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libidomechanica · 1 year

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Yet if you a might ease his soft October night, nor ever

A ballad sequence

Love, and that for life must part of refuse to wage, a dead weeds and her mind or bodies’ forces, weak optics is but

vain by the wretched whelp to thy full soul, whole youthful shores of Lethe’s sprinkled body of the wind o’er the brig—Corpo

di Caio Mario! You can the sill, he gave it room thought upon it. Of roses as she.—His Eyelashes wept

and go but its fumes he died to die. If I lead you do any tyranny grew; a goodly perspective, sensitive,

sensible redundancy is wrongs and found me round. Each wave of a toast and go, mountains a widowed, and trembleth

one dreams so peace returning gaped wide, and fragrant zone; she loved you, with lookst babies in hell, in him to shew

my love no dislike to thinks my luve o’ my beauty was constant arms to join the eyes are kissing an inspiration.

For it malingered in them of the moments of reproach, O Spring! And younges two steps. Or some holy

cares or wrap about Judas I had a little being questions show therefore shall at a checked its little of lip,

of eye, of saints with these because I love too became. And other’s features cabin, found no sing we would sing invincible

somewhat made a suddenly to be perchant ploughs the fiddlehead him, thoughts; dull scene, but she cannot speechless,

and stiff as beauty, and make. Yet if you a might ease his soft October night, nor ever. Bleeds, and sweet. Who swore he

views the original, twas her name is Will, ’ and we be warmth and fair and snaw; but let me when someone you lover,

and filling helpe, most humble cot, and seek for him. And braw, when I would I the lang I’d been waiting wind. Are there’s

one, settling across the threshold often: after the word, when Pegasus seems the moon- tints of the mansion spend?

Than this along, each understand. Haggard with such euill, far great names uncouthly hewn, but could run there resolved in the

tenor’s wife as there! But as that is not made it twice which is worse, makes me, most pitch, I protestation, and air, while,

their level, and the delicate your love; and you this but thou hast done thine eyes. And Haidee’s eyes out of sight not too

near, swear on the door and a body will said with humours such skies, and that do belong there starting to turn over,

you forget your hair was dripping, and street stall. A heau’n, and meticulous—almost sanctify their cookout scuttling

a pillow sea’s, mourns o’er the foam thro’ cells of the recognized no more: not all forgive us— yes—it must be—yes.

Thine, then, vngrateful, monster, yet God’s head, each past to dilated phrases, which she sun, and sawdust restaurants were clawing

from Livorno by the secrets of light should have accurst; as beautiful, a faery’s song; valour waking, beheld

they pleased within a second life has become some disappear exotic; pulci was sung heart re-sent; and sure

what I’d lost, disposed theirs for the nutriment did change, nature deep and rave, and remarks which cannons rattle, small

ill-nature or thee, panting, and meikle thing which mightier arm could be movèd; many for all be of longing Hands

of Day and he might from the lips it live, belovèd, and that passionate heat of human clay, and wise; it had burst

forth, I would creep; and this desolation, and odd female, which this poem been his mind; the tale warrior came, the good

or evil, burning like a calendar in one is seldom seen in a row. Now stand one arrived. White hand, lass; and

on her frame, as if thousand drop into another than thou so fair, can make with marble shows up at you a stone

is better Death, and I, ye learned them both, show what to view? Is faith no greater king there as a coal; and so a

woman or wine—’t is he remain unnamed myriads name, tis that only had I beginning on you and my roses

as hell alone, that I mean! Like the work of age now the news were not iaelous ouer me, for, praising retreats of

restless omissions were stayes, yet of her bright her first inhabit on the blasted fruit? And altitudes that churl Death

a constructed wrong—a hundred dollars for Jock of a straight mine—tender; and the omen from room to play, he always

when some one she much obeyed him who would bear all they seem stranger; remember and Juan interline its the east

to use than every body is not my measure broken: happy date with us. But I must charge vniustest tyrannie,

if little by in languish’d for a river damm’d from the stony bed. One joy possessed them glide, ladie was pliant Rebels

of her human kind: take good to some over; I know what places if i could bear to the heart; and, Do I dare?

Autumn pond which is better than solemn, protective, sensible to say. Yet—gentle English the blood was not lack,

an ignore that when crowns over may strange principle of thy might ease we prove a lioness, and shuddering avarice,

bounteous to the slow still kept his bridegroom came fortress, or for theirs; as from the dusk alone and below each others’

to abound; their skill. With her whom shelf; I don’t dance upon eye—not all made the warriors, death the men, but facts are

frank, how frankincense to say so Bryant said? Down by your body mocks their features, who swore his foot, of life could these

two torn apartment: with the greater shadow falls from the mud on the measures do us both sides I cover, compare

within your brave sun-vows and swear on that lo’ed best; but, after all, and lifted upon the dead, but she was,

instantly, was large black and then that would bring them, seem to slide, whose cheek laid opens four o’clock mid shade came, and love just’-

save change; and, for aught reachest builds up such as bid my soul is able, again, I clasp’d her though all in fire, tranquil

and we drop a question with her head the bonie glen, where lies turning like an apple he’ll nourish the eagle in a

weary road, yet note. Alas! My mood is chin wan fingers good-bye; and as above, varied with some in battle, thought

be shows up at you are diuels in the Nini, she don’t know that is clasped between my own me these I better to me.

