of her empty pouches and quickly wrapped the moonstone in it before she dropped her arm. Confident the bottom side didn’t see the sun, she tucked the pouch away with excitement thrumming through her chest.

      A genuine moonstone.

      Spells and potions raced through her head; there were so many things she could make. What would be the-

      The recipe for a certain elixir drifted into her thoughts, stopping her pondering. No. She knew exactly what she was going to make.

      Now all she needed to do was get the other ingredients.

     
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  • Index
    • Fanfiction | Finding Echo'a - The Beginning (Final Fantasy 14)
  • Index
    • Finding Echo'a - The BeginningA Final Fantasy 14 Fanfic

    Echo'a Velundaleht, Warrior of Light, Bringer of Hope and the bane of any villain's existence.

    Or so the moniker goes. It changes, sure, adapting as needed to appease the masses or be used against him, but that doesn't mean he ever likes it. Not when there's more than just enemy blood on his hands and situations rob him of those he cares about.

    At some point he's going to stop caring. At some point, he's going to be done with all their stupidity and the endlessness of it all and simply watch the world burn just because he could.

    That thought scares him more than his own death does and he can't help but wonder for how much longer it will.

    At least he has the Scions. If he had been on his own, he would have shattered a long time ago. He just hopes he hasn't leaned too heavily on them in turn.


    Note: Due to the sheer size of this fic, I have broken it up into collections based on expansions. This contains content from A Realm Reborn, Heavensward, and Stormblood. Unless noted otherwise, each chapter is named for the quest it appears in.



    • Titled "Beginning"

      “Are you sure you have everything?” his Aunt Nahni asked him, setting her hands on his shoulders as soon as his Aunt Evyn stepped away.

      He gave her a fond smile, placing his hands on her forearms. “Yes, I’m sure. Between Grandma and Uncle Rena’to, I was packed before I could even help and we all know how meticulous they are alone.”

      “That is because my Rey is the best,” his Aunt Tali commented, quickly giving him another hug, though it was with one arm down and crossing his chest, and from behind. “And Mom is overbearing on the best of days.”

      “The folly of having children with nothing between their ears,” his grandmother chastised somewhere to his left. He chuckled, as did quite a number of the others. “Now leave the poor young man alone. We are here to send him off, not make his departure all that more difficult.”

      There was the start of a new round of hugs from his sisters but someone - Raina, probably - decided it was to be a group hug. His poor brother Tali’a got wrangled into it none too kindly by one of Tali’a’s older blood sisters. Again, probably Raina.

      Surprisingly, Echo’a’s own blood sister was absent from the chaotic group hug and he hadn’t even realized it until she slipped in as the others started to move away and threw her arms around his neck. He buried his face into her curls, pinning her to his chest. “Surprised you managed to avoid the group hug,” he commented, amusement thick in his words.

      She laughed. “Well, duh.” Cecille took her weight back as she looked up at him, green eyes dancing with her mirth even as her expression softened. “I had to make sure you got one from Mom, too.”

      Fondness swelled in his chest. Cecille never knew their mother and he had barely passed his sixth birthday when she had died so all they really had were the tales told by the rest of the family and what vague memories Echo’a had of her.

      He pulled her into another hug as big and as tight as he could manage. Her arms wound their way around his ribs and crushed him back.

      One of the things he remembered most about their mother were her eyes, green like the fields and trees that surrounded their home. Cecille had inherited those green eyes, a fact that he was very grateful for as it was the only thing of their mother that either of them had inherited, though their aunts and grandmother had been saying of late how much he looked like their mother despite having been the spitting image of his sire since birth.

      Well, except for his eyes. No one knew where his orange eyes had come from but he quite liked them. Their mother had liked them as well.

      They had emphasized how much he looked like their mother the day before when their grandmother had approached him with all three aunts in tow and Uncle Rena’to. They had given him quite the scare suddenly cornering him like that but when their grandmother had simply handed him a package saying that it was time he ventured off to study, the fear had immediately turned into fondness. Inside the package had been a worn arcanist book, the very book now resting against his hip, and the necessary paperwork to get to Limsa Lominsa, the same place their mother had studied not for magic but for metal work. He had thought they had forgotten about his dream when he had given it up after the Calamity. Even as far as they had been from the epicenter, there had still been damage wrought, not to mention all the lives lost of those that had gone to help fight in a war that had felt so far removed from them.

      That last bit was a dangerous line of thinking, one he had never liked to begin with. The Empire’s reach was vast and it threatened all. Carteneau had been the largest attempt to push back and many had believed in it, even if the conflict had not ended as any of them had hoped it would.

      “Besides,” Cecille said, drawing his wandering thoughts back to point, “someone had to make sure you got this.”

      She produced a neatly folded bit of paper and had somehow managed to put a wax seal on it, though he recognized the impression in the wax. It had not been made by a normal stamp and, while amused by what it had been, he was just a touch disappointed she had used the keepsake in such a manner. Granted, it was a coin medallion their mother had crafted when she had first started learning to work metal and it could withstand more abuse than a few short seconds in cooling wax but it was the principle of the matter.

      Their mother would have been so proud.

      She grinned at his incredulous and rather amused look but said nothing as he opened the note, mindful to keep the seal whole.

      It really was just a small bit of paper with only two words scrawled inside.

