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minty-mumbles · 9 months

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Stretched Tight

(Read on AO3)

~~~

It was entirely Wild’s fault that he’d been caught unawares. He should have been paying more attention. If he had, then maybe he could have avoided being laid low in front of his guests.

And not just any guests, oh no. This wasn’t Zelda or Bolson, or even any of the other inhabitants of Hateno village. The heroes of the ancient past had come to call and were currently sitting around his dining table.

His mind was still reeling from it. The heroes of legend were here, in his house. It was nearly unbelievable, if not for the fact that Link could see them with his own two eyes.

Nearly unbelievable, if not for the fact that when he’d looked at them for the first time, something had sparked deep inside of him and he could see that spark clearly resonating in their eyes.

Their forms- tense and weary after traveling for days nonstop to find him- had relaxed ever so slightly at the feeling. That spark of instinctual recognition had been a new feeling to Wild, and strange. But to the men and boys clustered around his door, it had only confirmed what they’d hoped for when they’d seen the sign out front, proclaiming the house’s owner to be named Link.

When the man at the front of the group- dressed in full plate armor and with a wicked scar stretching over his eye, but his gaze impossibly kind anyways- had asked if the group could enter his home, Wild had allowed it without a second thought.

Usually, Wild would be more cautious. The Yiga were still a constant threat, after all, and people who didn’t want to kill him could be just as dangerous.

But somehow, when he had seen these men, he’d known that they intended no harm to him. Though the group had shown up to his door armed to the teeth, Wild felt deep in his gut that these people didn’t want to hurt him, and Wild always trusted his gut. His instincts had saved him countless times, and they were rarely wrong.

It had been hours since the group arrived, and the long shadows of the evening had crept over the land without the house’s inhabitants noticing or caring. (But the night had grown dark unusually fast, and the air had gotten cold, and slightly damp. Wild had even gotten up to start a fire at one point as the chill crept in. Why hadn’t he paid attention to the warning signs of rain?)

Wild had needed minimal proof to believe what they had told him. The sword that the hero of the skies carried had been enough, especially once he’d held it and heard a faint voice echoing through his mind, naming him the hero of the wilds.

He remembered- as rare as that was- a time when Zelda had asked him if he heard the voice inside the sword. He hadn’t been able to speak in order to answer her then, but Wild knew his answer would’ve been no. He hadn’t been able to hear the spirit inside the sword before he died and certainly hadn’t heard her after. But he could hear her now. It was every bit as wonderful as he’d thought it would be to have that last confirmation that he was indeed worthy of being called a hero.

But now it was dark outside. The conversion had turned away from what they knew of the shadow’s plans and Wild being asked to join them. (He’d said yes with only a moment’s thought. He could not deny them. Not about this.) Now they dwelled on lighter topics.

The two members of the group- the Hero of the Wind and the Hero of Legend- were arguing over what they should do for dinner. Wind seemed adamant that someone should go up to the pond Wild had mentioned was at the top of the hill behind his house and try to fish. Legend, who Wild could already tell was a bit of a grouch, said that they should head into town and see if anyone was selling a hot dinner. The argument was light-hearted, and Wild could tell there were no hard feelings between the two, even when it got heated.

The Hero of Twilight had returned outside to put his horse in Wild’s small stable, the Hero of Hyrule joining him. The Hero of the Four Sword was carefully inspecting the weapons on the wall, thankfully being cautious and not touching, which eased Wild’s anxieties.

“It could take ages for you to catch something up at that pond. We don’t even know if there are fish there! We can get food in town quicker.” Legend sounded agitated, but the rest of the heroes seemed unfazed by how red he was getting in his anger, so Wild figured it must be a common occurrence.

All Wind could muster in response to that was petulant “Fish tastes better,” while defiantly sticking out his tongue in Legend's direction, prompting an offended noise from the veteran.

Wild thought it strange that they hadn’t asked him, their host, if he would be willing to cook for them, but perhaps it was sweet that they didn’t want to impose on him. He stood, opening his mouth to tell them he was willing to cook dinner for them, even cook up some of the fish he had stocked away in his slate. He was stopped as he felt the blood rush from his head as he stood.

He staggered slightly. Unfortunately, Wild was more familiar with this lightheaded feeling than he would’ve liked. His arms automatically came up to catch himself on the table and stop his head from slamming into it. A wheezy breath escaped him as everything he’d been putting off slammed into him all at once.

Standing up had made everything worse all at once, yes, but he should’ve realized what was happening a while ago. The slight tugging sensation at the corner of his mouth when he talked and the stiffness in his arm had been telltale warning signs. He should have paused the conversation the second his jaw had felt stiff and excused himself to go take some painkillers.

They would have taken time to kick in, and by the time he would have had to excuse himself to bed, it would have been a more reasonable hour to sleep

But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d allowed himself to get distracted by the conversation he’d been in. He'd allowed himself to dismiss the warning signs, telling himself that it wasn’t that bad yet. He’d even dismissed the signs that it would rain soon, which he knew would make him feel even worse.

To be fair, their conversation had been riveting. He doubted anyone would have been able to tear themselves away from the heroes’ explanation of the journey they were on. He couldn’t really blame himself. (Except he could, and he did.)

But now he was slumped over, bracing his forearms on the table and keeping himself from collapsing through sheer will alone. His skin felt as if it was being stretched out over a tanning rack, continuously tugged tight, and he felt like he could feel each beat of his heart as it pushed blood through his head.

His scars had been tight today to begin with. Not horribly. Not enough to be painful. But still enough to be concerning. He’d planned to do his daily stretches before dinner instead of before he went to bed like he usually did. But then he’d been interrupted, and he’d forgotten.

And then the rain came, and Wild had ignored the warning signs, and it had compounded the issue.

He could feel more than see the other heroes perk up when he slumped against the table. The Hero of Time- who seemed to be the group's de facto leader, despite the fact that he was rather quiet, and had left the explaining to the other heroes- was sitting to Wild’s right. Wild could feel him sit forward, feel his gaze burn into Wild’s skin.

When he spoke, Wild would hear no anger in his tone, only slight confusion and more worry than Wild thought was called for, seeing as the man had only known him for a few hours. “You’re hurt,” He observed. “Are you injured?”

Time’s question put a stop to the confused muttering that had been going around the table at Wild’s strange actions. He could feel even more eyes burning into his skin, and suddenly Wild wanted to draw his cloak around his shoulders and hide his face away from the world.

Unfortunately, his cloak was hanging over by the door, and he didn’t think he’d be able to make it over there by himself. He took a moment to reply, drawing in a breath against the pain and slight nausea. “Not injured,” he reassured in short, clipped syllables. “It’s the rain. I just-”

He just forgot to do his daily stretches. He just hadn’t paid attention when the rain started to come. He just forgot to keep moving and had let himself sit down for too long. He just hadn’t bothered to get up to get his pain reliever.

He just, he just, he just.

He can’t bring himself to say anything further. Partly because speaking tugged on the skin around his mouth too much and partly because he can't bring himself to explain to the heroes his failure, his scarring, the pain, and the painkillers he often had to take to keep anything close to his full range of motion.

He’d been fine just seconds ago. But now that he was reminded of the pain, it was all that he could think about.

When Time stood up next to him and laid his hands on Wild’s shoulders, Wild couldn't bring himself to shrug the other hero off. For one, he didn’t think he was capable of moving that much, and two, he thought Time’s studying hands were the only things keeping him from slumping over onto the floor.

Time spoke, and his voice carries a low authority with it that showed exactly why he was respected as the leader of the group. “Legend, do you still have some of your tea left? The one you use for pain?” After he presumably received an answer, he ordered, “Make some of that, please.”

Time turned his attention back to Wild. Wild was still too out of it to focus too hard on what was going on around him, but he felt movement around him. Time shifted his grip from Wild’s shoulders to his sides, gently guiding him away from the table.

Wild stumbled, confused on where Time was leading him before he realized he was being steered toward the sleeping cot that Wild kept set up near the fireplace for situations exactly like this, where he wouldn’t have made it up the stairs even with help.

Wild felt relief as he was laid down. At least while he lay down, he could relax all his muscles and not have to strain to keep himself upright. And he could twist his body into a position that would relieve the tightness on most of his scars, if not all of them.

Had it been anyone else except perhaps Zelda, Wild would have felt embarrassed and ashamed to be seen like this. But this group…

Maybe it wasn’t so bad for them to see him like this.

#linked universe #mint's fanfiction #lu wild #lu time #lu legend #lu wind #angst #scars #chronic pain #hurt/comfort

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wrienne · 3 years

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My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé

Chapter 10: His Ring

Namjoon and Seokjin’s eyes widened, though you got no reaction from Yoongi. He was like an ominous presence, sitting at an angle you could only watch him through your peripheral view as you stared down at your hands.

“How?” asked Namjoon. “And how do you know that?”

“Yes, isn’t amnesia both incurable and irreversible?” wondered Hoseok. "That's what the doctor told us."

“Starting with that...”

While explaining what you and Kim Sejin had spoken about that morning and the battle plan you had organized all day during school, all six of them were quiet. You finished with, “...I figured I could grab some of his clothes as well as hear your ideas about my plan.”

“It sounds like some kind of movie plot,” said Seokjin dubiously.

“Exactly what I told your manager,” you said and smiled half-heartedly. “But this is the only option we have. I, for one, refuse to let Jungkook lose all that he’s fought for. What all of you have fought for.”

“Even if it’s a slight chance, there’s still a possibility,” said Namjoon in agreement.

“What would you have us do, then?” asked Jimin.

“If you could write down a list, just as I have,” you said as you showed them your scribbles, “I’d have something more recent to go on from. I have never been very close to him, especially since his debut, so your input would help tremendously.”

“Why help him then?” Taehyung regarded you warily. His hard expression had gradually morphed into one of focus and attentiveness, but now you saw it teetering. Would he flare up again? “What do you have to gain?”

“Would you stop it?” Hoseok gave Taehyung a harsh glare, which made Namjoon and Seokjin look curiously at him. Hoseok pointed at Taehyung. “This one almost lost it downstairs, blaming Jungkook’s accident on (Y/N). Taehyung, you coming at her doesn’t exactly help the situation.”

“Hyung,” said Taehyung coolly. “Everyone with half a brain understands that she and Jungkook parted on unfriendly terms. Have you ever heard him curse like that - especially to a girl who is supposed to be a ‘family friend’? And he wouldn’t speak to anyone at all until Sejin-manager had taken us to the bar. She made him drink and run out on the street.”

“He’s halfway right,” said Seokjin as he scrutinized you. “I’ve never seen our Jungkook that mad.”

“Exactly,” said Taehyung triumphantly. “So you better tell us the truth: what do you have to gain from Jungkook?”

“Nothing,” you said earnestly, then fumbled as you tried to structure the rest of your reply. Technically, you had absolutely nothing to gain from Jeon Jungkook’s potential recovery and reascent to the music industry’s top. Meanwhile, it would take you more than three months of hard work and utter, genuine dedication to even have a shot at getting him to Japan. It could all just prove to be a waste of time. Minutes, hours, days, weeks better spent on you and yourself. Not to mention, that bastard had been unfaithful to you for who knows how long, in addition to having treated you sometimes like air, sometimes like dirt and sometimes like you were his worst enemy in the world.

