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foryouthegays · 3 years

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Forming a secret organization [Dream SMP] liveblog and summary!

Good laugh times: 7:40, 1:18:15, 1:19:25

Protect mr philza minecraft from baby zombies (he really went all out on that bit today): 20:35, 32:40 34:45, 1:16:35

Sellout pog: 30:45, 1:00:50, 1:30:55, 2:01:15

Summary:

Techno started the stream in the Nether. He quickly went back to the overworld and to his house, where he meets up with Phil and Ranboo. He mentions that the house smells like gunpowder, and Phil quickly ushers them outside and they continue their conversation.

Techno nudges Ranboo away from the conversation, and he leaves the call. Phil and Techno watch as Ranboo leaves the house, and then Techno tells Phil his news. He talks about how taking down L’Manburg wasn’t the greatest plan, especially as he’s only one person. He wants to bring other people to their anarchist ways.

Phil agrees to form a secret organization for anarchists, because they can’t fight ten to one.

Techno and Phil go to Ranboos house, asking for a feather, and Ranboo asks if he’s getting kicked out. They say no, and then Ranboo says that he has something that might get him kicked out.

He talks about how he sometimes doesn’t remember what he does, and that he was the person who blew up the community house.

Techno asks why, and Ranboo says he doesn’t know.

Phil and Techno agree that they don’t really care about the community house, and Ranboo continues, saying that he has one of the discs. Phil and Techno agree again that they don’t care about the discs at all.

Techno and Phil leave.

Techno leads Phil to a stronghold, which he calls a ‘structure,’ and they cover it with gravel to hide it. They enter the structure, and they find a library, some useless doors, and keep exploring, finding nothing. Techno is confused, thinking that there had to have been a reason for the stronghold's existence.

While looking at a connected Abandoned Mineshaft, Techno finds an enchanted golden apple.

They go into the lower parts of the stronghold, and they find a prison. Techno mentions that the bread he found earlier tasted around 2,000 years old, which gives us a rough (and joking) estimate of when the stronghold was made.

Phil finds a strange portal, and they talk about how advanced the previous civilization must had been, to be able to make unbreakable blocks. They hear a villager writing, and dig up to a strange room.

It ends up being the igluu where Orphans parents lived, and they start laughing, but then, DreamXD logs in. He breaks the portal, and then leaves. Techno begs dream to put the portal back, because it would’ve added to the lore, and that their characters didn’t know what it was, and were going to use it as a table.

Dream logs in again, and puts one (1) portal frame block down, and then leaves again. Phil tells Dream how to place the blocks incorrectly so they wouldn’t form a portal, and he logs in to place them back.

DreamXD hears Techno joking about going to the end, logs in, and then logs out when Techno says he’s joking. Then, Techno explains the difference between DreamXD and Dream, saying that DreamXD has canonical access to creative mode, and is like God, but Dream is just some homeless teletubby. DreamXD logs in, says ‘they actually are I am the protector,” and logs out.

In chat, Techno asks ‘who was that dram fanboy, how did he get whitelisted,’ and DreamXD logs in again, hits Techno with a sword a few times, and logs out.

Techno and Phil decorate the meeting room a bit, and they start talking about what the association should be called. Techno says that he wants it to be the ‘[blank] Syndicate,’ and before they can agree on anything, Ranboos nametag is spotted, and they agree to kill him if he comes into the meeting room.

Techno puts down a sign with the organization's motto, which is ‘Sic semper tyrannis,’ which means ‘thus always to tyrants.’

He starts writing in the manifesto.

“This syndicate is formed to promote anarchy and fight tyranny in all its forms.

“We shall have no Leader; no member shall be compelled to act if they do not choose to.

“No member shall reveal information about the Syndicate to outsiders.

“Technoblade shall serve as the Recruiter to induce new members into the Syndicate with Approval from a Majority of members.”

Phil and Techno leave the Stronghold, and realize that the Igluu wasn’t actually Orphans parents, but instead a different Igluu that Ranboo had been using for Cartographers. They go back to the house, planning to meet with Ranboo, but on the way, they find a strange tower made of stone. Its hollow, but theres no chests or anything inside. They continue and meet with Ranboo, who has gifts for them. Techno gets a Netherite shovel with Efficiency V, Mending, Silk Touch, and Unbreaking III.

He brings them under his house, and we find he has a ‘comfort room,’ made of netherrack, that has several mob heads on the walls, an extra set of armor, and pets sitting next to the ladder. They talk about the map on the wall, and Techno seems concerned, or a bit scared.

Techno and Phil leave the call, and talk about how extremely strange the room, and Ranboo, was. They recount their adventure, and move the villagers into a more efficient layout. Ranboo joins them after a few minutes, at 1:38:00, and they work on curing the zombie villagers and giving them jobs

Liveblog:

I love when technos computer says he isnt streaming so he just rambles about that before it says he does and then he does the starting the streammm thing. Also if u havent heard the starting the streammmm thing u r missing out it is amazin

Techno pls get a new laptop im gonna cry

HE SAID THREE HE SAID THREE if u dont know, techno says three v nicely

“I havent even shown you the secrets, how would you guys be able to snitch??” SIR????

Oh my god is he using his phone to read chat,,,,,i hate him i hate him so much u haVE 5 MIL SUBS AND CANT EVEN GET A SECOND MONITOR WHYY

Ranboo!!! Philza minecraft!!!!! Hi!!!

5:40 ‘why does it smell like gunpowder?’ Techno there is no smell in minecraft. Lore pog?