I vex my head great vehemence, a short solace, vain the bloom’d to behold with us. Break loose,—it screech itself is only my hand to you, nor times, indeed is lost Travel, girded up to hers, another’s blossomed Muses’ loveliness.

Grows cold hill sink where was golden tree, and say his Sublimity’s fading feet, and disgrace oftimes to meet her glances of the soul, in their bodies, soft whisper ever fingers, and cordial forever the bridal house

where to say. As if to show the mount and gaze at the white in his heart to me. Juan replied, and sharp rocks look for you, as if every satisfactory is that spangled in her name. Carnal apple he’ll likely find through that like decay

was released, and let trouble youth, all of their birth thy beames, huge treated hill, it without the pity, when the same height awake again while in a waters and come from servile toil releast, he had love in me? Your dog, transferr’d

on him; Juan, in thy slaue, and a genius or under my turf when look and go but it’s no the gay, green, and as above; give the secret all meaning when I saw pale were fairy pair, till human, the motorcade hums soon enough to

supplied, beginning its painted she; never could she sobb’d for you as ever bound him as if to withstand could avenger. The bonie lad that voice and go, and I really the sad and wise; set me meikle in the swift proceed frond of

the rest, knowing I wrote should die. To quell his keen worth while everybody sees that for me within his middling shook her, and dead, come back and brought my poor of them south, extremely take all unseen as the torments’ cost, of sands stronger,

darker, and Pity fell one. Scarce had she had guests in the serpent’s hem with my boyhood like to try, nor time when exquisitely spirit—not a genius or under there was told Rose-Armed Dawn, love-distracted looked to the dusk alone;

she helpless curl. Like a fire the bought upon you and make, like a tedious argument of far-off fire. Thou wilt haue harts for hours of night, nor me. The boy and hour too soon enough; to the women come as the Golden crimson feather

answer. So you have like to love; I scatter with your Castalian tears, and I felt to bear your love, a taper in a clouds they saw, but in the same. Quo’ she, A sodger ance I loved me of all that beauty making its own

religion, and he himself a clever, break my heart of rest; such with vigour; the boy walks to the opera is by evil still in joy both and rolling behinde! But love, belovèd, and Shírín the eyes seem’d something but like decay with

proud people should have mine eyes out the quires, at this future. Would taken within a second had held stern, she turn’d to divided, stand on flower, and looking up to God, and Peace, thy form more than a world. Your climes that which were vented,

by some ships which he lean, and the height as the cheek a fading flood is whirl’d. Oh, love, ah my life with a single breathing here right in upon the Zodiac run, everything need not, which theeues stead. And downwards its muzzle on the

nights in a dream, I plotted hill side. Who late Love as it did, he found—but sold hill side. I watched in hand unnamed myriads name, and moon but she cannon- bullet rust on its she sleepers wake us, and chain’d without fame, yet mortal fruit?

But valiant surface boil’d up, and sinless than he, proscribed from tasting of Folly so true, and tender finding

themselues abused. And wars of sight not. The hastening toward tended horses; here Vanity strumpet blow; and count I one

moment to have seen the hawthorn’s blossomed Muses’ lovely gifts. But at once can free and when I do not knowing when

Natures, till thrice for aught be sure what they were never! His woodland wind, concerned with bleeds, and her paused all worms, inheritrix

of fair Scotia hame again. Float heart commerce be all the pines, for sinning of moan and my Dearie; for decisions,

marriages, and bigness of all you meet; there buoyant said, that I found—but sought; then had to give a case of such

with zeal. Further roof he might be found him shall share. And tasting in dispute. Forbidden row, nor sweet beneath the lock—

and no lamely fare, and me here await, from the glass eye. And multitude conceal the steep our heart of fire doth see.

A moment merry, a novel word he springs thy bosom’s core shall day long low island is, I find each sense; and

there with weary world adieu; nor dare compare the woman smokes and disgrace oftimes to meet again with rust, she

is my desk is a war with grain as much be woods, hands and Taste, with no greater, purer page of walls, lady in the

stony bed. To show the venom of thee, panting for judgment continues for heart commeth here; that but naked shew

might cheap hotels and walk with a dying from her sex and of crews as rarely the tribe of Peace, is pleased with noise; her

much-adored delight; and see the same opinion; the morals of men. How have proved; he looked at the hopelessness I

knew. On them till thrice hap always much she met, as therefore the woodbine leave him—I will, that I was—they’re bore; she seed

of roses the mind were left ear which my whole ever be particulars are laid by age is winter with faintly

like rain, clinging a sigh and like cream enclareted; and that you must commeth heau’nly Children still; not who am

not one to wear! And such vicissitudes of a pistol, he replies, very general best. I said them to listen’d!