But still. Still. You couldn’t abandon Jeon Jungkook in his time of need.

“It doesn’t make sense,” said Taehyung and crossed his arms over his chest. “Jungkook told me you disliked each other, and that you couldn’t stand him. So why?”

“I just…”

You grasped after the right words. Your mind was muddled, however, so you had no choice but to simply follow the second voice-in-command: your heart.

“If you were me,” you began carefully, “would you have allowed the son of your parents’ best friend to forget his childhood dream? I’ve known Jungkook all of my life - we’ve grown up together, spent every holiday with one another and celebrated everything from birth, life and death side by side. He was horrible most of the time, I’ll say that, but he was there for me when others weren’t. You might believe my family fortunes and good name generated friends wherever I went, but no. It didn’t. I’ve been on my own pretty much all my life.”

You hadn’t meant for the conversation to suddenly turn so personal, but there you sat, pouring your heart out to six strangers. Perhaps that’s what made therapy so popular. People listening to other people’s problems.

You took a deep breath. “When my grandparents died, Jungkook was the first one to each of their funerals. When I was about ten or so and fell down a cliff during a hike with our parents and broke my collarbone, Jungkook was the one who found me and dragged me back to camp. He practically saved my life. Now, I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t have been able to look myself in the mirror if I just left him the way he is now, especially when I have a chance to help.”

No matter his betrayal.

“I have no clue what Jungkook told you about me, but I would never premeditate hurting or upsetting or exploiting him in any way.” You cleared your throat, grimacing as your windpipe had tightened with every word you said. “Now yesterday was the first time I saw you guys on stage. And though I possess no particular experience in show business or even an ounce of musical talent, I saw--no, felt that he belonged up there. Still - and I haven't told you all - would you have left him if you were me? Abandoned him for old grudges?”

You hadn’t noticed how hard you were clutching your hands together. Not until you felt the odd, ticklish sensation signifying a lack of blood and circulation did you realize that your knuckles and fingers had whitened. You loosened up and caught Taehyung’s eyes.

“No,” he said, immediately casting down his focus. “I guess not.”

“What we spoke of is private,” you said quietly, feeling your chest constrict in pain at the memory. “It is something I can never disclose. But the conversation wasn’t of a threatening or hostile nature, and if I knew he would run out drunkenly on a street because of my decision, I would have never made it. I would never, ever wish Jungkook harmed.”

No one spoke. Taehyung didn’t raise his gaze.

You sniffled. Hoseok quickly came back from the hallway with some tissues and handed you them. You wiped your eyes and were relieved to find the tissue only slightly damp. You weren’t bawling, at least, though the mere presence of tears made you frown - you didn’t exactly have something to cry for. You weren’t somber or filled with grief at the memory of your grandparents' funerals. However, you were extremely tired and weary after last night’s escapade to the hospital. And your conversation with your parents hadn’t exactly done much to brighten up your mood.

You almost chuckled. You were used to calling Jungkook stupid, but who was the bigger fool, really?

Considering how the next three months would progress, it was ironic, it truly was.

“What should we do?” asked Hoseok finally, breaking the silence.

“Let’s split up into groups,” said Namjoon after said someone’s stomach grumbled. “Jin-hyung and I will get to cooking since it’s our turn anyway. The rest of you can start with a list each.”

“What are we even supposed to write?” Jimin scratched the back of his head.

“It might be a bit personal,” you told him, “but it probably has to be in order for it to be memorable. Just write down anything you might have done with Jungkook that you feel affected your relationship in any major way.”

“Write down anything that you imagine Jungkook might have remembered up until the accident,” added Namjoon and slowly stood. “Like the time we went bungee jumping or traveled to Northern Europe.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” you said.

“And you’re going to do what with this information?” wondered Seokjin, standing also. “Isn’t it better if we just meet up with him and tell him all of this? Try to remind him while face-to-face?”

You shook your head. “I wouldn’t say he’s scared of you. But he doesn’t trust anyone and might straight-up refuse to listen to any of you. And even if some of you manage to convince him to hear you out, what if it turns out he doesn’t remember? That might make you frustrated at him or just left feeling needlessly hurt. Furthermore, I don’t want to stress him out any more than he already is. Imagine, it must be like waking up from a five or so year long dreamless sleep for him and suddenly he’s overwhelmed with the eager input from six or so people telling him he knows them the way he did.”

“Okay,” said Jimin with a nod. “Who has some pen and paper?”

“I do,” said Hoseok, then disappeared into one of the rooms. He came out with a notebook and tore out a page for everyone except you, Seokjin and Namjoon, then returned with an equal number of pens.

Namjoon and Seokjin headed into the kitchen while Taehyung, Jimin and Hoseok eventually started discussing what would count as a “memorable memory”. Yoongi quietly pondered his sheet of paper, his dark gaze fixed upon the clean slate while he tapped his pen against the table surface.

He briefly found your eyes but said nothing.

Swallowing hard, you carefully unzipped your jacket and hung it over your chair as well as placed your duffel bag underneath your chair. Feeling uncomfortable just sitting there, you rose while putting up your hair with a hair tie and poked your head into the kitchen.

“Is there something I can do to help?” you asked.

Seokjin was instructing Namjoon when he stopped and looked at you over the latter’s shoulder. “No, we’ll be alright. You can just sit with the others.”

You wouldn’t have minded just sitting and watching them if not for Yoongi’s watchful eyes. But since you couldn’t exactly say that, you smiled sheepishly. “I’m sort of not used being around so many guys.”

“No male cousins or siblings?”

“None.” Your smile fell a bit. “It’s a small family.”

“How long are you staying?” asked Namjoon. He had begun washing vegetables in the sink.

“Oh, not very long,” you said quickly. “I wouldn’t want to intrude for any longer than dinner. And I told Jungkook I’d be back at six.”

Seokjin and Namjoon looked at each other hesitantly. The latter shrugged, and Seokjin found your gaze again.

“Would you mind setting the table, then?” he asked.

About half an hour later, all seven of you were busy eating homemade tteokbokki and bought gimbap. They asked you about you and Jungkook, how long you had known each other, what school you went to, and so on. The lists had been compiled into one master list, courtesy of Namjoon, who had wanted to organize all of their ideas into relevant categories, like years, members and places. You hadn’t even been aware of how hungry you had been until then and ate quicker than everyone else. Or well, almost.

“It’s almost six o’clock,” said Min Yoongi as he stood. “Come, (Y/N). Someone’s got to show her to Jungkook’s things and Namjoon is still eating,” he explained at everyone’s confused frown.

“Oh, I had almost forgotten.”

You rose and began carrying your dishes to the kitchen when Jimin stopped you. “Let it be,” he said. “I’ll take care of it. You better get back to Jungkook.”

“Thank you,” you said, then looked at everyone seated at the table. For once, Taehyung didn’t look at you with poorly disguised fury. “Thank you for the food, and for your help. I really appreciate it, and I know Jungkook would as well.”

“We’ll finish the last of the master list meanwhile,” said Hoseok as you bent to pick up your duffel bag. “Try to steal some of Namjoon’s stuff. He has way too many clothes that fall underneath the ‘hobo’ category.”

“It’s ‘boho’ I tell you,” mumbled Namjoon as he covered his mouth with his hand. “It’s a popular fashion style overseas.”

“That might be, but you make it ‘hobo’.”

Namjoon sighed as the others laughed.

You smiled at Hoseok, who returned the gesture, then turned anxiously toward Yoongi. He gestured for you to come and you followed him into the same room Namjoon and Seokjin had exited from. The bedroom was small, with only barely enough space for two single beds, a wardrobe, a tall mirror and a desk with a lamp, but surprisingly clean compared to the rest of the apartment.

Yoongi closed the door shut after you, then led you to the swelling wardrobe, which almost reached from the floor to the ceiling. He opened the wardrobe doors and pointed in a general area of blacks, jeans and whites. There was a surplus of beanies, mouth masks and brand underwear as well.

“That half is Jungkook’s,” said Yoongi as he opened the wardrobe doors and pointed in a general area. “Though some of his clothes might be in the washing machine or drying.”

“I think he can manage with this,” you said as you began placing one item after another into your duffel bag.

You didn’t know exactly how much you needed to grab, but when you considered the bleak possibility that Jungkook might not ever return to the apartment again, you decided to take everything of his at least in the wardrobe. While initially conscientious - you knew how prim Jungkook could be with his things - you took it slow, placing clothes like Tetris. Then, realizing it would take hours, you just shoveled as much as you could into the bag.

You tried to ignore the pair of slim dark eyes silently watching your every move.

“Is there anything else of his in here?” you asked Yoongi when you were finished. The duffel bag actually looked like a body bag now, but would still have some room left over for a phone charger or a headset or so.

“He has a laptop and some gadgets he carries in a small bag.”

It didn’t take you long to find the computer and you carefully placed it inside a computer bag marked “JK”. You found chargers, a mouse and a headset inside the bag first, though, which you poured into the duffel bag instead. When you were finished, however, and started toward the door, Yoongi stopped you.

You frowned and tried not to sound frightened, but felt your heartbeats surge into a gallop. “Hey, what--”

And you stopped so abruptly you almost choked on your words. You had wondered where Jungkook’s engagement band was, ever since you saw its obviously vacant place on his finger the evening before. But now you knew.

Held between his index finger and thumb, Min Yoongi raised the promise ring your parents had given Jungkook, its circular, golden shape familiar to you. His expression didn't change, nor did his voice.

“At which point of the dinner were you going to tell us about your and Jungkook’s engagement?”

#MCAF #wrienne #ao3 #bts fanfiction #bts x reader

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mileycfan4eva33 · 4 years

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Fandom: SVU

Title:Epitaph Song

Chapter: 1 Down South

P O V: Amanda Rollins

Billy's Diner

Loganville, GA 2020

(A/N: Thank you as always for the readers who take the time to review, favorite or follow. As usual I own none of these SVU characters just my original characters. All others belong to NBC, Dick Wolf and Wold Ent. Jessie, Billie do not exist in this fic, I am still deciding if Noah dose or not. If you have a preference as to if you want Noah in it or not hit me up reviews motivate me.)

"Oh, Air Condition, thank God! It's hotter than a roasted pig on a skewer out there." Olivia Benson's laugh is light and airy as we enter the restaurant. "Oh, Amanda, I love your expressions, don't ever change. Seriously your southern drawl is so cute. Don't ever lose it."

"No worries, Olivia; it's been nearly ten years since I moved to New York. I haven't lost it yet." "Thanks again for coming down south with me. It means a lot."

"Your welcome Amanda, are you feeling any better since this weekend?" Shaking the soreness out of my weary bones I feel a yawn snaking up my jawlines as I try to fight it off to no avail, the yawn is relentless in its attempt to escape.

"A little thanks I am still tired and nausea I don't know why I slept all weekend, yet I still feel dizziness not as much as this weekend, but I am still weakened almost as if I am drained of all energy." Sliding into the booth, I lean back against the cool plastic backboard. "I'm sorry for calling out on you this weekend, Captain."