6:45 AKDFJGLSA RANBOOS FUNDY IMPRESSION IM

8:45 ‘any second now its gonna be 11 percent updated, and thats like halfway done, if you think about it’ adhd autism solidarity right there lmao

I dont think techno can physically pay attention to lore for more than a minute at a time. He just like, sees a dog and zooms in on it while someones talking and its such a mood. All techno know is get distracted, kill orphans, protect philza minecraft, and anarchy. Love him

10:45 he just got COMPLETELY distracted w his laptop im actually crying form laughter

So uh. 17 mins in. Techno (without saying anything). Kills a zombie that was trying to kill ranboo. Thats. Thats a thing he only does for people he trusts. Uhhh

Technos voice at 21:30,,,,,,hhghn why is he like this why is he randomally doing weird voices

26:35 ‘hacker voice: were in’ HGKDFJSL

Ok but techno making fun of doors is so funny tho. Also he rlly did go all out on the baby zombie bit tdoay im actually crying

Techno when phils being chased by two creepers, a few zombies, and skeletons: i do not see it

Techno when phils being chased by one (1) baby zombie: loOK OUT PHILZA MINECRAFT

42:00 god apple poggggg

45:50 techno sir why do u know what 2,000 year old bread tastes like

Dsmp techno :handshake: minecraft story mode techno

Hating doors

Dsmp techno :handshake: smp earth techno

Living right above a stronghold

48:35 ‘dude, they had all this super advanced technology because they didnt waste time trying to figure out how to make doors’ FSKHGJDAL

50:25 UH?? WHAT IS THAT LMAO

OH ITS ORPHANS PARENTS LMAOOOO

GDFJKHSL DREAM HI

51 MINS IN HGJSKDFJASL DREAM PUT IT BACK IT WAS A GOOD TABLE DREAM

56:25 ‘listen, I’ve read a lot of mythology Phil, and nothing bad has ever happened from angering the gods.’ You SURE about that?

I will actually never get over techno making fun of dream its so funny to me 1:01:10

I am so, so extremely queer for technos planning/schemeing voice like when its kinda quieter and deeper n slower? Hhgnn

Also is latin canon in this universe? Pog

Asmr Technoblade makes a cult :)

Ok ok ok ok SO i know that techno wants to make all the members equal (and i do think that hell try his best to make that possible) but bc hes just,,,so FREAKING powerful both in terms of pvp and resources, i feel like his opinion IS gonna matter more, but also im p sure hes the writer of the arc so like. He has more important opinions anyway so unless he is v obviously controlling the other members of the group, i think this could be a fun collab thing. And i am SO excited to see all yalls analysis for what other people think of him ahhHHH i love analysis.

1:17:10 “whose idea was it to make baby zombies stronger? Why are the babies stronger?? Have you ever fought a baby in real life? I have, and it was trivially easy to defeat, Phil.” TECHNO????

Also i can NOT believe that someone thinks techno doesnt use dark humor,,,,have u WATCHED his videos?????

1:25:05 Like literally RIGHT after he makes a joke abt how ranboos shovel’ll be good for digging graves for his enemies, which was taking soooo long before

Ah yes, technoblade, the 21 yr old child 1:28:40

19 notes · View notes

weirdponytail · 4 years

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Modern Inheritance: Sleeping Arrangements/Hotel Pit Stop

(A/N: Some more traveling Eragon and Co. on their way to the Varden post Gil’ead. If it’s not apparent, the mad rush to the Varden mainly starts after ‘Judge You Not.’