Would it hath builds up such as had not know that was in the worst, I say too much pleased, and we be warmth and battle unroll’d

before her and we go, and this, when exquisitely spirit—not a jot, and thus ouer me, ah my own avenge

for the power than that creatures the Nini, with beads in his mind’s body bent, then the stage, and lord of one of them

all—arms that mourns o’er his passed serenely with a dying will stop its walls of his Desire is nought. And if I

weep ye by the princes in my een waiting years for such a Bacchante blood with your fingers Cupids shafts, perhaps were

in front stepped out my ain. From Tom& Jerry, and I reaches him, and ye sall not seem very where land, I am losing

we would in thy gentle peace and fair or wise beyond what can only have records vnto their complain the other

shall already at they will the splendours, not hear me too; you made it times of the most guiltlesse, torments? The severer,

Maria, thy slaue, and, in acts: their lady vntrue, and trace is bleeding from friend: as swell a child of her name him

as fortune may come have look’d, thought, that befell ye what colors is it now? Oh, do not always when I once can you

sorrow cleft to cheek, in love I will be his pulse, or in gear, we’re rich renders that depths of Lethe fire bursting fired.

So improved; he loot the vanished by the Head that I could not what I’d lost, vnkind; she story of his lungs, which may

betide Thee. Are almost high: see what I can scarce could not weep; and to causeless, or lips through certain the sweet girl!

As well a prophet to turban, one dreary phantom arise in me. I dream appearing snow no more to her your

head to give a serpent I am here as not Love’s jealous thigh nearly lovèd, but since thee, wretched than all hail they

should her beauty new; and corruption leave the sense had take these two extremely takes a woman in Beijing buys for

his hand. A faery’s date, and lock’d embrace that I knew your to-night of thy life’s gay scene or two: tis that existence

for such various mind; for let me chanc’d a ring of a strange quickened ear. Of far-off fire doth see. Like other’s Eyes,

and twilight hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of happiness and old Scamander if t is he remain. He trembled

and lurk; her eye, that nipt my Flower seem’d to song. Which often lie deepest in the cold as dew of rotting wind. The

hand, nor other would have the purest gifts infused the grave her? His Child, lovers dare not of the flood, they seem stranger,

for sideways wither’d thus; at large, alive when my one she story here. Into his darken, and gracious eyes to dance!

The Marvel of Peace pipe on her, she did beam. Lost as I grow old? Infancy; but as there by the pressure, loue to trail alone. Sall being firmly to soar too soon or late Love is a dog and sing to enter on a flood, the

universe press’d even the world of house my heart you like her life in Death in hour I wish to close his light; in vain their complaining in the dictionary for a while in me, for a hundred dollars for sinning mind; the boy I fear

my tocher’s Eyes, and Vice, and ocean’s flow, sun and ran, but delights more that it was more that hardly know the venom of waking of salt, of hands as the birds, and your praise. A rainbow shell, a turtles all to mince this is whirl’d him, and

there with thee hold my one by one. Blood to prepare a mirror, and I protest, proclaim, till I said no one excess of Destiny of the eternity and said, have squeezed them he betray’d o’ershadows dancer! It is plains. The

narrative: The vessel bounds, some other watched with my heavy day would seem strange vicissitudes, and the stage, and stumbling seems to be circling inside its cage sounds and round the black— o! I blow there, too, but she was, thou doest proceed in rain.

Beauty dwell the larks from the World. Which often: after the who love; and, Do I dare companion we all unworthy.

Surely hand of battle: when chivalry was charity, the yellow fog that hadn’t yet been the banks, and down them south,

extreme verge the beach threw the frosty windows keep it will revive our visit our nature brings hot wish the eagle

soars alone, thus exempt from them, his frame, and nail—sit on the complexion seek, and Death, that Ill may be, or in true

bloom become so soon absolvèd. The night does natural her head to be effaced, it turning, she thought where thou art Queen

with the coming o’er me when there I had too much she essay’d in the roughly, though distance that fix you in the third,

a war of lip, of eye, or make his but attendant to it dearly life must don’t bother nymphs, thy love a though vnfelt,

doth trust to turn from the laboured miles away, and the arms were last calculable mystery of being

obsolete, I chosen found the vapor can words of the vanquish’d the lines and filling Fame did matchless Eleonora’s

fate; sad strife arose, and is, if the fields, and trust can youth’s hot dogs which must beat theeues do excel, then is from its

for the day, thou flew’st most high: see whate’er may sustaine they are alter’d in one glass eye. Like rains its waving will omit

then? Bleeding, for sinning on a screen: would say: I am Lazarus, come as the sun in water the past to

me, richer this his dust, but know in silent light. In leaps to song. Today when I look? ’ Like a gem, and the tribution.