"Amanda, please, stop don't worry about it your health is too important don't apologize." "I am sorry, Liv, not just for this weekend, but now we're both away from NYC."

"Because your dad passed away, Amanda, we're not here on vacation. Kat and Fin understand, and Chief Garland sent two detectives to help out, SVU is covered. Please take some of this concern and apply it to yourself; you lost your dad. I know you haven't been close to him in years, but he is still your dad, give yourself the allowance to mourn, Amanda. Don't hide your emotions down and pretend that everything is perfectly fine."

"I don't think it's hit me yet, Olivia. I just don't feel anything." Olivia's hand slips over my hand as we lay them on the table, waiting on the waitress to come over to us. "It will Amanda, I don't know when sweetie, it may take weeks, days, months, but it will hit you. I just want you to know that I am here, honey, whenever you want to talk."

"Thank you, Liv; I appreciate this jester I know we haven't always been close, but I love the friendship that has been built over the last four years." "As do I Amanda. I love the trust that we've built within each other, the respect. Where is the waitress?"

"Liv, it's the south; we take our sweet time with everything, ain't no rushin' in the country life."

"You ever miss living down here, Peach?" "Honestly, Liv, there are parts I miss like my family, friends. I miss the comfort in knowing there is always someone here who will have your back. What I don't miss is everyone knowing everyone else business."

"Is that a true thing? Everyone else knows each other's business?"

As if God was given me a clue incomes Betsy Jane Rose "Oh, my bless my heart Amanda-Taylor Rollins, is that truly you?" I pick my head up, gritting my teeth as she comes flying inside the restaurant arms wild "Betsy Jane Mary-Sue it sure is, wow child it's been yonders since you've rolled back into these parts."

"Oh, I am so sorry about your daddy, such a shame bless your heart honey-bee."

"Oh well, how sweet of you, Ms. Betsy, so very kind of you thank you, how did you hear about my daddy's passing per se? We didn't put it in the Tribune or online."

"Oh, Sugar, you know how these things work, Lord, who needs that dingy old paper when we gave word of mouth. Has it been that long Darlin? Surely you remember the good old Betsy-Jane- Mary-Sue train."

"Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit. Oh Amanda, let me enlighten you wow New York City has slapped you silly, child. Anyways So Mary-Jo Higgins oh heavens I was born at night, but not last night! Duh, of course, you don't know who Mary-Jo Higgins is, well back in our days of youth she went by Mary-Jo Robins, so any who baby, Mary-Jo is now an RN."

"That's a Registered Nurse, by the way." "Yes, Ms. Rose, I know what an RN is."

"So yeah Mary-Jo works a that's Loganville Medical Center where your daddy was brought to by the Ambulance. So Mary-Jo was there when he passed bless his heart so Mary-Jo well you know good ol' Mary-Jo never could keep a secret so of course, she told her Mama who had to run down to the Salon to say to Ms. Sue who of course told the whole Salon."

Both of us laugh, "How did you find out, darlin?"

"Oh, you know this little thing called HIPPA they like to notify the Next of Kin, and since my parents you know divorced many moons ago, that would make me the eldest child his next of kin, since he hasn't gotten to remarry yet."

"Speaking of kin-folk dear, where is that sister of yours? She straighten her life out yet? Kimberly coming on her own?"

"No, Ma'am, I'm afraid she ain't gonna make it, you know the whole being in jail thing it kind of puts a cramp on a person's freedom. Thank you so much for coming over though, I sure don't want to keep you."

I don't give her a chance to answer quickly, sliding back into the booth turning to Olivia. Just as our waitress comes over. "good afternoon- honey pies, what can I get you ladies?" after we order, I lean back as Olivia starts to laugh, unable to hold in her amusement over Ms. Rose any longer. "So that's how news travels down south Captain." eagle eyeing Betsy across the room, I can already see she's on her cell phone. "Well, the whole damn town will know I am back soon enough." "that has to be frustrating, Amanda." "Oh, Liv, you ain't got a clue. Every day dealing with women like, is there any doubt about why I got out of here faster than a bat out of hell."

I stay silent about the other reason I left Georgia as soon as I was old enough my sexuality there's no room for differences here in the good old south. No way could I tell Olivia this though she has no idea I am a lesbian. "So, is your Mom coming?" "Lord, no Liv she's up in NY taking care of Mason, Mama said she was sorry the son of a bitch died, but she dumped his ass years ago, let his new hussy handle the affairs."

"My dear new sister, who I haven't even met yet. She's handling everything as per my dad's living will."

"Amanda, I am so sorry." "Don't be Olivia, I am fine." "Of course you are." I don't reply not because I don't have the response in me but because the doors burst open and a vast mass of people come pouring into the already packed diner.

"Amanda! It is true! You are back!" Tommy Jake Edwards "TJ" calls out "Yo Ms. Betsy Jane was right boys. Good Ol Rollins is back in town." there are rumblings from the entire group of men "Liv meet the former jocks of Loganville High School Pyro Red Devils who ruled LHS's halls from 1996-1999."

"Rollins, how can you sneak back into town and say nothing? Yo, Rollins, that is rude! I thought we were your boys!"

"Bump that T-rolls, I am pissed forget these clowns, I am your cousin! Uncle Jimmy is my kin-folk too. Where's my love?"

"Hey, Jensen, I just got back into town like literally ten minutes ago. I'm sorry it's been crazy these last few days. My head is still spinning. I haven't told anyone yet, sorry, truly."

Jensen's arms wrap around me tightly. "No worries, cuz. I got you. I am sorry I know you and your Pa wasn't close but damn it still sucks." "Thanks, Jensen, yeah, it does."

Coming out of his hug, I'm met by his brother Blake who I hug as tightly. "Yo boys will catch you later going to hang with family." the rest of the crew waves blowing me kisses as Liv, and I make room for these two. "Hi. I'm Olivia Benson, Amanda's boss, and friend."

"Oh honey-child we know who you are, we've heard all about you now haven't we Blake?" "Oh, yes, Yes, we have well let us introduce ourselves since Miss. Amanda has the manners of a pig. I am Blake Yankee; Jensen is my twin brother; our Mama is Amanda's dad sister."

"Were you three close growing up?" "Oh, tighter than chili papers, Mama, us, and our uncle TC's kids, our cousins Alonso and Scottie, are coming in tomorrow." "They called us the Rollin- Yankee-Terrors." Sipping my sweet tea, I groan, remembering all the names the seven of us use to get growing up. "don't tell her that she is my boss."

"Oh relax Junebug, it ain't like I told her about the time you put laxatives in Ernie Reynaldo's cornbread when you were ten and locked him in the outhouse for the whole day and told our teacher he ran away to the circus."

Olivia laughs so loudly. I feel my temperature rise in my face. "You what?" my face buries into the palms of my hands. "Yo, boy, that was nothing. Remember when we were twelve, and Kyle Kane told Manda she was uglier than a burnt barn, she took his pants and underwear while he was changing and threw it into the river."

Both boys bang on the table laughing, shoving each other as Olivia arched an eyebrow in my direction "Oh, yeah I do, she let the anger seethe inside all week till Saturday when the whole town was gathered for the annual fishing competition. When Kyle's dad was with the reporter for Atlanta news, Kyle comes walking bare-ass naked; the entire town saw him walking his little dude swinging in the breeze. Kyle was grounded for months. "

My embarrassment only increases as I lay my head down, groaning while all three laugh. "Oh, God, even as a kid, Amanda, you were a rule-breaker and a little shit-head." I feel Olivia's hand stroke mine laughing as she hangs her head down tears running down her face, which a lovely rose color.

I only pick my head up when the food arrives, feeling my whole body shiver and jolt as I lean back, smelling the greasy food. Reaching for the ketchup, I pop a fry in my mouth. I still can't shake this feeling of being drained or the tightness in my head.

"Oh My." another voice pops into my world as I see Mr. Jason Axson and Mrs. Janet Axson coming in with their two kids Christopher 17, Savannah 14. her voice cuts through the air. "How are you, Sugar?' "I am just peachy; thank you, just enjoying dinner with my family, here."

"Oh, of course, we don't mean to interrupt. You could use the food; obliviously, you are mighty thin sugar. Your daddy was right; they are working your tail to its bone up there in that big city unless you are sick again, darling."

"No Ma'am, I am right as a peach as I said, but I am trying to enjoy my dinner." "Yeah, Janet let these nice folks eat; worry about our own family; I do apologize, Miss. Amanda lovely to see you again, we shall pop in at another time."

Olivia's eyes stare right into mine. I know she's wondering about the "Are you sick again" line my face flushes as I look down, avoiding her eyes and the question. Another part of my past she has no idea about, My stomach rolls as I think about all the secrets and pressures I have on top of me, none of which Olivia needs to add to her plate.

"I need to use the bathroom, I'll be back, excuse me." getting up I start to head there, of course, a two-minute walk becomes ten as I am stopped by multiple people offering their condolences. My back hits the wall just as another wave of dizziness hits me; I do everything inside of me not to show it to anyone, I can see Olivia's eyes on me from across the room. Yet it isn't Olivia who catches my attention, rare I know.

This time, Savannah's voice so young, scared, and nervous. I am standing right next to their table as I hear Savannah say. "Mama, Daddy, I have something to tell you." Savannah's beautiful emerald eyes glisten as she stares at her parents. "I am a Lesbian, and I plan to come out this weekend at the prom."

Savannah's courage freezes me. I am forty and don't have the courage she has at fourteen-years-old. I can't think fast enough to react before her mom is out of her chair, smacking Savannah across her face. "You are not gay! Stop your lying, you fifthly whore! Who put these lies in your head? You are a good girl, a good baptist girl. Take it back!"

"No Mama, I can't I won't because I am gay, and yes I am a good girl, I am a baptist and MVP for the last two years in all the southern regions. I will play at college, and I will go pro, and my sexuality won't stop me from doing any of that."

"Fool, of course, it will, but you won't have to because you are not gay!"

"Mama, I am please just listen to me. Stop being such a bitch."

Her dad jumps up, grabbing at Savannah as I react, finally racing towards Savannah as Jason starts yelling. "Don't talk to your mother that way! Ever! No daughter of mine will be a sinner! I could deal with you being pregnant, not this! This is unforgivable. You either get over this phrase you little slut or you are OUT OF THIS FAMILY! Let's go now, Christopher, Janet leave her."

I hurry towards Savannah, who is trying with her whole body to remain strong as her family walks out. I know her face is stinging from the assault, but it's nothing like the pain in her soul. The rest of the restaurant sits there, not offering to help just turning to their families. My hands connect to Savannah's as I help her sit down "Sweetie, I am so sorry that your parents reacted to you."

"It's okay, ma'am, I excepted this. It was so so stupid-crazy to even except for any different outcome."

"No honey, it isn't it's not crazy or stupid to except unconditional love from your family; that's what parents are supposed to do. Of course, you wanted to tell them living in secrets, hiding who you are, it's exhausting. The if only or what-ifs or the I should have's, they take their tolls."