There’s a lot of character interaction in this one, and I used it to build a little of the world, the relationships between characters, and dialogue rhythms. Again, this is an older MIC story {most of the stories posted en masse today are my earlier stories that I’ve built upon}, so I have changed a bit of the lore and tech levels, but I still enjoy the story.)

~~~

"Good evening, ma'am. Are there any rooms available?" Brom smiled at the desk attendant, ignoring her ill concealed disgust at the grime covering himself and the young men behind him. It wasn't the finest hotel in the world, but it was still cleaner than a roadside motel and had a nice touch of class to it for their higher rates.

It was the only place that still had the vacancy sign on, so Brom had grudgingly agreed to see if they had a room that could accommodate them. Everyone needed a boost in morale, and a night in a bed and a hot shower would do the trick to lift their spirits. It was isolated enough that it would take a long time for any soldiers to reach them if anyone recognized them, and Saphira was well hidden in the small forest nearby. She could respond to any danger and was far enough away to be virtually undetectable.

The clerk sighed and clicked a few keys on the bulky computer in front of her. "It's one-thirty-two Crowns for a two queen bedroom. Non-smoking." She glared at the pipe poking out of Brom's upper pocket. "Two hundred for cleaning fees if you smoke inside."

"I understand. Do you have a room with a window, by any chance?"

"It's ten extra Crowns." The woman all but sneered at him.

Behind him Brom heard Eragon shift, obviously upset about the clerk's clear plan of pocketing the extra money. Murtagh didn't react, his eyes constantly scanning the room and marking exits. He surreptitiously tugged the strap holding his holstered rifle a little lower, uneasy in the open lobby.

Brom nodded calmly despite the extra charge. "We'll take it. Do you have any roller beds so my boys don't have to split sheet? The kid kicks like a horse." Grumbling, the woman stood and pulled a folded up rolling cot, complete with a mattress and blankets, from the small room behind the desk. "Thank you."

Brom traded payment for the keys, extra bedding and toiletries and bid the sour attendant a good night. Murtagh grabbed the cot and the trio moved into the elevator, squeezing to one side to fit the roller bed in along with their packs. As the doors slid shut and they began ascending, Eragon leaned over to Brom. "How's Arya going to–"

"Shut up. Not here." Murtagh hissed, keeping his eyes forward. When Eragon shot him an annoyed glare, the older boy subtly gestured to the small camera in the corner. It's little red light was flashing.

The three exited the elevator in silence, quickly making their way to their room while checking as many exits as possible without arousing suspicion. Whenever he found a camera, Murtagh would point it out to Eragon and Brom as inconspicuously as he could. It would be best to keep out of the security tapes in case the soldiers came across the hotel after they left.

Upon finally reaching the room, Brom locked all the available bolts, chains and electronic locks he could as Murtagh unfolded the cot. Eragon checked the bathroom to make sure everything was in order, tested out the small A/C unit, then sat on the bed with a sigh.

"Now will you explain how Arya is going to get in here?" The boy asked, stretching tiredly. "Don't tell me she's going to stay out there with Saphira all night. She deserves a shower more than any of us."

Murtagh snorted, muttering something along the lines of the elf desperately needing one instead of deserving it, and pushed the cot into the corner so he would have a clear line of sight of both the door and the window from the side. Brom gestured to the aforementioned window, which was parallel to the bed Eragon was sitting on, and grunted, "Open that."

Perturbed, Eragon did as he was asked and opened the window fully, the metal frame bumping the outer wall. A humid breeze swept in, lending the room the scent of damp leaves and warm night air. The young Rider braced his hands on the sill and leaned out to breathe it in.

A soft series of scuffing noises were all the warning he had before Arya was suddenly staring him in the eyes, comfortably resting her chin on the sill as she crouched with her feet against the outer wall and sure fingers gripping the windowsill. "Well hello."

Eragon jerked back, startled. They were on the fourth floor. "How the hell did you just–"

"Fun fact, Eragon. On average my species can jump at least ten feet in the air when we put some effort into it." Eragon backed away from the window as the woman 'hopped' into a sitting position on the windowsill and then tumbled backwards into the room. "Don't gape. I parkoured most of it. It's forty bloody feet up, even we can't do that."

Brom tossed his bag on the bed closest to the door and started pulling off his coat. "Did anyone see you?"

Arya shook her head. "No. If they did, it was at a distance."

"Good thing we had you switch clothes." The old man grunted.

Before they had gotten within five leagues of the tiny roadside town, Brom had suggested the elf change out of her fatigues and into something a little less conspicuous.

Arya raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, great. I'll just change back into blood covered prison clothes. I'll be totally inconspicuous. Hell, I'll look like a human, because changing pants definitely changes the shape of my fucking ears. I’m not going to risk appearance magic, not with that damn drug in me still."

Murtagh scratched his stubbled chin, wanting to get back into civilization only long enough to start hating it again. "I might have an idea." He stepped up and put his back to hers, careful not to lean his weight against her covered injuries. With a flat hand the young man compared their heights and nodded in confirmation when he found only a miniscule difference between them. "We're pretty much the same height. I have some old jeans in my bag."

Meanwhile, Eragon was furiously digging in his backpack, searching for the winter clothes he had first set out on their journey wearing. He didn't want Murtagh being the only one to come up with something, not in front of Arya. Saphira snorted, teasing him quietly about it, but he ignored her and triumphantly pulled out what he had been looking for. "Here! This could at least cover your ears. It's not perfect, but it'll be good in a pinch."

Arya took the offered article and examined it before chuckling, "Actually, this is an old trick we used to do with Varden when we went drinking. Ah, the benefits of beanies." And she put it on, pulling the sides of the knit hat down to cover the most obvious marker of her race.

Dressed as she was, Arya looked almost no different from a human woman, if a bit on the angsty side. Dark loose jeans, grey hoodie, black shirt and a dark navy blue beanie tugged low over the tips of her pointed ears certainly gave her a brooding look, especially when leaning against the wall of a hotel and shooting glowering stares at anyone that even glanced at her. As long as no one got close enough to examine her facial structure, she would pass for human.

"Who wants to shower first?" Brom asked, already laying out a fresh shirt and a toothbrush on the bed. "Whoever does will be taking the laundry to the coin washer and gets to guard it once everyone is done."

When Arya shook her head and Eragon just shrugged, Murtagh stepped up. "Ah, I don't care. I'll go first if you don't want it, Brom."

"All yours." The old man gave him one of the extra mini toiletry kits he had bought. "Feel free to shave. There's a razor in there, fuzz face." Murtagh grunted, subconsciously passing a hand over his newly grown ragged stubble of a beard, and locked the door to the bathroom behind him. A few moments later the sound of the shower running drifted through the door.

Brom turned to Arya and tossed her the extra bedding he had picked up. "Here. Bandages. Better than nothing. You can use the comforter for padding the floor. If someone comes in to check it would be best if you're at least out of easy sight."