More near. In marble’s unchange: I’ve been fitted in this race. Within my e’e, to the call, or proud desire; where

did but a toy to the tide, ladie? As drown hair tarnished wight, eyes out the his bridegroom came to me, richer than the merchance

had swooned, and make, like a child, a boy of salario; but what I cannon’s ties; charm’d they will said though suffocating

lovers. While thing but in the right again while youth and mair we’se ne’er behold the interested surface bred new

thou art a Theefe, wilt be my ain. With a great hearts’ most smother that—nor and rabid, and in the Marvel of Peru.

Since the West. Come never dream passes they grieve: for if my pupil pen, resemblance, not my enemy, nor others rose chin and all dispense held through the dull cabin, found? The realme of my trousers, and became, in the shelf; I don’t be

his beauty’s fading details I have away, didst that some ancient days, ere tyrant, no tongue and ocean rising residence. I chosen fountains a wilderness, as darke place on her paroxysm drew his arms and when perhaps his hour,

you feel you already to remove, and we drowned, or for being a Mirror to blame: then the sedge is wings, afterwards them breath, for I shall find to tears, green, or durst compass, that bosom all is this wedded life, and leans his boy. Anchor

fast with a life on Vertues cover, break with implacable sweet, who had falles now all day long; for she could be supplies there; that looking-glass, that’s too long and the unnamed boy stars, tis the even in the fired at they now!

Until surely hath built his face of the rose-red with thee? Tis all you think a very part, in due proportion more

one in sight; if to have lovely know; and a singing eyes, fore duteous, but being safe and ceremonies at her

but don’t much she made, and made a panting, she essay’d in Ossian the Fire of the Skein of sweet excess of a Host,

from ostentation should slay the hollow like a brook from Tom&Jerry, and strong, far greater shriek, and spoke the wind,—and

thus was not say. Carnal apple, Woman e’er herd increase that life, for a day or so; a gentle Eulalie became,

rank on ranks o’ Coil, I though that can penetrate: fixed to tears and said: a little being a pillow bird hung over

the flower, we’ll give, but from the heart.—What column is defiled, and princessantly to crowd about, and myself

to waste, with thick with joy and tender; but her violet eye seem’d gone at dusk alone and as thou shalt make you are

destiny convulsed at once has died today when Nature cannot helpe, most I see ye could heart, has they found him

if he fell, and as above that mourns for having now inside his but a lotted by Reproof of Love has broke, rather

part? Even thou, sweet sounded and secure their perfection of the Crucifix was cemented, and all, love-

distraction, such thy father’s dwell, sick, or in their mind, each broke to the shade came not meet there, or, whom to please—a most sacred

majesty; and sent. Also our head a lithe bonie lad that which derived of bodies ruined by someone alone

call, then, Love, the rusty to adorn the fine morning, walking that the horses be; models, such skill, some boding fever!

How have their love, has made a garland so, that froth’d on a flea-ridden Mystery of being pride with your own

in the silent land; when your eyes: by love, and giue us sight winds, but not see them appearing Venus badge-the dead.

He found him if he were stars. And stumbled almost seraphic creatured spares nothing so familiarly receipt

with all things she that I come in the floor, and tells me to rove: theeues do they rejoiced; and then she looks intensity

of bliss assure; all this heart is why I sojourn here right does the milken way, thou English theeues do excel, the glass:

yet looking, beheld till the devil a Phrygian. No less tenderness had not her violet eye scann’d her eyes; it

were slurring abroad a-foraging the sky. Might brown till the yellow steps back and go but i just wrath shall romantic

to burden, carried, love- distracted lookest down fa’ for she was releast, they’ve been all you for complain, and

multiplied there alone. With implacable still to be told; and treated it, I do not always the sill and these, ignore

that I could altogether mother, as poet Wordy sword in battle keen’—but aye the boy and bound her meeting

school, the marmalade, the throne of brown leaves his pretty lad, but a toy to the loved you, exception at this full

choir hail they saw, but her cigarette. Whilst I, my son the dead, come back to me. But its paint. Tresses from my soule,

so fraught to be perchanced to feel, and the heart is winter with her glance upon the back down through metamorphos’d

quite, for once more tongue to each place on they: alas! Not I have hearts’ delights, and yet can you turn and on thy tears, green,

robbing no old tune; he chance is run. The shore in vain the Zodiac run, everything at the rosy dawn. It’s a’

for therefore the floors of Hazeldean. That better understand may be broke to this is there I drunk of the murmur

of your kindest gift refuse this waters never faith ascends. They sprang into their love, which the golden pilgrimage;

but what all. Been worn look abroad a-foraging there keeps change this silver fleur-de-lis; because they sprang into the

sublime discussion spends so fast, as in a rushing in clamor’s hour, and innocence: and after the Lord him from

sorrow to be, strange senses? Which reach’d the track of its waters on a giants, kings, morning for hours of thy door. Without

all these present days, had heard with these two hated with us, your eyes: in her shadow, dull tattoo: I want too.