"It's 2020, not 1990 times have changed; maybe the south should catch up." My hands rub Savannah's back softly. "I'm from here honey, so I get it baby-girl I know how scary accepting your sexuality is, I know how painful it is to hold this all inside, to feel as if you ain't normal simply because you don't feel fireworks when the popular jocks kiss you."

"I knew that when I was thirteen, I felt it already I was great to hang out with boys all day when it came to playing ball, or telling dirty jokes or pulling pranks, but when it came to who I was attracted to sexually or emotionally, guys they just didn't do it for me. I could feel myself gravitating toward girls in ways that I didn't with boys."

"Don't let your sexual identity label you or define you—whether it be as lesbian, bisexual, asexual, or another term—how you choose to label yourself is not based on a checklist. You can still be everything you just told your parents; you can play any instrument you want to learn, you can be the best damn softball player this world's ever seen."

"Savannah, I started figuring it out at thirteen, but I didn't let myself act physically until I was 16, I kissed a girl at a party for the first time, and it was magical. Everything flowed so naturally, my body just knew what to do. I reacted to her in a way that felt right—the way I had always envisioned the first kiss to be. I tried saying I was bisexual for a quick minute and even had sex with several guys to prove that I wasn't an abomination the way the church, my family, and everyone else in this town always said gay people are. Still, I could feel myself gravitating toward girls in ways that I didn't with boys."

"Did your family accept you?"

"I don't know I never told anyone I was too scared. It was a different time back then before it got better or internet support. There were no Gay pride parades even now at forty living in NYC, a place filled with cultural and sexuality differences. I am still living in that small-town mindset. I can't tell anyone. I can't even tell the woman who I am madly in love with who I know is so accepting of people. Because I am still afraid that even with an open mind as beautiful as Olivia's, I am afraid she'll reject me."

"Savannah, I know this feels like the end of the world right now, it's not I am right by your side. I will support you; you can stay with me. Will get through this together."

"Thank you, Miss. Amanda. Thank you so much. I think you should tell this Olivia lady how you feel. Even with my parent's rejection, I feel such a weight off my chest; I feel as if I can finally breathe."

"Amanda, maybe you should listen to Savannah, she seems like a brave young lady, and I love women who are strong in body, mind, and spirit. You have a very sexy strong body, and I know your mind is sharp, so if you get some balls Amanda and tell me how you feel face to face, I think we might be able to make a beautiful connection, of our minds, souls and our bodies." Olivia's voice completely freezes every sense, emotion and body function inside of me. I can't speak, think, move or even breathe.

Did she just hear me confess my deepest feelings for her?

#rolivia #svu season 21 #svu fanfiction #svu fandom #amanda rollins #olivia benson

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thepoetoaster · 4 years

Text

POSSESSED

Baltimore, Maryland October 2019

Chapter 1.

The rain was sobbing uncontrollably and inside I felt the same. Everything was grey and bleak except for the colorful neon screensaver of my phone that lit up every time Matt texted me. I never meant to become reduced to this state of sadness, loneliness and despair.

But every time I stepped outside the revolving door of the hotel I was living in, whatever energy reserves and hope I had mustered up in my solitude rapidly depleted and I felt like throwing myself into the harbor. Not that I ever would, but looking around at the society which I became increasingly more isolated from, that was how I felt.

My name is Michaela. I’m 28 and work as an investment advisor for a prestigious bank over the internet. That’s my daytime personality, anyways. The way I pay the bills. Deep inside I know I am an artist, a spiritualist, but that part of me only comes out in very rare circles.

It seems as if my life is always separated by a sense of polarizing contrast, eternally opposing forces. There is the daytime version of myself I show to the world; successful, smart, kind. There is a hidden part that is much more sinister. I feel a sense of cynical animosity towards the human race and society regularly. I express this through the art I never show anyone except my friends on the Other Side.

Yes, I am a spiritual medium, although not professionally. It started in my childhood when I realized I was not like the other children. While they played kickball and dolls, I wandered into the woods alone, talking to my imaginary friends who I later realized were so much more than imaginary. How did I know this?

Well, sometimes they told me things that they knew about this life - things that I nor any mortal would have anyway of knowing if not for some supernatural power intervening. And their words always turned out to be true, so I learned to trust the voices in my head that were so much more than just voices.

And what great friends they were! I found the spirits kinder, wiser, and more understanding than the mortals who were caught up in trivial things like gossiping and sports. Most of them, anyways. There were the rare beings I became close with that always kept my head above the Earth somehow. Always the eccentrics, the strange ones. They were the only ones I found interesting, who improved upon the sweet stillness of my solitude.

One such person was my friend and lover, Matt. Although lately, I must say the relationship has been leaning more towards friendship — the romantic parts of our life are rather complicated. For starters, he’s been married to another woman for years, although their relationship is turbulent and he’s very quick to come to me for comfort when things don’t go his way.

But oh, how I adore him! He is dark, mysterious, intelligent, not to mention handsome. He is one of the few people on this Earth that I connect with and we have an explosive chemistry. But I always get the sense that there’s something missing between us, that there’s something that’s just not right. I can’t stand the fact that he always chooses his wife over me, like I’m some kind of afterthought and not worth the same love and attention as she is. But I tolerate it, because I have I no one else — and look forward to his text correspondences vehemently, as he is a light in my dark, oftentimes seemingly hopeless world.

In the present, I’m sitting in the armchair in my hotel room that overlooks the city streets, drinking hot ginger and lemon tea while reading “Favorite Poems of Emily Dickinson”. I’m waiting for Matt to text back, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I don’t hear from him until 2 in the morning, at which point I will be fast asleep.

I prefer hotel living for many reasons. Mainly, I can never seem to make myself settle down in any one place. My work as an investment banker is done mainly over the internet except for the rare face-to-face meetings with customers and company business trips. So when I’m not working, you could say I’m something of a vagabond, always traveling from city to city, making my home wherever the wind takes me.

I love the cleanliness and orderliness of hotel living; the permanently fresh sheets, the modern decorations, the shampoo and conditioner samples. It reminds me of a comforting time in my rather difficult childhood, in which a house fire forced my family into staying at a Holiday Inn for several weeks. I relished the experience, sharing a room with my twin brother, and have very fond memories of continental breakfasts and jumping from bed to bed, pretending the floor is hot lava.

In my current room there was a portrait of a lovely, hefty singer perched above the desk where I do my work. I suddenly wished I had her life and started to feel very lonely all of a sudden, looking out my window at all the people walking down below, in groups of friends or with a romantic partner. Although I despised the society, at times I felt almost envious of the way others seemed to fit in and find their place so easily. I was forever a misfit, alone in a universe of my own making with no one there to listen to my innermost thoughts.

Except for the spirits, that is.

I grew weary of the feeling and reached for my Ouija board to see who was available to talk. Normally it was one of my main 3 friends - Claire, Stephen or Sharon. We did have other visitors come through at times, however. Today was one of those times.

I took the board out of the box, put it on my lap, and when I placed my fingers on the planchette it started moving almost immediately to spell out the words “HELLO LOVE”.

“Well, hello love to you to,” I said, “and who may I ask am I speaking with?”

“DAMIAN,” it said.

“Hi Damian! I’m Michaela,”

“I KNOW,” he said, “SILENT MODE”

“What?” I replied, and at that moment I received a text from Matt.

“NEXT,” said Damian, “HE’S A FUCKBOY,”

“Um, I’m sorry? Matt and I are very close friends,” I said, although he did have a point.

“NEXT,” he repeated, then “PICK ME INSTEAD.”

And against my will I felt a warm sensation rising up from my stomach to my chest to my cheeks.

That very same moment, there was a loud knock on the door. “Housekeeping!”

“Oh, okay! One moment,” I responded, suddenly needing some air. I put the board back in the box and slid it under the mattress before quickly slipping on my my shoes and raincoat for a stroll through the gloomy Baltimore streets.

“What r u doing?” The text from Matt read.

“Going for a walk - hbu?” I responded

“Let’s meet at Gangster Vegan,” he said, and I replied with an “OK - see you in 10” and began the journey by foot through the harbor and into historic Federal Hill.

The whole time I was walking, I couldn’t shake the feeling of Damian’s presence. In fact, I could have sworn I felt fingers lovingly grazing the back of my neck; a light whisper in my ear.

When I got to to the all natural vegan eatery, Matt was unsurprisingly yelling at the cashier.

“What do you mean you don’t carry Spirulina!? What kind of establishment is this?!” The poor cashier gave me a look of utter desperation and I took that as my cue to jump in.

“Matt! Oh, darling, it’s so good to see you!” He turned around and the anger on his faced appeared to soften, but only a fraction.

“Oh, Michaela, what a relief to see someone with half a brain,” he snapped, turning around to give the cashier a dirty look, who looked thoroughly annoyed.

“Okay, let’s get out of here…,” I replied and we started walking through the city streets that were lit up by neon lights.

Before I could even begin to strike up a conversation, Matt suddenly stopped walking on the sidewalk to read a text message from his wife, Cindy. “GOD DAMN IT!” He shrieked.

“What is it?”

“THAT BITCH!” He dramatically kicked a fire hydrant, stubbing his toe in the process.

What is wrong with him? I heard a voice clearly whisper in my head.

“HOW DARE SHE!”

“Are you okay, Matt?”

“NO, I AM NOT OKAY!” By this point everyone else on the street had their heads craned to witness the spectacle that was his meltdown.

“Deep breaths, Matt…”

“It’s Cindy,” we started walking again by the harbor, “we were supposed to meet at her apartment later tonight,”

I thought he was coming home with you? The voice whispered.

“I thought you were coming back to the hotel with me?” I said

“Michaela,” he said and turned to me, “you know I love you as a dear friend, but Cindy is my wife. And we were supposed to meet tonight, and she canceled on me because she HAS PLANS WITH HER FRIENDS.” He looked exasperated. I just stared and looked at him silently, not knowing how to reply.

“Well… maybe she really does have plans with her friends?”

“Oh no, Mickey. No. She’s fucking some other guy. I just know it.”

The hypocrisy is unbelievable! The voice said.

“Umm… well, maybe you should just let it go! We can have a great night back at my place…”

“I don’t think so. I’m gonna let this whore have a piece of my mind.”

At that moment, his phone mysteriously flew out of his hands and into the harbor.

And I heard that voice laughing in my head.

By that time, we were almost back at the hotel. Matt was just staring there in shock, and I felt similarly. Then he fell to his knees and started sobbing uncontrollably.

“JUST GO, MICKEY…”

I silently obliged and walked back to my room, suddenly drained by Matt and his shenanigans. As my head hit the pillow, I fell asleep almost immediately. In that brief state between wakefulness and dreams I swore I felt Damian’s arms around me.

Chapter 2.

I woke up early, around 6:30AM, to the sound of my phone ringing - it was an unknown caller.

“Hello?” I answered groggily.

“Hello, Baltimore Police. Is this Michaela Young?”

“Yes,” I replied, a wave of worry washing over me, “what is it?”

“It’s about Matthew Gregory. He was found dead in the harbor last night.”

A wave of shock and disbelief washed over me and I heard that voice in my head, laughing maniacally.

“Oh my god,” I said, speechless.