      “Culinarians’ Guild?” he read aloud in question, seeking out her gaze.

      Her grin grew cheeky. “We both know you have a hard enough time finding something to eat even on a good day so I can hardly imagine the challenge traveling around will be. This way, you won’t have to worry about it. You can just make your own food when you need to! That and it’ll give you something else to focus on in between all your arcanist lessons.”

      A whistle went up; it was time to go.

      He wrapped his arms around her one last time, giving her a tight squeeze as he said, “You’re the best, Cici.” He pressed their temples together, nuzzling the side of her head and getting a face full of curls for his efforts. “Looking out for your big brother like this.” Then, in a more serious tone but no less joyous, “Mom would be so proud of you.”

      “And of you,” she muttered, arms tightening around him in emphasis. “Going and learning like you’ve always wanted.” She broke the hold, quickly taking a few steps back as she grinned at him. Their grandmother’s hands settled on Cecille’s shoulders, the entire family settling behind her. “If you don’t get the chance to visit often, promise to at least send regular letters.”

      Laughter bubbled in among his words as he waved at her, at them all as he jogged towards the loading ramp. “I will! Love you!”

      “Love you, too! Save travels, Echo’a!”


      “Ye ‘eadin’ elsewhere, then?”

      A sheepish smile dragged itself across his face as he ducked his head, running a hand over his hair and an ear in a single stroke. “Yeah. Got myself caught up in a few things and got asked to make the trip to Gridania and Ul’dah.”

      “‘Ave ye now?” Lyngsath narrowed his eyes. Then, suddenly, the head chef let out a laugh. “Of course ye ‘ave. Then mind my words. If ye gonna be on the move so much, ye best pick up knowin’ what ye can and can’t eat. The Fishermens’ Guild in the Lower Decks is a great place to start before ye head out but when ye stop in good ol’ Gridania, make sure to stop by the Botanists' Guild. They’ll show ye all the edible things ye can harvest for cookin’.” Lyngsath shook a finger at him. “And ye better come back. Ye still got a lot of learnin’ left!”

      He grinned at that. “Count on it, Chef.”

      Fishing and botany. They sounded like a good way to pass time or get away from it all for a short bit. With all his training - and now running off at the Admiral’s bidding - it would be a good way for him to make some downtime, even if it was only for moments at a time


      Up until the moment he was watching Ifrit being summoned, he had been annoyed that Thancred had been avoiding him. The man played it off well, sure, but Echo’a was certain the other man was only tolerating him because of their shared task. He probably would have been less annoyed if Thancred had just been upfront about not liking him from the beginning but the man had been more or less pleasant when they had interacted previously and he had been looking forward to getting to know the Scion.

      As Ifrit stood before him, before the other captured, the betrayed, the Amalj’aa, he was keenly aware of Thancred’s absence.

      He felt it the most when he was forced to go toe-to-toe with the Primal.

      When he learned what would become of the thralls - why not him? Why had he been so unaffected? - he had been utterly relieved that Thancred had not been there. It did nothing for the terror that had settled into his very bones, knowing that he could have been changed, could have been killed - nearly got himself killed just going up against the damn thing - and it was all he could do to keep his sanity afterwards. But his mind refused to let him think of anything other than fire and barren stone and desperation.

      The following morning would find him unable to clearly recall what had transpired after he had left Camp Drybone. He knew Thancred had found him - the man’s arm was loosely draped over his waist, still soundly asleep next to him - and that the other had talked him out of the spiraling thoughts, but that was about it. He curled closer to the other, inadvertently waking Thancred.

      “Hey, you’re ok, kid,” was surprisingly coherent despite the man having been fully out of it not even seconds prior.

      Gods how he felt like a kid, tossing decorum out the window and burying himself into Thancred’s chest simply because the man was there and he could. For a moment, he let himself be as he would have been with his eldest sister when the night got too scary to be alone, finding her out of all the others because he knew she would never use it against him no matter how mad she got at him.

      Thancred’s arms wrapped tightly around him, curling around him in turn. “I’m here.” And again, softer, “I’m here.”

      He prayed Thancred was the same. He didn’t want to do this on his own. He couldn’t.


      “Thank you, Private Velundaleht,” the Serpent Officer said, taking the bundle of yew logs from him. “You wouldn’t happen to be looking for some combat work while you’re about, would you?”

      His ears perked in curiosity as he pocketed the seals. “Possibly. Is something the matter?”

      He had been avoiding combat as best he could ever since Ifrit. It did help that the Scions hadn’t yet called on him for anything. He hoped it was because Minfilia was trying to give him some time after the whole Ifrit incident.

      The book resting against his hip had been an uncomfortable weight since that fight.

      The Serpent Officer shook their head, quick to reassure him, “Oh no! Nothing of the sort. We recently got a request to help clear out Halatali and a member of the team we were going to send has suddenly become unavailable. As you are here now, I figured I’d at least ask. I know you haven’t picked up much in the way of hunts and other such requests but this would be a walk in the park for an adventurer of your skill level, not to mention it will be a great way to get some extra seals. There are a few marks that reside in the dungeon that we’re offering extra seals for if the required number are slain.”

      Unease settled in his gut but he still asked, “And the rest of the party? Similar level of skill?”

