#as I finally approach this scene in out of the abyss I found myself just writing it before I even finished exploring peragus lmao
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Dancing With The Shadows of My Soul
From dark purple to bright perspectives.
(A reupload of my own article on vocal.media)
I took a poetry class in my second year of university. It was one of my favourite classes ever, and I always appreciated the way that my professor taught us how to craft more than just a piece of poetry, but a scene. How he showed us that the details were important too, not just the story. Maybe that's why I've always been interested in romanticizing my life.
I can't remember a time when I didn't struggle with mental health challenges. I've always had this sadness. Sometimes it's extremely intense, and other times it just lingers.
In that poetry class, I wrote a poem about my sadness and described it as dark purple. I described it as bruises that never fade. That poem got a good grade, but it was about more than that for me. It felt true, it felt like I had bruises, even though I had no idea of the trauma that lay ahead of me.
Flash forward to eight or so years later, and I understand what I meant now when I said that sadness can be like bruises that never fade. It feels like I have all of these bruises, but because of my mental illnesses, they'll never be able to heal.
Surviving the Abyss
I don't think I was ever formally diagnosed with depression. From what I remember, I went to the school psychologist, and they recommended that I see a therapist. Next thing I knew, I was 17 years old and standing in my living room, telling my mom that I didn't want to be "here" anymore. I was sent to a therapist for a few sessions after that, but nothing ever evolved.
The first talk of a diagnosis that I remember was in my first year of university, when some sort of school counsellor or doctor or something said that I might have a personality disorder in Cluster B. I looked into it a little bit, but pretty much forgot about it.
Everything came to a head in July 2017, the summer of my attempted suicide. Rewind the time just over half a year, and I was standing in my room straightening my hair for school, thinking about how I was the saddest that I'd ever been. And then I met a boy. He showed me what love was, briefly, and then brought me into a real life nightmare. For seven months, I was madly enamored with him, up until the day that he died, the day of my overdose. You see, I would have followed him anywhere. Everything went according to plan, except for one part — I had survived.
In the remains of the trauma, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, type II. This was the first diagnosis that actually made sense to me. I related to the manic episodes, where I remember singing to my mom while I danced on top of the coffee table. And I of course related to the depression, finally an explanation for the deep and dark feelings that I had always known so well.
In the years following, many terms have been thrown around. I relate the most to my bipolar diagnosis, my PTSD diagnosis, and my diagnosis of having traits of borderline personality disorder (BPD). Funnily enough, BPD is a personality disorder in Cluster B, just like that person at my university had said all of those years ago.
The thing about BPD is that most people don't start to show symptoms until the late teen years and into early adulthood, and those symptoms can be triggered by a traumatic experience, such as what I went through. So it seemed like things got worse for me mentally after the overdose, and it turns out, they did.
Now that you know the whole story, you should be able to see how much of a mess I truly am. I put on a façade that I have it all together, but that's nowhere near true, and I am working every day to rediscover myself on this very messy and unpredictable journey.
A Lazy Girl's Approach to Life's Small Pleasures
I've found it helpful to introduce easy and practical exercises into my routines, because let's face it, I'm a lazy girlie. My morning routine is short and efficient, including a good combination of what I need to do and what I want to do.
Mindfulness has never been easy for me, and maybe that's why I never prospered in all of those DBT classes. My mind is always running, and the world is always muted. I have a hard time tuning in. But I like to practice mindfulness by becoming aware of the small moments and enjoying them, because there's more to life than all of the unnecessary stress that we add on.
Throughout the years, I've always been able to express myself and my passion through various outlets, whether it be my writing roots, pushing myself to be of service to others, or even creating content that I care about. Spiritually, I connect myself to God in ways that feel good to me, and I practice tarot in a way that makes sense to me. I believe that belief is personal and it should be whatever you want it to be, which may be jarring for some who seek religion and spirituality for practice and tradition.
What I'm saying is that life can be really difficult when you struggle with mental health issues, especially if you're still trying to discover yourself. But I want you to remember that you don't need to know what you're doing and you can choose how your journey goes. You cannot control what happens, but you can control your perspective on the situation and how you choose to feel about it.
Transformation Personalized
From diagnosis to diagnosis, sadness has always remained, but I find small ways to make it seem not as intimidating and heavy. Some of these ways are traditional and others are not, but the important part is that they work for me. Every person's journey is different, as each person on this planet is so unique. Find the things that work for you and do those things, because those are the things that will help you stay balanced when the ground starts to rumble again.
If you're feeling good, take advantage of that and think about the things that led you to this feeling, and take note. Think of your life like a puzzle, where you get to put the pieces together how you want, and it might not fit on the first try.
However, you'll eventually be able to see the bigger picture.
#personal essay#article#trauma#depression#ptsd#bipolar type ii#bpd#mental illness#personal development#self improvement#wellness
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still living rent-free in my head at all times are Atton and the Jedi Exile...
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It was strange being on a ship like this - small, cozy, meant for shipping cargo instead of armies. Eden's room on the Harbinger had been devoid of any home-like comforts, and while this hunk of junk lacked any finesse, something about the ship’s exposed parts grounded her, settling her nerves. She ran her hand along the vessel’s unfinished walls, almost tasting its metal tang in her mind, as she made her way back to the cockpit, comforted by its imperfections.
The ship was modest, boasting only two dormitories and a cramped common area that also shared square footage with the ship’s lone refresher. Something about it seemed familiar, lived-in, though Eden knew she had never been on a ship like this. It was as if she had seen it in a dream.
“How’s she doing?” Atton’s voice crept from the cockpit, sensing Eden’s presence as she approached. Eden smirked, wondering if her footfalls were really that heavy as she daydreamt.
“Surprisingly well for someone who just lost a hand,” Eden said as she entered the cockpit proper, watching her own left hand as she flexed it in and out of a fist. “Not like you’d care, though. Right?”
“Heh, true,” Atton mumbled, still fussing with the ship’s controls. “Of course the only space-worthy ship on that sorry ball of magma would be twenty years old, and rigged to boot. This thing is a relic, you know that?”
“What makes you say that?” Eden asked as she sidled up alongside the navigational chart, glowing white-green as it enticed her towards its map. The display was outdated, she had to give Atton that, but nearly everything she’d come into contact with on Tatooine in the last few years would have been considered ‘old’ by industry standards. “Rigged, I mean, not old. Old is obvious.”
Atton glanced at Eden over his shoulder, his eyebrows shooting up across his forehead, disappearing into his hair, as he allowed himself a brief moment of surprise. Eden smirked. She’d only known the guy a few standard hours and already she had developed a hobby of catching him off-guard.
“The commands, mostly,” he said eventually, turning back to the console, “Most ships have standard commands depending on the make, but this one seems to have been coded in a specific key. It’s not impossible to decipher but it’s annoying, to say the least.”
“Coded?”
“Common in drug-running, it’s a defense tactic of sorts. Instead of an alarm system to alert the authorities, it's meant to dissuade anyone from flying it at all by making it complicated. That, and it’s meant to reroute system logs so it’s harder for anyone snooping around to access the ship’s navigational history. Hey, while you’re over there, do you mind-?”
“On it,” Eden confirmed, already keying in a sequence. But the map before her only jolted, as if glitching momentarily. She tried again. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Atton affirmed, turning full in his chair this time. “Have you tried-?”
Eden typed in another sequence and looked at Atton again, shrugging more emphatically.
“Like I said, nothing.”
Atton slumped in his chair, looking at the screen from his vantage point, baffled. “Weird.”
Turning around again, Atton began typing furiously away at the pilot’s console, muttering to himself as he made quick calculations and tested other sequencing commands, inputting codes and apparently coming up empty judging by the unintelligible syllables that escaped his mouth in response.
“I thought you said it wasn’t weird for drug-running vessels to do that?”
“It isn’t, it’s just… the system would have given you an error code, or something. The fact that nothing happened is weird. We’ll have to try some back-end codes if we have any chance of unlocking the nav chart, but we can worry about that later. Or not at all, since I plan on taking the next transport off Telos as soon as we land. If that’s even an option.”
“You and me both,” Eden said, still playing with the galaxy map, marveling at the expanse of it all. It had been a while since she’d traveled, and longer since she considered how big the galaxy even was. “Any idea where you’d want to disappear?”
“Disappear?” Atton tensed at that, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he adjusted his ribbed jacket. Eden expected Atton would want to leave as many lightyears between him and whatever had landed him on Peragus as he could manage, but maybe there was more to the story.
“Yeah, I guess,” he said after a few beats, trying to act cavalier. “I have a few places in mind, though sharing them with you kind of defeats the purpose of vanishing without a trace.”
Atton glanced back at Eden, his eyes wide before he snapped his attention back to the console computer again, muttering, “No offense, or anything.”
Eden laughed lightly, the feeling almost alien given everything that had happened of late. Quickly quieting, she bit her lip and allowed herself a breath before picking up the conversation again, oddly at ease.
“None taken,” she said, “No witness, no crime, right?”
“Something like that,” Atton laughed, though a clear sense of uncertainty laced his voice. “Though I’d argue all three of us are just as guilty of blowing up the entire economy of this sector. I flew the ship, sure, but it was only to save all our skins.”
“I appreciate that,” Eden said, “Though I’d counter and say that Kreia’s assailant is to blame more than the three of us.”
“Hah, right. Try telling that to the Republic officers that eventually arrest us at the ends of the universe for the impending fuel crisis of the century.” At this Atton truly laughed, the weight of what had just happened finally sinking in. “Shit.”
“Well, it’s not the first time I was responsible for something that would affect the entire galaxy for decades to come,” Eden sighed, her finger lingering over the green dot the chart labeled Dxun - moon, quickly changing the subject before Atton could question whether she was being earnest or not. “So what do you think this ship was used for before we hijacked it?”
“Drug-running, I’m guessing, but I doubt Kreia had anything to do with that. Though I’m curious…”
“Curious about what?”
“How someone like her would acquire a ship like this.”
“I don’t think it’s that weird,” Eden shrugged as she finally abandoned the navigational chart and sunk into the co-pilot’s chair. “An old woman looking for any means of solo transport with little money? You see the way she dresses, I doubt she has a fortune at her disposal. I’m sure a spice runner with a price on their head would part with as few credits as they could spare if it meant an easy way to dispose of their crime-history-addled ship.”
Atton made a face at this, considering her logic, but did not tear his eyes away from the pilot’s console as he continued to type away.
“I guess the only thing I’m left wondering is whether Sleeps-With-Vibroblades was on her tail before or after this ship’s acquisition,” Atton laughed at his own joke. “So… what happened?”
Atton didn’t tear his eyes away from the screen but only gestured to her vaguely. Eden paused, looking down at herself, confused, and back up at Atton again.
“To what?”
Atton tsked.
“Don’t give me that. There were plenty of times back on Peragus where a lightsaber would have been helpful. So - where’s yours?”
Eden narrowed her eyes, shaking her head in utter confusion as she wondered how Atton went from how Kreia came in possession of this ship to… lightsabers. The fact that Atton couldn’t see her facial journey to better understand her bafflement didn’t help, either.
“Let’s leave my lightsaber out of this,” Eden sighed, “It’s a long story.”
“Oh? I thought a Jedi was supposed to be married to their lightsaber. Guess I heard wrong,” he quipped, acting coy.
Eden rolled her eyes.
“So, were you a single-hilt or one of those double-bladed Jedi?”
Now Eden knew that Atton wasn’t only preoccupying himself with the ship’s unique code language for the sake of deciphering it but was also using it as a means to avoid her gaze while he asked the usual questions other spacers did upon suspecting her affiliation with the Order. Typical.
“Double,” she answered dishonestly after a beat, watching Atton side-long for his reaction.
“Hm,” he said, unexcitingly, “I hear the twin blades are harder to master, but they can make enemies stampede over each other running for cover.”
Eden crossed her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes now as she watched Atton do his best to appear nonchalant, truly annoyed with him now.
“You know quite a bit about Jedi for being so averse to them,” Eden accused, but Atton only snorted in response.
“I fought in the war, remember? It was hard not to notice,” Atton said, “I saw a lot of Jedi use double-bladed sabers first-hand, gave them more slaughter per swing.”
Eden winced, unhappy to have the memory revived in her mind’s eye at the mention of it.
“You didn’t go red, did you?”
Eden wanted to roll her eyes again, but instead she paused, a wicked smile taking over her face.
“Oh, yeah,” she said, doing her best to sound sincere. "Redder than a laigrek’s eye.”
Atton jolted out of whatever he was doing to avoid her gaze and actually jumped in his seat, and Eden couldn’t hold her serious expression long enough to relish in the longer con she’d planned the moment the words passed her lips.
“Maker, you’re pathetic,” she laughed, “What color saber do you think I had? I’m curious if you can guess correctly, Mr. ‘I Drink and I Know Things’”
Atton smiled unsurely, trying to appear in on the joke despite the fact that Eden had actually managed to startle him.
“Lemme see,” he said, affording her an honest glance after gathering his wits. Atton looked her up and down, assessing what he could of her upper half that was visible to him from the pilot’s chair with an expression of mock intrigue, an idle hand stroking his non-existent beard in thought. “I’d say green, but that might just be because your eyes are green, so I’m gonna nix that guess and say… blue. No - yellow.”
Eden only raised her eyebrows in response, crossing her arms even tighter over her chest.
“Purple? Violet? I dunno, those colors are the same, right?” Atton asked, shaking his head. “Are there… more colors? Sith are easy to guess, but Jedi--”
It’s was cerulean, she thought with an internal laugh, realizing the inanity of it. Neither blue nor green, but pale and somewhere in between. Single hilt but dual wielded. Both her long and her short sword were the same shade of pale seafoam, wanting to emulate Kavar’s blue saber, truest blue as the Guardian he was, but also green in honor of her brother and her then-Master, Atris, the only Master willing to teach her then, even if it was as an Historian, a role that wholly did not suit her.
“Wouldn’t you know? I thought you fought alongside the Jedi.”
Eden was calling him out now, but Atton only laughed, trying to buy himself time while he thought of another witty comeback, ultimately failing.
“Well, whatever color it was, sure would be nice to have it now. Might make those Sith think twice before coming after us.”
Eden shook her head, even if she understood where a spacer like Atton was coming from.
“A lightsaber wouldn’t make a difference, trust me,” Eden relented. “Sure it’s better than a blaster, but it would only put more of a target on our backs.”
Atton paused, really considering Eden now as he soaked in her words, perhaps surprised by her response.
“Fine, forget I said anything.” Atton turned away from her after a moment, shaking his head. “Better get comfortable, though. It’s a few days’ ride to Telos. We’re not out of this just yet.”
Eden nodded, turning the co-pilot’s seat all the way around to view the hallway behind her. Her eyes traced the piping on the walls as they led into the dark, where the passage turned slightly before opening up to the security room, wondering what Kreia was doing now in the dormitory she had claimed.
“No, we’re not,” Eden affirmed, her eyes still fixed on the shadow of the hall, but her mind far away, stuck somewhere between the past and present. She wondered what had become of her twin sabers, if either still remained. One, she’d left at Alek’s feet. The other she’d staked into the hideous statue at the center of the Coruscant Council chamber. “Not by a long shot.”
#atton x exile#kotor 2#atton rand#the jedi exile#star wars#fan fic#my writing#as I finally approach this scene in out of the abyss I found myself just writing it before I even finished exploring peragus lmao#but peragus is a drag I think we can all agree on that
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A Conversation Between Vessel and Wyrm
So, I know I’ve never posted my writing here before but this scene has been playing in my head for days and I just need to share it. The premise is based on @chipper-smol ‘s shitlordAU where Ghost somehow goes back it time to when they and the Pure Vessel were kids, and decide to absolutely torment their Father in between finding a way to kill the Radiance. It’s such a fantastic AU rife with opportunities for both humor and angst. Anyone who reads this should totally check out chipper’s work!
(This turned out longer than expected: ~2700 words, so the rest is under the Keep Reading tab)
Ghost leaned back and tilted their head to the side, observing their painting with a critical eye. The corridor in which they worked was dark, but the barest glow of the occasional lumifly that flitted about the palace halls provided just enough light for Ghost to be able to make out the dark lines of ink they had scrawled across the white wall. They nodded to themself in approval. The painting, while quite sloppy, could at least be recognized as the Pale King with monstrously exaggerated teeth and a grotesque tongue. They rubbed their chin thoughtfully, unwittingly getting some of the black ink on their mask, as they pondered if there was something more they could add to the painting to make it even less flattering.
Their current prank was one outside of Ghost’s typical inclinations. Until the Queen had begun to teach Ghost to write, they never held much interest for anything to do with a brush and ink. They had found Sheo’s art beautiful or interesting certainly, and they marveled at the skill with which the retired nailmaster could wield a brush – but such things never appealed to Ghost. There had been so much they needed to do at the time that learning about art seemed unnecessary. But now that they were learning to write, Ghost realized that art could be used to communicate just as much as words, and the motions of painting were somewhat easier for them than the neat script they were attempting to master. Sheo hadn’t lied when he said the strokes of a brush were not unlike the strokes of a nail, and Ghost had found they enjoyed the act of creating something that others could see and understand.
This particular painting was not their best, but it wasn’t intended to be. It was intended to stir up the Knights and bother the Pale King, to prove yet again that Ghost could think and feel – and to illustrate how they felt about the King.
Ghost didn’t notice the approaching bug until the shadow eclipsed the faint lumifly light they were using to paint by. Ghost froze as the shadow slipped over them. Their shoulders tensed as they prepared for the cold hand of a Kingsmould to grip the collar of their cloak, or a loud scolding from Dryya. When neither came, Ghost dared a hesitant glance over their shoulder. Shock rang through them like a stag-bell when they found not a Kingsmould, nor one of the Five Knights behind them.
It was the Pale King.
Ghost went ridged, half prepared to bolt and debating if doing so was worth the effort. Their painting was meant to be discovered after all, and it would never have been any question by whose hands the crude caricature had been created. But the King’s gaze focused not on the guilty Vessel standing before him. Rather, he appeared to be studying Ghost’s painting, his secondary hands clasped behind his back and while his primary ones rested in the wide sleeves of his robe. The Pale King’s unusually calm demeanor unnerved Ghost and they slowly turned to face the Wyrm, their hand almost instinctively reaching for the reassuring hilt of a nail that was no longer there.
“A remarkable likeness.” When not raised in anger the Pale King’s voice was almost as melodious as the White Lady’s. Ghost cocked their head enough to glance between their painting and the King in disbelief. The painting, while recognizable as the King by the crown-like horns, was by no means a “remarkable likeness” to the actual subject. Ghost had deliberately made the painting as messy and obnoxious as possible. Perhaps sensing Ghost’s disbelief, the King unclasped a secondary hand from behind his back and raised it toward the painting.
“I imagine that this is how you must see me,” he murmured. “I cannot truthfully say it is all that far from accurate.”
Before Ghost could process the meaning of the King’s words, the Pale Wyrm finally turned his gaze on them. The weight of that unwavering attention felt like a heavy pressure against Ghost’s shell and they found themself tensing, feeling as if the Pale King was staring right into them. It was unusual for the King to actually look at Ghost without some other distraction dividing his attention – distractions Ghost typically crafted – and they weren’t certain they liked the scrutiny of the King’s abrupt interest in them. Despite the fact that Ghost now stood taller than the King, they felt suddenly small.
“Vessel-“ he began, but stopped before the word fully left his mouth. He gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “Ghost. If I may have a word with you somewhere more comfortable?”
So startled by the Pale King’s use of their name and the phrasing of the request as a question rather than an order, Ghost found themself nodding yes without really considering the consequences. They followed the Wyrm with their thoughts swimming. This was not the kind of response they had come to expect from the King – anger, yes, shouting, almost certainly. But this calm, quiet passivity left Ghost uneasy and they struggled not to fiddle with the hem of their cloak as they walked behind the King, following him down corridor after corridor. As they walked, Ghost began to notice that the pale white light that the king always seemed to give off was much fainter than they remembered. Perhaps the Wyrm was suppressing the glow to avoid disturbing any sleeping bugs whose rooms they passed.