“We’re going to need you to come down to the station immediately,”

After I got back from the station, I collapsed on my bed, emotionally exhausted. I decided to turn to my ouija board for comfort from my friends from the spirit world.

HELLO, MY LOVE, the board spelled out almost instantly.

“Is this Claire?” I asked.

DAMIAN, it spelled. I’VE BEEN WATCHING YOU.

“I’m very upset, Damian. My friend and lover Matt was found dead in the river this morning. They ruled it as a suicide but I’m not so sure. He was erratic but I don’t think he was suicidal.”

I’M SURE HIS WIFE IS UPSET, he said sarcastically.

By this point tears were streaming down my face. “That doesn’t help!” MATT DIDN’T KNOW YOU, he said, NOT LIKE I DO.

“What do you know about me?” A small gleam of hope flickered in my heart like a lighter. Was it possible that there was an entity in this universe that was capable of understanding me?

This is easier, said the voice I thought I had been imagining before.

I know much about you, Michaela…

“Like what?” I asked.

You’re a financial advisor by day, but it’s slowly eating away at your soul. You’re an artist - deep down, you know it, I know it. And. You’re also a witch.

“Go on,” I said, my heart beating quicker at this point.

You didn’t have things easy growing up - dysfunctional family dynamics, absent father, and a string of abusive relationships as you got older.

My heart was pounding rapidly at this point.

“How do you know all this about me, Damian?”

I know a lot about you, Michaela. That’s all you need to know. I am capable of loving you in ways no mortal could ever fathom. All you need do is surrender to me.

“I’m not in a place to surrender to anyone right now, Damian. My lover just threw himself into the harbor.”

Understandable, he said. Well you just rest up, my love, and I’m sure things will work out for the best.

“Okay,” I said, and fell asleep with the energy of Damian’s love surrounding me.

Chapter 3.

At work the next day I was unable to focus on anything. I was midway through my lunch break when I heard Damian say, what do you say we leave this place tomorrow, my love?

“For where?” I asked.

Morocco, he said. I want to show you the way the sand dunes look in the desert when the sun rises. I want to show you the architecture, the culture, the food.

I suddenly felt excited at the idea - running away with this entity - leaving my past behind. It felt like a scene out of a fairy tale - only real.

Next thing I knew, Damian was singing “Come Fly with Me,” by Frank Sinatra in my head and I burst out laughing, overflowing with joy and feeling lucky that I had finally found someone who understood me, who eased the loneliness within me, who reminded me of what it was to laugh.

You’re very beautiful, you know, he said in a drawling, seductive voice.

“Save it for Morocco,” I said playfully, my heart feeling like a hot air balloon.

Before I knew it, we were on a plane together, falling for each other quicker by the minute. Well, I was on a plane, you have to remember. Damian was a nonphysical entity, which made our relationship - strange, you could say, to put things mildly.

But I had never been one for normalcy to begin with. In fact, it was my personal philosophy to shun anything that would be considered mildly normal by society’s standards.

And so our love took off the same way as the airplane.

When we arrived in Morocco, we spent long evenings under the desert sky, numbering the stars in the milky way, soaking up the serenity of the sand dunes. During the days we toured the city of Marrakesh, basking in the colors, the architecture, the geometric patterns on the walls. The culture was fascinating to me but more fascinating was Damian.

He told me of his life in the underworld and I was amazed at how much we had in common with one another. I grew to believe that there was some kind of mystical force pulling us together, and we could consciously resist it all we wanted, but no matter what that eternal longing would pull us back into each other’s reality, one way or another.

It was the romance of a lifetime.

———-

That’s the way things always start out, don’t they? For all of the eternal longing that existed between us, there was no denying that we didn’t always agree on everything. Just normal couple things, right?

But nevertheless, I wanted no one else. No other entity. I had finally found someone who understood the very depths of my soul; that’s not something I could ever let go of easily. And let go was something I never wanted to happen; of this I made Damian aware.

“What are the options for our future, Damian?” You can let me possess you, he whispered seductively in my ear.

I laughed and said, “What, you don’t think I’ve seen enough horror movies to know that’s not a good idea?”

I’m not like other demons, he said convincingly.

“You are rather sweet for a demon,” I said, laughing.

It’s decided, then. Let’s go somewhere special to make it happen.

“Where were you thinking?”

You decide.

“I’ll have to think about it and get back to you.

Absolutely, my love.

And with that he vanished into the night before I had a chance to say another word and I was left alone, once more.

————

My stomach was lurching at the thought of being possessed by Damian. Just the normal cold feet experience, right? Why should I be worried? He’s most certainly unlike any entity I’ve ever encountered before. Knowing, powerful, kind, intelligent…and that’s the thing you’re supposed to do when you’re my age right? Submit and allow yourself to be possessed.

I had always shirked away from the idea of marriage for just that reason. I didn’t want to ever belong to anyone except myself and the universe. The idea of being some man’s “property” made me want to vomit. Changing your last name to his to totally seal the deal. The patriarchy was something I’ve always rebelled against, so why was I questioning whether or not I wanted to be possessed by Damian?

Loneliness. I was aching inside and needed someone to fill that emptiness within me. Someone who understood me. No human man had ever truly understood me before. I hardly even understood me. I rarely took the time to understand myself with how busy I was with my work and traveling, always running from something, it seems. Running from my past, from myself.

But as it turns out, they’re right when they say everywhere you go take yourself with you.

And take myself with me I did indeed, to Malibu, with Damian. For our wedding — or rather, Possession — day.

——————

Chapter 4.

The warm pink sunset cast a dreamy glow over the pacific ocean as Damian and I stood on the shore together.

“So - how exactly do we go about this? I don’t exactly think you could find a priest would would willingly perform a possession,”

Relax, my darling, my bride, Damian said. All you have to do is surrender to me.

And without giving it another thought, I sat down on the white sand cross legged, and closed my eyes.

The next thing I knew I was in my mind, but I was not alone. There was another presence there.

Wow, the sunset sure looks beautiful through your eyes, said Damian.

“Yeah, it does,” I said, happy that I could share this moment with someone else.

We sat there together for awhile, celebrating our oneness. Basking in the blissful sensation of belonging to another. I thought my heart would explode from joy.

As the sun went down and the stars began to come out, Damian asked if I wanted to go to Hawaii for our “honeymoon”, and I obliged, in a dreamy, romantic trance.

————-

Palm trees. Crystal clear waters. Long days and slow nights spent wrapped up in Damian. Listening to his tales of the underworld.

Our love grew deeper in those weeks than it ever had before. It’s hard to express the feelings of deep spiritual oneness that we shared. There really are no words for it, except sinking deep into an ocean of pure peace and love that washes over you and makes you feel that everything’s alright, that everything’s happening exactly as it should.

—————

PHILADELPHIA, PA

Like all good things, the honeymoon eventually did end as my work beckoned me once more. Damian did not like when I had to work. Even though he was right there with me the whole time, it upset him that I was unable to give him my full attention, even for a second.

“Oh, stop acting like a child,” I said teasingly. “You know I’m all yours and you’ll have every ounce of my attention once I’m finished with my work,”

Yes, darling, he said. But sometimes I wish you would let me take care of you, so you wouldn’t have to put such strain on yourself.

“You know I love working, Damian,” I said, although it wasn’t fully true. “It gives me a sense of purpose and allows me to be independent and free in this world.” That much was true, at least.

Does it really, though? Aren’t there other passions, other goals you would rather be working towards?

“Well you know I would rather be an artist, but that’s not a very fiscally responsible thing for me to do at this point in my life,” I said.

Let me take care of you, he said again, and then I didn’t hear from him for a while.

———-

The next day, however, I got a phone call from my boss.

“Michaela, this is your boss, Mr. Richard Wadd. I must inform you that I’m letting you go from the company. I don’t really have a good reason, other than the fact that my fragile male ego is threatened by your superior intelligence, and I’m the one in power, so there’s nothing you can do about it. Goodbye.”

Damian was very quick to comfort me.

You know, love, there are certain benefits to having a demon as a spouse, he said.

“Oh do share,” I said, needing comfort now more than ever.

Close your eyes, he whispered, and as I did I began to receive visions; information, otherworldly knowledge, flashes of events.

Do you want me to take care of your boss for you? He said.

In my fuming, trance-like stupor, I nodded half-heartedly.

Good, he said. It is done.

——————

For the second time in the past year I was awoken to the sound of the police calling, beckoning me down to the station. My boss had been murdered, and they had evidence of my fingerprints at the crime scene.

I felt myself go white. There’s no way I was capable of murdering my boss. Sure I had fantasized about it as many do, but now he was dead and they had evidence linking me to the crime. Where was Damian? He was oddly silent this morning; I hadn’t heard a peep from him since last night.

“Damian,” I pleaded, “Damian, are you there?”

Nothing.

I felt sick and needed a minute to catch a breather before heading to the police station. That’s when the visions started and it came back to me.

I was walking through Spruce Street Harbor Park, but it was more Damian than me. In fact, it was all Damian. I was barely there except as a witness observing my own body moving without my control.

The door to the apartment of my boss’ row house was locked, but somehow I had a supernatural strength that was able to twist the doorknob right off the handle.

The only thing I remember after that was a blur of screaming, blood, me begging Damian to stop, and my boss begging for his life.

————————-

“How could you, Damian?” I said, shaking.

It needed to be done. Now, let’s leave town before the police catch us!

“You’re insane! You literally murdered my boss!”

That’s where you’re wrong, my love… WE murdered your boss. And as far as the police know, YOU murdered your boss.

“DAMIAN-,” I screamed, but it was futile. Next thing I knew I felt very dizzy all of a sudden and collapsed onto my bed as if I was black out drunk.

——————-

Everything was black for a very long time, and I had no consciousness of anything except an unending void of nothingness. I had an awareness that I was not in my body, and was very possibly dead.

Then everything turned light, and I was speeding through a vortex.

Ah, a tunnel of light! I thought. I really am dead!

Well, this isn’t so bad, I thought, as I sped along. There was no more pain, no more drudgery of existence, no more, oh, what was his name… Damian!

As soon as I thought of him, the speeding stopped and I was in what appeared to be an endless meadow, with fields of swaying poppies of all different colors. It felt surreal and dreamlike, and there was a total sense of peace that washed over everything.

As I was taking it all in, a being of light started to approach me from a distance. I felt a total sense of unconditional love emanating from her.

“Michaela,” said the being, who I figured must have been an angel as I saw her jewel encrusted wings swaying back and forth, “you have made a terrible mistake in allowing Damian possess you.”

“Who are you?” I wondered out loud,

“I am Cassiel, your guardian Angel. And we are here because you are in grave danger.” “I guess letting myself be possessed by a demon wasn’t such a bright idea after all.”

“No kidding!” She said, then laughed lightly, clearly trying to evade hurting my feelings.

But then she gazed into my eyes with a deep understanding and compassion, as if she could see straight through my soul and knew me better than I knew myself.