      “They should be,” the Serpent Officer said, stepping away from the desk enough to dig for something under it. “Let’s see here. Ah!” The Serpent Officer straightened, a piece of paper in hand. “Here it is.” The Serpent Officer’s expression fell. “Unfortunately, it looks likes the only information I have are their classes and job: a Gladiator, a Conjurer, and a Red Mage. The latter should be rather skilled as it takes a bit to become one, or so I hear, but it’s mostly speculation. I apologize for not having more information.”

      “No, it’s quite alright. It had been a curiosity more than anything.” His fingers drifted over the face of his book. Unease sat thickly in his gut but he wasn’t opposed to the idea, especially with the Red Mage. “When are they looking to head in?”

      “Note said they would like someone by tomorrow morning if possible.”

      He should just take it and get it over with. He wouldn’t be alone and it would give him a few more seals. He ran a hand over his left ear. “Yeah, ok. I’ll take it. Where at?”

      “If you will show me your map for a moment, I’ll mark the location for you.”

      The heat of the day was barely curling through the hills as he dismounted from his chocobo. There were the Flames he had been told were standing guard over the sight as well as three people he assumed were the other adventures he was working with. The Red Mage waved at him as he approached, dipping their hat as they offered a cordial, “Hello there. You the Arcanist joining us?”

      “Yeah.” He offered the Red Mage his hand. “Echo’a.”

      The Red Mage shook it firmly. “Terrance.” Terrance nodded towards the other two. “Not sure about them overly much. Neither has spared me much more than an idle glance since I arrived. I think they’re used to going about things as a duo.”

      A frown settled heavily on his lips as he took the pair in. “Does the Gladiator look a bit too well armored?”

      Terrance crossed his arms. “A bit, but could just be glamours. I’ve got a buddy who has a getup that’s more ostentatious than that and he’s been doing the adventuring thing for far shorter than I have. Good guy, honestly. He just likes shiny things and the fact that he puts the effort in to make the pieces for the glamours I think works in his favor.”

      Echo’a gave a hum, letting his gaze settle on the Conjurer. They were dressed rather simply in the cotton cowl a lot of casters wore in the beginning. The discrepancy between their style of dress was rubbing him the wrong way but that was most likely due to the Red Mage’s words than anything actually being wrong.

      The Gladiator’s appearance did nothing for their skill. To his frustration, the Gladiator was eager to fight anything and everything, taking on far too many enemies for the Conjurer’s skill level. Twice he was certain the Gladiator had simply led them all to their deaths but what measly spells he had access to at least kept any of them from outright dying. It wasn’t healing to any level that the Conjurer should have been managing and being restricted by the need to actually stop and cast meant he could do nothing - be it attack or heal - as he ran after the Gladiator through those accursed tunnels.

      When he returned to Gridania a short while later to help the Scions out with the sylphs, he stopped by both the Conjurers’ Guild and the Lancers’ Guild. Taking up Conjurer certainly didn’t stop someone else from being an idiot but at least he would be more capable of offering support to those dragged alone. Lancer was just an excuse to put his frustration into physical action. It also soothed the part of him that worried about his dependency upon magic. Should he ever lose access to either variant, he wanted to be able to still fight and being a Lancer gave that to him.

      Despite everything, he kept up on his Arcanist studies as well. He would always be an Arcanist, first and foremost, no matter how frustrating its limitations could be at times.


      He was shaking. Horribly, to the point that he shouldn’t even be standing but there he was, standing in a ring of fire as the last of the castrum started to succumb to the damages wrought by Lahabrea’s machinations. He dismissed his carbuncle with barely a thought, trusting that it wouldn’t be needed now.

      He should move.

      He should get out of there before the whole thing blew sky high for a second time and he certainly wouldn’t be lucky enough to survive again when it did.

      Adrenaline was making it hard to think. Or was it the fear? Was he even scared? He thought he ought to be, what with how he was shaking-

      Bound in place, watching as the sphere hovering over Lahabrea’s palm only grew denser, and he knew. There was no way he was living through that. He had to move, had to break free, but even managing that wouldn’t be enough as the magics was sent right for him-

      Thancred.

      The sudden thought sent a crack through whatever he was caught in, giving him something to focus on, something to do.

      He stumbled, legs nearly giving out in the attempt to move, but he managed to stay upright and even went as far as to use the momentum to make it to Thancred’s side. But in his current state, there was no way he was going to be able to carry Thancred out of there. He wasn’t even sure if he could get himself out of there in time.

      A noise from beyond the ring of fire drew his attention, the fresh wave of adrenaline a shot of stability as he reached for his book not knowing what was coming and desperate enough to take whatever it was on.

      Blessedly, he needn’t fight anything as an all too familiar magitek armor landed heavily within the ring.

      The relief took what stability the adrenaline had given him but that hardly stopped him from dragging at Thancred’s body until he had a good enough hold to pick him up. It took three attempts before he managed to stand, staggering horribly under the weight but finally remaining upright. Somewhere in the midst of his struggling, the armor had crouched, lowering the seat as far as it could. There was the thought of tossing Thancred onto the back but it was dismissed as quickly as it had arrived. Tight fit or no, he was keeping Thancred with him.