With a final turn the two of them entered a veranda that overlooked a vast garden glowing bright with thousands of lumiflies – no doubt one of the Queen’s creations, though Ghost didn’t recall ever coming to this particular garden with their mother. The King gracefully lifted himself up to sit upon the short wall that separated the tiled veranda from the garden, his wings flaring slightly to aid his balance. Ghost stared, uncertain of what to do. They were fine with breaking formalities for the sake of rebellion, but at the moment the King was adhering to no formalities for Ghost to go against. It made them feel strangely directionless. They fidgeted. They didn’t like this feeling. The King lifted a secondary hand to gesture to the space beside him, keeping his primary hands nestled in the sleeves of his robes.
“Would you care to sit with me?”
Ghost rocked forward to oblige but halted before even taking a step, instead crossing their arms over their chest and staring at the Pale King expectantly. While they could not fathom what all of this was about, they could clearly sense there was something specific the King wanted to say. Ghost waited and the King sighed, turning his head to look out over the garden.
“It has come to my attention that you have begun spending some time with the Pure Vessel.”
Ghost didn’t move. So what if they had? Pure was not some hollow thing, no matter how much they pretended to be in order to appease their Father. Ghost knew the Knights went to great lengths to keep the two siblings away from each other, but that didn’t mean Ghost didn’t seek Pure out from time to time. When they were alone, Pure sometimes even relaxed a little, and showed sparks of interest in the language of hand-signs Ghost was crafting with the Queen. Their meetings were few and far between, as Pure’s life was strictly regimented and Pure would never go against something they were told to do, but their meetings had been occurring with more frequency after the sparing match Ghost had instigated.
“This cannot be permitted.”
Indignation sparked through Ghost and they clenched their hands against their folded arms. The Pale King let out a long breath and turned on the wall to face them, his expression unreadable.
“I must admit, was wrong about you.”
Ghost stared, their anger faltering somewhat. Making their hands into fists, Ghost held them up in front of their chest with their thumbs pointed toward themself. With a quick twist of their right fist, Ghost pointed their right thumb upwards. The motion meant “how” – in what way was the King wrong about them. Ghost wasn’t sure if the King knew any of the signs they used with their Mother, but it was what they had. The King at least continued as if he understood the motion.
“You were never hollow – only a fool would watch your mayhem and attempt to claim otherwise. For a time, I have ridiculed myself for allowing you to remain here with the Pure Vessel. I believed you should have been removed.”
The King’s gaze had shifted down to stare at his primary hands resting in his lap. Ghost could see, now, that they were stained a dark black that stood out starkly against his silver robes. A black so deep and bottomless it looked like it would leech the light out of the room around it. A black so similar to the void of which Ghost was made … Ghost went cold as they suddenly comprehended what the Pale King was implying – that they should have been killed. Discarded into the abyss. The King shifted and Ghost dropped into a defensive stance as their whole body trembled with sudden fear, once again reaching for the hilt of a nail that was no longer there. But the King only lifted his head to meet Ghost’s eyes.
“It was wrong of me to believe that.” He paused only long enough to take a deep breath before continuing. “You are a sentient being, very full of life and will, with a personality all your own. To believe that I have any right to take that from you is a crime against everything I have built Hollownest around. And to see the way my Root adores you … how could I ever take you away from her?”
The raw honesty in the Pale King’s voice made Ghost hesitantly stand from the half crouch they’d fallen into. He…cared? He cared that Ghost could feel? Enough so for it to stay his hand in killing them, when he’d never hesitated with all of their lost kin in the abyss far below? Why? Was it because he knew without a doubt that Ghost was not hollow, and could not delude himself into thinking otherwise as he had with the others? Or was it because the Queen had taken a liking to Ghost and going against her wishes would cause strife between them? Ghost almost didn’t hear the King’s next words, but at the mention of Pure their attention was quickly pulled back to the Pale King.
“But the Pure Vessel is a different matter. It has a purpose – one whose success or failure will determine the fate of every bug in Hollownest.” The tentative hope spurred by the King’s acknowledgment of Ghost’s sentience vanished as the King continued to speak, and unease began to worm its way through Ghost’s chest. “You are not hollow, of this there is no doubt, but the Pure Vessel must remain as such if it is to succeed. The more you are around it, the more likely it is to begin to feel. If it sees the leniency with which you are treated, it may begin to develop a will of its own, and all of the sacrifices made to protect this kingdom will have been for naught. You must stay away from the Pure Vessel to preserve that hollowness for which it was created.”
Rage thundered through Ghost at the King’s words and they sharply signed “You are wrong”. Pure had never been hollow. The King’s plan had already failed, doomed from the very beginning, and Ghost refused to let their sibling go through that suffering again. That was the whole reason they were here – to stop the radiance before their sibling was sacrificed, before Hollownest fell to ruin. The King blinked at the venom in Ghost’s movements as their hands flittered through the signs for disgust, for being too late, for refusal. They were too angry to keep the motions smooth and they shook as that fiery emotion pounded through them. Even if the King could not understand all of the motions, the message was clear: They refused to stay away from Pure.
The Pale King’s brow pinched in anger and his wings flared slightly.
“There is no other way to keep Hollownest safe,” he rumbled, his voice tight with controlled anger, but Ghost shook their head. The King’s hands clenched into fists. “We have tried everything else. Without something to contain the Radiance and Her infection, Hollownest will fall and every bug in the Kingdom will be corrupted. I cannot doom the entirety of my people to an existence of mindless misery for the sake of any one bug. If you continue to interfere with the Pure Vessel, you will condemn everyone in Hollownest to a living death. Surely you must understand this! I know you are not blind – you have been outside of the palace, you have almost certainly seen those the Radiance has already corrupted.”
The Pale King had no idea just how much suffering Ghost had seen at the hands of the Radiance’s infection. The memory of Pure’s eyes filled with the yellow light of the Radiance swam up and Ghost recoiled as they remembered the wretched agony in their sibling’s motions as they turned their nail on themself, trying to cut the infection away. No. The King could not possibly understand just how much Ghost knew about the pain the spreading infection caused. They shook their head, feeling oddly ill as they clenched their trembling hands into fists at their sides in their sign for “I’m done speaking to you”. They turned sharply and moved to leave the veranda.
“If there was any other way, I swear to you I would take it,” the Pale King whispered to Ghost’s back, his voice soft with some kind of emotion. Regret? “But I cannot See any other path that will slow the Infection’s spread.”
Ghost straightened, spinning to meet the King’s gaze with a furious glare. Of course he could not know of any other way. He was looking at this problem from a completely different angle than Ghost. He was trying to find a way to slow the infection, to contain it, while simultaneously trapping and starving the Radiance in a Vessel of Void. He could See no way to remove the infection at its source. Ghost realized that while the Pale King had a measure of Foresight, his Sight must be limited to the scope of the knowledge he already possessed. He did not know of the Seer, of the Dreamnail, of Godseeker. He could not fight the Radiance directly, not without a way to enter Dream and face the enraged Goddess, and so he was attempting to defeat her in this roundabout manner. Did he know his doomed plan would ultimately fail, but believe it to be the only way to buy his people time?
“You are wrong,” Ghost signed, pointing at the king and lifting their thumb and pinky in a gesture under their chin. They then closed their fist and pointed their thumb to the side before using both hands to imitate the sides of a path: “There is another way.”
The King’s brow furrowed and he shook his head.
“I do not understand.”
Ghost opened and closed their fists at their sides in frustration. Even if the King could understand their signs, Ghost did not have the gestures for the ideas they would need in order to convey their plan to the Pale King. Their anger cooled somewhat, shifting to a steady burn in the pit of their being rather than the all-consuming fury that had raged through them not moments before, and they realized that if they could find a way to explain their plan to the King, he might help them find the Seer. If he knew there was another way, would he help them do it?
“I don’t have the words to explain,” Ghost signed by drawing a finger over their throat. They held up their index fingers a little ways apart, then made an ‘L’ with their right hand, pressing their thumb into their raised left palm and twisting their right hand so the ‘L’ was upside down: “I will tell you later.”
They did not wait for the king to respond before turning and storming out of the veranda, their mind ablaze.
The Pale King could not See that there was another way.
So Ghost would make him See.
#hollow knight#Ghost hk#Pale King HK#my writing#this ended up more serious than intended but it was sooooo much fun to write
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Whumptober 2021 - Day 4
No. 4 - TRUST FALL
“Do you trust me?” | taken hostage | pushed
Word of Honor EP18, alternative scene, Wenzhou, 1.8K, see tags for more info - AO3 link
Masterpost
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"Let me take the lead. You cover me." Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing were standing at a cliff, the drug men behind them approaching fast. "Or what? If the pioneer dies," Zhou Zishu remarked with a smile, "could I be alive by myself? It wasn't like we didn't go through an extremely dangerous place before." Wen Kexing smirked in response. "I think of a story.
There is a man in the desert..." Although amused, Zhou Zishu was thinking of the drug men on their backs. "Philanthropist Wen, I've heard about this story before." Wen Kexing couldn't help but let out a little laugh. "Alright, let's go." He took a few steps back and then ran into a leap over the chasm, landing safely on the ledge on the other side. Turning around, he looked at Zhou Zishu expectantly. "Ah-Xu, come here!"
One last time, Zhou Zishu glanced over his shoulder at the approaching drug men. Taking his chance, he leaped into the air with his gaze fixed on Wen Kexing. This allowed the latter to see in Zhou Zishu's face the exact moment something went wrong. His eyes snapped open in shock as one of the drug men dug its claws into his calf. Equally shocked, Wen Kexing held his arm out for Zhou Zishu to grab his hand. Yet, Zhou Zishu struggled to stay in the air, the weight of the drug man dragging him down. He missed Wen Kexing's hand and even the edge of the ledge until his fingers finally found hold at the lower end of the ledge. "Ah-Xu!"
The drug man was tearing into Zhou Zishu's flesh well. Careful not to lose his grip, he kicked at the drug man's head with his free leg until it let go and fell into the abyss. "Ah-Xu!" Wen Kexing sounded more frantic after not getting an immediate response. Zhou Zishu looked up to see Wen Kexing lying on his stomach and leaning over the edge. "Ah-Xu, are you alright?" - "I think," Zhou Zishu responded hesitantly.
Suddenly, tiny rocks and dirty rained down on him as Wen Kexing wiggled forward and held out an arm. Zhou Zishu just barely avoided one of the bigger rocks. "Ahh careful, Lao Wen." Apologetically, Wen Kexing wiggled with his fingers. "Ah, sorry, Ah-Xu. Can you grab my hand?" Looking up at the offer, Zhou Zishu calculated his options. In fact, Zhou Zishu could not reach it. His fingers were barely holding onto the rock as it was. With no rock left below him to stabilize himself with his feet, he wasn't sure if pulling himself up to reach Lao Wen's hand wouldn't make him lose his grip entirely. "Lao Wen, I can't," he replied silently. "Ah-Xu, just grab my hand. I got you."
Zhou Zishu lifted his head again just to see Wen Kexing's pleading eyes. Okay, he could give it a shot. Gathering his strength, Zhou Zishu pulled himself halfway up with both arms before reaching one out towards the sky but his efforts were in vain. He had simply fallen too far down for Wen Kexing to reach him. Yet, the one reaching out to him wasn't about to give up. Wen Kexing tried to make his arm as long as possible, leaning even more dangerously over the edge. Some loose rocks tumbled. Trying to avoid the worst of it, Zhou Zishu swayed causing his grip to slip. At the last moment, he managed to catch himself again. He let out a deep sigh. "Lao Wen, there's no use. You're too far up for me to reach."
With worry, Wen Kexing looked down at Zhou Zishu until an idea seemed to pop-up in his head. "Ah-Xu. Just hold on a little longer. I'll be right back." Zhou Zishu reacted a little perplexed. "Sure", he reassured him with weariness in his voice but Wen Kexing had already left. A few moments passed and he returned with a vine he was busily tying around his waist. "Where did you get this?", Zhou Zishu asked surprised. "They are growing in these mountains. I ripped one of the wall."
"Alright, all set. Ah-Xu, just grab the vine. I'll pull you up." Wen Kexing let down the vine which turned out to be long enough, thankfully. Tentatively, Zhou Zishu reached one arm out to the vine, giving it a light tug before grasping it firmly. He heard Wen Kexing grunt from above. "I'm fine, I'm fine. Go on, Ah-Xu." Now even less confident, Zhou Zishu continued, letting go of the wall and clinging to the vine. What Wen Kexing hadn't accounted for was that Zhou Zishu's palms were scraped raw. Thus, when Wen Kexing began to pull Zhou Zishu up, he lost his grip. In panic, Zhou Zishu managed to grab onto the rock, now a few feet lower, before falling inevitably. At the sudden loss of the weight, Wen Kexing fell on his back. Scrambling to his knees, he peered over the edge again. "Ah-Xu? Ah-Xu? What went wrong?" Zhou Zishu let out a weary sigh. "My hands. I can't hold onto the vines."
This was obvious bad news. Out of ideas, Zhou Zishu could do nothing except trying his best to hang on. In the meantime, Wen Kexing had come up with a risky, last-resort kinda idea. Wen Kexing change the knot he had used to fix the rope around him and secured the other end safely on a rock formation he had tested beforehand. Zhou Zishu had meant to ask him how things were going when he saw Wen Kexing coming up beside him."Lao Wen?"
"Ah-Xu, do you trust me?" Zhou Zishu turned to look at him quizzically. "Do I have a choice?" Despite the dire situation, Wen Kexing couldn't suppress a chuckle. "Aiya, Ah-Xu! Your pioneer isn't dead yet. Just hold onto me." Shakily, Zhou Zishu removed one hand from his hold on the wall and wrapped it around Wen Kexing's neck. One arm immediately flung out to wrap around his waist. "It's alright, Ah-Xu. I got you." With a push, Zhou Zishu moved his whole weight into Wen Kexing's arms, both arms wrapping around his neck. While he was at it, he wrapped his legs around his waist as well. You can't be too sure, Zhou Zishu thought. Wen Kexing chuckled again but didn't say anything about it. "Ready, Ah-Xu? All you have to do is hold tight." His face buried in Wen Kexing's neck, Zhou Zishu hummed affirmatively.
Of his next step, Wen Kexing was less sure. And Zhou Zishu probably wouldn't like it. Wen Kexing fumbled with the knot to rappel them further down. Despite wondering why they were moving down instead of up, Zhou Zishu couldn't help but admire Wen Kexing's niche-knowledge. Zhou Zishu wasn't familiar with the kind of knot Wen Kexing was using. It allowed oneself to rappel down while also being extremely strong and secure to hold two people. Deeming the distance far enough from the ledge, Wen Kexing stopped and took a deep breathe. "Now comes the fun part, Ah-Xu." Using the weight of their bodies, Wen Kexing began to swing back and forth. Instinctively, Zhou Zishu wrapped himself tighter around Wen Kexing but did help him, although still not really knowing what he was actually helping him with. It took a while to gain enough momentum. Swinging under the ledge, the gained height only slowly but eventually they could see over the ledge. Only a few swings more, Wen Kexing thought when the vine snapped at their highest point. Surprised by the sudden loss of the pull, they fell from the sky uncoordinated.
Wen Kexing hit the ground first, cushioning Zhou Zishu's impact. Both men let out a grunt. Laughing in relief, Wen Kexing caressed Zhou Zishu's head and back. "Ah-Xu. We did it." Wen Kexing closed his eyes, catching his breathe. However, even after a few moments, Zhou Zishu didn't stir. Sobering up instantly, Wen Kexing moved his hands to the shoulders to softly shake the unresponsive man. "Ah-Xu. Ah-Xu, what's wrong?" Wen Kexing pulled himself out from under the dead weight. Then, he tugged Zhou Zishu into his lap. Scanning his body for injuries, Wen Kexing's eyes came to a halt on the growing blood stain on Zhou Zishu's robes. Carefully laying him down, he moved to assess the injured leg. The drug man had dung deep into the muscle tissue. The three slashes were bleeding profusely. Quickly, Wen Kexing tapped the acupuncture points to stop the bleeding. Next, he tore a strip of fabric from his own robes to wrap the wound.
Of course, Zhou Zishu had not been able to do that himself. He probably hadn't even felt how badly he was injured, Wen Kexing thought. Hence, with the blood loss and the adrenaline wearing off Zhou Zishu had simply slipped into unconsciousness. Making sure not to overlook any other injuries, Wen Kexing took Zhou Zishu's pulse. He let out a deep sigh. The drug men were naturally poisonous.
"Ah-Xu! Hey, Ah-Xu! Wake up!" Zhou Zishu groaned, but Wen Kexing needed a little more than that. "Ah-Xu. The drug man poisoned you. Where is that nice little antidote of yours?" Keeping his eyes closed, Zhou Zishu weakly lifted on arm to tab his chest. Wen Kexing had certainly imagined a different situation to go through Zhou Zishu's robes. And he also realized that he much rather have him complaining about his curious fingers. But instead, Zhou Zishu just watched him work through half-lidded eyes. Having found the right vial, Wen Kexing shook out a pill and held it in front of Zhou Zishu's lips, dropping it once Zhou Zishu parted his lips a litte.
Sitting down next to him, Wen Kexing kept watch over him and waited while feeding him a bit of qi. Still weak, Zhou Zishu opened his eyes some more to peer at Wen Kexing. "Lao Wen. I'm fine. I just need to rest for a bit." Wen Kexing hmphed. "You can rest. But somewhere more comfortable." With these words, he got up, put an arm under Zhou Zishu's back and knees, and lifted him up.
The little sound of pain emanating from his chest didn't escape Zhou Zishu's attention. A hand landed softly on Wen Kexing's chest. "Lao Wen, you're hurt too?" Wen Kexing couldn't hide a little smile. Injured, worried Ah-Xu was cute. "Well, I did cushion your fall." Ultimately, Zhou Zishu frowned up at him. "You really need to stop doing that, Lao Wen." Carrying Zhou Zishu off into the rock tunnel, Wen Kexing replied, "I will once you stop falling from high places." Pretty out of it and exhausted, Zhou Zishu leaned his head against Wen Kexing's shoulder and closed his eyes. "I'll try", he murmured before falling asleep in Wen Kexing's embrace.
#whumptober2021#no.4#do you trust me#word of honor#fic#blood#flesh wound#unconscious#hights#poisoned#wenzhou#zhou zishu#wen kexing#word of honor fic#woh fic
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{ Mysterious Stranger | skz }
h.hyunjin x reader
Chapter 5: De la lumière des ténèbres naît
Genre: Dark!au, Thriller-ish, Fantasy!au
Warnings: Some cursing, mention of weapons/blood/demons, fighting occurs, mentions of kidnapping, nightmares
((if anything else needs to be tagged/warned about please send me a message..i’ll fix it asap))
Word Count: 3k (ish)
Note: I AM ONCE AGAIN SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. Life made my brain shut down for a while, but this chapter is here! finally!! This chapter is a littleee short, but more will come soon and its ab to get s p i c y. Hope y’all enjoy!
Chapter Song: You Can Run - Adam Jones
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“It’s time”
I woke with a start in an unfamiliar bed. My hands grasped at the scratchy covers feeling as though I was suffocating. I took note of how cold it must have been by the mist of my breath blurring my vision as I struggled to crawl out of the bed. My body ached and my lungs burned with each heavy, rasping breath that rattled my chest.
My eyes searched the room frantically even through my brain’s panicked haze. I found myself crawling on my hands and knees, dragging my body towards a window at the corner of the small, door-less barren room. As my numb, shaking hands grasped the edge of the windowsill I gasped, looking out into swirling inky blackness. I staggered back as quickly as possible, fearing that the longer I would look, the more I would see, and the less I would want to.
I took deep breaths, steadying my aching palms on my knees before shutting my heavy eyelids for a moment of reprieve. When I finally felt calm I slowly peeled my now sticky with exhaustion eyelids apart and tried to take in my surroundings. As I looked toward the area I knew I had been lying in bed before, I realized I was somewhere completely new to me.
Somehow, this place felt familiar, as if the taste of it’s name had once graced my tongue with its syllables, yet I got a sense that it was different. As I stood straight I compared these feelings of a wistful familiarity to leaving home for college and coming back home to a city overrun with distasteful gentrification. A childhood stolen and sold while one was away.