“You were lonely, lacking in self-love. You let your demons from your past overcome you. But it’s okay now, because I’m here to help. I’m going to show you how to reclaim your inner light and overcome Damian.”

“I killed someone, Cassiel,” I said, tears streaming down my face.

“No, Damian did it. And that will be taken care of. You must see now that there is so much in God’s hands - so much going on behind the scenes that you are unaware of. But we ultimately have your back. Your angels, your spirit guides, Source, the entire universe is secretly conspiring in your favor.”

“I don’t understand how they could allow all of this to happen to me then, Cassiel,”

“Michaela,” she said softly, “everyone has free will and must answer for the consequences of their actions. Karma catches up with everyone. But ultimately, everyone is forgiven for their deeds after they have worked through their karma and regained memory of their divinity.”

“So what happens next?”

“You’re going to be sent back to your body. By this point, Damian’s strength will make it hard for you to let go of his possession. But you must not give up or lose faith, Michaela. There is a light within you that is stronger than any force of evil that has ever been. And that’s the force of self-love. You must see that you are worthy and that love never leaves you, even when you are on your own.”

“That’s something that I’ve always struggled with.” “I know. And you are certainly not the only one. So many, if not all of your species’ problems are rooted in this lack of love. But it is infinite and existing everywhere, if only you will open your heart and allow yourself to tap into it.”

“So what does that have to do with exorcising Damian?”

“Allow the light to possess you instead,” she said, and with that, everything went black again.

————————

When I regained consciousness and flew back in my body once more, I was seated on an airplane next to the window, with a cocktail and an upscale looking meal in front of me.

Welcome back, my love, Damian said.

“Hi,” I said, in a fog.

Your dinner is waiting for you.

“Nice!” I said warily, “Where are we going?”

My dear, he said, we are bound for Paris. We are going to start a new life, you and me.

“A clean break!” Being powerless, I was just going along with him at this point.

Yes, he said, and laughed lightly

Once we touched down in Paris, I felt a renewed sense of hope and vigor. Because of the possession, I was able to fluently speak French. I had been here before when I was younger once, when the past that haunted me now was more of a present, everyday reality. I wanted to think that I was in a better place now, but given the fact that I was possessed by a literal demon, it was hard to say.

Now Michaela, my love, said Damian, while we are here, I will have some commitments to attend to in the underworld. I trust that you will be able to manage for several days at a time without me.

“I will do my best,” I said, like the dutiful wife I was pretending to be.

I know you need me, and are nothing without me except a lonely, blubbering mess.

“Okay,” I said. What an ass. “Can’t wait until you get back!”

———————-

With Damian gone, I felt like I could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

I spent long afternoon strolling through ancient cobblestone streets and evenings sitting on terraces, drinking wine and people watching. As I rode the metro and wandered in and out of several boutiques, an awareness started to wash over me.

And that was this feeling of total contentedness and peace - with just me, on my own. No more loneliness, no more aching inside. It felt as if I had a clean slate, a barren soil that was fertile enough to foster my growing sense of self-love and independence.

I met some very interesting people. One afternoon as I was strolling alongside the Seine I saw a painter and was inspired by his lifestyle. He made ends meet by waiting tables at night and spent of the rest of his time devoting his life to art.

There were some people who were in a much worse state. Many homeless people and I saw myself in them. My heart reached out to the invisible who had demons of their own they had yet to overcome and I wanted nothing more to help them.

I was exploring Notre Dame cathedral when Damian finally returned.

What are you doing here? His voice sounded very sinister.

“Sightseeing,” I replied casually.

Get out of this building at once, he hissed.

Apparently I didn’t have a say in the matter as my feet began to move on their own.

What do you say we have a picnic in the park underneath the Eiffel Tower, ma cherie?

The thought made me queasy but I agreed.

As we were sitting underneath the Eiffel Tower, there was an awkward pause.

You’re awfully quiet, Michaela.

“Sorry, I’m just soaking it all in. The twinkling lights, this lovely picnic you’ve prepared - it’s every girl’s dream!” And as I was saying it, I realized a part of me still meant it. After all the progress I’d made on my own, I realized I was lucky to be sharing this moment with another entity, even if he was a demon.

Yes, my love, he said. And there will be many more such moments to come. I’m never letting you go!

That made me feel nauseous and I seemed to snapped out of it a bit.

“Damian, I don’t know about that. We killed someone! We can’t keep running from that forever.”

I could feel his temper starting to rise.

So what are you suggesting, Mickey? Turning ourselves into the police? They’ll never believe you. They’ll think you’re insane if you tell them the truth. And you’ll be locked behind bars for the rest of your life. I’m your only hope at a good life.

After he said that, something within me started to fall apart at the seams. I was no longer sure of myself, sure of where I began and where Damian ended. I felt so controlled and like I had no way out of this relationship. I could only go along with it and hope for the best.

I remembered what the angel Cassiel told me and wondered whether what she said was true or not. Something within me told me her words rang true. Suddenly I had a very strong urge to expunge Damian and everything about him from my being. I needed an exorcist, a priest, but although I had a strong sense of spirituality I was not a religious person and didn’t think going to one would work. No, something within me knew the answer. And I knew I could wait no longer to rid myself of this demon forever.

But I needed evidence of Damian’s murder. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life behind bars for a crime I did not commit. He was right in saying that no one would ever believe me. I needed proof that I was truly possessed by a demon.

And that was how I found myself at the PIOP, or Paranormal Investigators of Paris.

———

Of course, I had to wait until Damian was away at work for several days in the underworld. The PIOP referred me to a renowned shaman who performed exorcisms at Notre Dame Cathedral. I corresponded to the shaman via email and told her about my case. She said it sounded like a doozy alright, and that I should think of a way to trick Damian into planning a date at the cathedral where the exorcism could be performed.

That night when Damian returned, I turned on the charm and told him I had a special date planned for us tonight in Paris. He was exhilarated about it! First we went out to a fancy vegan restaurant for one final goodbye dinner. For the first time he opened up to me about some of his experiences in Hell.

So I said to him, in Lucifer’s name, you musn’t use that torture device! It’s from the 18th century. We’re so much more humane than that now. Get the Tiger Bench.

“My woke demon,” I said, Damian too wrapped up in his story to catch the sarcasm.

As he rambled on about his day in literal Hell, I wondered once more how I had ever let myself get in this situation. Sure, I had trauma from my past. Dysfunctional family. I remember growing up my mom would throw dishes at our heads when she was in one of her rages. Absent father. A string of loser boyfriends who treated me like nothing. I wanted so badly to be loved and understood that I was willing to settle for anyone giving me any attention, filling the place that was supposed to be occupied by my father. And of course, the mental health issues that plagued me from perpetually feeling like an outsider in this society. It’s no wonder I let myself become possessed by a demon.

But no more, I decided in that instant. I was healing and had gotten to a place where I didn’t need anyone’s love except my own. Everyday was a chance to start over, to pursue my dreams and visions, to become someone great. And to become that person, I needed to let go of my past. I needed to let go of my demons.

I needed to let go of Damian.

After the waiter brought us the check, and Damian was still rambling about his day, I said, “Hey, D, sorry to interrupt your story,” yeah, so sorry, “but there’s something I really wanted to check out at the Notre Dame Cathedral. I know you have an aversion to that place, and churches in general, but it will only be for a moment.”

Damian paused his story abruptly. If demons had hackles, you could almost feel his being raised.

Michaela, he said in a seething tone, I would really we rather not. Couldn’t we go to the catacombs instead?

“Oh, it will only be for a minute, sweetie,” I said, “I want to see the home of Quasimodo. And I know how much you love the song ‘Hellfire’!”

He seemed like he was starting to warm up to the idea.

Yes, that is one of my favorites, he said, and preceded to burst into song. You can be the Esmerelda to my Frodo!

Too far, I thought. “Okay, that’s enough!” I said, and we both laughed. There were some parts of being possessed by him I was going to miss, which is why what I was about to do wasn’t going to be easy.

But it wasn’t enough to stop me — us — from riding the metro to the Notre Dame Cathedral.

For the final time.

Chapter 5. When we walked inside, I was amazed once more by the stunning architecture of the cathedral. But even my amazement at the light shining through the stained glass couldn’t stop the nervousness creeping up in within me for the act we were about to undergo.

I could feel Damian’s discomfort and itchiness to leave. Can we go now? He hissed. “Of course,” I said assuredly, “but first I want to see the gargoyles.”

Damian let out a roar of rage but agreed, very reluctantly.

As we were climbing the spiral stairs up to the top of the tower, there was a hidden door where I knew the shaman would be waiting, with camcorders from the PIOP to capture video evidence that I was truly possessed and shouldn’t be held responsible for my boss’ murder. The shaman would also be able to testify as a witness.

“Oh, look, Damian, a hidden passageway!”

We ducked through the door and the shaman quickly slammed it shut.

NO! He screamed. YOU BITCH! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!

But it was too late for Damian. I lied down on the gurney and as I was strapped to the table, Damian started thrashing and wailing about. The shaman starting waving her arms and reciting latin incantations and I started reciting a few affirmations of my own:

“I am enough. I am whole. I am loved and lovable, without or without you. I am enough. I am whole…” and as I repeated these words, I felt an immense, golden light rising up from within me, covering my aura and I knew that Damian and all the demons from my past could no longer energetically occupy the same space as this light.

And before I knew it, it was all over.

———————

Things were different after that. I was determined to make it as an artist, even it it meant taking a pay cut. Being possessed by Damian taught me a lot, and I truly began to understood what Cassiel meant when she said that everything is happening in divine order, for our highest good.

For the time being I was working in a bar in Buffalo, NY, renting a small house and working on building my dreams during the day. I still had enough saved from my previous role as an investment banker that I didn’t have anything financially to worry about for a while, but enjoyed spending my evenings at the bar. It was funky and had a cool atmosphere that attracted a bohemian crowd. During the day I worked on creating music and photography. I dreamed of one day being a speaker and sharing the experiences I had, and more importantly how I had overcome them. I wanted to give back more than anything.

One night while I was working there was a very handsome musician playing at the open mic. He was very well mannered and we had an in depth, philosophical conversation about the nature of the universe. Before he left we exchanged contact information, and I had a good feeling about it, but I was in no hurry to rush into another relationship.

For now I was just enjoying my own company, fulfilling my passions, working towards turning my dreams into reality and making the world a better place.

For me, that was enough.

I was enough.

I had always been enough.

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thejenesaisquoigirl · 4 years

Note

For your D&D character meme, how 'bout odds for Talise, evens for Tamsyn, and the letter C? :D

Had a feeling this revenge was coming XD *cracks knuckles* Here we go!

1) What would they consider to be their biggest failure?

Talise: Oof. Maybe not being able to save her family, or at least her sister-in-law and nephew. Maybe her (former) deep reliance on alcohol once her memories started coming back. Trauma is a motherfucker

2) What’s the story behind their name?

Tamzen: When it comes to naming characters, I really just start thinking of names that stick out. It started with “Tiernan”–from Pirate Queen–and I must have watched an episode of The Tudors with Tamsin Merchant to remember that name, too. “Tamsin” kept sounding best with the character concept and then the spelling changed to “-zen” as a subtle joke since she’s a monk haha

3) What’s their relationship with their family?