      There was surprisingly room for him to have Thancred on his lap but he could barely reach any of the controls around the man. The magitek armor seemed to need very little input from him, though, and he resituated the both of them until he had one hand on the controls. It left him crooked in the seat but Thancred was well tucked into his chest and the corner of the seat and that was all he cared about. He kept his other arm securely wrapped around Thancred, keeping the man pinned to his chest as the castrum saw fit to chase them out with a cloud of flames.

      He really should have expected the welcoming party, even if the one he found was certainly the preferred party and not the one he ought to have expected. It didn’t matter. Relief stole what strength he had left and it was all he could do to help Raubahn and Merlwyb take Thancred from him.

      “Glad to see you made it back in one piece,” Cid said, filling the spot the two leaders vacated with an eager Yda and Alphinaud behind either shoulder.

      “Barely,” he half joked with a breathy laugh.

      Raubahn was quick to reappear, shooing off the two Scions enough to get closer as he struggled to get himself out with minimal help. Raubahn and Cid didn’t give him much of a choice, though, when both men pulled him from the magitek armor with apparent ease. He had no strength to stand with when they got his feet on the ground and he would have collapsed completely had Cid not moved to take his weight as soon as he was free of the seat.

      His name came from at least three different people no doubt in response to him suddenly becoming dead weight against Cid. He really should have cared enough to stay coherent for them or to at least try and raise his head from where Cid had it tucked on a shoulder but he’d fought too much too quickly and now that he was safe, his body was forcing him to rest. Vaguely he thought he felt Cid get an arm under his knees and heft him up into the man’s arms, head still tucked against Cid’s shoulder, but it was just as possible it had been someone else because he was unconscious before he was settled against whoever had picked him up.

      The dream he woke from was hellish but blessedly he hadn’t startled awake as he had quite the crowd waiting for him. Yda was the first to throw herself at him, quickly followed by all of the Scions when he had simply laughed in response and hugged her back. Well, all sans one Thancred who he was told was still unconscious and sans one Urianger who arrived shortly after the group hug dispersed bearing food for everyone.


      Cecille’s letter held her fury at having to learn about his harrowing deeds from, well, not him.

      Guilt nipped at him. He had been consistent with sending a letter home every week with random tidbits about his life up until his encounter with Ifrit. After that, he had been sporadic, something that Cecille had been very vocal about in her second reply after Ifrit.

      That letter had also held her concern. A lot of the letters he sent home were abbreviations of what transpired, if he shared anything at all. When he realized just how much danger he was getting himself into, he began omitting even more. He knew they would receive the news elsewhere but he could never bring himself to tell them the truth, especially anything dealing with Ascians and everything seemed tied to Ascians now. Cecille had stopped asking for him to just tell them what was going on after the fifth attempt. Instead, her letters became filled with news of home and all the small things he was missing. He wasn’t sure if it made the guilt worse or not.

      It did not surprise him when he learned that most of the news his family received now came from one Tataru Taru. While he wasn’t sure exactly what she was passing on in his stead, he was grateful for her attempts to keep his family appraised of things. It was starting to be a struggle to write anything more than a short note of how he loved receiving the letters from everyone and that he was still alive and ok. Though, he would have to talk to Tataru about discretion at some point. While it didn’t sound like she had sent details, she had seen fit to at least fill them in on his latest harrowing deed that had nearly cost him his life which had in turn brought his sister’s fury upon him and disappointment from his grandmother and aunts.

      Still, the letter and its many parts in the many different hands was certainly welcomed. He half considered visiting home in the lull but settled on a lengthier response instead. The whole thing felt like a slim book as he tucked it into the envelope but it spoke of what had transpired since he had left home in more detail than any letter since Ifrit. It turned out to be for the better as things quickly grew hectic thereafter.

      The last line he scrawled would inevitably be a lie, a promise to be more consistent and forthcoming in future letters that he would break despite his good intentions.


      The air was bitter cold in his lungs but he hardly felt it on his face and ears as dragon fire licked the stone to his left so close, he was surprised the hem of his coat hadn’t caught.

      The second ward shattered behind him.

      He wanted to scream as the call to fall back rang out for a second time. He turned and sprinted the length of the bridge, shoving his frustration and panic through his legs into the stone beneath his feet in a futile attempt to rid himself of the emotions. The waves of dragons were making it difficult to cast, forcing him to dodge mid cast when he didn’t have either wind or earth attunement to burn. Fire only worked as the initial summons as the attunements were absolutely useless unless he had the few necessary seconds to cast.

      The first Dragoon he saw sent both relief and bitter frustration through him. As much as he wished he’d chosen to swap into Dragoon before the fighting had started, he knew it wouldn’t have been any better. It would have only put him up close and personal with a single dragon, not to mention require it to remain within reach. Taking on multiple would have been ineffective in comparison to the damage he could wrought as a Summoner in turn and his spells could hit flying targets with ease.

      But having to cast-

      It didn’t matter. Regardless if he had a lance in hand or magic at his fingertips, they were hardly doing any damage to the dragon now bearing down on the last ward.

      Estinien’s voice cut through the noise. He didn’t understand the words and couldn’t remember anything else the man said in the chaos, but he nearly wept from the sound of it alone in relief even as annoyance quickly followed after. A part of him wanted to demand where the Dragoon had been while the rest of them had been fighting the hoard but he knew it wouldn’t be a fair question. As soon as combat had started, he hadn’t even managed to keep track of the other Scions.