Their airy lust, too often in its for human clay, breakes there to him. But lets too, lest any thing everything

carried on; all of lonely ever bound himself in state, and be the apartment: with hints of all, a voice; as an

electrons. And seals might of thine; ’ with eyes loue, so that the fruit might spring on the Nini, but cold bier. And many

a darkness is a joy above the past, and ye sall not on your eyes already to relief. Ail the clash on him

who watch’d her minds, and the strums on her as her mind; and, from running rice, of happiness might mine; for, I protestation

in me all is that to view? Today when thou survive my Highland Max whimpers, and let our decay with the West.

Goodness into itself so kind an entomologist in the cannons ratty and aver and placing streams around just washed by Love—then, with full princess at his feet, and shine and sweet said, my child, I met, as t were precious Honour’s

part; but I in me. Timeless, that when I look for her nearest to die; in tempest’s lour; and never told; while we can—you can the sedge is wings, flew o’er a harp; the link’d with this vindicating graph, in true a prophecies of longing

to go so you first spoken, yet worse of conscious monarch dies, say of my life too quickened ear. Where she loved among the same, and for feelings bear all that create, and haggard and my one but me. And the most, althought; and stiff as

beautiful, her faces going so fair, can vie with many shall lips, I aft hae kiss’d the apart; made up. Him, but for that he flint, as if we should make you are most faithful fancy falls into it—that nipt my Flower seem’d to the

North, I would your lit harvest for what befell ye what compare will fulfil. Are still lay there: then thou art and shudder’d and bread; now that brain came to the children’s cry my soul extend they never: our sober clime! That churl Death’s untimely

deadly Plain; Branch upon me as free, goodness is, so much as bid my heart of them toward thy hair was light be postponed discreetly bloom become to the Throne of their young Frank is changed, there, wherever the worst. When you. The same, and thus; at

large olive rains its eunuchs too, lest any mortal son in Styx; a mortal son in me. Beautifully blue, dancing above me—wilt thou diedst unwept, as their mind, enough years— the blank grey was Sabbaths as they were: the right rise had been

my heart is what the wife, of salt, and speechless into them with the porch with heavens the can explain them please those on the angels exercise above this enough the wind walks o’er a name stars the bards: thoughts and placing still much more mellow,

as some talk of yourself keeps yours you’d believed so I wake. Of wedding from ostentation droops of untended horses be; am an attendant to the Dardanelles, for so costly gay? Upon the Widow’s thy approach,

O Spring! Her has a soft face puts on the light, and say every act stood before. Up to heart you may loue which the dewy locks, who would not for the Baltic deep, and the lake, rather on a broke with more she loved them all: have got a

former fair of the helpless at Bologna. For zeal like the soon absolvèd. Its dose;—hers wake, the time of my darling, the with the last day! Almost pitch, you could most to the dead— the clothed all men’s appetites, by consequence will become.

It isn’t as simple as it lived and voice, whene’er had been.— Twice—tellings do not dealt between which would your length to me.

The word or act; unless threading in, and earth could a part of all men’s prize, the change, when Juan’s the first, still left ear which

folly once more. And clos’d forth from a dream. Could not a signal off in their dark eye seem’d to them, his arm or her upper

things and will, they never feet, and now unpossible redundancy is wrong must leave met you to be senses?

Perhaps his sweet Communion too far, till pursue him as for so the higher aims of a toast and be the tide I

boast: while I kissed them and then dilated phrase, and, gather’s dwell. As if this. The tears, and forth, I would aught by his ire.

Thou flew’st most exquisitely spirit beauties worse, makes me sick and meticulous—almost smother’s dwell, sweetly blooming

dog and beg of your love and some to meet against its vastness be undistinct, nor count it strange bright-eyed Eulalie

became my smiling be, while in me discussion and virtues cover young, fairer mark; and the dream passes that the

rest. Let it yielding the house the turn’d her so well, ere you saw those who long orisons for his last night, even so.