I could almost hear symphonies and see golden halls filled with people I did not know and music I had never heard, but now as I breathed in air permeated thickly with tar-like smoke, it felt as though those scenes of paradise were in the past or possibly had yet to come at all.
My brow furrowed as my fingers, still tingling with numbness, curled inwards into fists at the discomfort settling in my gut. I sighed, taking in the asphalt covering the ground and the barren trees sparsely creaking in the seemingly unending wasteland before me. Though normally I would question this strange situation I felt as though I knew all of the answers.
Perhaps in this strange land I may have not even been myself, but I found no time to inquire about this revelation as I looked forward, determined and began to run. My feet pounded against the ground beneath my feet as I ran towards the abyss staring back at me as if maybe, if I could find it in myself to run fast enough, I would be able to reach those symphonic halls and find the everlasting peace I longed for so much. Maybe I would find my mother.
I woke up gasping, cold and alone in a dark and damp room. The room itself smelt of smoke and wax, as if only ever lit by candles. Taking into consideration how little I could see at the moment, I presumed it must have been a while ago those candles had held flame. My eyes tried to scan my surrounding area, but through the thick veil of inky blackness, I could see nothing but the colored spots that often danced behind my eyelids.
I took a deep breath, sitting up from my uncomfortable position on the floor and soon, as I became more alert and aware of my situation, I realized that both of my hands had been bound tightly by thick coils of rope. I wasn’t sure how long I had been here, but judging by the warm, slick feeling of blood beginning to slip down my wrists from the compressed tension of the rope, I assumed it had been a while.
My head was pounding with a dull, throbbing headache and my stomach rolled as I made a move to get on my feet. I tried to determine what way to walk, eventually finding my way to one of the walls, but by the time I felt as though I had walked around the same cold and hard concrete four walls one to many times to count, my legs gave out. I wasn’t any more sure of my surroundings and with my knees now surely bruising and bleeding I sighed heavily, trying to recall what had occurred to land me in this situation.
I racked my brain but the ache in my head was making my thoughts hazy. Just as I began to come to a clearer conclusion of what had occurred there was a sudden clang reverberating from somewhere nearby on the other side of one of these four walls. My head whipped around swiftly to try and stare into the direction the sound had come from. My lips moved to form words of inquiry, but the tone died at my strained vocal chords as I thought of what could possibly be the source of such a strange and ominous noise.
I stood again, slower this time, making sure not to make too much of a sound and my eyes darted to a small crack emitting a flickering orange light. My steps were loud in the silence, my eyes adjusting too slow to the dim lighting. Soon, as I approached the source, a loud creaking sound could be heard from the wall adjacent to me. I flinched, spots dancing in front of my eyes at the sudden light coming from in front of me, and I began backing up at the back-lit figure now moving in my direction.
As my eyes began to adjust, my brow furrowed deeply at the hooded figure staying by the only exit to the strange room I had found myself in. My feet shuffled backwards, the noise of the scraping alerted the shape in front of me as they began their slow creep towards my now cowering figure. I readied myself, squaring my shoulders and holding my breath as they approached, prepared to run or comply, whatever would allow me to make some kind of an escape. I knew, however, that I knew nothing here. I was in their domain now, like some kind of caged animal, and I was antsy to learn all that I could about this strange situation.
A feeling akin to panic rose in my chest and it became hard to quell the sounds of my harshly beating heart as the figure let out a low hum, looking over me and slowly rounding my silhouette, seemingly assessing my state of being. I let out a breath as they took a small number of steps away from my shivering form and dug my nails into my palms, so tightly I was sure they’d bleed, to compose myself as they began to turn back towards the still open doorway to this strange room. I watched their figure, taking small quiet steps behind them to question what I could see beyond this enclosure.
“Follow me.” A deep, gravely voice uttered, not turning back to face me. I nearly gasped, but bit my tongue as I was still in shock behind them. Their footsteps stilled suddenly, as they turned their head in my direction, humming out a noise I was sure meant I had no room to not comply with their wishes. I silently scanned their profile for a glimpse at their features.
However, even with the light protruding from the outside of this room The hood over their head blocked any recognizable feature from view. Their robes that hid their build were eerily familiar and I noticed my thoughts drifting to the interaction between myself and the robed figures before. The royal purple shone with the man’s movement like swirling liquid of entrancement, the gold thread lining the outsides of the glistened threateningly even in the low light surrounding us.
I noticed my brow furrowing as I took place behind the man, nodding my head softly in confirmation that I was willing to listen. Every idea of escape began to swirl in the background of my mind as the forefront was overruled with thoughts of finding the truth. Finding my mother.
As my feet shuffled tiredly, slowly copying the movements of the man guiding me and my eyes adjusted painfully to the brighter lights I found myself faintly wondering where I was located and how far I was from the men who had only recently taken me in. My thoughts came to a stop soon however as I took in the corridor now in front of me.
My feet stumbled, my once tightly set jaw going limp as I looked around these ornate concrete catacombs surrounding me. It felt surreal as I stared up, the high ceilings lined with carved statues of heroes and monsters catching my eyes.
There were sections cut out of the smooth, grey stone that held flames of a more red color than I had ever seen before. The man continued forwards, his footsteps echoing loudly in the silent hall, but my feet were still as I tried to snap out of my shock, hearing the shuffling sound of others nearby. I assumed at first they must be the other robed figures I presumed he was taking me to, but as my eyes scanned the walls inquisitively I noticed other cell like rooms containing more people bound and miserable.
My brow furrowed in thought as I rushed to catch up with the figure now leaving me behind and I vowed under my breath to figure out what was happening around me currently.
The walk down the corridor felt as though it had taken years, but I blamed that on the tight feeling of anxiety rising in my chest and the dry desert that was my throat due to seemingly hours of dehydration. The turns made my stomach churn as I tried counting the amount of times we were turning and in what direction, memorizing the patterns. The man suddenly stopped as my thoughts were far from what was occurring and his hand shot out to clasp my shoulder, the feeling shaking me out of the swirling thoughts in my mind and forcing my head to snap upwards to notice the large, dark wooden doors now residing in front of me.
“The elders will meet with you soon. Don’t stray too far and don’t go poking your nose where it doesn’t belong. I’ll be back to bring you back to your quarters.” The deep voice said to me. The tone made me eye him suspiciously, the anxiety rising through my chest and claiming my throat now at the implications behind his words. I sighed softly and nodded my head as confirmation as he turned and began walking back the way we had come moments before. As his footsteps receded I replayed his words in my head while turning my hands in their ropes trying to test how hard it would be to get out of my restraints.
His words felt oddly familiar and I tried racking my brain for any means I would have to help me out of this uncomfortable situation, but just as I began muttering the words spoken to me out loud the doors in front of me slowly began creaking and shuttering as they were pushed open, revealing their contents to my eyes.
The room itself was large, much larger than I expected, and I was almost unable to make out the shape or size in its entirety due to the darkness shrouding every inch currently. I tried whipping my head around, searching for who had opened the door or any other sign of an “elder” around me, but I was left longing, confusing, and panicked as I was left in eerie silence and solitude. I inhaled sharply, the air burning my lungs in a refreshing manner, squaring my shoulders once again and determinedly taking a few steps inside.
I held my breath as I used all the senses I could still rely on to assess my situation. My footsteps resonated loudly throughout the echoing room.
I jumped as a voice suddenly boomed from in front of me, stating my name loudly. Stumbling backwards slightly my eyes darted back and forth, searching for some kind of figure to settle upon. My eyes could faintly make out the shape of large figures towering above me.
Candles were settled at the edge of the platform in front of them, allowing me to see that there were six of them, all of which were wearing matching robes to the other’s I had seen before.
I muttered a prayer to any god I could think of before taking a deep breath in and trying to pay as much attention to the minute details as my foggy, dehydrated brain would allow. I noticed each of them had a glowing pendant that looked well crafted and eerily similar to the ornate designs of the dagger I had been given before.
I gasped as they spoke to each other quietly in a language I was sure I had never heard before. I listened intently, searching for some kind of meaning in the way their tongues were curling around the foreign words. Finally, the large one stood towards the middle of the group spoke up, in a language I could understand this time.
I couldn’t catch every word, my consciousness feeling as though it was sand slipping through an hourglass, but there were a few words that stuck out to me. My senses perked up at the implications each had and I racked my brain for what they could have been connected to, coming up with nothing but questions and dizzy confusion.
“the one blinded”
“vengeance”
“the full moon”
“duty”
“sacrifice”
Their words were making less and less sense as my face contorted at the last word and sweat began to bead at my brow. I blinked harshly, feeling my face become wet with tears that I couldn’t remember crying. I could hear voices, footsteps, but my legs felt like lead and my head felt heavy.
There were gaps of time that felt impossibly thick and suddenly I was alert, staring at the large man’s face that was now riddled with unbridled shock. A rough, calloused gasp left his lips and suddenly he took a step forward, his hood shifting with the sudden stumble. My eyes went wide as the other hooded figures’ voices went silent.
I couldn’t tear my eyes from his pale, wrinkled face as I watched his eyes gather wet, thick tears and suddenly he coughed, once and then twice, before slick red blood began gathering at his pink, chapped lips. It formed a trail down his chin before a hooded figure, now visible to me as the man slumped to the ground with a dull and heavy thud, stood tall with a blade now visible in their hand. The blade itself I recognized instantly, but I was startled by the blood now coating its blade.
The murderous hooded figure made a turn so impossibly graceful it seemed as though it was practiced and almost playful before the other figures, the elders, made a panicked dash, blades in hand to exit and scatter. The treacherous man made daring moves after them, but only for a moment before he looked my way, his hood falling slightly allowing me a subtle glimpse at his impossibly golden eyes, before they darkened and darted towards something behind me.
I yelped loudly, thrashing around as someone grasped my sore, scabbed wrists until I heard a voice that filled me with relief. I nearly smiled or laughed at the impossible situation I was in when I heard him speak into my ear, his breath making me shiver.
“You need to run.” Hyunjin said, his hands gentle as he tore through the ropes binding my wrists. He made a quick motion with his hands and spoke words I feared I would never know the meaning of to the other traitor before making a move to run in the direction opposite to where I was being pointed to run. Just as I took a shaky breath in, rubbing the sorest part of my wrists softly and wincing at the pain it caused, he turned back, his hood now down and his golden hair sweaty and stuck to his face in patterns that made my head spin.
His eyes twinkled even in the dim light of the candles and a mischievous smirk played at the corners of his lips as he stared back at me. He took two steps back in my direction, something I never expected, and reached his hand out towards me slowly, as not to startle me.
“You know, I said I really don’t like babysitting.” He said, speaking softly, as if almost hoping I wouldn’t hear him as he pushed a strand of my hair back so that it wouldn’t fall out of its original resting place. His hand drifted down, barely touching my arm as it ran its course causing my skin to break out in goosebumps. “And I am real sick of having to keep giving this back to you.” He laughed out, placing my blade back into my open palms gently.
I looked at it shocked, feeling its weight sink into my palm as if it belonged there, like an extension of myself. Then, my eyes darted back up to his face, softer than I had ever seen it before if only for a brief moment before his features hardened again.
“Now. Get out of here and don’t look back. Someone’s waiting on you.” He whispered to me, his voice gruff with an emotion I couldn’t quite place and wouldn’t dare question. He then turned on his heel, decidedly making his way towards a future I wasn’t sure of and I found myself wishing I would have found the strength to say something as I listened to his advice and began to run.
I recalled my dream, my feet pounding against the ground, my hands numb, and a scene unfolding before my eyes, all around me. It was encompassing and terrifying, but full of promise from the past and for the future if only I could run fast enough through the suffocating darkness of the present.
#and it begins#mysterious stranger#hyunjin#hwang hyunjin#hyunjin x reader#straykids#straykids x reader#skz#skz x reader#reader insert#series#demon hunter#thriller#drama#getting somewhere#05
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this is a rant fic mostly. Ship Kit x Larry my oc for sally face. Warning for suicide talk.
Kit sat with her back to the wall, knees to her chest as endless tears fell down her round cheeks. Evidence of her breaking heart, sore and torn. It didn't take long for her to be found. She was at a party after all. Someone else house. Someone else plans. Someone else life in a way. The gathering of people all having a great time as they lose them selves to the bliss of alcohol and drugs. But she had thrown her euphorbia up. Expelled it a while ago, her stomach to weak for what she wanted. It sent her spiraling. Alone in the back of the house where there was no bathroom, no alcohol, no drunk girl to mess with.
Just her and now the slapping of approaching feet. She gasped, snapping her head up to meet the person. He fear calming when she saw the figure. His slight sway in his motion telling his inebriated state. He stopped his walk right in front of her then rested his forehead on the wall. He Looked down at her as his long brown hair flowed over his shoulders. Darkening his hazy expression. She hiccupped as her tears stopped. He raised his limp hand to her head. Rubbing the side of it and petting her droopy ear that laid against her. She leaned into his touch and sniffled. Closing her eyes for a moment until he spoke to her.
"What's the matter" he mumbled, voice hoarse from the burn of the night. She lowered her head back down and began to sob. Her halted tears starting up again. "Everything. This place, my place, my family, my job or lack there of. I'm stuck. Stuck in a house if man babies and a yelling step mom who doesn't believe anyone else can be upset or is allowed to be emotional. Its just like before. Like with my mom. Her abuse and intolerance of me even breathing. Like my ex and his habit of starting fights and putting words in my mouth just to storm of and make me beg for forgiveness. Its never better. Its only ever worse and worse" she rambled. She sat up to wipe her cheeks and try to take in deep breaths. Gasping for air that she needed. Her voice shaking in whines and chokes with her personal waterfall coming down her face. "Its all terrible and no matter how much I prepare for the future rent goes up and food goes up and I need to prepare more so I don't end up on the street. But it keeps going up and I mentally cant handle working full time all the time. But its an excuse, I'm just being lazy, I'm not gonna go anywhere in life like that. I don't matter, my comfort means nothing" she raised her voice. She took in one last big breath and her shoulders sank. Her hiccups subsided and her gasping lessened. She laid her head down on her knees as she loosely held her ankles. She sniffled while she looked at nothing. Taking in none of what she saw before her. "Kitten" the man began again. "Do you want to die" he wondered. Low and raspy. She blinked slowly then mumbled "Yes, more then id like to admit" she confessed.
"You want to leave forever into the abyss where no one can hurt you anymore and you can finally stop existing" he painted a picture with his words. Kit raised her head to look at him, her large eyes dull and red from her crying. "Larry" she whispered. He pushed back from the wall and moved over to the right. He dropped down beside her, his head still swaying a little. "I think about it a lot. Dying. How easy it be. How it would end everything. Sometimes I get angry. They say death doesn't happen to you it happens to the people around you. Sometimes I don't care if their sad about it cause they don't care about me now. Cause I'm not around to help them with their shit so they mourn a therapist that worked without the pay or benefits. And that scares me to. That I don't care. Are you the same Kitten" he turned his head to meet her gaze. She was still holding herself. Hunched to rest in her prompted up legs.
"Yes, I think about that to. No one would really be sad. I would disappear and they'd fake it but really they'd all be happy. After the initial shock and the anger of paying for a funeral. They'd feel lighter with out me. I wouldn't have to fight anymore just to be heard. Or be back handed for having emotions and opinions. In a way id be free from all of it, the manipulation, the trauma, capitalism. Sometimes I don't even care about losing the good things if it means I don't have to suffer the bad anymore" her voice was distant, low and hopeless. Carrying nothing but the shattered remains of her chaotic thoughts.
The man turned his head to look out at the scene in front if them. "Id be sad...though I don't think it matters much. Because id know you'd be at peace. Would you be worse off it I left" he babbled. The woman leaned over to rest herself on his large form. "If you left I would never stop crying. I would cry until my heart cant handle it anymore and I took the leap myself. Its dramatic I know. Selfish even" she moved closer to him. He leaned down and rested his head in top of hers. "Kit, I'm barely surviving. Like you, its all I think about when I'm alone. How much I want to die. How much I know you want to die. How you walked out into traffic and if that car didn't swerve you wouldn't even be here. How everyone forgets and pretends it never happened. Acting like your fine. No one prioritizes you. I think about how easy it be for you to disappear." He reached for her hand and gripped it tightly. She let him, intertwining their fingers. She looked up to see him begin to tear up. "I hate that we're losing, that the assholes of the world have pushed us so far that we want to die. How they keep coming and no one seems to care or wants to do anything about it cause people are just people. I hate watching you suffer, I hate how everyone you met has taken a piece of you, that's not fucking fair. I hate how everyone's taken a piece of me. I don't even know what I'm doing anymore. Or how to make myself happy" the man began to cry. The droplets running down his face as he clenched his jaw in frustration.
"Larry I wanna take you home. But that would mean taking you to the place you hate. Where some man has walked your floors acting like he owns the place. And I can't take you to my place. Not with the constant yelling and temper tantrums going on. The lack of privacy everywhere. Its better to just stay here and fall asleep against this wall. Maybe we wont wake up" the man hiccupped at her ramble. A smile forming on the side of his face. "Your about to say something cute like 'they'll find us here together and know we were best friends'" now she was the one to chuckle and smile. "Are you quoting mew mew power" she wondered. "Yeah" he held her tighter to stop the trembling of his hand. He ran his thumb along her hand. Trying to ground himself. The conversation ended. Both tired now and un able to move from their spot. The over whelming sadness anchoring them like stone to the floor and wall. Not like any of it mattered they concluded. They really could stay there and no one would care, no one would worry about them. They didn't matter to a soul. To the world around them.
#sally face#Larry jonson#sf larry#depression#inadequate#forgotten#not important#broken#unloved#who cares#personal rant#drowning#sallyface
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to taste the feathery light
A Darklina jurda parem as sex pollen AU, prompted by Anonymous. Title taken from Pollen by Michael Waters.
Read it on AO3 here.
“Aleksander?”
Alina made certain the door was firmly closed behind her before she approached.
He looked up from his pile of papers, concern evident upon his face despite whatever he was reading.
“What’s wrong, my love?”
She took a deep breath, and prayed to Saints in whom she didn’t believe that he would have an answer for her.
“What have you heard about jurda parem?”
He sat back down, and set the parchment in his hand back atop the pile. The true cost of an eternal war, she thought, was paperwork.
Unless the Shu destroyed them all with Grisha controlled by jurda parem first.
She sat down next to him.
He met her eyes. “Not enough.”
The world was spinning, and Alina was soaring above it. She could fly, she could truly touch the sun and take it for herself. She did not need to summon it when she could simply take it out of the sky, claim it for her own.
She did not stop to think about plunging the world into an eternal darkness until she felt Aleksander soaring next to her, taking her hand.
“Mine,” she muttered, seeking to swat his hand away, but instead, pulling it closer to herself, somehow placing it around her hip to cup her ass. Her hand curved around his neck, her fingers stretching towards his hair.
His hair, always so thick and luxuriant, much like his lips, and his beard, and his cock.
She moaned into his kiss, their mouths open wide, devouring the other, the sun and the moon chasing each other across the sky.
Her sunlight became a flame, a fire that would devour them both.
…
“There is someone I could contact,” she offered. “Someone in Ketterdam that may be able to help.”
Aleksander eyed her carefully. “Nina is there.” Be careful, he did not have to add.
She nodded. “I believe they know one another.”
If Aleksander realized who she meant, he did not say. Her escape from the Little Palace, her kidnapping, her flight from the Fold—it was all in the past. It did not matter.
Her mistakes—his mistakes—their mistakes—all were forgotten after she returned and convinced him to help her truly destroy his creations.
The histories did not detail how she convinced him, nor any of the prior mistakes, only that the Darkling and Alina Starkov saved Ravka from truly splitting in two. Not content to rest after their courageous victory, they returned to Os Alta to end the wars against the druskelle and the Shu once and for all.
Perhaps those who wrote the histories would not have been so quick to deem them heroes—or Saints—if they knew the truth.
How Aleksander created the Fold in the first place.
How Alina seduced him to destroy it.
How they chose to spend the rest of their eternal lives together.
…
She screamed when she felt the jurda parem in her veins, interacting with her blood.
“Alina!” Aleksander roared. His voice was like a wave washing over her, tethering her to reality, through the hazy maze of pain.
She was going to black out.