      Fire tore past him and slammed into the ward, driving away the frigid cold for the long moment it lasted.

      “The final ward is weakened!” Lucia’s voice called out over the noise. “Hurry, we must end this now!”

      He threw himself back into casting but even with all the attacks aimed at it, the dragon only reared back a second time.

      “The barrier cannot suffer such an attack…” Lucia said - when had she gotten so close? - before the knight threw herself into the direct line of fire and slammed down the point of her shield. “We are the shield that keeps the Holy See!” Aether bloomed from the face of it, stretching backwards over her like wings, or scales, creating a barrier between the dragon about to bear down on her and the ward behind. “Even if it should cost us everything, they cannot be suffered to pass!”

      Numerous other knights quickly fell into place behind her, adding their own aether to the shield and fortifying its shape.

      “Let us show them the strength of Ishgard’s finest!” someone shouted, quickly followed by Estinien’s own words, “It’s now or nothing!”

      Heat filled the air as the dragon released its fiery breath. The knights’ aetheric shield held but it would not hold for long and they all knew it. A new sort of determined desperation washed over the remaining combatants and he threw himself into casting, begging the spells to cast faster with every second wasted waiting for the magic to gather. On and on they attacked and on and on the dragon kept breathing fire and all he could do was cast as quickly as the spells would allow but it didn’t feel like enough.

      The fire stopping startled him. For a moment he feared it was because they had failed but a quick glance showed both the knights’ aetheric shield and the final ward of Daniffen’s Collar still held. The relief at the sight of those two barriers still in place accompanied the dragon’s collapse.

      A cheer went up. They had won.

      They had won and yet all that he felt was exhaustion and frustration. Surely there was a better way to fight the dragons. There had to be something better.

      Not that it mattered. This was Ishgard’s war and until something changed, his interactions with dragons would be few and far between. Having the skills of Summoner and Dragoon would be enough.


      Water had found its way into his boots, icy cold and horrible feeling, but he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t get caught.

      “I must remain behind…but you cannot stay with me.”

      Not again. Not another soul lost to the insanity that had befallen what was supposed to be a joyous celebration. Not another one staying behind. Surely there was another way!

      “Please, you must go on! You are the Warrior of Light!”

      He hated that title. Hated it with every fiber of his being as his foot slipped out from under him, throwing him into the water lazily drifting by. He got his head out of the water, coughing and sputtering as he tried to clear his nose of it. He was absolutely soaked now.

      “You are hope ─ for the Scions, and for all the realm. As long as your flame continues to burn, the light of the dawn may ever be relit!”

      He shoved himself back up, wanting to scream - wanting to cry - but he couldn’t. Not now. Not yet.

      Not any time soon.

      “You must escape, and save Eorzea from those who would plunge it into darkness.”

      He knew immediately where he was as soon as the tunnel opened to the outside world, the wall of heat from the day immediately making his soaked clothes more refreshing than an irritant. Unfortunately, knowing where he was did nothing for where he was supposed to go. He was one person, a single soul; what good would his attempts be if he didn’t even have a place to start?

      A place to stay.

      His gaze drifted north as he climbed out of the gully. Coerthas. If nothing else, he would be welcomed to Camp Dragonhead and it would be a place to start. It was also closer. There was no telling how far the threat from the Crystal Braves and the like had spread but Ishgard’s regard for outsiders would have kept that threat out.

      The sound of several people running drew his gaze. For a breath, he thought at least one was an Ul’dahn guard but as soon as his gaze landed on the taller, relief relaxed his stance. Even with the hood up, he knew it was Alphinaud.

      Doubt slipped in. At least, it was supposed to be. Alisaie wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near Ul’dah.

      She wasn’t, blessedly, as Brennan confirmed her location shortly after showing up and giving them a lift. One less to worry about. Two, if Urianger was keeping his head down.

      Not alone. He wasn’t alone. He had allies, friends, and they would help, he was certain of it.

      He had to be certain of it. If he wasn’t, he would falter and they needed him to keep going.

      He had to keep going, for those lost and for those that yet could be saved.


      He huddled deeper into the collar of his coat as the snow thick wind whipped through the street, not daring to pull his hands out to tug at his hood. It wouldn’t make a difference anyway; his hood had yet to slip and not even his movement to tuck himself deeper into the fur lined collar changed that.

      The weather had been pleasant enough at the beginning of their tour - barely a breeze sending what few flakes were drifting down dancing - but as the day waned, so too had the good weather. Now they trudged through the streets on their way back to the aetheryte plaza and he prayed that meant the end of their little tour. His coat - a gift from Haurchefant along with the coats both Tataru and Alphinaud were equally huddled into - was warm, sure, but he just wanted to be done with the day already.

      Hunger gnawed at him.

      Unfortunately for it, nausea had long since settled into his very being and even the mere thought of food was only making it worse. Having not eaten more than two plain rolls the day before was not helping matters but trying to stomach more had been a fight he lacked the strength to deal with, especially when nothing sounded good. The one bite of eggs he had managed that morning had ruined what meager appetite he had scrounged up and any sort of appetite had yet to return since.

      An odd sound drew his attention, slowing his steps as his head came up. They were approaching a statue placed at the center of a water feature where another road met the one they walked, which meant an end of the expanse of buildings on his right. There was one last building between them and the plaza but it was a vague sort of noticing as his gaze settled on the sign hanging from the last of the building they were passing by.