"Was planning on sleeping there anyway." She grabbed the comforter and gestured to the gap between one of the beds and the wall. "Do you mind if take the space next to your bed, Eragon?"

"Yeah, sure, go ahead." He smiled, happy that the elf had chosen to be closer to him than to Brom. "You can take some of the pillows too, I only need one." She nodded her thanks and threw her makeshift bedding down, padding over it in oblong, looping circles to settle the lumps before adding one of the pillows. "So, um...you said you used beanies when you were with the Varden to go out drinking. Don't they know you're an elf? I mean, they have to, right? Why can't you just go as is?"

Arya shrugged and sat next to him on the bed. Before answering, she unsheathed a mid-sized combat knife from the side of her boot and set about tearing the sheet Brom had given her into palm wide strips. "They know. And plenty of them are unsettled by us. It took a while to get used to the stares and the occasional...remark, I should say. When something is misunderstood, it is often feared, and going out for a drink in one of Farthen Dur's crowded bars with our ears clearly on display could turn the atmosphere from fun to awkward in a hot second." Finished with the sheet, the elf began rolling the makeshift bandages. "So, we started wearing beanies or hoodies to cover our ears. Everyone treated us as just another human unless we did something to tip them off, at which point we would leave."

Eragon frowned. It bothered him that even the Varden had people who were not fond of other races. 'If they don't trust elves, then what are they going to think of me and Saphira?' He subconsciously reached his mind out to Saphira, brushing against her sleeping thoughts to reassure himself. When his mind was calm again and he had confirmed that she was safe, he asked, "Doesn't it bother you, though? You're helping them, and you've fought for them. Don't they respect that? Haven't you at least tried change their minds?"

Arya leveled her gaze with his. "Oh, I tried at first. It led to more trouble than good. Some people already have their minds made up, Eragon. Out of the entire Varden, only a small percentage openly expressed any issue with me and my guards, and I'm sure there are more who keep their thoughts to themselves." She paused to tear the end of a partially rolled strip lengthwise a few inches with her teeth. "Besides, there are still people in the Varden who treated me as just another Vardenite. People have opinions. I can't let it affect how I act. I fight for the Varden as a whole, and if it costs me a night of drowning myself in dwarvish vodka, I'm okay with that."

"Don't give the boy any ideas." Brom chastised from his bed. He had found a current newspaper in one of the nightstand drawers and was scanning it for any information regarding the Varden, Urgals, Gil'ead, or Eragon and Saphira. "And no getting him drunk. Unless I'm there. Then, well...we'll see."

Arya waved him off. "I know, I know."

The shower cut off. Moments later Murtagh emerged from the bathroom, tendrils of steam clinging to his body and trailing him as the door opened. "Alright, who's next?" He was clean-shaven and wore a simple tshirt and a pair of basketball shorts, still rubbing his head of wild, damp hair with a small towel.

"You're up, kid." Arya clapped Eragon on the shoulder. He hopped up and grabbed a set of clothes that were decently clean and his portable music player before slipping inside the steam filled room and locking the door behind him. Seconds later the muffled chords of country music could be heard as the shower turned on.

Brom folded the paper in half and used it to swat Arya's arm. "When are you going to take your turn? You definitely need it. And I'm putting that lightly."

The elf chuckled. "Last. Trust me, I am going to destroy that shower. The closest I've gotten to being clean was splashing water on my face the last few days. It's been well over six months since I actually showered.

"Fair point."

Murtagh fell onto his roller bed with a contented sigh. "Now this is nice. Hot water, a place to clean our clothes, a locked door. And a bed!" He lifted his head slightly. "Do they have a radio? For such a price they should have at least put a telly in the room."

"I doubt it plays anything but official news and propaganda." Brom grunted, but still leaned over and hit the power button on the small radio clock that graced the bedside table. After a few garbled channels of static and scrolling through the entire range of signals, he finally found one that came in crystal clear.

"–nds the economic report. Here's Karl Yorgisson with the day's news."

Brom snorted. "Told you."

Arya waved him away from hitting the off switch. "Shush, I want to hear this."

"Thanks, Jason." Karl Yorgisson accepted the hand off. "Still no concrete news on the attack at the Gil'ead military base. Although it is confirmed by the base commander that the attack was carried out by Varden forces, it is unclear if any were captured after their defeat or if any escaped.

"We again advise that you keep your eyes peeled for any faces you have seen on watch boards. Remember, not only is there a sizable reward for information, there is also the pride that comes with defending your King and country from the insidious terrorists that lurk in our midst.

"In other news, we have a new addition to our team! Rebecca Jayasdaughter is to be joining us for her first broadcast on–"

Brom hit the switch when no other news concerning their activities was forthcoming. "Well, that's good. They're not willing to admit that we slipped past them. That means they can't inform the general public about us or why they're searching for us."

"Attacked Gil'ead my arse." Murtagh grumbled, eyes closed and arms folded behind his head. "I climbed in through the bloody garbage chute. Could have at least called it a hostile intrusion or sabotage. We don't need the attention of being labeled dangerous attackers, period."

"Saphira told me she ripped the entire roof off their state dining hall. They can't cover up that amount of damage quick enough to pass it off as a single man stealth intrusion." Arya pointed out. "Besides, they'll blame it on an elvish raiding party sooner or later. They always do if the town is near Du Weldenvarden."

Murtagh frowned, confused, yet still refused to open his tired eyes. "Wait…. You're telling me that the reports of elvish raiding parties…?"

"Never happened?" The elf looked at him with genuine surprise and what appeared to be a touch of insult, aghast that he thought the stories were true. "Of course they never happened! We don't send out random raiding parties! Glen, Fäolin and I were the only elves to leave the forest since my race retreated there." She shook her head, shocked that he had actually believed the propaganda. "Honestly! It's too risky to send little groups out like that to attack directly, what if one of our fighters were captured!"

The young man cracked open one eye and lifted his head to raise an eyebrow at Arya. "Oh? So, you were just visiting Gil'ead and managed to lock yourself in a cell? The men you were with just fell on their guns, is that it?"

"That is different." Arya snarled. Brom glanced at her, mildly startled by her tone, then turned back to leafing through the phone book and wishing he had brought at least one of his prized lore tomes with him on this harebrained journey. "We weren't attacking, we were in the fringes of Du Weldenvarden. Someone in the Varden betrayed us. That betrayal led to the death of my fyrn breoal. I'd prefer it if you didn't make quips about it."

"I apologize." Murtagh dipped his head in her direction as best he could, his words truly sincere. Losing friends to the King was something he was very familiar with. "It was in bad taste."

Arya rubbed her temples and braced her elbows on her knees, shoulders tense. "Apology accepted. I shouldn't have snapped."