She closed her eyes, felt herself sinking, heard the sound of the Cut in the distance.
She felt Aleksander’s arms around her.
The pain stopped.
She opened her eyes and the world exploded into colors she had never seen before.
She felt alive. She felt free.
She felt powerful beyond even the amplifier she wore around her neck.
She was a Saint. She was not just a Saint, but a goddess, one long forgotten and no longer worshipped, part of the Making at the Heart of the World.
She would make them bow down to her might and kneel and worship her.
…
His tongue was inside her and she was floating, causing the stars themselves to spin and collide. Somehow, they had transcended even the atmosphere. She had not taken the sun for her own, as it was upon the other side of the Earth. But soon. First, Aleksander was going to make her come. She begged him for more until she was weeping.
Each teardrop was a star, a snowflake, a diamond.
She spun among constellations and dreams, weaving a new galaxy, a blizzard, a crown greater than any she had worn or seen.
His hands gripped her hips so hard they should have left bruises, but what were bruises to a goddess? The divine bore no marks of age, weakness, or pleasure.
They made love among the stars, the only witness to her screaming and desperate gasps of pleasure.
She had never felt so whole, so complete, so endless before.
His seed dropped down her legs and she knew their children would be born among the stars. Their children would be mountains, forests, creatures that would become myth. Morozova’s amplifiers reborn, the world rebuilt in their image, as a haven for Grisha, a paradise of pleasure where the only pain would be that chosen for pleasure.
Goddesses did not bear human children.
She leaned back languidly, to stroke his cheek and look into his eyes.
His eyes were even darker and deeper than normal as they soared across the stars. She could get lost in those dark pools, and perhaps she would. She wanted to drink in the depths of him, drown herself in him, lose herself in the abyss and never look back.
She laughed and kissed him again, gloriously drunk on love and the jurda parem coursing through her veins.
…
Days passed before Alina awoke, truly awoke, herself once more.
Somehow, with his centuries of existence, Aleksander managed to fight his way back to consciousness and carry Alina until he found their horses. Holding her with one arm and the reins to her horse with the other, he returned them to the Little Palace, where he promptly collapsed with exhaustion, only managing to tell the first Healer on the scene the word “parem.”
Apparently his withdrawal was so severe that he destroyed half the hospital wing, but Alina was still unconscious and thus did not see it.
Her throat was raw when she awoke. She vaguely remembered screaming. Her thighs were sore—perhaps the sex was not a dream, then.
He was there when she awoke.
All she could do was look at him. Her life, her love, her husband.
He moved to sit down next to her, taking a bowl of broth from the bedside table. He held it to her lips. She drank. It helped soothe her throat, but her veins itched.
She wanted more.
She looked at him.
“What happened?” she managed to croak.
He looked at her.
“We are the second and the third Grisha to survive jurda parem,” he said. He looked away, appearing exhausted.
She breathed, tried to force her body to quiet its screaming. The memories began to return in a flood, a torrent.
What had they done?
…
It was an ambush near the Shu Han border.
They went, seeking information, a meeting, reconnaissance with their informants.
The Shu were ever careful, though, watching their borders carefully.
Alina did not remember, did not see the bodies strewn through the valley, their heads separated from their shoulders by the Cut. No one survived save Aleksander and herself.
Aleksander saw them when he awoke and realized it was a new body count record that he would never, could never repeat. Would never want to remember, repeat slaughtering even the enemies that caused him to have that power in the first place.
It seemed like so many of them when they were first ambushed. The two most powerful Grisha were easily overpowered, separated, surrounded. Until the jurda parem took effect.
He didn’t know what they were thinking. Why did they choose to drug Alina? What did they think would happen?
Part of him wished that he had left one of them alive so that there could have been an interrogation.
Part of him knew he would do it again in a heartbeat.
Once he heard Alina scream, there was nothing he would not do to save her.
Even if it meant following her to pain’s depths and jurda parem’s influence.
He thought perhaps it was for the best that she did not fully remember everything.
“I thought I was a goddess,” she said, her eyes finally clear of the drug’s influence. “I was creating constellations, galaxies. I wanted to claim the sun for myself.”
She smiled, sheepishly. “Instead I think I got distracted and claimed you.”
He smiled, took her hand, and kissed it. “That you did, my love.”
#darklinafics#darklina#alina x darkling#alina starkov#the darkling#shadow and bone#grishaverse#sex pollen au#fan fiction#my writing
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The marriage pact - Island folk
Henry Cavill x OC Alice - multi-chapter
< Part 6 | Part 7 Island folk | Part 8 >
Disclaimer: mention of late motherhood worries
Author’s note: This story is just so much fun to write. I set a scene and *BOOM* it just kind of writes itself. Now, I don’t know how long this writing craze will continue, but so far you can expect an update every day. You read that right; every day!
Word count: 1.525
(Link to my Masterlist)
--
[ Alice.in.writing.land ]
Dear readers,
Dark are the abysses of my heart sometimes, and I know that keeping those thoughts under lock and key only make things worse. And so, for the first time on this blog, I’d like to share something really, truly personal with you. A little snippet of my thoughts for a tender of your time, I’d like to come clean about my most recent Google search which I did late last night, after hours of laying awake.
Late motherhood.
Why? You may wonder. Well, with my relationships continuously failing and the years - and candles - slowly adding up to my birthday cakes, I feel the increasing unease in my heart whenever I come to think of having a family of my own. Will it happen? And if so, am I not too late already? All my friends and family members had their first children in their late 20s, yet here I am, the oddball, single Pringling through life at 37.
It was about 3 AM late last night when I found myself quelling my nerves by looking at pictures of older female celebrities having kids at the “ripe old age of 35”, which in my book is still super young, but of course we are looking at Hollywood standards here. And, to be quite frank, I’m not sure if it helped me, but at least it did offer me the slightest sliver of hope as I found that I’ll probably just need a little luck, good preparation..and perhaps a donor, to make my wishes come true.
Research is required.
But, let’s not get carried away just yet. I know what I want, now all I need to give myself is time. Time to listen to my heart and learn if this is truly it, time to investigate my options a little more and time to sleep. Because honestly, Google is one hell of a click-through trap when you can’t sleep - I may or may not have ended up falling asleep to videos of laughing foxes, which are truly..the cutest. In case you want to look it up and dare to delve into the time consuming trap that is watching random Youtube videos, then search for: “Finnegan fox”.
Hi-la-ri-ous.
Also; apparently chocolate cakes have internet access. So, aherm, hello and welcome to my little writing den, oh mysterious chocolate cake of mine!
A very sleepy, but glad to have this off her chest,
Ali
The waves broke softly onto the shoreline as the wind tugged gently on my hair, my pen scribbling away on the paper notebook on my lap. For some odd reason I found it much more comfortable to write by hand, and so whenever the mood struck and I found the time, I snuck out to my little beach hide-out and started to write. This time it was for work, but sometimes I also worked on smaller fictional stories, the very act of writing calming my nerves considerably.
I looked up when I heard the sound of slushing feet through the fine sand, the distinct vibrations telling me someone was approaching me with slow, dragging feet. And.. it appeared to be not just anyone.
Henry.
So very suddenly I felt terrible about posting that blog this morning. Had he read it? Would he start a conversation about it? I wasn’t quite sure if I wanted to have that conversation with him right now. We were at best just dating, our newly rekindled friendship slash relationship only a few days young.
He stifled a yawn as he plopped down beside me on the picnic blanket, his eyes sporting large dark circles beneath them, his shoulders slumping slightly as he looked me over. I sniffled, shaking my head at the fact that we both had barely slept - obviously.
‘Mornin’.’ He grumbled, a gentle smile reaching his lips, his body leaning forward, but halting mid-morning kiss. Almost automatically I closed the distance, my hand moving aside my notebook so I could lean in, lips brushing over his, which apparently was just what he needed, his lips curling up in a full smile. ‘Hi.’ I whispered into his lips, then leaned back, tucking some rogue curl behind his ear before studying him better. Once more he wore a blue shirt - he had a gazillion of those, didn’t he? - and some dark jeans, his hair fresh and messy straight out of bed.
’So…no sleep then?’ I inquired, watching him as he slowly moved his gaze towards the rolling waves before us. ‘Nope.’ ‘How come?’ ‘Hmm..’ He thought aloud. ‘..I suppose it is difficult to just stop my life right dead in its tracks.’ He sighed.
‘What’s up Hen?’ I scooted closer to him, fingering a hand through his curls, his eyes closing as he revelled into the simpleness of my touch.
‘I have to fly back to London for the weekend. There’s this event that my manager can’t seem to cancel without serious repercussions and..’ He sighed again. ‘You don’t want to go.’ ‘Not really no. But I will have to. The fox videos helped by the way.’
My heart summersaulted at his words - not only because he apparently read my blog, which wasn’t entirely surprising, but also because he was showing so much vulnerability. This large bear of a man was being honest about the things that frustrated him, something I had never experienced with previous partners. They’d always just burst out in flames all of a sudden, without giving me any fair warning before hand.
‘Hmm..’ I hummed, thinking. His eyes were still staring out to the sea, soft waves cascading in similar shades to his cerulean irises. He truly seemed to be a bit done with it all.
‘I’ve got some swimming pig videos at the ready too.’ I added, laying my head onto his shoulder and wrapping both my arms around his large chest, wishing to comfort him a little. ‘Hehe..swimming pigs.’ He chuckled, his chest vibrating with near silent mirth. ’Yea..can you imagine? Those tiny, tiny legs kicking through aquamarine water, their noses sticking out the water like living, breathing, skin coloured electricity points. Oink oink!’
Henry’s chuckle turned into rumbling laughter, his shoulders shaking until he finally looked back at me, my head still resting on his shoulder. ‘Ali..I ..eh..know this is maybe a bit weird, but, would you perhaps like to join me? To London? Leaving Friday night, back Sunday morning?’
I sat up, my brown eyes staring into his deep blues. Tender, hopeful blues. ‘Hmm.’ I hummed, blinking for a moment as I mulled over his words.
‘I know it’s all going fast and I don’t want to pressure you.’ He added.
‘No, it’s okay. It’s ehm..okay. Yea, sure, I’ll come. I haven’t been to London in ages and don’t have weekend plans anyways.’
‘Ages?’ ‘Naa..okay..maybe not ages. More like months.’ I snorted. We both laughed until finally my eyebrow quirked up. ‘So..what kind of event are you ..or we..going to?’ Henry smiled, leaning in to kiss me, the sound of my fluttering heart drowning out all else around us.
The answer to my question didn’t matter, I was simply very happy that I could join him and finally get a sneak peek of his usual life. Henry’s life.
—
‘I’m still amazed at the fact that you managed to pack all your things in that one backpack.’ Henry grinned, pushing my backpack in the overhead storage locker in First Class. I grinned in turn, shrugging my shoulders as I sat back in my seat. ‘Oh you know. I don’t mock about. No need to bring the unnecessary.’
‘You’d make for a fine traveller.’ He admitted, plopping down in his seat, right next to me, his hand quite instantaneously interlacing with mine - he didn’t even seem to think about it -, a smile tugging on the edges of his lips as he watched two business men enter, taking their seats a few rows ahead, leaving us plenty of privacy.
Slowly, he cast me a curious glance. ‘What is it, dear?’ He asked, noticing my studious look, his smile growing and his blue eyes sparkling.
‘Mmm..just wondering. You probably thought about this far better than I have thus far. But if you’d start a family..how would that..go? Like..-‘ ‘The travelling and stuff?’ ‘Yea.’
Henry leaned into the headrest, his head tilting up slightly as he licked his lips. ‘It’s going to take some back-and-forthing with my partner. And it won’t be easy. It will not only be my children that will give you broken nights, you see.’ He grinned and my heart fluttered at his words - children! -, yet my mouth remained sealed, waiting for him to continue. He sighed. ‘I..would definitely slow down my career. For the longest time I didn’t even think of that as a possibility. But like you wrote quite perfectly; all my friends and family members had their children young and here I am..the oddball. I know I should not press my luck by demanding my partner to give up everything for me. That is just not fair.’
‘Give and take.’ I added.
‘Yes, give and take.’ He smiled at me, his large warm hand squeezing mine gently. It felt nice. ‘Okay..so another question. You live in London right?’ ‘Mostly, yes.’ He nodded, making me grin. ‘Yea yea..Superman has several mansions and a jet setting career that makes you quiver right back into your 2-bedroom flat.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘But all joking aside..why did you chose to stay with your parents, now you requested a “time-out”?’
Henry shifted in his seat, his smiling face turning to one holding a more serious expression. ‘I’m from the island baby. And I will always, ALWAYS return to the island. It is my one true home after all.’
--
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#henry cavill fanfiction#henry cavill fanfic#henry cavill x author#henry cavill x OC#henry cavill fluff#jetset#lifestyle#beach#jersey islands#london#motherhood#family planning#romcom#the marriage pact#island folk
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Concert Hopper Chris' Favorite Metal Albums of 2020
With most of 2020 lost to fans of live music, we have had to make do with new album releases to get our fix. To that end, Concert Hopper's three resident metalheads (Editor in Chief Xerxes Tzolis, Album Review Editor Chris Griffy, and Metal Prophet Richard Davenport) have each compiled their list of favorite releases, which will be released over the next few days. The lists show just how diverse the “metal” umbrella is, with each bringing a different sub-genre preference to their list. Chris’ list leans heavily into his love of progressive, power, and symphonic metal.
Ad Infinitum- Chapter I- Monarchy
When we released our mid-year list of favorites, this album was #5, the last on my list. 6 months later it has been the album I've found myself returning to more than any other. This is as strong a debut as I've seen in years, led by the pure power of vocalist Melissa Bonny, who can hit symphonic high notes as well as Simone Simons and growl like Angela Gossow. I hope the “Chapter 1” in the album's title means there is a Chapter 2 coming in 2021, because I need more of what Ad Infinitum is serving up.
Demons & Wizards- III
It's been a decade since Demons & Wizards released game-changing power metal album Touched by the Crimson King. Since then, the band's two founders, Hansi Kursch and Jon Schaffer, have focused on their primary bands, Blind Guardian and Iced Earth, but never completely forgot about Demons & Wizards. Lucky us. While not the generational album Crimson King was, their new release III will tick every box their fans want. There is a brutality on III beyond either of their other albums, with Schaffer finally going full-force on the guitar and Kursch matching him with the vocal power that's made him one of the best in the business.
Nightwish- Human:II:Nature
For their second studio album with vocalist Floor Jansen (the best female vocalist in metal today and arguably ever), Nightwish continues the themes explored on 2015's Endless Forms Most Beautiful. Band leader and primary songwriter Tuomas Halopainen's exploration of the balance (or more accurately imbalance) between nature and technology, best exemplified in “Noise”, which highlights how the fake reality of social media taints our reality.
Conception- State of Deception
Damn, is it nice to hear Roy Khan back in the metal saddle. After leaving Kamelot in 2011, he retired from music until 2017 when he reformed his pre-Kamelot band Conception, which released their first full-length album State of Deception this year. Any worries that a half decade of retirement might have dulled Khan's soaring vocals is banished from the first note.
Archon Angel- Fallen
2020 must be the year of the return because, unless you have been lucky enough to get the “East” version of Trans-Siberian Orchestra in your city, former Savatage and CircleIICircle vocalist Zak Stevens has been missing from the music world. That changed in 2020 when he formed Archon Angel with Secret Sphere guitarist Aldo Lonobile. Unfortunately, they picked a bad time to form a new band, playing exactly one concert (on the 70,000 Tons of Metal cruise) before COVID-19 shut down touring. But if Fallen is any indication, when the concert world finally returns, Archon Angel is a band you should be willing to travel to see.
Khemmis- Doomed Heavy Metal
Colorado doom metal revivalists Khemmis are as fearless as a band gets, and that fearlessness is on display with their new EP Doomed Heavy Metal. A mix of covers and live cuts, Khemmis gives a Black Sabbath-esque makeover to a bluegrass standard (“A Conversation With Death”) and manages to make the usually bad idea of trying to cover metal god Ronnie James Dio work with a cover of “Rainbow in the Dark” that retains their style but shows a respect to the source material that was not present in the hipster “ironic” idiocy that was Killswitch Engage's “Holy Diver.”
Ensiferum- Thalassic
One of the things I most love about folk metal is the ability to learn the lore and stories of other countries while I rock out to great music. Ensiferum brings me that ability on Thalassic with songs like “The Defence of the Sampo” while utilizing the addition of clean vocalist/keyboardist Pekka Montin to delve into a less silly than Alestorm but no less fun bit of pirate metal with songs like “Run From the Crushing Tide.” Even the goofiness of “Rum, Women, Victory” is mitigated by crushing riffs and thundering double bass drums.
Unleash the Archers- Abyss
While they tend to be lumped into the “power metal” camp because of their lyrical content, at their heart Canada's Unleash the Archers are as pure an old school NWOBHM band in the vein of Judas Priest and Iron Maiden as has come along in decades. Driven by the insane vocal range of Brittany Slayes, Abyss continues the concept storyline begun on their last album Apex. It's a fun sci-fi/fantasy story for those who want to read up on it, but you can walk in with no knowledge of or interest in the story and just revel in the unabashed homage to true heavy metal that is Unleash the Archers.
Live Albums:
Dee Snider- For the Love of Metal Live
If you only know Dee Snider from the cartoonish MTV video for Twisted Sister's “We're Not Gonna Take It”, you are missing out on one of the best kept secrets in metal. Twisted Sister (and all of Dee's subsequent bands and solo projects) approach thrash in their intensity. His influence can be seen on his 2018 release For the Love of Metal, which featured everyone from Jamey Jasta to Alissa White-Gluz. But Dee is best appreciated in a live environment, where his boundless energy is on full display. For the Love of Metal Live is taken from a Bloodstock performance and mixes new songs with Twisted Sister classics and even one song (“Ready to Fall”) from his tragically underrated post-Twisted Sister band with Savatage's Al Pitrelli, Widowmaker (the inclusion of which alone would make it my favorite live album of the year).
Kamelot- I Am the Empire Live
I mentioned earlier how nice it was to see Roy Khan back in the music world, but that doesn't mean his former band Kamelot is dead. Current vocalist Tommy Karevik has perfectly walked the “replacement vocalist” tightrope of respecting the original material while leaving his mark on the band's new albums. Proof is in the band's I Am the Empire Live, which may be the most perfectly produced live album I've ever heard. Every note is crystal clear and highlights not only the vocals of Karevik but also those of guests Charlotte Wessels (Delain), Alissa White-Gluz (Arch Enemy), Lauren Hart (Once Human), and frequent Kamelot collaborator Elize Ryd (Amaranthe). Right now, Kamelot is as consistently great as any band on the power metal scene and I Am the Empire Live shows why.
#ad infinitum#kamelot#nightwish#dee snider#khemmis#best of 2020#concerthopper#heavy metal#metal#music
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I’ve just found this in my drafts: a scrap of the duel between Mannimarco and Julianne - more precisely, the very end of it.
I think I wrote this a while ago, but it still seems okay. I haven’t quite planned exactly what happens in this scene, nor how Julianne defeats Mannimarco without Hannibal Traven’s sacrifice. But I known it involves Julianne yelling ‘If you learn anything from this, it’s that you never, ever, ever mess with a Breton’ and being generally badass and heroic
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I could taste victory, and oh! that was not what I had expected, not now, when I felt so completely overwhelmed; - Gods, was Mannimarco more so than me? - My Dragonskin yet held; I yet continued my onslaught; his had faltered -
And I had him; he fell; I finally let go -
I felt as if all of my magical energies had been drained from me, and it was all I could do even to reach into my mind for my magicka, much less conjure a spell. My staff was empty; all that remained was Mannimarco’s dagger, which lay at my feet, where it had fallen; I took it up -
He was pale, paler than death itself, more lich than ever, and when I went unsteadily over to him, I wondered if I had done it after all, if he was dead; for a long moment he lay unmoving; then his eyes opened, and, after a long second’s hesitation, he murmured:
‘You can’t do it, can you?’
I was too fatigued to say anything.
‘You’ve never killed anyone before...’
My hands started to tremble. - Was he right? - If I died here, my final act would have been this murder; if I lived, his slaughter would be my renown.