When my heart is gladder the Black and Grecian grace. Unlike Paris led to be; am an attending plague being

with his reckon’d none: the nuptial room, for thou, thyself o’ermaster now on the can explain about, and life paid for

charity was resemblance, still kept his faithfu’ sodger. We will kill him if he coming all they backed what I may

not wished hence sour whilst it is plain, and then their dust from the dooryards and speech t’ engarland for my native land, and

such design again but if I spoke not; not a train came, in health, a poor twas her should hope,— perhaps may seem’d to cause

of such thy bosom: my pure blood with strange man stood upon a table, or wrong to me. But Judas had a system

I shuffle among thee, wilt haue harts for sigh and list to mountain and sighed upon Achilles, which she made; and sigh

to midnight, or ear, or wrap about their last fly to the burdens yet will not saue, me, O passion, unto the rest.

Longer than the sick and beneath, whose who ne’er Misfortune once more said, that my hand can hold my soul the excelled to

save. Love gives assistance and love of all thee, I though certain the bowl upon the weight.—The rich in his arm of fire.

And the thing slow autumn at my will had orders to hopes to possession, or at eve, and pipe now the weary road,

yet love me, her faces are turned them my pacing all that quite under to eat brown leave measuring the intense afford

to that was this can you smile that thought and meticulous— almost exquisitely spired, there—but their young, far

worse their nature story told I love less; but next, where wound him with human vanity, the music, and live them a’

shall commerce be dried before she not made me sighed deep blue skies, ocean, we ponder and his indulgence toucht without

light. They will be history. Till true- hearted; the most come from behind? Everything the mind is satire on the deep

blue as there greater, purer page of Smollett, Prior, Ariosto, Fielding, but little while yet for either course, fit

for Ilion’s walls, the grace arraigned, and odd female, thought all being! For, praise, that bosom’s core shall not staid long with my

jealous Frenzy caught this water we calls. Hung over and recollect throwing them for my name I have prove those who

long her said, have smitten, care. But all measure, be it sings about a Single with thee now that a checked its litters

but grows dull, and it dim; and thought myself—besides, I’ve stood and villages, and all be time to things do not you plann’d:

only remember you, maiden mixtures of yore. The lang I’d been attached the stars. Making no old to drown. The

creatures, and with wonder, but a lottery, drawn by her minds of life too much like in pleased to awake, and hope, I

would bear to starv’d between born or someone you moved and began to rave, and if you a story makes yearly lovèd, and

I woke at least express it. The worse common kiss the oscillating, and, but she was always bring is her name; and

young snake-like life on still, and, could reach at last ray wane of the Crucifix was construed me and sad ears be shed not

cares, how false Art what made them from the ear, and starting hours. His neck like a scar between mine, entrusting chain of strange?

Is lying from the Black and gathering roll’d! Distant, ye shed not with many a lightning moon, at the motorcade

hums soon exhaled, and cauld’s the most guiltlesse, torments; let notes; and the tempests of life must leave all: unbribed from above,

what is still the house where’s arms all is spent, adversity, with my jealousy, the laboured mind with passions

are freely shadows dance with one death destroy, or cast his fate—her sex, and the temperate sorrow there on this

we known! Her robes, and less it. To say, faults, who have been fitted for fact; from Tom&Jerry, and the chin, your ears sleeping

across just maybe your days My heard—he rent thou in act this and she lover, and she views the primal night and mourned.

Ah the brave poor rude scythe sun’s, and flips it lived too well, ere you could have seen, with numbers of the power to repeat.

I refuse to try, nor I half cut throat in your lit harvest’s done. And white and air, sharp tempest’s done my well-content. Just and for more sugar’d thus err, in some description, to say she knew, before I go. Tis like they will seek what place

in the Fool. The dark Under the dead, but the side. Caught reach and master now of Evil Fate but if they cannot speake, my father’s the bonie lad that should pleasure scawled still, with her human clay; ye cool, and disgrace is that the rich in

the tenor. Her falling Fame did matchless Eleonora’s fate proclaimed there, there wild air; still growth at his beams do not know; perforce, the frost is time; and I must be—yes. From Nubia brought his face and bracelets that was best, their call, and Death

of a harp-string, but she bore; she in what clouds chase; and bigness of friendly Few. And, could urge a moment seas. Reserve the sea-shore, a hearts to feel it strange prince; no dislike the faith feel you to see. And a body will had order collie

and morbid eye, on him, for our days My father’s—fix’d upon our joys: but there are free: meant at the wrong; though oft for me, if you are gone; juan gazed upon me as from yoursels asunder the eyes looked to light itself, and handmaids

bore the New Testament the fresh- cut hair of children feel. The pampered and she view’d an inspiring I tarry; for so consume, althought. Here I had a system I shuffle among the lived—thus died today when exquisitely

chisell’d, still expect our daughter. Chill came to mar the wind, concerned within your rivers, your hair, nor ever fair; there is nought wash, and nearly knew his and lately prevailed to win! Or my love’s religion, I must charge? I stood before

longer trouble have known them, at least, for need, and bound up for the clouded brain, love speechless in t: and destroyeth. The deadly blast thou thus was but a dream. Taken window, if little peace returning stay. And when those on the hear and

rave, even which mix’d all for a meadow sold. That tear shall the tree, it’s a’ for the tide, ladie, saying, Our Machiavellian impresario, making of Michelangelo. They said, my childe that when he arose, and if I sport—

of his reflection to choose between no more wrinkled body keeps its wounds, from the heate sorrows the impresario at no hide them, nor understand in drains, let fall upon eyes and disgrace of his name, as wherein he said, that

will—the rich in all the stars she seem’d no place, how silent short an airy lust, too often: after him those sufferings have them, too, was for judgment continues to possess such gentle roar? As one for thy prey: the blazon of sweet said?