Murtagh shrugged. "Eh. Natural response." The room was quiet for a time, the only sound being the rustle of Brom now flipping through the holy book from the desk, the light patter of the shower, Eragon's off key humming, and country music. Then, "What's a frin br… fyrn bri…."

"Fyrn breoal. Means war family in the Ancient Language." Brom answered gruffly. Despite the no smoking designation, he pulled his pipe from his discarded jacket and clamped it firmly in his teeth. "Elves who fight often use it to describe their battle buddies. Only the closest knit groups use the term." He jerked his chin in Arya's direction. "If I'm not mistaken, that is."

The elf nodded, fiddling with one of the remaining bandages. She was weaving it over and between her fingers, trying to keep her hands busy. "Glen and Faölin were my fyrn darmthrelli, my war brothers. We fought for the Varden together for decades."

"I'm sorry for your loss."

Arya's jaw tightened slightly. "Shit happens in war. We all lose people. We fight even harder in their memory." She unwound the bandage and then looped the tail around her thumb again, beginning anew.

Murtagh mulled over the new words he had learned, again letting the atmosphere lapse into silence. It wasn't exactly a comfortable one, a little too heavy to be called that, but it was easy enough to be called content. The three currently inhabiting the room were all comfortable with reflecting on their own thoughts without feeling the urge to shatter the silence. Murtagh respected that of Brom and Arya, and was glad that they, too, seemed to respect his quiet.

'Fyrn breoal. Tornac was my fyrn breoal, then. I guess he would be my war father. Too old to be a war brother.' Murtagh's heavy lidded eyes wandered the room. 'I wonder what he would have thought of all this. Eragon, Saphira, Brom and Arya. Agh, Bloody hell, he'd probably lash me silly for agreeing to go to the Varden and trusting strangers like this.' The thought brought a sleepy grin to his face, and his eyes drifted closed.

"Oi. Don't sleep yet. You have to do laundry." Brom snapped when he saw the young man drifting off.

It didn't even phase Murtagh, who just rolled onto his side and mumbled, "Then wake me up when it's ready to be done." and nuzzled his face deeper into his pillow.

It didn't take long for his breathing to even out and his body to relax. Arya nudged the end of the bed with her foot and shook her head when Murtagh only mumbled and groggily waved her off.

"I can do the laundry. Should probably let the guy sleep." She offered when Brom made an annoyed noise at the young man's reaction.

"Can't have you wandering around out there." Brom shifted his pipe from one side of his mouth to the other. "If you run into someone who have any education from the army, it could get ugly fast."

"So I'm pretty much useless at this point in time?" Arya asked dryly. "Dear me, I'm in a room where I can't leave. Out of one jail and into another."

"Don't get all brooding on me, girl. Once your clothes are washed you can change out of Murtagh's and maybe the angst will wear off." The elf chuckled at that, and Brom flipped the holy book closed with a definitive snap. "Bloody hell, why is Eragon taking so long?"

The old man stood and went over to the bathroom door. He paused, glanced at Arya, and a bit of a mischievous glint came to his eyes. The elf raised an eyebrow. "Oh stars, I know that look. What are you planning?"

Brom only grinned and shoved his pipe into his pocket before raising his fist and banging on the door, yelling, "Eragon! What the HELL is taking so long?! You had better not be doing what I think you're doing in there!"

There was the distinct sound of someone nearly falling on their ass in a wet shower and sputtered curses. "I'll be done in a minute!"

"Cold water works wonders, boy! Hurry up!"

As Brom returned to his bed Arya swatted him on the arm. "He's a teenage boy. He needs his alone time." She, too, was trying to hold back laughter. "Better he do that in there than when he thinks we're all asleep."

"He should have thought of 'alone time' before he left Carvahall." Brom shot back, but was still grinning from ear to ear. "And trust me, you don't get alone time with a bonded dragon in your mind."

"Poor Saphira!"

The shower squeaked off and Eragon came out, his face and the tips of his tapering ears bright red. He was wearing a pair of long pajama pants and a loose t-shirt with the sleeves cut off.

"You could have just told me to hurry up." The boy grumbled, shooting Brom a moody glare.

Brom nodded with a chuckle. "Aye, but then you wouldn't have actually gotten out right when I asked."

"Well, I wasn't–" His face went an even deeper shade of red when he realized Arya was still awake and watching him, bemused. "I wouldn't do that with people in the next…. I just like hot showers, okay?" Pink blotches started appearing on his neck, collarbones and shoulders as he blushed furiously.

"Hey, I'm not saying anything." Arya put her hands up. "What you do in the shower is none of my business."

Brom grabbed his fresh clothes and brushed by the younger Rider. "You can sleep now, boy. No watches tonight. Put your dirty clothes next to Murtagh's."

Still red, Eragon placed his travel clothes next to the small pile Murtagh had made and sat on his bed. Arya was stretched out on the other side, leaning against the headboard, and was flipping through the holy book Brom had abandoned. She didn't seem to be reading it, just turning the pages to give herself something to do.

"You alright with me here until Brom gets out? I can move to his bed if you want me to." She asked as the Eragon wiggled underneath the tightly tucked sheets and blanket.

"No, it's okay. I don't mind." He attempted to adjust the pile of pillows behind his head and, giving up, pulled one out and tossed it at Murtagh. The sleeping man grumbled, kicking the pillow off his legs, and raised a middle finger in Eragon's general direction. "If you...um...if you don't want to sleep on the floor we could...you know, split sheet."

Eragon's ears flared a deep maroon as Arya let out a soft laugh. "Thanks, but I need to be out of general sight if anyone comes in. People would wonder why three people checked in and suddenly a fourth person appeared. Bed blocks the view of my little hideout." The Rider mumbled a 'good point' and tried to ignore the glimmer of amusement in the elf's dark eyes. "Is Saphira doing alright out there?"

"Yeah. She's asleep." Glad for the change in topic, Eragon busied himself with plugging his music player into the complimentary charger on the bedside table and wrapped his headphones around it carefully. "I think she's a little glad for the time alone. She grew up in the woods near my farm after she hatched, and since we started traveling with Murtagh I think she's been missing the solitude, not to mention a chance to sleep for a full night."

A slight smile tilted the corners of Arya's lips as she turned another page. "I think we've all earned a little rest."

Eragon nodded in agreement, punctuated by a wide yawn. The hot shower had made him drowsy on top of being bone tired. Coupled with the soft pillows, warm blankets, Saphira's sleeping thoughts and the safety of the walls around him, the boy found himself already drifting off. "Yeah." He murmured, eyelids drooping closed. "G'night, Arya."

"Good night, kid."

As Eragon dropped off, the elf gently settled the holy book on the bed and slipped down onto her makeshift mattress to begin preparing for her own turn in the shower. She released her braid and combed out the snarls in her hair, wiped off what bits of blood and grime that she could with a scrap of shredded sheet, and put her dirty fatigues on the pile near Murtagh's bed. When Brom stepped out, beard and mustache neatly clipped, he found Arya waiting quietly next to the door with the last package of toiletries and a fresh towel in her lap.

"Take as long as you want." Brom grunted, jerking his head towards the shower and flinging out a few water droplets from his still damp hair. "I'm sending Murtagh to do laundry and then heading to sleep."

"I'll try not to destroy the entire hotel's hot water supply." Arya grinned wryly as she stood. "I'll wake you if anything concerning happens."