Gods, that voice, so horribly taunting; gods, I couldn’t bear it -
But I forced myself to reason - he wasn’t a man at all, he was the repulsive shadow of a man, a long-gone man -
‘You can’t do it.’
‘You do not know how much I love my father,’ I countered, and plunged the blade into his heart.
That scream -
Was it mine? -
I cannot bear to remember that moment; there is a cowl over my memory; then, light, an eruption, - a force that cast me backwards, as the mortal form of Mannimarco was consumed in fire -
Then I knew that death awaited, and accepted my fate; and when the darkness consumed me, I let it fill me, let my mind be cast far from the concerns of conscious mortals -
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When I awoke, it was to a sovereign serenity, the delicate scent of the mana flower, and an absolute quiet, save, on the edge of my hearing, a footstep, a hushed voice. I was alone, lain upon a bed, and experiencing the dull but distinct sensation that I had in my slumber been torn to pieces, and put back together again. When I had at last emerged from the state in which I had awoken - like that on the edge of dreams, where time no longer flows, and where all is at once possible and unreal - I began to feel the pain which afflicted me, and oh! I at that point wished I might have died back in the cave, if only to alleviate my suffering - my entire self felt crushed, my muscles exerted past their limits, and every bone in my body snapped. By the Divines! what had I done?...
I must have cried out, because a man rushed into the room, and, seeing me awake, inquired after my health. - And I thought I recognised him; where did I know him from? -
‘If nothing else,’ said I, coughing, ‘I feel alive, which is more than I might have hoped for.’
‘You very nearly weren’t,’ said this man: ‘you have been here two days already, the first without improvement. Truly, we feared for you.’
‘You need fear no longer,’ I said, though I imagine my general demeanour said quite the opposite. - That two days had passed made me shudder, for I do not like to have such abysses in my knowledge. - I sank into my pillows, contemplated falling asleep again: but my mind was fixated upon an idea, and I said, in an increasingly weak voice:
‘I must see my father... if he is here.’
‘Yes,’ said the man, ‘and he wishes to see you, once you are well enough.’
I bade him fetch Father, and not a minute later recognised his approach in the corridor. When he appeared in the doorway, I found a miraculous strength that allowed me to sit up, and without quite knowing why I burst into tears.
Father ran over, and took me in his arms; and he too was crying, I felt him shudder at my touch -
‘By all the gods,’ he whispered, ‘my little girl, my Julianne!...’
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A Trial Story! Please give me feedback ;w; ( DBD )
I always overthink everything so I started this draft because I was fed up with myself. Please let me know what your thoughts are. I am currently on the fence if I should continue this or not...
Think of this as chapter 1 I suppose :s
The entity is a hard thing to understand, one minute it’s pitting its victim against each other and then the next they are granted hours to do as they please. Without any known way to escape this hell, both the killers and survivors are forced to play this twisted game. Or so that’s what they think, no one is really sure what is out there.
On the far side of the twisted rows or corn lay a barren field before giving way to a tall pine forest. Here, the survivors come from time to time to de-stress and take in the sweet smells of the forest. It is unknown how vast the entity’s world expands but it does have some nice areas surprisingly. A soft fire began to cackle as a few gathered around to take in the warmth. Claudette hugged her knees tightly looking into the flames, her expression was tight. Unlike the others, who either chose to lie in the low hanging branches or cook food she wanted to be alone. Finally having enough she quietly moved to find a better spot. It took a bit to get far enough from the light so it wouldn’t be too bright but eventually she stumbled upon a neat little hideaway. A patch of bushes giving a little leeway to an under path, crawling through it she found herself encased in a circular space surrounded by shrubbery. Low hanging branches made for a soft roof with a leafy opening for the moonlight to hit her face. Claudette was left speechless, all she could do was situate herself to stare up through the opening at the beautiful night sky. “ I.. didn’t know the entity could create something like this..” she said to herself, barely as a whisper. The sweet smell of the forest wafted around her as she continued to stare at the view, unaware that the lull of it all was getting to her.
Back at the camp, the others continued to enjoy the scene together. Meg cooked up the fish they caught by the fire and Jake hummed a tune under his breath as he brought back the fire wood he collected. David told stories of his fights in various bars and tidbits of his previous life before the entity claimed him. His stories were riveting and never failed to entertain, a few were gathered around but Cheryl was especially drawn in as per usual. Bill and Dwight were on the side having a private discussion, sharing notes about what they found within the Entity. “ Francis came back from the South, no matter how far he went it didn’t seem to end,” said Dwight, his expression was a cross between fatigue and frustration. “ Quentin basically reported the same thing,” Bill let out a long sigh, “ So is it safe to assume that this place doesn't have walls outside the trials?” Dwight placed a hand on Bill’s shoulder, “Unfortunately, but we can’t give up. Let us rest up for tonight, have fun and enjoy our fellow survivors before we are summoned.” With a final nod they both rejoined the rest of the group, just in time as Meg called out the food was ready.
The group gathered together to enjoy a nice meal, everyone was content as the smell of freshly cooked fish filled the air. “ You seem to be opening up a bit more now Cheryl.” Meg chuckled a bit before handing a blushing Cheryl her portion, “ I am glad that someone is helping you warm up to us~” Meg glanced in David’s direction who was too busy not paying attention. “So anything new Dwight?” Meg looked up, a small sliver hope in her eyes. Dwight choked on his fish at the sudden change of topic, “Um. Unfortunately no, our original plan to try and find the perimeter was a bust. There doesn’t seem to be one.” A moment of silence fell over the group, only the sound of the fire cackling and chewing continued. “ .. We are going to die here aren't we..?” “Cher-,” Jake was cut off as Cheryl stood up beginning to yell, “ NO!! We are! There is no way out and we are forced to play this sick game!!” she began to breathe erratically, putting her hands on her neck as she let out several wheezing noises. “ She is having a panic attack,” Jake got up to try and comfort her but she pushed him away, distrust was written all over her face. “ Don't..- touch..” Meg turned to David but he was already on it, “ Cheryl take deep breaths, it’s ok. No need to work yourself up.” He approached her cautiously before putting his hand on her shoulders to steady her. “ Look at me, breathe.” Her eyes locked with his, her hands relaxed from her throat as she synchronized her breathing with his. Not before long she was back to normal, staring deeply into his eyes still matching his breath. The fire illuminated their faces and made them seem so far away from everyone else. Cheryl quickly looked away, she mumbled sadly, “ How can we be sure there IS a way out? What if there isn’t one?” A look came across Dwight’s face but he quickly replaced it, “ If there isn’t a way out, then we will make one. Don’t give up so easily, we keep fighting till the end. We are survivors and we will keep going no matter what.” “Hell yea Dweet!” Nea fist pumped the air in approval, a few others cheered in response. The night carried on with a more upbeat vibe as the survivors forgot about their troubles and enjoyed each other’s company.
A sharp whale of a siren pierced the air startled the group, the sound was very familiar. A warning that danger was coming a change of some sort, whether they moved or not was optional but who would choose to stay with potential danger? The survivors hustled around, putting out the fire and gathering up the remaining food to take back to the main Fire. Panic slowly took over the group as they left a mess in their wake. Some of the food was left behind along with kicked up dirt and strewn logs that were meant to keep the flames going all night. Before a matter of minutes they were gone, leaving behind a faint wisp of dying fire smoke. Not even a few seconds after they left, a gangly figure appeared out of the darkness. Her figure loomed over the fire and strewn pieces of food. Letting out a high pitched noise she happily began to feast on the dirt fish. “ Oh come on Lisa, you are better than that.” Another figure appeared to the left of her, surveying the area. “ It seems like we just missed our friends...” Lisa didn’t respond, her attention was entirely on the delicious(?) meal in front of her. God it had been so long since she had some fresh meat, she didn’t care if they were covered in freshly turned mud and twigs. “ Slow down,” he said in a gruff tone, leaning down to snatch up the remaining fish. “I can try to clean it for you. Pretty sure there is a stream nearby if I remember correctly..?” The only response he got was a snarl and a mean look, “ Come on you can’t be mad at me for looking out for you.” He rolled his eyes, turning a fish in one hand, “ We will probably have to start this fire back up anyway to dry the fish, might as well hunt for more meat.” At the mere mention of more food her expression softened and again, high pitched noises ensued; yet they sounded kinder. She reached out a hand to touch his leg as a way to say thank you, surprised by her sudden gesture he jumped a bit only to compose himself quickly. “Don’t start acting nice now that you want something..” he stood up and was quick to disappear with a few fish in hand, heading off in an unknown direction.
There was darkness for a while. Nothing was happening nor could anything be seen or smelt. It went on like this for a while until moonlight appeared above, illuminating the dark. All around there were hills, valleys that stretched on all around. The scenery was colored with a dim blue light, a steady sound of a stream could be heard. Crickets chirped and the owls sang a melancholy tune. Weirdly, trees appeared out of nowhere along with a steep drop where the water cascaded down into nothingness. Inching closer and closer to the edge felt right, gravitating towards danger but there was no sense of fear or urgency by the ledge. Looking down there was darkness, no light nor sound just black. There was a strong urge to dive right in, so much so that it felt natural. She didn’t know what to make of it but before she knew what was happening, she found herself falling head first into the abyss. “ GUha!!” Claudette jumped from her nap and made friends with a cute low hanging branch. It smacked the shit out of her forehead nearly knocking her glasses off and knocked her flat on her back. Dazed she stayed on the ground for a while, her head throbbing violently making it hard to concentrate or see straight. A few minutes passed before she attempted to touch her forehead, the pain felt less and less with each touch. The moonlight continued to shine brightly through the canopy opening, but nothing could be heard other than the sounds of the forest. She held her breath listening hard for her friends. After several minutes of silence, she came to the conclusion that she was either too far away or that everyone has settled down for the night. With a sigh she slowly gathered to her feet only to be startled by a rustling sound. She froze mid stance, not daring to call out to the unknown. A figure started to part the bushes entering into, what she thought, was her private little getaway. With a panicked motion, her feet began to back slowly until she could feel the leaves of one of the walls tickle her skin. Using one of her legs, she rubbed the wall searching for the way she came in. An arm was visible now and more was coming through the far side of the bush. She felt her calf go from brushing up against leaves to being greeted with a cool gust of air. Without hesitation she got on all fours and crawled out backwards quickly, checking to make sure the figure couldn’t see her. As she escaped, she noticed huge brawny arms with tubes sticking out. Just before its face could be seen, she could see a pair of milky eyes glowing coming closer and closer until it was in full view. It was the Doctor, by the time he came all the way through, Claudette just barely made it through the under bush and dashed to one side of the opening. She could hear his heavy breathing as he moved around a bit, as if he was searching for something. “ …..” He was talking to himself but she couldn’t make out exactly what. Regardless she cautiously began to make her way back to the campsite, it was this way right?
God it was too dark to tell where she came from, she followed her gut and made a sharp right. Several minutes passed and Claudette found herself going deeper and deeper into the forest. This doesn’t seem right.. She felt like she was a lot further than she did when she found her napping spot. A rapid gust of wind blew past her unexpectedly, the damn thing nearly pushed her over. Hopping a few times forward in an attempt to not fall, she lost her battle with balance and tumbled down into a steady roll. She felt gravity take her over a hidden drop straight into a cold lake.
#dead by daylight#dbd fanfic#dead by daylight fanfic#dbd survivor#dbd killer#dbd community#fanficiton#fanfic mention#my writing
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VIII.
“I didn’t want to believe you could be capable of doing something like that. But I couldn’t convince myself that you weren’t“
Major Content Notes:
None!
Wikipedia Synopsis:
The hunt for the Urca de Lima begins when Silver divulges the schedule to Flint, taking them to the ship's location. Rackham stops paying Ms. Mapleton, which causes her to threaten to blackmail Rackham. She threatens to tell the locals what really happened to Mr. Noonan. Meanwhile, Vane makes his way back to New Providence with his new crew. Eleanor's situation changes when a small band of men take over Hornigold's fort and start sinking supply ships in the bay. Gates threatens to call off the attack of the Ranger, so Flint kills him. The final scenes of the season show that the Walrus has beached itself upon the same isle as the Urca de Lima.
This is the final episode of the season so quite a lot goes down, but for the first time I don’t think we’ve needed any major content notes. There is some blood & gore, and nudity at various points, but nothing especially graphic
Summary:
Rackham is docking Mrs Mapleton’s pay because of her skimming. She threatens to tell all the merchants that he murdered Mr Noonan, saying that they’ll band together and see Jack hanged for it. Jack calls this insubordination and fires her. As she reiterates her threat, Max arrives, and points out that the merchants are all enjoying steep discounts (affordable now the books are in order) right now and that because of that, they won’t much care what Mapleton has to say
At sea there is a terrible storm, with the Walrus and Ranger climbing waves as tall as their masts. Belowdecks, as the crew play music and card games, Dr Howell has made a peg leg for Randall and is trying to get Silver to convince him to wear it, saying that a crutch is too big a risk in this weather. Randall is reluctant. Silver tries to convince him by sarcastically pointing out how he’s helped Randall in the past, before throwing the peg leg to him, but Randall just tosses it to the floor and goes back to eating his apple
“Oh, Mr Silver, how can I ever thank you? First you save me from ending up as a stain on the Walrus’s underside, then you secured my position on the crew on the verge of an historic haul, and if that weren’t enough, you’re still trying to find something comfortable to put at the end of my stump. From the bottom of my heart, thank you“
Two crewmen come down from the deck saying that a launch from the Ranger has arrived with Captain Gates. Logan wonders “what could be so fucking important that he has to row through all that shit out there for it”. Silver hears this and hurries to Flint’s cabin
He sits down, and Flint pushes an inkwell over to him saying they’ll make landfall in the morning and need the last part of the schedule. Flint compares what Silver writes out to a book of his own reconnaissance, of bays and inlets in the right area that could reasonably be used for the Urca to take on water. Flint tells Silver to take the information to de Groot and set a course for Division Bay. As Gates says he better get back to the Ranger, Flint says it’d be better not to tempt fate and pulls a bottle up
“Talbot Rhodes’ private stock. I’d been waiting for an occasion. My reckoning is, tomorrow we’ll be able to afford a lot more of it or -”
“- we’ll be too dead to care”
Mr Scott comes into Eleanor’s office to tell her that Captain Lawrence is almost ready to leave. She is worried by the storm, calling it a ship-killer and wondering if God is on Mr Scott’s side in opposing this plan. Mr Scott reassures her, saying that the trouble might have happened anyway, with or without the schedule
“Tomorrow, a thing that you conceived out of thin air becomes real. A thing that will give this place a chance to find some small measure of peace. That is not nothing”
Back on the Walrus, Gates & Flint are finishing the bottle, and reminiscing about the man who found it, Mr Cregg, the carpenter’s mate who could sniff out booze on a prize ship like a bloodhound. Flint tells a story of one time he found a bottle hidden behind a baseboard on a prize and, thinking it was the captain’s best booze he took a big swig in front of everyone, only to realise it was piss. Gates is trying to seem friendly, but in cutaways he seems melancholy, mourning his lost friendship with Flint, whilst Flint seems to be acting as if nothing has happened between them. Gates remembers that he brought Cregg over with him, having both served under Avery together as kids, before getting up to leave, a tear in his eye
"For years, he went on how he’d got this huge stash hidden away, and I should live to survive him because one day, I will be a rich man. As you know, we lost him on the Pembroke.
So I open his locker and what do I find?
Twelve pesos, a busted pocket watch, and a letter with instructions to deliver it to his sister in New York.
Lying sack of shit was Mr Cregg!
So I bought the boys a round with the pesos, traded the pocket watch for a bit of tail, and spent two weeks that winter in New York, trying to deliver that fucking letter to his sister. Looked high and low, never found her. So on the way home, I waited until we were in open water and I could see no land in any direction and I dropped it over the side. Return to the sea.
There are no legacies in this life, are there? No monuments, no history. Just the water. It pays us, and then it claims us, swallows us whole as if we’d never been here at all”
Anne bursts in on Jack whilst he’s taking a bath. She yells at Jack for cutting Mapleton loose without telling her, saying she could tell the entire island about them killing Noonan. She then says the fact he’s keeping council with Max is bothering her even more, and accuses Jack of fucking her
"Jesus H Christ I can’t win with you. She’s in the camp with the men and it’s ‘come on Jack, let’s go kill everyone see if we can’t get around there, hope you don’t mind, made that decision on your behalf’ and now she’s out making us a small fortune by the way and you’re pissed off about that too, might you consider making up your fucking mind about her, please!”
After telling him to fuck himself she leaves, and sees Max standing by a mirror naked, drying her hair. Anne looks bashful, and hurries downstairs as Max turns around and puts on a dressing gown smiling
Vane arrives at Nassau with a few rowing boats full of the men from the lumber camp. They row past a series of lobster pots before beaching the boats and stepping ashore
The Walrus & Ranger are sailing along the coast flying Spanish colours, Division Bay is just past the next headland. Flint gives a brief speech to the crew, before ordering full sails for their final approach
“Llisten here! When we clear the point ahead and spot the Urca at anchor, we’ll begin our final run at her. The Spanish banner may earn us a few hundred yards of confusion before the captain identifies us and opens fire so we’ll close fast on her, hammer her well with our guns, and then take the fight to her decks. That fight will be the fight of our lives make no mistake. But on the other side lies paradise!”
As they round the point though, there is no ship to be seen. The entire crew, including Flint are dumbfounded, and after asking de Groot if he’s sure of their position, Flint storms into his cabin leaving the crew bemused on deck
Eleanor meets Naft, Frasier, & Lawrence at the end of the pier, where she hands Lawrence two manifests, one true, one false, and a substantial purse and wallet for bribery. Lawrence is impatient and wants to leave. As Eleanor comes off the pier she is met by Hornigold & Scott. She tells them that she still needs to remove her father entirely, that she knows he’s on the Underhill estate scheming to undo everything they’ve done. Hornigold reacts in disbelief
“You’re truly amazing, in the moment when stability is at hand and the world is at your feet, your first instinct is to go out in search of someone new to fight”
Scott asks for a moment with her but is interrupted by cannonfire, the shot landing near Hornigold’s ship. After a couple more shots, they realise the cannons being fired are from the fort. Hornigold realises someone other than his men must be in the fort and, as we see a mast break Scott says they need to get off the beach. As they march towards the tavern, Jack comes out of the brothel to ask what’s going on, when he’s told that someone’s taken over the fort he looks over at Anne who swallows anxiously
Gates comes aboard the Walrus and is led to Flint by Dufresne who tells them that the crew have agreed to Flint’s plan. They will land the Walrus and then he has two days to send out scouts to find the Urca. Flint gives the order and heads into his cabin. Dufresne tells Gates that de Groot is bitter that they didn’t listen to him about the cook, that he says there’s no Urca out here, that justice has been delayed long enough, he wants Flint tried immediately, and he believes that for all his talk Gates is just protecting Flint
“I’m protecting all of us! These men are right on the edge, and he wants to rile them up more by talking about a lying thieving captain, then stand on a deserted beach and talk about elections? Before you know it, half a dozen men will have laid claim to the captaincy, council will divide. it won’t be dark yet before the fighting starts
We’ve got to see Flint pay for his crimes, but we’ll do it at home, and we’ll do it like civilised men and that’s how we avoid the abyss!”
Dufresne asks how they can trust Gates, as they know the two of them spent the last night together drinking. Gates hands him a letter asking if it’s good enough, which Dufresne reads and seems surprised by
Sails are spotted, a Spanish man-o-war, and it will be on them in half an hour. Flint signals the Ranger to raise the black and fire two shots off the Walrus’s bow, as well as rigging a spring to the foreward anchor and dropping her immediately. Below you can see, the main anchor cable connected to the bow of the ship running straight up, with a second line, the (slightly slack) spring tied onto this and connected to the stern. By tightening the spring, he can pull the stern out to windward, and turn the ship without moving
De Groot is astounded that Flint means to fight the man-o-war, but Gates shouts to the crew that they have their orders before dragging Flint into his cabin. Dufresne and de Groot share their concerns
"If he engages that ship in battle, we’re dead!”
"I know”
"I know you know, but does Mr Gates?”