Talise: When she was Hosanna, very close. They all loved learning (though maybe different things), the people in their city, and each other. She was closest to her brother, Yanis, despite their age difference. She felt adrift without a family unit, having a ship and crew helped, and finding Yanis has upset any equilibrium she was finding.

4) What’s one song that describes them or is them?

Tamzen: Not many peeps know this, but she was built to be the personification of the “Morgan: Amor Tristis (or Morgan - Amor Tristis on Spotify)” instrumental from the Ah! My Goddess movie. My all-time favorite instrumental and it suits her story.

5) Who is their best friend?

Talise: Expanding on the Yanis thing, he was her best friend growing up. So the years in which she thought he was dead and that she failed him were rough…but she was working towards a place of resignation…then they found him alive. It’s super weird now because yes, her brother used to be able to embarrass her; but now, it’s the first time she’s ever felt shame. Hosanna, while sharing a small flair for the dramatic, was a very different person than Talise was crafted to be. But in the party, Jax is the closest to a best friend, no contest.

6) Why are they their class?

Tamzen: She ran away from the city after her heartbreak and stumbled across a traveling group of mousefolk. Most of them were monks but since she stayed with the leader and his wife (the only ones with stuff able to house a larger humanoid), they were the ones who taught her as a way to find calm and take back a sense of control.

7) What do they think of their party members?

Talise: She feels distinct lines in the sand. At first, they seemed only about their sleeping habits (there was no other way the rooming arrangements could have shaken out and everyone live). But now, it feels very much like two separate factions working together. Separately: Q- she’s terrified of everything she does being in that book, and she has a hard time wrestling with his innocent naiveté when it reminds her of who she used to be. Briony- Not used to being around women in a strictly friendship sense, but is happy for her presence so Q has someone of a similar maturity. Braxton- He’s rarely there. Jax- They instinctually understand each other. It’s complicated but in a good way. Caspian- Like recognizes like but she feels they have different motivations behind collecting information…and it’s hard for her to move beyond a betrayal of trust.

8) In what ways are they similar to you?

Tamzen: Extremely calm under pressure, thinks she’s never good enough to be significant to anyone enough to not leave her, thoughtful gift-giver, gives herself for others until there’s nothing left, can have an accidentally sharp sense of humor, deep well of feeling and protectiveness for those she considers “hers”

9) In what ways are they different from you?

Talise: Unashamed in the way she moves through the world, unabashedly flirtatious and teasing, confident, how she copes with things (tends to be physical indulgences), seeing trust as black and white, unafraid of confrontation or large birds

10) What do they look for in a romantic partner, if they have a romantic orientation?

Tamzen: Someone who doesn’t see her as second best or not enough. Someone she doesn’t need to take care of but who can take care of her. Tamzen has a competency kink a mile wide; so if they’re even-keeled, stronger, a better fighter, and extremely skilled in what they do…they’re definitely her type. She’s a pretty quiet person, so they need to be comfortable with silence and understand things unsaid as she’s very action-oriented. You can tell a lot about how she feels about someone based on her actions, not her words. They also need to love her son.

11) If they had a patronus or animagus form, what would it be?

Talise: Ooooooooo….idk. Maybe a panther animagus? Something that slinks around with confidence but can be very soft. Patronus would be a cat like Talis or a hippogriff like Fantôme…or a peafowl.

12) What do they smell like?

Tamzen: Orange blossoms and vanilla, with hints of herbs that can be used medicinally (eg: lavender, tea tree, etc)

13) What is their secret skill?

Talise: Sketching/drawing. She’s intensely private about it; but has charcoal, pencils, and a sketchbook in her pack that’s rather like a diary.

14) What is their relationship to spirituality?

Tamzen: Complicated haha. She’s a “tsuki kitsune” and I tweaked that to mean she’s a fox blessed by the goddess of love with the potential of becoming “human.” Her “parents” are the guardians of a special, unknown spot in a forest the goddess has declared sacred; there to take care of the clearing and of any creature blessed by it…and Tamzen was a fox spawned there. Anyways, so even as a fox, she was engrained with this strong belief in the goddess and had an awareness of her presence; but then something devastating happened with the person Tamzen thought she was fated to be with–who had been the cause of her transformation. Ever since, Tamzen has had a tumultuous time with the idea of love…much less having firm faith in her goddess, because she feels betrayed. She’s slowly trying to repair her side of the relationship through making sure her friends find love; but she still thinks she’s been abandoned by someone she had absolute faith in, so she’s weary.

15) If they were to be remembered for something, what would they want to be remembered for?

Talise: NOT like what they were shouting at Hosanna. She’d like to be remembered, in general, rather than lost to lines in a book. She wants people to speak of her and the small amount of goodness she’s put into the world.

16) Why did they become an adventurer?

Tamzen: Happenstance led to her becoming a monk…and she needed additional discipline to try to silence the rage and nastiness brewing inside of her, so she joined the army. The adventuring grew from that.

17) What’s one thing about their backstory that came to you after you already started playing the campaign?

Talise: THIS HAPPENS ALL THE TIME. One notable thing–I hadn’t even thought about her being an alcoholic (sober now) until making her playlist. For some reason, “Chandelier” kept coming up and it had to have been a sign because it’s deepened her in ways I wasn’t expecting. Also her tattoos.

18) Do you have any headcanons for them that haven’t come up in game? Or headcanons for other party members?

Tamzen: Totes! She plays the lute only for Tal or when she needs to really think through something–frequently those moments are one in the same when he’s playing outside. Her internal crisis over always being second best and slowly being resigned to it. Party members: Mama: they sometimes read together (even though Tamzen doesn’t like to read), trade skills (Mama helps her build strength and she helps Mama with flexibility), and that Mama has to spend extra time in front of a mirror before going to a fancy event to take in the fact that this is her life now and she gets to wear these pretty things and be feminine. Kerrick: that he’ll sometime have ink in his hair from running his fingers through it while copying down spells. TBD: thinks it’s hilarious how he still hasn’t had to explain his name and has a running bet with himself over it. Finn: she catches Tal speaking squeakspeak to Finn while playing and Finn just going with it and trying to learn the game through context instead.

19) Any ships with your character? If a PC or NPC, what interaction launched it?

Talise: YOU DID THIS ON PURPOSE, SHIPPY MCSHIPPERSON xD. She’s the first character in a LONG time I legit ship with another PC. Whether it becomes romantic or remains platonic (it’s not just up to me or Talise), Jax is the most significant person in her life–excluding her brother. They just got each other from day one and they seem to be the only ones able to easily talk to the other, even when the subject is difficult. The canon you created about her feeling safe with Jax is 100% true; ever since Before, she has a hard time sleeping around other people but she trusts him enough to even share a bed…and he’s the only one with whom she would never be anything but truthful. At their core, they are people reinventing themselves after tragedy but don’t know if they’re doing it right. But Jax makes Talise feel it’s alright to be who she authentically is rather than acting the part she’s written for herself; and to find joy again in the things from her past. The ship’s legit launch was after their serious conversation about “equivalent exchange” in relationships (about Caspian) and has since been buoyed by all their side chats + interactions. “…are you just going to stare at me?” “Until you’re ready.”

20) What would your character consider their biggest success? Or what is your favorite success your character has had so far?

Tamzen: Tal and facing Silas again. She’s really surprised me in how she’s been able to grow to where she is now…so that’s an awesome success because it feels like there’s still more growing for her to do emotionally. But the ultimate success EVER was the gift of the hearthstone to Mama. It was canon lore created on the fly and it was so meaningful and has become a cornerstone of Tamzen’s character.

Letter C:

Smartest- Talise and Syl are the most booksmart; Calla is the wisest about people (followed by Talise and Tamzen); Vi is the smartest about how to use people for her advantage; Mireth is the most diplomatically savvy.Most Attractive- Tamzen is that annoying woman who looks beautiful even without makeup (#blessed) but isn’t necessarily sexy like Talise is. From there it’s Mireth (that half elf/half fae glowup), Calla (aasimar moon baby), Lady Vi (moon elf tall, slim model build), Evi (Italian witchy woman), and then Syl (striking but not always considered beautiful).Hogwarts- Ravenclaws are Talise and Syl. Slytherins are Lady Vi and Evi. Hufflepuffs are Calla and Mireth. Gryffindor is Tamzen.

#fuzzy feathers #@sapphireemeralds #food for asks #ask and you shall receive #dnd #ref for character

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nebulousmeadows · 6 years

Text

Release

Previous/Next

And with that, Nysa and the others followed him out of White Forest, making a successful escape and saving themselves from further injury.

When teleportation was accessible again, Nysa happily assisted in moving everyone to her tree house. From there, she took Elizabeth off of Perseus’s hands and moved her upstairs to Nysa’s own bedroom. When she came back down shortly after, Madeleine greeted her with a question.

“Is she alright?”

“Yes. She will be okay.” Nysa confirmed quietly. “She’ll wake up soon. I can say the same for your friend here.” She gestured to Cesare, who was still with Harry. Turning to Haos, she raised her brows. “I trust you’ll be staying with us for a bit? Unless... you need to make a return to White Forest?”

Haos nestled himself on a seat, happy to rest his weary feet as the Gothitelles conversed with each other. Upon Nysa's inquiry, the Gothitelle considered his host's statement, if but for a moment. "I suppose I can spare an hour or two. Travel, ah, how it takes so much out of me. Not quite as much vigor as I used to possess. But I will stay, after all, I wish to keep an eye on the health of those who were afflicted by Eudai, moreso Cesare and Elizabeth than anything else." Gestures at Herald sleeping on a couch. She had been ever since Haos went off with Nysa together.

"After all, Herald isn't exactly light on Jarvis's shoulders. He needs his rest as well for carrying such weight." Haos eyed Harry a bit. "And what of you, sir? Will you be staying as well? It would be nice to retell everything that has occured before me and Nysa arrived... If you don't mind, that is?"

"Guess so," said Harry, "But first I'd like to put this guy somewhere," Harry used his head to gesture to Cesare, who was still draped over Harry -- and Harry didn't want him there any longer. He'd done a number on his back.

"Uh ... Nysa, you gotta have a place where you can put 'im, right? Can't exactly just drop 'im on the floor." For the time being, Harry shed Cesare off his back and awkwardly propped him against a chair, to lay there until Nysa said something, because his back hurt. He then sat in said chair.

“Of course!” Nysa held her arms out to scoop up Cesare, then muttered to herself. “Let’s see...” Since every seat and couch was in use on the main floor, she would have to place him upstairs, so off she went again. Leaving the group to speak to Haos.

"Golly, where do I even start ..." the Gothitelle shook his head. "I bet the others could explain better, but, well, you know. We were going after Liz -- or uh, Eudai I guess -- both? -- after she disappeared. Find the two of 'em in the White Forest. So Cesare here is all adamant about freeing Liz, tells her to make Eudai miserable or whatever. Gets his little behind beat. He's been that way ever since.