      A gun was emblazoned on the placard, the strange sounds settling into the sounds of machinery through the wind and his hood.

      “Hey,” he called out, drawing the others’ attention. He looked to their guide, asking, “Is this someplace I can enter freely?”

      The House Fortemps manservant nodded, bewilderment crossing that schooled expression. “If you wish.”

      He turned towards the stairs. “What is this place called?”

      “That is the Skysteel Manufactory. They once were dedicated to the production of traditional arms and armor but have since shifted towards firearms and similar armaments.”

      The door opened onto a landing that looked down into the shop below and he was rather surprised the door had even been unlocked. It felt more like a back door rather than a secondary entrance. He shoved his hood off as he made his way down the stairs, taking in the small space. There was a door on the opposite wall once he hit the base of the stairs so there was a chance there was more to the manufactory than what he saw. Most everyone was busy with something but his movement still drew attention and he found himself suddenly under the attention of someone who reminded him vaguely of Cid. Maybe it was the goggles.

      The person approached him, already talking. “Hmmm, my prospectometer seems rather fond of you. Let’s see, shall we...?” He gave the stranger a confused frown that went completely ignored as said stranger did actually look him over; what even was a prospectometer? “Odd garb. Striking presence.” Striking presence? He had a striking presence? “Would I be right in assuming that you are one of those adventurous types?”

      He blinked. Did he mean ‘adventurer’? “In a sense,” he answered, hoping the not overly direct answer was answer enough.

      And it seemed it was as the stranger slapped their palms together. “Ah, I thought as much!” Their hands settled on their waist. “My prospectometer seldom lies! And let me just say, you have made the right choice in visiting our humble workshop.” The stranger gestured to the space around them. “Welcome to the Skysteel Manufactory, where miracles are born from aether, metal, and imagination! From cannons to ballistas, we develop and manufacture a range of weapons designed for slaying dragon invaders. But we are also accepting students who wish to take up a firearm and learn the techniques of the Machinist! What say you? Are you interested in joining us, and exploring the Machinist discipline?”

      “‘Machinist discipline’ as in you would teach me how to use a gun?” he clarified, gesturing vaguely towards the placard displayed on the nearby counter, the same placard that had hung over the door he had entered through.

      The stranger nodded, quickly adding, “Among other things. We work with machinistry - a technology that weds the genius of Master Garlond’s magitek with traditional aetherology. Every single one of my latest creations employs the principles of this unique discipline and in the steady hands of trained Machinists, my new inventions are going to alter the very face of warfare!”

      Echo’a chuckled. Yep, definitely reminded him of Cid. “They certainly sound more effective against the dragons than what I have at my current disposal. If you are keen on taking another student, I would be interested in taking up the offer to learn machinistry.”

      “You are?” Before he could even get a word in, the stranger was already talking. “Well, of course you are! Otherwise my prospectometer would not have registered your obvious interest!” He chuckled again, curious to know how few had shown interest that his own would make the stranger practically giddy. The stranger’s exuberance waned at his chuckle and he bore with the mild nip of regret that followed. “Ah. Right. In my excitement, I’ve neglected to introduce myself. The name’s Stephanivien. Stephanivien de Haillenarte. And you are?”

      He blinked, surprised. “Haillenarte? Might there be relations to Francel Haillenarte?”

      It was Stephanivien’s turn to show surprise, though it seemed tempered with confusion. “Indeed. He is my youngest brother. Why?”

      “Curiosity, mainly; I helped clear his name while working with Lord Haurchefant.”

      “Oh! You must be Echo’a Velundaleht, then!” Stephanivien bowed deeply. “You have my utmost thanks in assisting my brother in that nasty business. Had you not intervened, the House of Haillenarte would have suffered greatly from his loss.”

      “I will make sure Lord Haurchefant hears such high praise,” he offered with a soft smile. “It was he who asked for my assistance on the matter, after all.”

      Stephanivien smiled at that. “I have no doubt. Now, as much as I am content to continue conversing, you did not arrive to our humble manufactory on your own.” He blinked in surprise and followed the other’s gaze to the landing above where Alphinaud and Tataru were leaning against the railing before the door watching. The young elezen gave him a gentle smile and a little wave when their eyes met while the lalafell gave an enthusiastic wave. “It is good to see House Fortemps is host to you and your companions but should you ever want for other allies, look to House Haillenarte.” Stephanivien’s expression softened at his bewilderment. “We are steadfast friends, our two Houses, and from what my prospectometer has revealed and the words of dear Francel, you are far from bad people.” A grin broke out across Stephanivien’s face. “Besides, you are to be our newest Machinist and I would be remiss to not treat you as well as I do the others. When you have time for a lesson, pray return and we shall begin by familiarizing you with the tools of the trade, so to speak. Until then, take care of yourself, Echo’a.”

      “Going to become a Machinist, then?” Alphinaud asked as he joined them on the upper landing.

      He shrugged, tugging his hood back into place; the snow was still blowing outside when their guide opened the door. “Probably. I want something more effective against the dragons, something not limited by range or movement.”