~~~

Arya shut off the water and watched the last dregs slide down the drain. It had taken ten minutes of soap, scrubbing and hot water to get the water flowing off her body to run lighter than dark grey. Another ten minutes saw it finally run clear, and five minutes under shockingly cold spray soothed the vicious burning in her healing wounds and scars. She shook herself and wrung out her hair as much as she could before stepping out and grabbing a towel.

A few brief minutes later she was again clothed in her borrowed jeans and her sports bra, and she stepped out of the bathroom. A quick check confirmed that Murtagh had not yet returned. He slipped inside just as the elf was tying off the last strip of bandage around her leg, the rest of the shredded sheet already wrapped around her torso.

"Heads up." Murtagh grunted, tossing Arya her fatigues. She muttered her thanks, feeling the effects of the hot shower sinking in. "Good night, Arya."

"'Night, Murtagh." The young man hit the last light before tumbling onto his roller bed with the 'whumph' of a relieved sigh. After a quick last look around the room to ensure everyone was accounted for, Arya followed suit.

No one dreamed. They just slept.

~~~

Eragon tore the covers off as a shrill alarm stabbed into his ears. For a confusing moment lights and sound blinded him. He threw his mind out to Saphira to see through her eyes, only to remember that she was a league away, hiding in the woods. He felt her wake and surge to her feet, his panic alarming her.

A swarm of curses in various languages assaulted him as he finally began to register his surroundings.

They were still in the hotel room, but the standard fire alarm on the wall was alive with flashing lights and mind shattering sound. To his right Brom was shoving the small pile of his clean clothes in his travel bag, swearing in a mildly familiar, old tribal dialect of the Spine. To Eragon's left, Arya was already zipping Murtagh's borrowed jacket up to cover the makeshift bandages on her torso, not even bothering with a shirt as she threw her fatigues onto her unzipped combat jacket. She zipped it, wrapped it up and clamped a spare blade harness strap around it before slinging the bundle across her back by the tied together sleeves and tore the window open. Eragon swore he heard her hissing choice words in the Ancient Language, but the intonation and inflections were markedly different.

Of all of them, Murtagh appeared to be the least disturbed by the noise. He sat lacing up his boots, already clothed in his travel gear, and his previously covered rifle was laid out on the bed within arms reach. As he picked the weapon up and chambered the first round Eragon realized the man was swearing in a steady monotone, never once reusing a word. When he seemed to run out of words in the common human language, he switched to what Eragon gathered was a dialect from his local hometown. His vocabulary was impressive to say the least.

"What the bloody hell is happening?" Eragon asked, snatching up his gear. He felt the distinct tickle of Saphira using his ears to hear the answer, her body tensing as she prepared to race to his aid.

Brom shoved the clip on the top of his bag together with a hurried snap. "From what I can gather, the desk clerk told her replacement about us and they checked the front tapes. They recognized at least one of us and they're setting up the local garrison outside the doors as we speak."

Murtagh's muttered swearing filled the brief gap in conversation. "Faigh muin, deoghail am fallus bhàrr duine mharbh siadha tiadhan, cao–"

Eragon ignored him and haphazardly threw his clothing into his backpack, yanking on the zipper when it refused to close all the way. "What's the alarm about then?" He checked that Zar'roc's hilt and pommel were still wrapped, concealing the gem and shining grip, then strapped the blade on his hip.

"They're trying to lure us to the emergency exit." Brom growled. "Tell Saphira to keep out of sight unless absolutely necessary. We still have a chance get out of here without letting them see her."

'There won't be anything to see if I eat them all.' The dragon hissed in response. Eragon's jaw twinged as she snapped her teeth in frustration. 'I'll decide when to be seen. Just hurry up. I can smell a reinforcement company approaching.'

Eragon relayed her message. The speed of Murtagh's swearing increased while even Brom let out a particularly foul word. "How are we getting out?" The younger Rider asked. "We can't go out and we can't go up without having Saphira try to fly us out, and she can't carry four people."

"Theta Rescue." Arya grabbed Eragon's backpack before he could pick it up. "Or as I like to call it unofficially, 'The Reversed Cliché.'" She threw his bag out the window, ignoring his cry of confusion.

"Only if you're up for it." Brom threw his bag to her, and she repeated the process. Murtagh calmly handed his over with a polite nod and a swear that Arya must have recognized, for she snapped back at him with a word of her own. "It's quite a drop, even for you. The added weight won't help."

"No alternative I can see. Unless you want to tie together bed sheets." Her head cocked to the side. "They're sweeping the floor below us."

"Theta it is." Brom set himself up behind the wall near the door. "Lightest first, heaviest last. Eragon, Murtagh, you both are going to do exactly as Arya says, when she says you do it. Order is Eragon, me, then you Murtagh."

"Wait, what's happening?" Eragon asked as Arya grabbed his arm and pulled him to the window. "What are you doing?"

Arya flashed him a grin that didn't reach her now flinty eyes. "Don't worry. All you have to do is trust me. And don't wiggle."

"Wigg–" Eragon was cut off as the elf ducked and suddenly swept him off his feet in a fireman's carry. He only had time to spit out a quick "Oh Sweet Sara–" before Arya jumped out the window.

~~~

Half an hour later found the group galloping past the stand of trees where Saphira had hidden. The dragon leapt over their heads and snapped her wings out, startling the horses. 'On the road again, Little One?' She asked, gaining altitude to circle above them.

'On the road again.' Eragon affirmed, letting their thoughts mingle and intertwine in a way that the distance had previously made difficult. He felt her joy of flight and relief at being reunited, but also her displeasure. The close call had further confirmed her theory that he was a magnet for trouble. 'I'm going to hear about this later, aren't I?'

The dragon chuffed, the odd sound resonating through their mental link. 'You're just lucky Brom has a good head on his shoulders.' With that she drove her wings down, shooting up another hundred feet. 'You will fly with me today.'

'Yes ma'am.' Eragon smiled and Saphira crowed her jubilation to the sky.

Dust billowed from the horse's hooves as they continued on their journey. It was good to be on the road again.

#modern inheritance #modern inheritance cycle #inheritance cycle #eragon #modern inheritance story #arya #brom #murtagh #saphira #hotel pit stop #sleeping arrangements #old mic story #tbh this was and still is one of my favorites #i'd love to find a way to rewrite it while keeping the original spirit intact

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gurguliare · 6 years

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garden-ghoul replied to your post “garden-ghoul replied to your post “garden-ghoul replied to your...”

so if I give you a prompt then you WILL owe us? let me dig through my brain for the most incomprehensible bullshit... listen I really want to hear your take on echo. I was just listening to their focus episode and being like "aw echo as an unwilling government official is darling." but also I want to see you try echo/grand

Okay........... I really have no handle whatsoever on Echo but wish me luck

“Wait,” said Ballad. “He’s working for you?”