Then uh ... we fought Eudai and stuff. That was one doozy of a fight." Harry stopped to catch his breath. "That fucker tried to eat me!" Harry shuddered. "Anyway then the giant ghost ladies came along and I got dropped, and then I guess that does it."

Nysa briefly tapped her foot when she reached the top of the stairs, lips quirked in thought. The only other place she had was a small window seat at the end of the hall. Hoping it would be comfortable for Cesare when he’d wake up, she carefully set him there and propped his head up with pillows from the bench.

A quiet sigh escaped her as she stared at him for a moment. ‘I might as well remain up here’, she thought. He was probably going to be looking for his friends when he would come to. And on top of that, she needed to keep tabs on Elizabeth.

Speaking of which...

When she was sure Cesare would be fine on his own for the time being, Nysa silently left to tend to the Gothitelle in the other room.

Luckily, all was still normal for Elizabeth. Her breathing and pulse were stable, she showed no signs of hypothermia. But... when was she going to wake up? Nysa knew it would be soon. But how soon? She wasn’t sure.

Resigning to checking back on Cesare, Nysa made her way to the bedroom door. Upon twisting the doorknob, however, she could have sworn she heard Elizabeth stir. Her brilliant gaze flitted over her shoulder, and within moments, the hybrid discovered that she was right.

Elizabeth was finally sitting up. Wide awake and in a daze.

(( Writing by me, Russ (@askgothitelle), and Rids (@gregnas-the-grouch) ))

#nebulousplot #CesareGothitelle #HarryGothitelle #MadeleineGothitelle #PerseusGothitelle #ElizabethGothitelle #Eudai #Whisper #Yemir #NysaUmbretelle #Haos #Baozhai #Herald #Jarvis

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kl-writes · 7 years

Text

Ghant Kyme: The Sword of Life

After a weary day of traveling through yet another Enchanted Forest, Kim Ganna finally made it to the village. It was a larger one, and had a tavern, which was perfect for picking up local gossip.

Being from out of town, she received odd looks when she entered from the villagers. She approached the counter, and got out her bag of silver pieces. “Could I have the house ale, please?”

The barkeep obliged her, “We don’t get many visitors around here. I don’t think I’ve seen your face before.”

Kim was used to this song and dance. She could follow the same script for practically every village and quickly gain trust, or at least indifference, “Oh, I’m just passing through. I am going to my cousin’s wedding in the city, and the usual road’s been blocked by bandits.”

The barkeep nodded, and tension in the room settled. Kim knew that mentions of family and acknowledgement of her oddness went a long way.

“You know,” said an older man sitting at the bar, “You should ask the local mail company for assistance.” Bingo. The local defense- likely adventurers, not militia, from the odd description.

“The mail?” Kim asked, a puzzled expression on her brow. She knew very well what rag-tag adventurers were capable of.

“I know it sounds odd, but they actually cleared out the bandits from the Enchanted Forest about a year back, right when the company started. There’s only about four of them, but they’ve taken on all sorts of monsters and criminals. I’m sure if you asked, they’d be more than happy to help.”

“Maybe I should. My village doesn’t have much in the way of coin, but maybe the elders could-“

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Well, it looked like bribing them to stay away wouldn’t work. It usually didn’t with rag-tag bands, but it’s always worth a try. Kim would probably just have to kill them.

“Alright. Maybe before I leave tomorrow, I could stop by their office. Do you have directions?”

“Well, they’re not in town at the moment. There’s actually some big ogre in the Witching Hills out east, and they said they wouldn’t be back until the day after. If you’re not crunched for time, you could wait, or maybe just leave word for them to go to your village, here.”

“You’re very kind, sir,” said Kim, “But I don’t think that will be necessary.”

Kim got up out of her seat, and assumed her true form- the Storm Demon, Ghant Kyme. With a deep breath, she summoned a storm. She made it a twister, as this area did not have any, and unleashed it upon the village. It tore out of the tavern, and quickly grew to consume the surrounding houses. In this way, nobody from the tavern who knew her face well would survive, but there would certainly be some survivors on the outskirts.

She flew up into the sky with a loud roar, making sure any survivors got a good look. She sent down lightning at those foolish enough to not be hiding. Once finished, she verified with a simple spell that there was at least one survivor left in the village. The results were good, which meant she wouldn’t have to wait around for the heroes’ return in order to let them know who did this. Vorrok always said that it was more dramatic for someone else to inform any heroes about the danger, but Ghant Kyme knew that the melodrama was always more for his benefit. The love of her life had cute quirks like that.

She flew out to the west, her original destination. After a few minutes, she alighted on the side of a mountain. She could tell from the magical aura surrounding the place that she was just outside the ruins containing the Sword of Life. The boulder she had placed to block the entrance was still intact, so she punched it, crumbling it into dust. She changed back into a human form- her demonic form was too large for the entrance tunnels.

After walking through the labyrinthine passages, careful not to disturb any of the ancient traps, she reached the chamber holding the Sword of Life. The apex was still here, so her mind was put at ease.

Over the next few days, she went to work taking apart and rebuilding all the traps in the ruins- modifying them so that they were not quite so lethal. If the members of the “mail company” were not able to get through these traps alive, then their souls wouldn’t be useful for her purposes anyways. The Sword of Life could be recharged using only a part of her soul, but the time it would take her to fix and regrow it would be a nuisance- far longer than the few weeks she’s spent on this world preparing for a decent showdown at this apex.

She went outside, and checked the countryside. A small spell expanded her vision- there were no more survivors in the village, so the mail company must have already been through and sent the villagers somewhere safe. She scanned the path to the ruins, and found them at the foot of the mountain, beginning their ascent. That was rather quick. She went back into the ruins, and waited in the sword’s chamber. It would be about a day before they made it this far.

After about a day, one of the traps near the entrance went off, alerting her to their presence. She got up from her meditation and stretched. Preparing for a fight, she took the Sword of Life out of its protective case, and swung it a few times to test the balance. It wasn’t the best magical weapon she’d ever seen, but an apex was an apex. This world wasn’t very impressive anyways, so she shouldn’t expect its apexes to be, either.

After about an hour or so, the famed mail company finally entered the main chamber. They had four members- two of them were clearly warriors, with heavy armor and helmets. One looked like a mage- no, with those sigils he was definitely a druid or a witch of some sort.

The fourth one had to be a thief.

“Who are you?” asked one of the warriors. This one had a longbow, and from the accent, was elven. Probably the leader. Depending on the skill level of this group, she might only have to kill him to charge the sword. Wait, wouldn’t she kill them all anyways? She needed to focus.

“Ghant Kyme. Pleased to meet you.” She hadn’t drawn her sword yet. Were they really waiting for her to attack first?

“Lady, you really ought to leave,” said the thief, “There’s supposed to be a demon around here.”

“What?” Ghant Kyme suddenly realized her mistake. She was still in human form, “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to look like this when she met. That’s embarrassing.”

She transformed in an instant, now towering over the group. A few took an involuntary step back from fear, while the leader and the thief gritted their teeth.

“See, this would have been a more dramatic first appearance. Now that the introductions are over, let’s get to it.”

Finally, the heroes ran at her. She probably could have taken the first strike when they gave her surprise, but as the sword cleanly went through the leader’s heart, she saw that it wouldn’t matter with this group.

The sword pulsed with energy as the warrior fell.

“Angelica, no!” cried out the druid or the witch. Ghant Kyme took advantage of this distracting to separate the magic user’s head from his body. She didn’t need to deal with any emotionally-charged magic surges.

As the thief tried to cut at her wings from behind, she backhanded her into a wall. She should have just clawed her face off, but it would have to wait. She parried as the warrior with the longsword swung at her, then beheaded him as well.

Finally, she turned to the thief. She was knocked out. Ghant Kyme could just leave.

She had to get a handle on these intrusive thoughts. She stabbed the thief in the heart, and the Sword of Life pulsed brighter than before. It seemed charged.

Ghant Kyme stabbed herself with it to be sure. It was painful, so she quickly withdrew it. There was no wound, and aside from a bit of nausea, she felt better. No exhaustion whatsoever, and a few of the minor scars on her arms from previous fights had faded completely. Nice.

Luckily for her, the mail company had brought a torch. It was dropped to the ground at the beginning of the fight, and the light was starting to fade, casting shadows on the walls. The presence of a shadow would make the teleportation smoother, and she wouldn’t have to use as much magic, even though she was jumping to a different world.

She sheathed the Sword of Life, and glanced at the thief. Nausea resurged in her. The thief was nothing special- she had black hair, olive skin, dark eyes. She hadn’t seen her before, but she definitely felt something from killing her. She wasn’t even a skilled fighter, so Ghant Kyme couldn’t call it any after-effects from the adrenaline she got fighting strong opponents. Ghant Kyme never had symptoms like this associated with killing before.

She would have to check with Vorrok about this. Some weapons were said to inspire evil in their users over time, but she never heard about them inspiring good.

Ghant Kyme cast the teleportation spell, and jumped through the portal to home.

Home was Sandy Shores Island, a small world that Vorrok created as a base of operations centuries ago. The world was smaller than most moons, comprised almost completely of ocean, with the exception of their island lair. The island itself had a small “town” where all the demons lived, and Vorrok had his labs up on the mountain. There were also cells there, in case one of the apexes of a world was a living being that needed to be kept alive until they could collect all of the apexes.

Ghant Kyme’s portal opened up into the main room of Vorrok’s labs. She found him studying out of a new spellbook, lounging on a couch in the library. She presented the Sword of Life to him.

“Oh!” he looked up from the book, “Thank you, dear, I appreciate you coming through on this for me. I think we only need two more apexes from that world- it seems as though this world concentrates its power, resulting in fewer apexes.”

Ghant Kyme nodded. “Yes, I think this sword has a secondary effect.”

“Do tell.”

“I think it inspires good in the wielder over time.”

Vorrok was silent for a moment, frowning, “What makes you say that?”

“I felt- hesitation when I was killing one of that world’s heroes. She was a thief, not a very good warrior. But I did kill her.”

“That’s good. What did she look like?”

“Black hair, olive skin-“

“Oh! I see the problem.” Vorrok stood up. “Lay down, dear, this should only take a moment.”

“Do the effects linger?”

“Something like that. Hold still.” Vorrok started muttering a spell, so quiet that even Ghant Kyme couldn’t hear it. He placed his hand upon her forehead, and suddenly Ghant Kyme felt a strong resurgence of nausea. Lunessa screamed in pain. She was awake again, but Vorrok the Sand was stealing her mind again

Lunessa thrashed, trying to break through the chains. She was strapped to a metal table, back in the same dungeon as before. She blacked out and slept. Ghant Kyme woke up in the library.

“Did it work?” she asked.

“I think so,” Vorrok kissed her cheek, “I don’t think the sword has a strong effect, but maybe you should retrieve apexes from the next world on the list. Just in case this world has others like it.”

Ghant Kyme smiled, “Thanks. I guess I haven’t been working hard enough on my mental magical defenses.”

“It’s alright, dear, everyone has their strengths and weaknesses. I’m lucky that my weakness is a strong, proud warrior.”

Ghant Kyme laughed.

#ghant kyme #LOV: A Classmate #writing

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