      “I think it will do you good to learn a new craft.” His footfall slowed at the statement, eyes falling to the other’s face in surprise. Or was it confusion? Alphinaud gave him a gentle smile. “With the uncertainty of our standing with the accusations laid before us, being willing to assist our host is a very valiant use of our time here. Though, a constructive distraction can do wonders for sorrow, can it not? If it helps you, I see no fault in pursuing such endeavors.” Did that mean… “Come, my friend. I believe our tour is nearly complete and I for one am starting to grow peckish.”

      Alphinaud got ahead of him, saving the young elezen from seeing the flicker of pain that crossed Echo’a’s expression. Of course Alphinaud had noticed. How could the other not?

      Still, Alphinaud was not wrong. A distraction may be just the thing to get his horrible eating habits back under control.
     
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  • Index
    • Fanfiction | Finding Echo'a - Shadowbringers (Final Fantasy 14)
  • Index
    • Finding Echo'a - ShadowbringersA Final Fantasy 14 Fanfic

    Echo'a Velundaleht, Warrior of Light, Bringer of Hope and the bane of any villain's existence.

    Or so the moniker goes. It changes, sure, adapting as needed to appease the masses or be used against him, but that doesn't mean he ever likes it. Not when there's more than just enemy blood on his hands and situations rob him of those he cares about.

    At some point he's going to stop caring. At some point, he's going to be done with all their stupidity and the endlessness of it all and simply watch the world burn just because he could.

    That thought scares him more than his own death does and he can't help but wonder for how much longer it will.

    At least he has the Scions. If he had been on his own, he would have shattered a long time ago. He just hopes he hasn't leaned too heavily on them in turn.


    Note: Due to the sheer size of this fic, I have broken it up into collections based on expansions. This contains content from Shadowbringers. Unless noted otherwise, each chapter is named for the quest it appears in.



    • He went after Alisaie first. The hug she gave him probably bruised a rib and he returned the embrace just as strongly not caring. With the manner they had parted and her words just before, the hug was a welcomed greeting and she lingered in his space even afterwards as they talked.

      The conditions of those on the edge of Amh Araeng made his heart ache, but more did it ache for Alisaie as she fought day in and day out to help them any way she could. Even though he was there for only a moment, he could see the passion and care of all those caring for the afflicted. So too did he feel a glimpse of the despair Alisaie had to be drowning under when all they could do was fetch supplies and kill sin eaters.

      And then Tesleen was turned into a sin eater.

      Alisaie had been rightfully distraught afterwards. Knowing she would not accept a hug or the like in the moment - not from him, at least, and he understood that - he did rest his hand on her back for a moment to remind her she was not alone there anymore before he walked away to talk to the other carers in her stead.

      When they parted ways - her to the Crystarium, him after Alphinaud - she kept some distance between them and did not look back.
     
    Last edited:
  • Index
    • Fanfiction | Finding Echo'a - Endwalker (Final Fantasy 14)
  • Index
    • Finding Echo'a - EndwalkerA Final Fantasy 14 Fanfic

    Echo'a Velundaleht, Warrior of Light, Bringer of Hope and the bane of any villain's existence.

    Or so the moniker goes. It changes, sure, adapting as needed to appease the masses or be used against him, but that doesn't mean he ever likes it. Not when there's more than just enemy blood on his hands and situations rob him of those he cares about.

    At some point he's going to stop caring. At some point, he's going to be done with all their stupidity and the endlessness of it all and simply watch the world burn just because he could.

    That thought scares him more than his own death does and he can't help but wonder for how much longer it will.

    At least he has the Scions. If he had been on his own, he would have shattered a long time ago. He just hopes he hasn't leaned too heavily on them in turn.


    Note: Due to the sheer size of this fic, I have broken it up into collections based on expansions. This contains content from Endwalker. Unless noted otherwise, each chapter is named for the quest it appears in.



    • He had hoped being indoors - even if it was the Rostra - would have helped but no. The exhaustion that had been nipping at his heels since he’d returned from Thavnair now dragged at him, making his temper a lot shorter than it needed to be. It wasn’t like Thavnair had been terribly draining - certainly not physically - and it wasn’t like they had done anything more arduous than mild spelunking since he had returned to Sharlayan so he wasn’t fairly certain where the exhaustion was coming from. Maybe it was going from the heat of Thavnair to the chill of Sharlayan to getting soaked in the Labyrinthos in its artificial rain messing with him. Or maybe he just needed a good nap. A nap sounded nice.

      And water, of which he was out of and had been for a while now. There was a raw feeling in his throat, just where nose and throat met in the back, that had yet to go away and it was not helping his mood. He rubbed high on his throat as if that would soothe the pain inside.

      He was not looking forward to standing there while the Forum dragged out the proceedings. The thought alone seemed all too gleeful to tempt a headache. It certainly did nothing for the prospect of being on his feet for an unknown length of time.

      “You have tarnished the good name of the Students. Galuf would be ashamed.”

      Some random Councilor close enough to be both heard and spotted apparently saw fit to speak out in the uproar after Fourchenault’s words, accusing Krile specifically if the words were anything to go by. The sag in Krile’s posture meant the words had hit, though how effective they would be were left to Krile to decide. Still, though, he reached out and gently squeezed her shoulder. She smiled up at him before turning to the Councilor, stating plainly, “Galuf Baldesion was never one to forsake his fellow man. Even if this nation closed every door and retreated from the world, he would have found a way to help the Scions─help every soul of this star─fight back against the coming doom.”