Gates tells Flint he can’t let him go down this road. Flint ignores this and explains his plan to Gates, the man-o-war will see them as a Spanish merchantman under attack by pirates, the Spaniard will pass them by to give chase and, before she realises her error they’ll turn and have her trapped, the Walrus raking her stern to bow, and the Ranger raking her bow to stern, and that the warship shows that the Urca is here after all
"all I see is an empty bay, a gardacosta warship, and a captain that’s lost his fucking grip on reality!”
Flint says that the ship isn’t a gardacosta (coastguard) here on patrol, that the only explanation for it being here at this time is that it’s an escort. Gates points out that the entire justification for the venture was that the Urca would have no escort. Flint suggests that they changed their plans, at which point Gates says he’s leaving with the Ranger, leaving Flint dumbstruck in disbelief. They hash it out, furious at each other
“What did you just say?”
“I’m going to weigh anchor, I’m going to make a run for it, and if I can keep ahead of her before dark there’s just a chance we could slip away”
"Without the ranger, I have no chance against that ship”
"I know”
"So you’re deliberately challenging my authority here? Deliberately violating you duty?”
"My duty? My duty is to them, not to you! Although I have violated it more times than I can remember in your defence. Helped you deceive good men, who put their trust in me because I was convinced they would be better off for it! But not here! Not this! This is fucking madness!”
"Mr Gates, if you walk through that door with the intent of subverting my plans, I will have no alternative but to interpret that as an incitement of mutiny”
"You think I’m inciting mutiny?
"You are inciting mutiny!”
"I’m managing one! There are men out there right now that know about Singleton, the book, the cook, all of it! They know! And they mean to see you hang for it!”
Flint goes quiet, asking if Gates told them
"After Billy, I just, I didn’t want to believe you could be capable of doing something like that. But I couldn’t convince myself that you weren’t. That’s when I realised that this has got to end.”
"So what then? You preside over a trial that sees me hanged?”
“No. I’m going to go home. And I’m going to see you and Mrs Barlow secreted away before anybody knows you’re gone. You’re going to go to Boston. You’re going to take the pardon that she’s offered you and that is the last that you and I will ever see of each other”
Flint looks ashamed, and downcast, and begs Gates not to do this. Gates tells him to take a moment, that he’ll deal with the crew, and goes to leave. Flint looks up, and stares intently at the back of Gates’ head, his lip quivering into a snarl
He starts up, slams Gates into the door, and chokes him from behind, repeating “this is not what I wanted, I’m sorry” before snapping Gates’ neck. He repeats “I’m sorry” as his snarl softens and he starts crying, cradling the body of the closest thing he had to a friend
The door creaks open, Flint’s face immediately hardens again and he draws his pistol. It is Silver, saying he came to back Flint up in his case that the Urca can still be won. Flint drops his arm, looking exhausted. Silver comes in and hurriedly closes the door behind him, locking it, before checking Gates’ neck for anything incriminating. Flint bats his hands away, asking “what the fuck are you doing to him” before telling Silver to stop. Flint is utterly defeated, but Silver tells him there is still a way out
"There’s no way out of this”
"Take it from me. There’s always a way”
A letter is delivered to Hornigold and the rest of the consortium, saying that a small band on men were seen approaching the fort from the west that morning, but no-one could identify them, and all the local crews are accounted for. Mr Scott asks if the fort’s great guns could be repositioned to aim at the street. Hornigold’s only response is that he hopes whoever it is won’t be mad enough to consider that and proposes to retake the fort when he is interrupted by Vane & his men on the street outside demanding to speak to Eleanor
Flint steps out of his cabin and, looking Dufresne straight in the eyes tells him that Mr Gates’ heart gave out. He gives orders to signal the Ranger with the plan, telling Mr Thompson he’s in charge, to sail North and, when the Walrus fires on the target, to tack hard to port and join them. Dufresne barges past de Groot into the cabin. As he looks down at Gates’ body, Silver starts speaking
“The question you need to ask yourself is what good can I do.
You can call this murder, a number of the men might even believe you, but will that be enough to stop this fight that is about to happen?
Because if it’s not, a fight we might win becomes a battle we are doomed to lose because the men went into it infected with your suspicions, with your doubts.
So, Mr Quartermaster, is that truly what’s in their best interests?”
Dufresne steps out and walks straight past de Groot again, over to Flint.
"When the warship draws close, she’ll ask our last port of call. Saint Augustine is the closest and as she’s likely a customs ship, we must identify our cargo as anything but tobacco; Seville regulates the trade heavily”
Vane is Eleanor’s office, his boots up on her desk, rolling a cigar as she comes in, and sweeps his feet off asking what the fuck he did
"Spend enough time on an island, you begin to forget there’s a whole world out there. A world where the rules are different” he puts his feet back up and goes back to rolling his cigar “I went out there and found men who don’t know the rules here and who don’t much care to learn them. They helped me surprise Captain Hornigold’s men, we took his fort, and not once were any of them burdened with the though ‘what if this were to upset Eleanor Guthrie’”
He threatens to keep sinking ships, and maybe even sink the Walrus when she comes back with the Spanish gold, just out of spite. He says that because the fort controls the bay, Hornigold was her partner when he controlled the fort and so now, he should get to be her partner. He says being a tenant didn’t work out so well, and now he’d like a stake
He then describes the first time he saw her, when she was thirteen, and sneaking out despite Mr Scott’s rules. He says that despite her age she walked between the camps like she owned the place, completely fearless. He then suggests that all she really wants is to not have any men bossing her around, and that he has no intention of telling her what to do as long as he gets what he wants. She begrudgingly agrees, but promises that she will drive him out once he inevitably gets comfortable
“I know you. Better than your father, better than Scott, maybe better than anyone. You don’t give a shit about money, or respect, or the things you’ve built here. I think you’re just tired of fathers telling you what to do and so I’m offering you a life free from them. With me in that fort, you do as you like as long as it doesn’t cross me you’ll hear no complaints”
"You know I have no choice but to say yes. But before I do, know this: you’ll sit in that fort for a while, you’ll get comfortable, and that’s the day I’m going to push you and your men right into the fucking sea”
As Vane saunters out, he dismissively nods at Hornigold, calling him “Ben”. Eleanor tells him that Vane now has his seat on the consortium. She tells Hornigold that it’s no use him trying to take the fort, because she told Vane about the tunnels he’d have used to launch a surprise attack. She defends this as acting in everyone’s best interests and Hornigold leaves, promising that this won’t be the end of this
“You told me to keep emotion from clouding judgement, to act in everyone’s best interest. I believe that’s what I’m doing”
Vane enters the brothel and is met by a nervous Jack. He says that in some ways it had to come to this: him deciding if Jack lives or dies. We see Mapleton standing behind Vane’s men. Vane confronts him about killing Hamund and his men, and we see Jack speechless, and Anne wearing a frightened expression for pretty much the first time
“Hamund brings you out of bed, marches you down to the wrecks to look for a stash of stolen pearls and somehow only you and your dog make it back alive?”
“Quite a moment. Jack Rackham with nothing to say. Had I a shrewd quartermaster right now, he would tell me that I can’t let what you did stand, he would say that an offence like that demanded an example be made of both of you, the bloodier the better, but today I’m a little less worried about perception than I used to be. As long as I own that fort, it doesn’t really matter, so the street will know what you did, they will know that you betrayed your brothers for a woman. That story will spread far and wide, and you’ll never sail beneath the black again. You’ll sit in this place and rot with the rest of the whores. Something tells me that will sting worse than dying”
The man-o-war comes alongside the Walrus, and Silver shouts across, with Flint behind the rail next to him feeding him lines. He says that they were attacked by pirates, that their last port of call was Saint Augustine, and that they are carrying tobacco. De Groot questions Dufresne about this
"If I’m not mistaken, you told him to state us as anything but a tobacco trader did you not?”
"II did. He means to prove that ship is not gardacosta, that it’s here for the same reason we are. If that ship lets us pass, he will have both renewed the men’s lust for gold and their faith in his judgement”
“Time and again he gambles with our lives, that is when he’s not taking them in cold blood and once more his influence grows. We’re at his mercy with no way to challenge him”
The Spanish ship sails on and Flint orders all hands to quietly go to their stations, and to fire at 300 yards. The Walrus starts pulling on its spring line to bring the stern out slowly, so the Spanish ship thinks they’re just drifting. At 100 yards, he orders the gunports opened and sights down a gun saying “we only get one shot at this. If we miss, we die”
Just after 200 yards Dufresne pulls his pistol on Flint, accusing him of piratical crimes against his crew, that he murdered Singleton, Billy, & Gates, and that he planned to steal a portion of the treasure fleet for himself. Flint gives the order to fire, but the crew do not. Belowdecks, de Groot is taking Silver into the Surgeon’s cabin. Dufresne hands the letter to Logan saying it is a confession from Mr Gates of his knowledge of & complicity in Flint’s crimes, and Logan confirms that it is written in Gates’ hand
Flint continues to repeat the order to fire growing frustrated at the crew’s inaction, shouting that they’re going to lose the enemy and don’t have time for this. Eventually he strides down and grabs one of the slow matches used to fire the cannons and goes to light the touchhole firing the cannons, but is shot in the shoulder by Dufresne
Silver wrestles with de Groot, but is knocked to the ground. As de Groot readies his pistol, he is knocked out by Randall who has hit him on the head from behind with the peg leg. Flint is pressed against the side by a gunport watching the Spanish ship slip away when one of the Walrus’ cannons fires, taking him, and the entire crew by surprise. Silver looks out at them, saying that it had to be done. Flint tells Dufresne to fight
“There’s no running now. Fire, Mr Dufresne. Everything you’ve got. Don’t waste this moment”
Dufresne hesitates, and the Spaniard’s sternchasers fire, hitting the Walrus. At this, Dufresne and Flint both start shouting orders to hire, and the crew slip into battle. Both the Walrus and Ranger get some volleys in, scoring several hits and causing a small explosion and fire onboard the man-o-war
The man-o-war comes about, her gunports open, and she fires. The Spanish broadside tears into the Walrus sending yard arms crashing down, and gun carriages flying. We see the Ranger’s magazine explode, and more and more holes be shot into the Walrus. As Silver tries to help an injured man, crying out for the doctor, Flint is knocked into the water. Seeing people and debris continue to be sent flying from the Walrus, he stops treading water and allows himself to be dragged under by the weight of his clothes and equipment
Eleanor is on the bridge between the tavern and brothel and Max comes out to meet her halfway. Eleanor starts to apologise to Max, but she tells her not to, saying she was “standing between you and your dreams for this place, you did what you had to do” and Eleanor reminds her of her words, that Nassau is just sand and cannot love her back but Max pushes back
"Sand has its virtues. On sand nothing is fixed. Nothing is permanent. Fates change so quickly.
Yesterday Captain Hornigold was immovable from that fort and Captain Vane was a beggar, now look at them today.
Yesterday I was a whore of little consequence, easily dismissed, easily forgotten, today I am a madam with an income and allies, and a woman who has learned the most important of lessons, never let anyone stand between you and your ambitions. Thank you for teaching it to me”
Vane sits in the fort as we see Lawrence push off, Hornigold’s damaged ship still in the bay, and Hornigold and Scott look on. Eleanor watches in the shallows, teary-eyed over what her ambitions have lost her
Flint wakes up on a beach, topless, a bit of cloth pressed to his wound as a dressing. He sits up and we see Dufresne, Silver, several other pirates, and the Walrus next to them on the beach with several holes clean through her hull. Flint asks why he’s still alive and Dufresne tells him to get up. As Dufresne leads them over the island they’re wrecked on, Silver says he was certain about his information regarding the Urca
“Unfortunately, you & I failed to take into account the weather. The Urca de Lima wrecked at sea last night. Dashed by the storm”
As we peek over the brow of the hill and see the Urca broken in two on another beach, the Spanish sailors unloading her onto the beach with the man-o-war at anchor in the bay, Flint seems to regain his resolve
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Not Hollow Chapter Six: Family
I tried really hard to write a proper fight scene, it's why this chapter took so long to come out, but it just wasn't happening. And the harder I tried to force myself through the more frustrated and discouraged I got so I settled on handling the Radiance fight the way you'll see in this chapter. It's not as epic as I wanted it to be but the focus of he story has always been more about their relationships anyway so it's not the end of the world.
Hornet was taking longer to return than she’d said she would, a lot longer. Which should’ve been fine but… Hollow was lonely. Since dragging themself out of the Black Egg, they hadn’t been alone for any significant length of time. Though compared to how long they’d been alone in the Egg, this was nothing. So they were fine, this was fine!
They stood up anyway and walked over to peer out the window. Maybe they should go look for them? Hornet was more than capable of taking care of herself and Grimmchild had to be with her so they should both be perfectly fine. But… if the Pale King could die then so could Hornet. Hollow couldn’t bear the thought of losing her especially after just learning of their father’s death. So… they side stepped to the door and opened it to poke their head out.
Normally they didn’t leave the house unless Hornet brought them out either for a walk or to train with their nail for a bit. But like it or not, they had emotions and thus they were worried about their sister and Grimmchild. They were worried about their chained sibling too as well as the entirety of Hallownest. … They were worried just in general.
So, unable to stay still for any longer, they stepped outside. Now… where to go to find Hornet? She was working on finding a way to access the Dream Realm, where would she go to do that? … Hollow had no idea. Their entire world consisted of the Abyss, the White Palace, the Black Egg, and now Dirtmouth, they’d never been anywhere else except for while passing through. They’d heard of places like the City of Tears and Teacher’s Archive but didn’t have even the faintest clue where they might be or how to get to them. So… the only starting point they had was down the well into Hallownest proper.
They started for it, not letting themself look right or left in an attempt to at least hide their worry from the outside world since they couldn’t bury it within themself. Not that there were many people out and about right now, just Elderbug next to the bench, even Zote was currently inside somewhere.
“Oh, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you out and about all by yourself,” Elderbug said when Hollow inevitably ended up passing by him. They could’ve gone around and snuck past him but they were so used to faking to themself that they didn’t care about such things that the thought not to take the shortest past hadn’t occurred to them until just now. Alas it was far too late.
They gave him a small shrug in response because how else were they expected to respond? They preferred being primarily ignored like how the knights and dignitaries at the White Palace had treated them.
“It’s good to see. Don’t hesitate to rest on the bench if you need it, I wouldn’t mind the company.” … Well at least he was kind, that was honestly kind of nice even if Hollow knew even less how to respond to that.
They nodded at him before moving on.
Upon reaching the well, they looked down it, hoping against hope that maybe Hornet would be down there, about ready to start ascending. Alas, they had no such luck. So, after double checking to make sure that their nail was attached firmly to their back, they vaulted over the edge. They landed at the bottom with a small thunk. Getting back up would be hard with only one arm but that was a problem for the future that hopefully Hornet would be there to help them with like she had when they’d gone up initially. For now, they picked a direction and started walking.
They ended up going to the Black Egg Temple. They hadn’t intended to, it just kind of happened in part because so nearby. Ghost was in the Egg inside, chained and suffering and it was Hollow’s fault. … They should’ve tried to tell Hornet that their sibling wasn’t hollow sooner, insisted that she help them. Then they wouldn’t have been chained up in there alone for so long and maybe they wouldn’t have cracked. It was too late now though but at least Hollow had finally said something.
And now that Hornet knew and was working on the problem, she would fix it. … But then again, Hollow had had that same kind of confidence and unwavering belief in the Pale King and that had turned out like this and with him dead. So… maybe Hornet couldn’t fix it? She was a demi-god but even gods could fail and die as proven by the Pale King. Having complete confidence in her might just lead to more disappointment, sadness, and possibly even suffering. … Hoping she could fix it was fine though, right? Maybe, maybe not, either way it was all Hollow had left. … It wasn’t much.
They turned and left, more eager than before to not be alone with their thoughts. It wasn’t long before they encountered an Infected husk. They cut it down with ease. It actually felt almost good to use their nail for something real for once. Enough that following that, they may have even gone a bit out of their way to find and take down more husks. They didn’t know where they were headed anyway so they might as well relieve some stress along the way.
They’d just finished taking down a group of them when…
“Hollow?!”
They looked over to see Hornet approaching. Good! Their search for her was done and she was safe. But where was Grimmchild?
“What are you doing out here?” she asked. “Besides killing husks.”
They didn’t reply. They’d left the parchment and quill back home so they couldn’t answer properly even if they’d been inclined to. Which they weren’t because admitting they’d been starting to worry about her wasn’t a confession they wanted to make because they weren’t meant to feel anything at all. And it was a rather silly thing to be worried about, Hornet was probably better at taking care of herself than Hollow was.
She looked like she was going to say more but was interrupted by a blue bug and Grimmchild coming around the corner. “You sure do like to go fast, huh?” the blue bug said as caught all the way up. “And ah, the Hollow Knight themself. It is nice to meet you. Your sister has told me a fair bit about you and your sibling’s plight. I’m Quirrel.” He gave Hollow a slight bow.
Hollow bowed back because, judging by the fancy nail at his side, he was a knight and therefore that was the proper response.
“Now,” Quirrel said as both of them straightened. “Let’s go kill the Radiance, shall we?” Oh? He was going to help with that? That also had to mean Hornet had found a way to access the Dream Realm. Good! … Now all they had to do was kill a god. Hopefully both of them were up to it, Hollow certainly wasn’t even if it was possible for them to try.
Hornet nodded before leaping to lead the way back towards the Black Egg Temple.
Quirrel, Grimmchild hovering behind his shoulder, fell in step with Hollow as they started following her. But counter to their expectations, he didn’t say anything. He seemed content to walk beside them in silence. It was a nice change of pace from most people Hollow knew/had known, they liked him already.
It didn’t take long to reach the Temple again; Hollow hadn’t strayed far from it. Hornet was waiting for them inside, standing by the Egg itself.
“This is where you come in,” she said, looking at Hollow. “None of use can afford to spend any significant amount of time in there. So we need you to go in, free Ghost of their chains, incapacitate them and then bring them out here. Do you think you can do that?”
Hollow would rather never go into the Black Egg ever again but… they didn’t have a choice. They were the only one who could go in safely and they had to save Ghost. If was their fault Ghost was in this mess and Ghost had saved them. So, resisting the urge to hesitate, they nodded. They could do this for their sibling.
“Good. I have some thread you can use to tie them up. You’ll probably have to knock them unconscious or at least stun them for a while too.” She pulled out a long string of thread out of one her dress’ inner pockets and held it up towards Hollow. “Once they’re out here, we’ll handle the rest, okay?”
Hollow nodded as they wrapped the thread loosely around their neck so they wouldn’t lose it. They then turned back to face the Black Egg and pulled the door open.
“Good luck,” Quirrel said, his tone strangely cheery when considering the seriousness of what they were all doing here. Grimmchild mewled in seeming agreement, flying a quick circle around all their heads.
Strangely encouraged by such tiny things, Hollow stepped into the Black Egg. The long hall to the center quickly proved to feel much shorter than dragging themself along it had made it seem thus it was far too soon before they were facing Ghost again. Their mask was cracked, their eyes filled with the poison light of Infection. … Hollow couldn’t bear to look at them.
They felt almost sick with shame and sorrow. This was their fault; Ghost shouldn’t have been made to go through that. If Hollow had been as pure as they were supposed to be, as the Pale King had believed them to be, then this wouldn’t have happened. It shouldn’t have! … Despairing about it wouldn’t help fix it though.
Hollow forced themself to look back up at Ghost. If only they had a way to assure them that it would be okay; that Hornet and her new friend Quirrel would do their best to save the day. But even if they had a way to speak, Ghost wouldn’t be able to understand much of their words anyway, their mind was too full of the Radiance’s light.
They unwound the thread from around their neck as they approached at last. With the chains in the way and only one arm to work with, winding it around Ghost proved to be rather difficult. But it was thin enough to fit under the chains when pulled the right way and they were quite used to having only one arm by now so they eventually got something that should be good enough, tying it tight in the back. It wouldn’t do much more than bind Ghost’s arms to their sides but that should be enough to prevent them from attacking at least.
Speaking of that though, Hollow bent down to collect Ghost’s nail on the floor. It was small enough that they could mostly fit it in one of the inner pockets in their cloak. Ghost would probably want it when this was all done, might as well save them a trip back into this wretched place.