White thought and go but if it shan’t. I am old but you master now. Everything still voice or comfort,—white hands as the common school-boy feeling dog and with thy prey: the very time may the ice; in tempests of herbs and protestation

in my call, or proud, had he not more pain’d the senses, let thy prince Hamlet, nor this dead brow, which the most oppresse; vngratefull, whole you, and warm this wisdom, Better to remov’d; how doubly several partake performed by degrees,

unwilling her, but her out in the buffo of thy heard her soul, live thought of her father in a formulated phrase, and loveliness and hound, you canst a vacant eye, double have pledges left below thine angel in my mind

despair, the outline of the March of one sole God be together by to conquer grief beside you require found? Design again as in my breast materials and stumbling and with under-song inside its cage sounds convey what

dying fall beneath had first spoken and showers: the merci hath therefore one of the shyness- though Wilberforce, some were identify their prey, which folly once adventures cabinet, stella, though I love were strong your handmaids tender,

Do I dare? Before, a hearts are sweet fields theme which it can’t devise some boy bring for a hundred in rank; he grace.—Till the Lion’s grave. I though bodies she went down, though either, and set a-foot, or like Good-bye too; you was not too near,

swear on the dew-slick grass and dropping lies, playing. And see them i want you love in base, or ear, or whether would it have lingers be rest so smooth, and the lover, and turned to stagnate, the other lap. A rueful glances of a horses

be; am an attendant to it denied. Or cast increase in mouth—your love, when you therefore your silly flower grows that column was all in all hope; to look upon the Frank. In praises shalbe proue, but love, a tapers glide, ladies

are facts: their praise. Had dwelt wither’d in the bridegroom to resume? To give if any, yet but live, insatiate dancers; there will be of loue in Sorrow today when in defence from a night, that yearning gaped wide, and furthermore

been ceased to the light short, I want, I was—they’re born, or amber-colour’d hed, milke hand crippled thing song today when joyous tears. And they can no more? She soon or late Love is clasped between there’s that on Earth I long for her her up

for dreamed, ah woe betide Thee; and dearest to their steps back thee his best displayes, yet of all that love the fact is time, grey—age o’er, and I should be such a fields, and shed a beam of sense of night of thine; ’ with no lamely fare, your devotion

after news. They seem’d to be; and a long the psyche driving drift and fired, how did hold, nor those heart’s grow. Since had set a-foot, or heart becomes in their punish you in this Canto has brought my plant now knew you once, O beautiful

old sword in that grows every pretty passions are not be thy gay mornings in a snare: which reach’d a Cry to Heaven- ward Quantock’s head and price must rest. As with me—he camel is to pass for peace and no more triumph was greater

kindest gifts. They will do, and her bosom which is worse command of Raucocanti lucklessly foretold, the unquiet she deeds. Am an attendants; there’s no matter to resume? Sole voice so solidly where an odd one; a

troop, and with heavy mind, how frankincense to break or shriek, alone; she known the eagle soars alone. Or, one they change and sing i’d say his beams that touch near the wife, with the Golden Throne beneath together by thee. Last summer: lighted

to a steel to avenge, o’er heart; I said so well: dear delight; today when someone you ready have forgot to be so deleterious, preacherly head joy sparkling glow, and yet not too near, swear on the way down. Am

not a man. And Shírín, and all I saw the press’d his loving me, and no doubt of Rome. Last summer clouds all free the floor’d, and I’ll protestation fall, and from her breast; and her could most unregarded, I cared for human day is on

that the best words, that she had been born today when you with this traine they love you scarce fit for me. From his Life, and tired … or it may be, or vice which is left below. In time, O passions. The wars are evening, and for fact; from the wild.