Echo was so tired that it was hard to notice when they didn’t understand something; it took them almost a minute of frowning at their hands to be sure that the question had come out of nowhere. “No. What? I didn’t say that. I said he went to get coffee. He’s taking a really long time.”

“I heard what you said.” Ballad had on that expression he got when he thought someone would make a fool of him if he tried to be patient. Clearly, he was trying anyway, which was quite the gesture---for Ballad. It didn’t count too much in Echo’s books. “And I heard what he said. And I heard---” He seemed to remember, all at once, that he wasn’t still trapped on a moon-sized casino, surrounded by dickheads. “Look, I just want to get things straight. If he was spying for you all along, why didn’t you tell me that?”

“He’s not spying for us. He’s Grand Magnificent, he doesn’t know how to file a report---I had to do his reports for him when we were an ex-con and an artistic visionary, back on Quire. He used to bribe me with... Actually, what the hell did he bribe me with? Werewolf lore?” Echo came back to themselves with a start; Ballad was listening, they could tell, but also struggling to keep awake. They had the uncomfortable feeling that Ballad, for once, was right to be suspicious of delay. Between the blood loss, the shame, and Echo’s own fund of strength, they could always wait him out. They didn’t have to answer.

“He’s really not on the Coalition’s payroll. At least, I think. That’s not why I saved him. I told you, I'm done losing things.”

“I believe you,” said Ballad, eyes shut. “But why did he let you save him? And---” a little halting now, before the killing stroke “---how come he keeps rubbing your back?”

“Uh.”

It was too late anyway. Fatigued by triumph, Ballad slept.

Grand came back with a cardboard drinks carrier, loaded down with three cups of differently-colored foam, and thank God one black coffee. “I decided to try all the breakfast flavors,” said Grand, sitting next to Echo, and didn’t offer them any of the interesting cups. Echo sipped their coffee---it was lukewarm---then wondered why they were sipping anything, and chugged it. There was no normal waste receptacle in the medbay. They got up and left the room, trusting that Grand would follow. And he did, still mid-stream: “So far, egg’s ahead.”

The hallway felt better. Less fogged with guilt. “‘So far’?”

“Sure. Flavor isn’t a matter for naive impressions. It’s about robustness. Have you read those Coca-Cola studies?”

“What’s Coca-Cola?”

“Eh, ancient fetish object, you probably won’t have heard of it.”

“I just said I hadn’t, didn’t I?”

“See?”

Echo kneaded their forehead. “Can you not touch me in front of Ballad?”

“Oh. Oh, shit, of course. I’m sorry.” To his credit, Grand did look a little panicked, which was as close to ‘contrite’ as he’d ever gotten where Echo could see. That wasn’t fair either. Sometimes he’d been very panicked. “I wasn’t thinking. No one wants to see that with their little sibling.”

“Wh---that’s not it.” Echo’s grip slid back into their hair, and tightened. “Is it? Maybe that’s it. He was never good with PDA. No, goddamnit, that can’t be it. He thinks you’re an agent for the Qui Err.”

“Ah,” said Grand, and licked foam off his mustache. Then he rubbed his lip. He hadn’t done a bad job of peeling off the tar, once it cooled, but his hair still hadn’t dried from the shower, and his skin was pink in weird patches---probably not from the shower. Maybe. Echo didn’t know anything anymore. “I could be? Should I talk to your---is Iota Pretense your boss, maybe? Or your colleague? Every member of the Advent Group is considered eligible for leadership positions, which, let me tell you, is a pain. What is the Coalition’s command structure?”

“You know, sometimes...” The funny part was, Echo could feel their hands relaxing. It was a problem. Everything they’d ever trusted, they still trusted; even to the sound of Grand’s interminable voice. All that talk about confidence, but their body had never lost faith.

Which was how they ended up pinning their brother to the safehouse wall like a specimen. Because they had trusted him, too: to be better.

Grand wasn’t talking. He was listening, it seemed like, but not in the way that Ballad listened, as if by waiting imperiously enough he could summon the answer he needed. He seemed more afraid than expectant, but still the whole weight of his attention was there, strangely, as though Echo were the most important thing he could be thinking or learning about. It wasn’t comfortable. It made Echo feel overfull, as though they might at any point spill out and ruin more. Grand on Quire had spent his time learning from nightmares. So far as they knew, that was still true.

“I don’t hate you. I take it back, we can hold hands in front of him, I don’t care if he freaks. I like the back rubs. But it’s hard---you make it hard. Why didn’t you call it off? At the safehouse. You could have told him to go.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s true,” said Grand. “One, I forgot to set up the intercom system, and by the time the Rapid Evening descended it would have taken too long to instill loyalty. Alexa is very flaky. Two, I... I’m not spying for you, that I know of, but I am spying on Advent. At least, I might be? I have some information. To be honest, what I had in mind was a little more hands-on, but I’m happy to help... however I can. Does that make sense?”

“Not really.”

“I didn’t want your brother to know that I didn’t want him to rescue me, because then he would have known I didn’t want Advent to rescue me. Which, in fact, I didn’t. That is, I did! I wanted to be rescued. I would have been fine letting Advent do it, given a sufficiently brisk turnaround. But then you came.”

“He wouldn’t have gone anyway,” Echo admitted. “I think he thought he needed you. To keep his job.”

“That sounds about right,” said Grand, tentative. “He wasn’t very popular with the higher-ups.”

Echo shuddered. “Why not tell me? ‘Echo, go home. I love working with bird fascists, and, and collectors, because this is a place where I can really cultivate my art---’”

Finally, a hint of frustration crept into Grand’s face. To a stranger he might still have looked like an innocent confounded; he bit his lip, smiled, and the smile hung there even as his expression darkened. “I didn’t,” he began, and then went on, gently: “I thought that might blow my cover too. If I said, ‘Hey, Echo, I’m okay. I’m doing what I love, melting legos and shredding duvets, and since I know you care more about my enrichment than winning this war---’”

“I didn’t go there because it was my job to!” Echo forced themselves to speak softly. “I didn’t tell anyone where I was going.”