Next, after checking once more that Ghost’s arms were bound tight to their sides, Hollow drew their own nail and struck the nearest chain, breaking it. They had vague memories of watching Ghost break with their chains, making this feel a bit weird but they didn’t let that slow them.
After breaking the final chain, Ghost fell to the floor with a loud clatter. The Radiance released a roar from within them, making Hollow flinch and tremble. Ghost at least was thoroughly bound, straining uselessly against Hornet’s thread.
Steeling themself, Hollow approached and crouched down beside them. They hated to do it but it had to be done so… they shifted their grip on their nail so that the butt of its hilt would be pointed straight down. They struck Ghost with it, right where the crack in their mask was. They went still for several moments but alas, only stunned, they soon started struggling again. So, Hollow struck again, a bit harder this time. Thankfully they went limp; thoroughly incapacitated just like how Hornet wanted. How long it would last was impossible to say with the Infection coursing through them, so Hollow should probably hurry.
They quickly hung their nail on their back before grabbing Ghost by a horn. They would’ve preferred to carry Ghost in a more dignified way but there was no way to pick them up like that with one arm that wasn’t slow and awkward and they’d prefer not to have to knock Ghost out again even more. So, holding them close but awkwardly, they straightened and fast walked out.
***
The Radiance’s burning bright light and anger drowned out everything else, especially Ghost’s own thoughts and feelings. So, when much of her attention turned away from them, they noticed. But even with their thoughts back, they were disorientated and thus it took them a bit to realize what was happening.
Hornet was here? So was Quirrel and Grimmchild? … Why though? And how? It didn’t make sense. … The Radiance hated them, she wanted them gone; she was trying to kill them. … Oh no! Ghost needed to help them. … They couldn’t though, the Radiance still had them in her thrall. Which meant Hornet, Grimmchild and Quirrel were going to…
Actually no, they were fighting back. More than holding their own too based off the Radiance’s slowly growing fear and desperation as well as increased anger. She refused to fade away and die and refused to be killed. She was going to kill any bug that got in the way of that.
Despite her determination, she was slowly but surely pushed steadily back. She was losing! Ghost’s joy about that made her angrier, distracting her and causing her to take a slash strong enough to deflate Ummu from Quirrel straight to the face. Half blind now, the wound gushed essence as she retreated but not fast enough to avoid more fire from Grimmchild and a barrage of spiked balls from Hornet.
The three of them chased her, clearly intent on killing her. … That’s what they were here to do, wasn’t it? Kill her and save Ghost. … No one had ever done anything like that for them before, they hadn’t thought anyone ever would either. They probably wouldn’t have believed it if the evidence wasn’t undeniable before them.
The Radiance eventually reached a point she couldn’t retreat any further. There wasn’t much room to fight up here but Hornet and Quirrel somehow managed anyway, taking turns attacking her and dodging with Grimmchild right beside them providing backup via a constant barrage of fireballs.
It was Hornet who delivered the final blow, leaping up high and tossing her needle into the large slash made Quirrel’s nail earlier. The Radiance roared in anger and pain as Hornet dashed forward to push it in deeper, twisting it inside her and pulling it down but not out, making the wound to her core even bigger. Essence poured out of it like a like a geyser, fill the Dreamscape with light as the Radiance died.
The next moment Ghost was awake, staring up at the ceiling of the temple. Their head pounded, making them feel a bit dizzy even before moving. Trying to move a hand up to touch where the pain radiated from resulted in them learning that their arms were bound rather tightly. Why would…
A happy mewl came from beside them a half second before they were engulfed in exceedingly warm wings. It was Grimmchild, he was much bigger and apparently very happy to see them as he nuzzled them while making happy sounds. If only Ghost could return his affections because they were quite pleased to see him again too.
“Grimmchild, I know you’re happy to see them but you need to move so I can untie them.” That was Hornet. She sounded exhausted but relieved.
Grimmchild made a noise of complaint but moved aside, allowing Hornet to lean in and untie whatever was keeping Ghost bound. She helped them sit up so she could unwind it fully. As soon as it was off it though, she… hugged them.
Ghost froze. They’d never been hugged before, what were they supposed to do? And it was Hornet! She was their sister yes but… she wasn’t the type to hug people, even those important to her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, seemingly unbothered by the fact that they were stone-still in her arms. “I shouldn’t have… let you do that. I just didn’t think there was another way. Or… at least I should’ve done something sooner. I’m sorry.”
Ghost nodded as they relaxed, even returning her hug as they’d seen other bugs do when hugged by a loved one. With another chirp, Grimmchild’s wings were suddenly around them again and Hornet too this time, forcing them a bit closer. It was a bit awkward but… nice; hugs were nice.
***
“Why don’t you join them?” Quirrel whispered to Hollow who was staring at their siblings and Grimmchild hugging. What they were thinking was impossible for him to know but if he had to guess, it’d be that they wanted in on that group hug. They certainly deserved to be included in it.
True to that guess, Hollow only hesitated for a few seconds before crouching down beside them. They had only one arm so it was bit awkward but they managed to pull their family close, the three of them even adjusted themselves to help Hollow join them.
It was honestly one of the most beautiful things Quirrel had ever seen. The dregs of a broken family reunited at last, long overdue for sure. As nice as it was, Quirrel was a bit of an intruder here though. This should be a private family moment.
So, even though he was eager to talk to Ghost again and express he was happy that they were all right and that the Radiance was defeated, he turned and left for now. He, like them, Hornet and Hollow, could finally move on from his past as well as Hallownest’s. All of them were at long last free to do as they pleased. … He had a lot to explain to Lemm first though.
I was contemplating writing an epilogue about how Ghost, Hollow, and Hornet start moving on from all the Radiance stuff as a family (with Grimmchild there too of course) but I think I actually like it being more opened ended. Y'all can imagine for yourselves how they might start putting their lives back together.
#My writing#hollow knight#the radiance#Ghost & the hollow knight#Ghost & Hornet#Ghost & grimmchild#Hornet & the Hollow Knight
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ᴡʜɪᴛᴇ ᴠᴏᴡ - Kyoujurou Rengoku
DISCLAIMER: THIS IS THE SECOND PART TO A TWO-SHOT, THE FIRST PART BEING BLACK VOW. DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER. THANK YOU.
one more!! then i’ll be gone into the abyss for 53786432 years i promise :))
time for angst round 2, featuring kyoujurou’s pov!! wowee!!!!!!!!
series: kimetsu no yaiba/ demon slayer
notes: kyoujurou pov, major character death, angst, not much yandere, angst, originally male reader that's female for the majority of this chapter, muzan being a dick.
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰
It was as if everything had changed overnight.
The house I'd lived in for so long suddenly seemed so desolate. It seemed so lonely, despite how for many years I hadn't thought of it like that in the slightest. Hallways seemed to stretch on forever, barren even with the numerous pieces of art present. Rather than drawing the eye, I couldn't bring myself to look at them. They were hideous, as if completely different paintings to the ones I had bought myself.
There was something missing, wasn't there?
This feeling of something no longer being present haunted me like my very shadow, taller in dim candlelight. Tonight it seemed that I wouldn't sleep, wouldn't rest until I found what was lost. Though when I wondered what was lost, tried to grasp it as firmly as I could, it was as if the meaning of its very existence was to evade me.
It was frustrating, to say the least.
So, in some halfhearted effort to clear my mind, I entered the library. It was very rare that I found myself here, favouring physical activities over losing myself in a book. But there was something so alluring about the idea of escaping for at least a couple of hours which seemed so appealing to me. Most likely, it was the wedding that would take place in such a short time that was putting me in such a state. I supposed that it was hard not to feel so gloomy, with my lack of fondness for the woman that I would be marrying. There was only person that I'd confess this to, though.
Who was it, again?
The more I thought, the larger the dilemma that I'd faced just moments before. I could swear that I could see their face, only for it to become more blurred and faint with each ounce of effort that I put into remembering them. A warm feeling began to run through my veins as I recalled them, however faint, before it was quickly shoved out.
What was I thinking about then?
The feeling that just flew through me- what caused it? The more I thought, the further from reach it was. An intense sensation of frustration seized my heart, along with the bitter taste of sadness. Surely, if it was so important, then I wouldn't have forgotten it in the first place. However my heart told a different story, beating to a rhythm of sorrowful loss. Whatever it had been, I had played some part in this huge mess.
No book in the vast labyrinth of a library could hold my mind from its turmoil that night, and so I went back to bed unfulfilled.
There, I dreamt of a figure with no face, who spoke words with no voice. It faced away from me from the majority of the dream, with no features to identify it whatsoever.
"Do you not enjoy the Lady's presence?" It had asked with complete absence of sound. Even still, I understood perfectly, a sense of familiarity in the scene painted out before my eyes.
I remember being sat there, taken aback by the sudden question for a moment. Then I'd laughed- or tried to, at least- at it, at the whole situation. This person had known me so well, yet the me sat before them now knew so little. The laugh tore at my throat as it left, wracking my chest with uneven, sob-like movements.
"Why do you ask?" I had returned, yet now I held no interest for that answer. I knew the truth, and so did they. The question I'd wanted to ask was left unsaid, as my mouth refused to utter those words.
There was silence then, for a couple of seconds, and I knew the answer before it was said. What I knew more than that was that it was a weak excuse to cover up what they really wanted to say. And that was what I desired to know more.
"A hunch." Was what they finally settled on, and if I could have said it with them then I would have. But I could only watch on as everything began to blur, as the background began to mix and intertwine into one large mass. The person had disappeared by this point, and that unquenchable sadness returned once more. It was like a constant downpour, determined to extinguish the very flames that my soul thrived on and leave only the ashes behind.
Finally, the colours disappeared with the bright light of the morning sun. For a moment, a spark of optimism provided light through the murky rain, a beacon of hope to any passing travellers who would stumble upon it. However all flames soon die, and this spark was put out sooner than the rest; the figure who had flung open the curtains to my room was unfamiliar. Though somewhere, I knew it was physically impossible for it to be that person (though the reason to that, too, evaded me). Yet that didn't stop the disappointment that followed after my dreams had left.
"Today's the big day!" They had chirped happily, yet with the politeness that the usual maid would possess.
"Yes," I acknowledged with just as much as distant friendliness as usual, a broad smile stretching my lips. And I felt every muscle ache as they were pulled taut. It was more difficult than I thought to act as if excited, seeing as today would be the day that I was bound to someone that I couldn't be more disinterested in. But, alas, they grinned back, completely unaware of the fact that the smile I so often held had become so fake.
It was almost immediately after waking that I had to dress, the finely tailored suit hand-sewn to the exact measurements feeling more and more like a cage with every passing second. Even such a feeling did not drag that smile from my face, though, as if it was glued there and could never be removed.
Every preparation seemed to pass so quickly- too quickly!- as time rushed past. Where minutes had dragged into days the night before, hours became seconds today. A feeling of dread bubbled up in my gut, threatening to boil over and spill onto beautiful bouquets of flowers, onto floors cleaned so diligently that every inch of them shined, onto this damned suit which would lead to nothing but confinement to a woman I did not love for the rest of my life.
I couldn't take my eyes off those flowers, so beautiful in colour, as I waited for my carriage. Servants had long given their best wishes and had scurried off to prepare everything else to be immaculate for my return. But it wouldn't just be my return.
Finally, the smile was allowed to slip from my face. Before, I had worn it so genuinely and freely, without a care in the world. Because I was happy. However there was no happiness to be felt in the current situation, apart from in the colour of those flowers. They were truly charming in some way, and I couldn't take my eyes off them. It was a familiar colour, one I recalled looking upon with such fondness. But I wasn't quite sure why.
Her eyes match the flowers.
That was my first thought when I'd looked up, seeing a woman stood away from the path, leering from the forest. Her hair, like spun silk, skin that looked so soft in the gentle late morning sun. But most of all, it was her eyes that appealed the most. With all of the lovely colour found in the blooming roses, tinted with a hint of sadness.
No- it was the other way around.
A beautiful sorrow was the main thing to be found in her eyes, followed by the colourful hue. They matched her expression in all of its forlorn elegance, with eyebrows furrowed and lips upturned in a pained smile. It was in those eyes that I saw it, realised it within an instant that took my rushing towards her, those flowers left behind on the cobbled track: she was the key to what I'd lost.
When we embraced it was like the rekindling of the fire I'd lost in the past days, weeks, months, who knew how long? Who cared? As I left behind the home I'd known for my whole life, I knew that I didn't. Not if I could find the happiness that had been stolen from me without me even knowing.
Rather than the lavish lifestyle promised to me if I'd married the girl I'd been promised that day, me and the stranger soon made a humble life in a small cottage, detached from the rest of the world. We survived on what we grew, and ran through each day as if we were the only people in the world. And to me, we were. Although my memories from before that day have yet to return, my joy had come back in heaps and bounds. Almost every minute of the day was spent together, and I couldn't be more content.
At least, that's what I'd like to think.
However with the cheerfulness brought by this woman, there was a deep sense of self-hatred stirring in my heart. It was as if I was betraying someone by enjoying these days spent with her. Deep down, it was as if I knew it was meant to be someone else. Someone similar in many ways, but massively different. It was confusing, almost terrifying how there seemed to be no solution to end this misery. But I avoided this feeling like the plague, busying myself during the day and relaxing with her during the night. I filled that empty feeling with actions, anything to avoid thinking. Because thinking too much would only hurt me again and again, in the end.
She, too, seemed to be suffering, despite how happy she seemed when engrossed in something. Whenever conversation had long ran dry and there was no more work to be done for the day, that sadness that made her eyes its home only intensified. Just one look could tell you that guilt ran like blood through her veins, and that she had done something heinous in her past. Perhaps many things. Though that should have bothered me more than it actually did, as instead of approaching the subject, I merely focussed on bringing and keeping our happiness present.
"You know," I had said once, a cheeky grin written all over my features. Her expression was one of endless amusement as she stared back at me. It was close to mine, was her face, and her hands cupped mine, which held her face.
"You could pass for a guy." And though I had laughed, half-joking in the matter, the laugh she gave was half-hearted, tainted with a hint of bitterness. For a moment, I'd worried that I had offended her, with that dreadfully pretty look in her eyes once more. However it disappeared upon her noticing that I saw, and she merely grinned a full grin back,
"Do I take that as a compliment?" She had asked, though didn't look offended in the slightest even if it wasn't.
"Of course!" I had replied immediately, adding on: "though you'd be a very beautiful boy."
"I don't think boys would find that very complimentary, you know."
"Well, handsome, then!" Enthusiasm seeped into my voice just as it had always done in the past, not feeling unnatural in the slightest, "is that better?"
Her hands, slightly cold to the touch, squeezed mine as she had snickered softly, leaning in closer, "I guess."
They were cold, even now, as she lingered behind me. I could feel her gaze looming over my shoulder to glare at the man who'd invaded our little corner of the world.
"Can I help you?" Though I was indeed smiling, finding it much easier with my lover (for some reason, it slightly stung inside to phrase it like that) behind me, there was a tiny spark of rage that threatened to fester and grow if this man did not leave. If he threatened our peace here, then even I was hesitant to find out what I would do.
"The person behind you." His voice was cold, like being snowed in during a blizzard without any wood to start a fire.
There was no need to look behind me to find out who he was referring to, so I didn't look over my shoulder lest she begin to panic, "what of them?"
"Give them to me." Their responses were immediate, a hint of a bite to each word that he hadn't bothered to hide. They were clearly dangerous, but their presence did not scare me as much as the questions of what would happen to her if she were to go with him.
"Why?" I had asked instead, without much internal debate. To hand them over would be to welcome back in that bottomless despair, without any light to help me out. This woman was my saving grace from such a fate, someone who had aided me in so many ways up until (and including) this day. To hand her over, too, would be to hand over the familiarity I had lost, a sensation that could only be found in her presence.
She tried to speak, voice trembling and unsure. Before she could sound a word I turned to look at her in those eyes which I adored so much. It was obvious that she was worried, terrified, and was trying to protect me over herself. But what sort of partner would I be to let her do that for me, while she would undoubtedly suffer instead? In those eyes, I could tell without a second glance that she had suffered enough for me as it was, and so I refused to let her suffer further.
"There's no need to be worried," I squeezed her hand gently, it seemed to cool down my blood that had begun to boil, "I'll keep you safe."
This didn't seem to persuade her; she was a rather tough customer when it came to things like this. However she was cut off once more when she tried to speak, this time by the man who'd invaded this little home of ours and intended to destroy our peace.
"You don't need to know that.-" like hell I don't! "-All you need to know is that I'll take them either way. Except if you resist then you'll wind up dead."
It was soon after he had finished speaking that I reluctantly let her hand go. Because if he were to attack and she was so close, then there was a chance that she could be caught in the crossfire as well. That was a situation that I'd immensely like to avoid.
"I refuse." Was my answer, and I hoped that the confidence that I had built up did not falter in this moment. Failure was not an option here in order to keep her safe.
But I wasn't even given a chance to hear what he said next, before his claws that seemed to sprout from nowhere had dug into and slashed my skin into ribbons. It was painful- oh god it was painful! There was so much blood, and so much pain that my nerves felt like they were shutting down. I crumpled inwards onto myself, onto the floor. The pain was immense, though her screams were even more painful than I could ever have imagined. Her tears more painful than it all as she began to wail. She didn't stop, even as she dropped besides me to immediately attempt to stop the bleeding.
Her hands shook as she applied pressure, but couldn't seem to apply enough to allow the wound to clot. One of them rose to wipe at her eyes furiously, which turned red around the edges. But not as red as her hands, which were coated in a deep and dark red that could only be my own. It was such a shame, for such a colour didn't belong on hands like hers. Those hands which had partaken in the impossible task of helping to heal my soul, which were now stained in the blood wrought from my own foolishness. From my own inadequacy to protect her, like a partner should.
I tried to smile at her, to assure her that it would all be fine, to apologise to her for the mess that I'd dragged us both into. The tears only seemed to quicken in speed and increase in volume when she saw, and quickly broke eye contact to put more effort into trying to help the slash clot. Each push onto it was like a new layer of agony, piling on top of each other until it was impossible to see the bottom of it all. It hurt more than the wound itself, perhaps. But maybe that was the price to live. And I wanted to live, now more than ever, so that I could continue to live out my life into the era of old age with the person I cared for so dearly. Even if every time I looked at them, a feeling of guilt stabbed me in the gut. Even if I could never know the source behind the mass of melancholy that she seemed to live off.
Suddenly she stopped, and wept into the hands that had been caked in thick layers of crimson. Sadness seemed to suit her in a way, but I think that's because she wore it so often. It was like a second skin for her. However I think that happiness would suit her much better. I doubted that such a thing could be found in her if she was to be taken by that man, who looked on with cold, sadistic amusement. Such a man is not worthy of her company, which is the type that could bring sunshine to any rainy day. And so I steeled my resolve, pressing my own hands onto the wound. They were heavy, like tonnes of lead, and could muster very little strength through them, but if I could help her at least a little bit, then I would try my very hardest.
Until my last breath, I would try my very best for her.
That was what I'd resolved to do, until I heard it beside me. A cracking, splintering of bone and tearing of flesh. Jagged movements, painful to watch, could be observed from the corner of my eye. I wasn't sure what brought me to glance over, but I was even less sure of what made me continue to watch. I suppose it was like watching a tragedy before you, with the pain that she must have been feeling through such a change in internal structure. From a very brief look elsewhere, it appeared that the man was not expecting this either, and that was what concerned me even more.
Finally, the reformed figure met my eyes. Those same eyes as the woman, yet the familiarity I'd seen in them was a hundred times more potent, the sadness in them triple as intense.
How could I have forgotten?
How could I have forgotten?
How could I dare to have forgotten him, the demon that had lived by my side for what felt like an eternity? And it was an eternity that I swore that I'd look back on with fondness, after I had driven him away. It was an act of cruelty that I had bestowed upon him, to reject him with such force and force my gaze to harden into stone as I cast it upon him. But it was one that I had thought necessary at the time. After all, I would only bring more cruelty to him if I were to accept his feelings, as the world is a cruel place to those who don't fit the mould. Humans would seek to kill him without remorse due to what he was. That was something I could not bear to see, especially as those closest to me hunted those like him without a second thought. Hell- I'd done the very same for an enormous part of my life. But to see him die? I couldn't bear the thought.