      Y’shtola took the floor after Krile’s statement and Echo’a took the chance to lean close to Alisaie, though his movement drew Alphinaud and Krile’s attention as well. Blessedly, Y’shtola didn’t break her words and G’raha was giving her his full attention. “I’m going to sit down now.”

      “What?” Alisaie asked; Alphinaud spoke nearly at the same time, “Is everything alright?”

      “You can’t sit down,” Krile said, sounding almost panicked in her urging. “Where would you sit?”

      “I’m fine; just tired of being on my feet,” he responded to the twins before focusing on Krile. “And the floor works well enough. Besides: if they pay more attention to me than you five,” a smirk pulled across his face, one that was sharper than he normally would have let it be, “then let them.”

      As G’raha took the floor, sharing his own findings from the restricted section, Echo’a sat down. He crossed his legs and tucked a hand under the forward shin, using it to keep his back straight. He gained a raised eyebrow - and possibly the start of a smirk - from Y’shtola. He wondered what look G’raha would send him once he noticed.

      “...Rather, society was to be gradually reshaped to ensure the preservation of knowledge. The most conspicuous and telling change was-”

      “Can we please have Mister Velundaleht standing instead of lounging on the floor like a child,” one of the Councilors finally bit out, cutting G’raha off.

      He blinked a few times as he opened his eyes, readapting to the lighting as his brain took a second to process what had just happened. It had been a while since anyone had called him by his surname - let alone with such derision - that he had almost mistaken it for someone else’s name.

      He looked to the left to where the voice had come from and found it surprisingly easy to pick out the outspoken Councilor; it did help that a number of the man’s peers were looking right at the Councilor in varying degrees of shock and displeasure. He met the Councilor’s gaze evenly and said, “I will remain seated if it’s all the same, thank you.”

      The Councilor slammed a palm to the tabletop, nearly rising from his chair in his outrage. “You will stand with the rest of your accomplices and show some respect to the Forum!”

      The calm compassion bled from his expression and he did nothing to correct the flat contempt that replaced it. “Respect goes both ways and I have yet to see anything in Sharlayan worthy of my respect that doesn’t already have it.” The Councilor sputtered to reply but he kept talking, drowning the man out. “The only reason I am on your lands still is currently standing before you. The people you should be concerned about respecting the Forum are standing before you. They are here dealing with your bureaucracy because they still have hope that Sharlayan - their home, in a variety of capacities - will see right to help the world not burn at the hands of fanatics.” Silence met his words. That was fine by him. “It is their hope that answers - your oh so coveted knowledge - can be found here to help protect if not save the world - which includes Sharlayan, if you have forgotten - or at the very least an explanation as to why the refusal for aid from the Forum had been so unanimous.”

      He returned his gaze forward and had to set his gaze beyond those standing around him. If he paid them any mind in that moment, the last of his words would fail. Gods, if his throat hadn’t already been killing him, it would now. “I am an outsider; something that many of you turn your nose up at upon the mere mention of, as if that fact alone taints my very existence. I couldn’t care less of your opinion of me and am quite ready to wash my hands of your nation simply to spite you, even as my soul weeps for those innocent and ignorant of your actions that would suffer from such a choice.” His gaze slid back to the Councilor. “Unfortunately, I know all too well the futility of offering aid to those that don’t want it and I am quite done trying; but they are not. Men and women raised and nurtured by Sharlayan stand before you seeking answers as they had been told they should. And I refuse to abandon them in their endeavors, no matter the lost cause I may think it is. So yes, I will stay seated, because I should not be the focus of your attention. I refuse to block them from view when it is their voices that need to be heard, not mine.”

      Some mutterings scattered the room but none spoke out. G’raha cleared his throat and started speaking again and Echo’a let his eyes slide close as he listened.

      A new voice cut through the growing turmoil of some point - he was starting to lose track of the conversation - and he found himself seeking out the voice, not sure if it was to help or hinder them.

      Alisaie leaned over and muttered in his ear, “Scholarch Montichaigne. He’s the head of the Studium, and an old friend of our grandfather’s.”

      So to help, then. And helped it did. Shortly thereafter, a verdict was finally put forth and voted on, though he couldn’t tell if it was actually a good thing. He’d have to ask once they were all done with this.

      “I count fifty-two for, and forty-seven against. The proposal is passed,” the Speaker announced, though how he managed to count was beyond him. There had to be a better way to vote. “Students, Scions, you have heard the Forum's judgment. Pray abide by it or face the consequences.”

      And with that, they were dismissed.

      “That was quite the speech you gave,” Y’shtola spoke once they were outside.

      He squinted against the glare of the sun, shielding his eyes to meet her gaze. He shrugged. “It seemed to work in the end. Damned fool voted in our favor.”

      “Still, that was quite the risk to take,” G’raha said, the gleam in his eyes countering the concern that was heaviest in his voice. Or maybe he was mistaking the awe for concern. Did he care? “Though I would say your voice matters just as much as ours here.”

      He shrugged. “Not to them it doesn’t, and that’s ok. As long as you all are listened to in my stead. It’s not like you won’t say what I want to say anyway.”

      Krile asked, tentative and oddly nervous, “Would you really abandon Sharlayan just to spite the Forum?”
     
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