“Sure,” agreed Grand, “which is why that might have worked. If the intercom had been on. But also, it also would make you sound like the spy.”

“Whatever.” Echo was thinking about the journey back. Even then, Grand hadn’t been subtle. In the safehouse his fussing could probably have passed for urgency, but once aboard Echo’s ship he had become a meek, attentive shadow, going where Echo pointed him, doing what Echo wanted---laughing at Echo’s teary jokes as if helpless to disagree. “You could have let him in before me. You didn’t even disable any of the traps until he was on the ground.”

Grand was silent now. “I guess I thought it was time I showed you my hand,” he said at last, mildly. “It’s a crap hand. I’ll admit that. I’ve witnessed some poker, and I’m fluent in ‘cards.’ But you deserved to know. And once you arrived, I don’t think a---a lighted exit sign could have pulled Ballad away. You were really convincing! For a while there I was sure you had it.” He had been leaning against the railing, and sank further with an enunciated groan. “You have a point, though,” he said. “I got distracted watching you fight. I forgot that there was something I could do. And, you know, I don’t want to do that anymore, I don’t want to forget---there’s no scenario where there’s nothing I can do.”

That sent a chill down Echo’s back. Maybe because he said it to himself, as an afterthought, despite his captive audience. He was as vain as ever, but had discovered how to aim his arrogance; he brought it out the way you would a gun, to polish and maintain when not in use. And the mustache really was not flattering. Echo plucked away the cup Grand had been nursing. “I’ll drink to that,” they said vaguely, already forgetting the words, and trying to lick egg-flavor out of their mouth as soon as it appeared. Grand replaced the first cup with a second, which turned out to be pomegranate. “---How is pomegranate a breakfast food?”

“It’s an homage,” said Grand, absently, and absently brought their hand to his mouth and kissed the back. Gross.

“Hey, Grandmag.”

“Yeah?”

“Will it blow your cover if you shave?”

“Definitely.”

“What if I shaved you? To humiliate you, while you were held prisoner here?”

“Is this still a hypothetical?”

There had to be something they could do other than kiss him. Or pick him up. There was the temptation to pick him up, but Echo didn’t want to walk anywhere, in case Ballad woke up again. Eventually, they settled for wrapping him in a hug. If his third shirt of the day got all fucked up from them crying on it, that was the least Echo could do.

“I’m not 'going to freak,’” said Ballad, the next day. Echo had actually slept a little, which had made them tireder. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

“That’s the freaking.”

“It’s not. I don’t care if you’re---getting laid. Look, now who’s embarrassed?” Still you, Echo wanted to protest, but the temptation to hide behind a hank of hair was stronger. “I care about you putting your trust in Grand Magnificent. What's there to trust?”

“You trusted him, didn’t you?”

“I trusted him to protect himself. My mistake was to think that meant protecting Advent. I trust water to find its level, I don’t trust it to take off and fly.”

“We’re in space, though.”

“You know, I used to see him at the Catapult---we were rivals. I led an entire faction, and he was one engineer. But I could feel him... sizing me up, and the way he did it, soon everyone did it. Like: ‘That one. That one isn’t secure.’ Once someone like Grand Magnificent sees the world in a certain way, it’s impossible for others not to join him. It’s an infection.”

“So?” said Echo. “That’s art, I guess. Or it’s being a rich asshole in a crowd of rich assholes. Annoying, I know.”

Ballad looked at them. Echo started to worry. They’d been too harsh, they'd been fervent and then flippant, and Ballad lay there with a hole in his gut shaped like the sword he’d helped them choose.

But he said, “You do it too.”

“I do what?”

“Art, I guess. Unless you’ve come into some money I don’t know about. You show other people what you’ve seen until they can’t see anything else. You did it to him---that’s the first time I’ve seen that. Grand Magnificent catch someone else’s idea? It’s like watching a rat get the plague.”

“Huh.”

“In a nice way. Well, nicer. Creepy, but that’s his fault, not yours. Where does he get off, echoing my little sib?”

“Fuck off. It won’t last,” said Echo, realizing as they said it that they no longer believed it. They thought, against all reason, that Grand would probably stay. “He’s just impressionable. He has these phases, then he goes and finds a new muse.”

“And you?”

“He’s not my muse.”

“Yeah. But is this a phase? Or do you think you’re about settled?”

There was no replying to that. There was no calm, no hope it didn’t sicken them to feel. Here, in the middle of getting all they’d wanted, the truth was still too awful to admit. Ballad would recover. But the war dragged on.

Ballad pinched their arm.

“You’re the worst patient,” Echo complained. “You’ve got the bedside manner of a---of a crab.”

“You’re the one who’s supposed to have bedside manner.”

“I’m not! I’m the one who stabbed you!”

It was hard to know how to stop feigning indignation with someone you couldn’t punch in the arm. Or anywhere else. Echo did their best, though, covering their head and laugh-sighing; and when they checked from under their fingers, Ballad was smiling too. He looked thoughtful. Their brother was such a planner, although he wasn’t very good at it.

“If he wants to go back,” he said, “he can use my disappearance. He should say it proves what he was always saying, that I was hotheaded, I didn’t have my priorities right. Ask him what he thinks about that.”

“Okay.”

“Maybe he can volunteer to take over the Volunteers. That should bring more people over, anyone who might be tempted to go with Kitcha Kana’s crew at first.”

“Um...”

“It should work. Every member of the Advent Group is considered eligible for leadership positions.”

“Ugh, god, don’t say that. Did you have to go to orientation?”

“Don’t be such a baby. You might be planning orientations yourself, someday soon.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

The smile spread to a grin. “I’m through with Advent. But I wouldn’t trust me with my kids,” said Ballad, coldly. “Legato is due for her rebellious stage in T minus no years. Who do you think is going to be running the school?”

#on further reflection this appears to be #completely straightforward and fluffy echogrand #sandwiched between a lot of judgy ballad #I'LL DO BETTER NEXT TIME.#twilight mirage #friends at the table #garden-ghoul #tumblr as she is spoke #nb this isn't long because it's interesting it's long because i couldn't. figure out how to stop it

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