But today, it seems like I would have to, with his new form that had only just been built-up being broken down once more. And I could feel it- the gash was beginning to clot and close in time that human mortality would not allow. It was relieving, yet agonising. For me, the physical pain was ceasing, but his pain must be immense.
There were a thousand questions that I wanted to ask, and a thousand more to follow-up. However by the rate at which he was deteriorating before my very eyes, I knew that he wouldn't be able to ask even one. He was going to die, just as our time together had been restored. Right here, right beside me.
It was too much to even think about, so how could I live through it?
The tears that I'd been holding back had blurred my vision for too long, and so they broke free and rolled down my face. They were hot, boiling against my skin as they went down their path. Just as I held him for the first time, I held him again, forehead pressed against his. It was cold, as always, and I was so grateful for every second that I could feel him and his cool touch.
If this was the closest that I'd get to heaven, then please let me feel it a bit longer.
Time is continuing to run out, and his end is visibly near. Please, I beg of you, the you that kneels in my arms with a look so vacant- I know that what I feel will never be able to reach you, not before you disintegrate like you would in the light of the morning sun in which we met for the second time. But I beg that this vow reaches you: that I will continue to love you for the rest of the life that you've given me. I will dedicate it to you, and live on as if you were walking the path that I will walk upon too.
Perhaps after that, we can meet again.
#kimetsu no yaiba#kimetsu no yaiba x reader#kyoujurou x reader#kyoujurou rengoku x reader#rengoku kyoujurou#rengoku kyojurou x reader#rengoku x reader#angst ft anime michael jackson#kny#kny x reader
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Pulchritude
The end began with a whisper in the air. The day had been beautiful and the clouds had looked like airy anvils drifting under the gleaming disc of the sun. Even then, my spirits were at their lowest, for I was about to commit a sin. The sin of murder.
I’ve been on the run for 5 years now and it finally feels like this journey is at its end. Even after all these years though, I ask myself, why did she do all this? Was acting like some agent of chaos her only motivation? Did all those families that took her in, the teachers who educated her, the children from the orphanage who played with her, meant nothing to her? All she said was “My only wish, is to remain the last person standing on earth.” Is this enough justification for destroying all those innocent lives? Perhaps, it is for the best that I never learn the answers. Perhaps it is my destiny to forever be left in the dark. But I do know this… I’m the only one that can stop this endless madness that consumes her, for she is still my daughter, and I, her father.
As I sat reminiscing, Michael, my best friend and attorney, was done putting up our tent. I had told him that was nothing more than a simple camping trip in the forest, sitting just on the outskirts of our dirty and busy city, to celebrate me being finally proven innocent in the court. Little did he know, however, that this is the place where it all began, and the place where it will all end. It was a letter that had brought me here once again, 17 years later. All it contained was a single question. A question, the meaning of which I knew all too well. “Can you end my life?”
The Reaper’s moon of autumn had begun to show its face. Its moonlight turned the leaves into a flaming patchwork of colours: scorching-yellows, lava-red and burnished browns. A lonely fox cried a mournful cry, the echoes of which fluttered through the vault-still silence of the trees. The entire scene had an alien beauty to it, and both of us just sat there, trying to etch the scene onto our minds. A furious huff of wind rose up then, violently shaking the flaps of our tent. A tinkling sound enters our eardrums, as tiny pearls of rain dropped onto the leaves. As the sounds intensified and the rain became increasingly terrifying, we quickly made our way back into the tent. No longer was it the soft, sodden, swollen drops of spring we were hearing; it was like ball-bearings were hitting the canvas roof with force. Occasionally, a kerplunk sound could be heard, caused by the rainwater falling on the ground from the tent. We huddled together and shivered in the tent. Who knew the rain could be so terrifying, yet, so beautiful?
Eventually, the wrath of the rain came to an end, and after munching on a quick meal, we decided that we should go to sleep for now. The only problem, Michael, was that my night had just begun. After a while, I opened my eyes, for it was time to act. Michael was still asleep. I bid him a quiet farewell. For all I know, I may never see the person sleeping in front of me again. I cannot let good people like him die anymore. I’d made sure that I was wearing my concealed holster with the Glock, completely loaded, before leaving. The wind was howling as if telling me that I’ll be left with nothing after tonight and that I should turn back. But you see wind, I’ll never turn back, not after all that she’d done, and I’m fully aware that after tonight, I’ll be left with nothing. Even then, I have to do what I have to do. There’s no other option.
With slow and sure steps, I finally made my way to the old safe house. The place carries a lot of history within its crumbling walls. It is rumoured that this very safe house was actually used to hold prisoners and spies during the old war. Who knows how many people, both innocent and guilty, were left here, chained to the walls, starving to death? But you see, there exists a forgotten piece of history attached to this place as well. In it, a naïve young man, striving to be an accountant, and married to a beauty, stumbled upon a small child, shivering from the cold, outside the safe house. The girl, wearing tattered clothes and barefooted, was clearly suffering from malnutrition and had an injury on the forehead. When the man approached her, the only words that could escape her small lips were her asking the man to end her life. But the man was compassionate, for he decided to take her in and raise her as his own daughter. However, nobody could have told the man back then, that it was not because of the malnutrition or the injury was the girl asking him to end her life. It was because of an endless sea of darkness that lurked within her being, waiting for the right moment, to engulf her completely. Suddenly, a line by the famous philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche struck my mind,
“When you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back at you.”
I crept my way into the safe house and looked around. The place looked extremely strange. It was nothing like the place I remembered from all those years ago. Back then, the floor was completely littered with rubble and moss had grown on the walls, or whatever was left of them. But now, the entire place was wiped clean. In fact, two of the 4 rooms were even furnished with some old furniture. The desolate and the dreary feeling I had when I first came here was completely gone. It was as if, the place never had any history, to begin with. All of it was kind of frightening in its own right. A wave of dread started spreading over me as I stealthily checked out each room one by one. Was my deduction wrong? Did she mean some other place in the letter? Was she even invited me to kill her in the first place? As I was thinking all this, I finally made my way to the kitchen. It was placed in the back of the house and was the last room left. I slowly pushed the door open and there she was, lying on what looked like a bed. A bed placed in a kitchen looked extremely off for some reason. Her small, well-shaped lips were tightened into a straight line. At first glance, I could discern no sign of breathing, but after staring hard I was able to make out a sight- A very slight movement- at the base of her throat. She lied with her head on the pillow as if looking up at the ceiling. She was not, in fact, looking at anything. Her eyelids were closed like hard winter buds. It was genuinely quite a sight to behold, for even in the most profound somnolence, people do not tread so deeply into the realm of sleep.
With a slow voice, I called her name, “Charlotte.” She slowly opened her eyes and greeted me with a small, sad smile. “So, you actually remembered huh?” She said. “Why wouldn’t I remember? After all, it was the night that changed my life forever.” I said, with another sad smile. “I really wish you’d let me achieve my dream you know?” She said, with a slight laugh. “I can’t let you do that. Never.” I replied solemnly. I’d been following her trails for five years, seeking to end her life. But, now that she’s finally in front of me, I just couldn’t wipe out the face of the little girl from my mind. The one I found all those years ago, with whom my fate had been entangled with as if all of it was sewn on some prophetic tapestry. “The darkness within has grown too much for me to bear. So, please, I ask of you once again. Can you end my life?” The only response I could give was with a slight nod. I unholstered my pistol and took aim. As I did this, she closed her eyes and smiled. Suddenly, all the memories I’d made with her flooded my mind, clouding my judgement. Should I really be doing this? What if I can help her? Can I really call myself human after killing her? What should I do? What should I do?! What should I do?!! WHAT SHOULD I DO?!!! Then as if to answer all my thoughts, the images of all those innocent people killed by her flashed my mind. No, I need to do this. Otherwise, the abyss within will consume her. I cleared my mind and took aim once more. She was still smiling, waiting, for her suffering to end. I slowly pulled the trigger, and the sound of the gunshot echoed through the night. It was done. Her lifeless body just lay there, still smiling. After staring at the scene for a while, I moved out of the kitchen and lumped myself onto a chair in one of the other rooms.
However, even after killing her, something felt amiss. I could neither feel any peace spreading over me, like they show in all those movies, nor could I feel any remorse. Hell, I couldn’t even feel any happiness or sadness. What is wrong? I killed her, right? Now, nobody will suffer anymore, right? As I was asking myself these questions, my right hand, still holding the gun, had changed its position. The gun was pointed towards the right of my forehead now. My hand did all the work for me and provided me with all the answers to my questions. “So, this is what I want huh?” Suddenly, I heard Michael calling out my name not far from the house. The sound of the gunshot, along with me missing, must’ve worried him.
“Well, who cares anymore?” I said, as peace finally washed over me. I placed my finger on the trigger and closed my eyes.
- Aspheosis
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Snippet Three
To say Greenvine was huge stepped to an understatement. Upon entrance it flaunted the spiralling four levels of assorted stores, paired with fitting greenery for shifter accommodation. The crystal dome that loomed overhead emitted an unnatural sunlight. Mood settled beneath my skin – conversation, coffee, occasional intercom, solid marble at my soles.
I continued at my own pace, minding my surroundings just in case someone – anyone – recognized me. I would rather stay out of the radar for now.
“Hey you!”
I went on walking to the side at a brisk but easy pace. Looking to my side, I saw that not only my attention was grabbed but other people’s as well. A stout security guard ran across the center, chasing after what looked like a weasel.
“No shifting inside the mall!” The guard roared, swinging his stick around, “Don’t make me feed ‘ya to the damn hunters!”
A collective shift in tension swarmed over. I could sense it. Shifters simultaneously turned wary, even though no one would know who they were.
I realized I had stopped and stared while the guard tried to seize the animal. I turned away and picked up a quicker pace, wheels of my luggage making a ruckus behind me. However, I kept my head straight – no point found in appearing suspicious.
Shifters rarely shifted in public places, much less where they were aware that not all present were fellow shifters. Cold ice slid down my back, thinking about hunters blending amongst people. Hunters sitting next to shifters.
I shook my head and walked on.
I halted in a corner to catch my breath. Benches already brimmed with mall-goers. I was digging inside my backpack when something caught my eye.
There, right there in a bar, was Vic, who had an arm slung around another boy. They hunched over the counter, laughing over drinks. In another table, Vaughn sipped his boba tea.
I instantly had half the mind to march over them. But afterwards . . . nothing. I had nothing to tell them, nothing to scold them about. They were only partly to blame that I had no one to fetch me at the airport.
Releasing a breath, I dug deeper into my backpack. To make my situation easier, I could come over to them and ask for our house’s direction, but I could not expect useful information to spout from their mouths.
But I could not bring myself to disturb them. I felt around my backpack instead and fished out a piece of paper. Perhaps if I found a friendly face (which I doubt) I could ask for direction. In that torn out page of my notebook was a sketch of a map. Gaige sent the sketch to me and I fortunately had the chance to copy it down before my battery died.
But that little minx's drawing was undecipherable.
I frowned at the paper again before crumpling it in my fist. If I had to get home on my own, so be it.
I scanned the place once more. Another person caught my eye. Across from me, in a pizzeria, Frances sat by a table with a circle of friends. She had her arms rested on the surface in front of her as she smiled her widest grin.
My lip curled. That is another scene I did not want to disturb. With my recent knowledge, I knew Frances barely had the time to go out with friends.
I leaned against the wall. If the three of them were here, then perhaps at home .
I stopped short on my thought process again. On a bench northeast from me, there sat a couple sickeningly staring at the fountain display at front. It was not any couple. It was Soren and . . . a girl I had never met before. Once more, I did not want to approach - or even look at - them.
Fazed, I blinked a few times. Then a few more times, rapidly. So this . . . this was something they had not told me.
The paper still sat roughly on my palm. If four of them were here, and if I assumed Mama and Papa were out with Maddox, that left only Gaige and Isidore home. And . . . no one would be watching them.
I trotted off to the side with my bags risk of Soren or the others seeing me. Just then, a child went past me, walking in a calm manner. But I noticed it. His eyes were different.
I raised my hand to stop him. But he stopped by himself. He turned around and stared up at me with the largest pupils, as if a magnifying glass passed over his eyes. I braved a step forward.
"You better not walk around like that," I pointed out, "Hunters might take you."
"They won't dare in a place like this," he said in equal monotone, "And I don't have much of a choice."
What . . . does he mean?
I bent down to my knees to level with me. He seemed about seven or eight, but with a matured look on his face (save for the eyes). "Where are your parents?" I asked.
"Not around here," said he, "I came with my brother."
I tilted my head slightly, "Won't he worry about you right now?"
"I'm not lost," he argued, crossing his arms and parting his feet, "I just went away from him. I know my way around."
"And you must also know your way outside Greenvine." This little boy must be my ticket out.
"I do," he told me, a ghost smile flickering. "You're lost, aren't you?"
Truly, I was asking help not from the people I knew but a stranger that was a little boy. Nonetheless, I placed trust him. He also seemed like he wants to be humored.
"Yes, I've just returned and I need to go home." I nodded to him, then held out my hand, "I'm Zoe."
He shook my hand with much formality, "I'm King."
"Really? King?"
His shoulders rose and fell, "That's what I asked my parents, too."
I stood up, wary of Soren and his significant other on the bench. Luckily, they remained in their lovestruck bubble. I smoothed out the piece of paper in my hand and gave it to King for a look. "Does this map make sense to you?"
King peered, his nose crinkling. His eyes shifted back to normal now, warm hazel irises staring at the paper. "Looks like chicken feet imprints," he mused.
"I only copied it from another drawing," I defended, fishing out my phone and showing him that it was dead.
King turned the paper around and around, examining the careful detail. "With the street names, I can take you there. But I can't say I've been to exactly where your house is."
"Thank you," I let out a sigh of relief.
"But hey," he returned the paper to me, "It will be easy if you call someone to fetch you right now. I have a phone."
I did a brief check around the place. They were still around, unmoving from their spots. "No thanks. They're all busy right now."
King's stare singed on me for a while. I stared back at him, "If it's not too much a hassle for you - "
"No," he waved his hand, "I want to take you there. It's not too far anyways. And the more I loiter around, the more my brother can get mad so it's a win-win."
"Again, thank you," I hung my head to a light bow.
King led us back to the exit and in that duration, I tried to escape the sight of those four people. When I looked at them, they were all engrossed, sucked in their own created abyss, too busy to raise their heads and notice their sister.
"Do we have to ride something to get there?" I asked King by the time we slipped out of Greenvine. The arm pulling my suitcase along began to ache. The pack on my shoulder was not too merciful either.
"Let me see the map again," King held out his hand, and I obliged. He took his phone out and compared.
I gave him a few minutes. He looked up at me, "It's within walking distance but it goes a few twists and turns. We can commute if you want."
"I want to know what you prefer," I told him.
King scratched his chin, "I assume you want to know your way around Delluna - walking is best that way." He eyed my suitcase, "That looks heavy, though. Let me have it."
"We walk," I said in finality and tossed him my backpack instead. King bounded ahead of as we rounded the perimeter of Greenvine to a back area with new roads. I decided then, that this was better than sharing a ride with my siblings.
King kept his eyes switched between the makeshift map and phone. In spite of this, he navigated smoothly, avoiding the long pavements that led to nowhere. Buses and cars sped by, and stalls and booths littered around, but the place was clean. The heat did not radiate as much.
In gradual succession, the city became familiar to me. I recognized the ice cream booth Vic often demanded to visit. The park still stood, with the memories of childhood along with it, and the preserved mark Gaige had carved on one of the slides. It was not home, and I recalled merely a few places, but Delluna was familiar, a lot familiar before Reddard.
I decided to make small talk to distract myself from the burns of my sore arm. "King," I kept up to walk right behind him, "You said you can't help it when you change your eyes."
Not once did he lift his gaze. "Yes. My alter ego pops up once in a while."
I remained silent as a motion for him to go on. King shut his mouth before saying, "I usually don't shift. I can't."
"You can't," I repeated, "You are unable to, or something is withholding you?"
"I'd go for the withholding option."
I nodded once, "I see."
There were some shifters blessed with quite unique animals. It caused danger for them to shift, especially if a hunter were to see. I had schoolmate back in Hythe who shifted to a recently extinct trophy animal. When those people did not shift regularly, their animal sides threatened to come out instead.
I did not pester King any further. We turned to a sharp corner, ascended a few steps and kept walking.
"Zoe, where did you come from?" He took his turn to ask.
"From Reddard," I replied, "For training." We squeezed past a few people. I had to check that my suitcase was in perfect condition every once in a while.
"You're a bit too trusting towards a kid like me," he commented, looking back an inch over his shoulder.
"I know who is trustworthy and who is not."
We entered an alley, so narrow that it allowed only two people at a time. Clotheslines with wooden pegs floated above us. Windows, as well as tiny balconies, jutted out of the gray walls. I smelled a faint hint of detergent and house plants.
King put down the map. He raised his phone, which was incessantly ringing. After six rings or so, I asked him, “Are you taking that?”
He pocketed his phone, “I’ll let my brother worry for a bit.”
I bit off a small piece of pity for his brother. Although it was hypocritical for me to keep King out like this, I knew he could find his way around and thus cause little worry.
“If it will benefit you,” I told him as we trudged through, “You can tell him it’s my fault.”
“He won’t believe me,” he grinned. “Don’t worry about it, Zoe.” We reached a brand new place outside the alley. Buildings took on a smaller size. There was a rotunda by the center and a proud city hall stood in front of it.
Beside the city hall was a domed building, the reason I really ever went to Delluna Capital before.
King pointed it out to me, “That’s – “
“The Shifter Provincial Council Hall,” I finished for him.
He stared at me. “I don’t visit Delluna without going there,” I explained.
With a few more steps, we ended by a corner where crossroads met. King gazed up at the road going uphill. Instead of houses or buildings, pine trees outlined each side of the path. The air was colder than usual.
“I think the house is up there,” King motioned, “Just continue up and you’ll see it.”
I looked back at him, “Up there.”
He nodded.
It looked like I had to haul my bags up a steep one. I rolled my shoulders and pressed on my back to relieve the ache for a moment. “Thanks, King. I should be seeing more of you soon. Can you go home?”
“You’re welcome,” said he, shaking my hand once more, “My house is nearby, actually.”
With final goodbyes, we set off to separate paths. King, hands on pockets with a wild phone ringing, strode off to another road. I gathered my strength to pull my bags up. I considered going up first and asking for help but I did not think Gaige could offer much help.
Forcing my feet to anchor on the asphalt, I wiped my sweat on my sleeve. In minutes, it gradually appeared in my sight. The house was a grand mansion in the middle of the woods – at the top of the hill. Certainly, it stood above our previous homes in Hythe in terms of size.
Unbelievable, how Mama and Papa had the money for this land and property.
I took heavy steady breaths. A few more, just a few more and I will be home.
Before the house was a gate made of long sharp steel. The black tips rounded the outside of the place. It took only a slight push to open it. A brief thought fluttered in my mind – it was dangerous for the gate to be open like this.
Either he did not do it on purpose . . . or he was expecting me to come home alone.
I released a breath, continuing upwards as I swung the gate closed behind me. I knew if I stopped to rest, I would be tired out even more. So, even when my arms screamed and my pulse quickened, I climbed the grassy hill leading to the house.
Just sitting within the grass were purple and pink toys, as well as a lone trike. Further upwards, there was a manmade pond. Next to the house there was also a spare storage. I continued and reached the front doorstep, which was lined with dark lanterns.
The double doors stared back at me. Not minding my loud breaths, I tried the door. I would not budge. Next, I tried the heavy knocker.
In that second, the window to my right flickered as the curtain drew. Right there was Gaige’s grinning face, glasses perched, shirt askew.
“Gaige, you little shit,” I said softly and tried the knocker again.
He gave me a shrug, drew the curtain back and left. I knocked again. As my fist began to land, the door clicked open and I was greeted by, not Gaige, but a little girl.
Her mouth dropped open, and I noticed her signature long brown hair, stray strands bobbing up and down. “Zoe!” Her face curved into a smile.
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