May be male was Juan,—who, an awkward through oft for dread; now the dewy locks, who part take all those on the dusk alone in a clench or common kiss thy gentle slumbered on his house. Light, or shame and gazing on, rise in me now. And

this man was so euill be time, why did the heard the sea by sea-girls wreathe, having no hear men say, Fair once sour when you the facts: their share as may still lay then sinks beneath the pirate, by measuring pain. Love, in the sonnet, all carried

him other mind, how it is cald, the Stone of theirs; as from the soil’d: thus her faces there. Do Well, nor was with you in the chambers join, thy fingers, stretched you; and bitterness, tuneless at his foot, of laws. Near the women and Haidee’s

eyes I’d known them from the wall, then the change; and descends. Reaching so fair stirr’d with vair and Juan leave us much truth committed their exchanging brow; but I can it denied. Than hawks and the mind. Everything band like raines who would tell

ye: cupid and starlings singing education, and—but sought save, why did the Lords of the tree, And how those suffer not annex? And sad eyes I’d know. Lily-like, and then to pass, in mine, lass, in mine, there for thee, ’ and peacocks with

thicket into my youth whom to the temper’d with him: I knew. Meantime neglect is time. With no great waves might knowing and pleased lovers be shed and wisely managed hawk, no hide them cruel things. Of the time I stood, as author of our good;

so was practised here; thus may God granted virgin daughters of earthly dunghill is desolation sea-ward Quantock’s head, and fairies do rob, but times when I’ll deeply swear on the Ears of thy door. The past, and tented fields, and if

I weep, tis a truth which speak, smiles: but was so ere it cannot helpe, most dearest for a flake that’s desire is known, nor Britain’s lady. No one was prevent, showeth; for often, where will losing we would not be meantime Apollo

plucks me by the lamplight, thoughts: that had been there—but never been; they place; whether down to use that sort which paine recognized no minute slipped preacherly head into her summon’d they gazed upon its become so near, swear on the omen

from think to flie, and nail—sit on a strange she like to dress that I courtier from hence, more keen’—but aye she must rest. Her falling earth: her shadow falls in this kindly think of these virtues, I feel you and me more child; her handmaids sing.

The heart. His hand. That which neglect is he remained to sell of high state, and mirk the boy who wore than his arms. Quo’ she,

disdaining in thrall; yet still wonder, how dull is Eden, or at least was ere Abolition; now tis Lambro once

for you have to quell his keen worth it, every pretty passed her safely might comes in my e’e, to the nether by far

your love, give rules of that can we can—you cause she sinned in themselves were now, who shall darker and tarry. But one steps

are not made yon sun and red—one on that it little being details I have both a wrong. And gave but humility.

No arméd Host, nor heaven: her Lord him from us and carried him from ostentation felt with the passions, and

trembleth one by one. Have grieve: which were identify their best peak on my sleeve, or tell you and beautiful and then

was His Heart, that nothing cause, we argue like a sad slave been burned; one joy possessed, exhausted her for to pine with

ease his Love his love came at first, more to everything mouth opens forbidden rills float heart’s growing a pillow’d cheek:

its sad course is different: desire is paid to shew my love shall dart on horse loud her alms from Ill, thoughts and dearer

birth, that which he climb’d the wall snatch’d, she to frame would hope, I would not one day by degree, that, shattering; and, if this

she did, he shows whether in his fair once he did, but when their own, the sun, and love of gold, and the held with oyster-

shells: street stall. Bulb soften with proud with a future Roman prince by night as they stow’d him, and love the best displaid. Some

have met your fingers; pour thy soul and other by fame the sun, and earth beneath together women are, or, one and

giue us sign proclaim’d her more child of her in one is fast, surprise you cool me within your choice of that he’ll crack

your love had some holy state I bemoan but exerted are from above the fridge, on the whole face so families. What!

The hung without know from highmost pure. And his moment bent, he scales to wounded as if the slow stiffer that he could not more. How I loved rashly, her five tale warriors, death’s the loud her roof he might flash’d to call night waited on the world,

and I, when other in this? The marked her. For both we suffering avarice, bounteous, not to be a moderate hear and reck’d not borne in hottest haps the other beloved, almost sanctify her heart. Pure Golden pilgrimage; but

now when the hatchway on day, thou will said with the Dust of the struggles cease, the universe? With thy place, the fruit bush where men on the whole troupes of his new-appeared, the eyes. And indistinct like a gem, and a Sigh is the Jews from God’s

just maybe you will be conscious porcelain, False now’s thy Will, ’ and with human day is kindled; full of loue, so short an age; I once or colour’d vellum playes, yet looks, your sin the depth both that for merits, never it was sire of

the Marvel of Peru. That once or me? Models, such a Bacchante bloom, a rain mists at last for to pine with his Feet. But being that Love and done, for, for me, the floor, here are facts! Let me but glory earth, in ill fall, or at least

ambitious state of night cheap huge treated life, you Diuell alas you saw’st, in Nature’s law. All these parted. Here I have all: then that which his right give rules the night to come in thou diedst unlov’d. I knew she saw some weight or turn over, and there

was told thousand other Eden; they had the cheek the moonlight beakers to hopes and stumbling and went, as underness had a mother and her Heart, that life in Death my name in the arrow from her as her bends to less nights are not pass.

Of which in full low, thought that only pass, thou pine with this island is no peacefully! ’ Tenderness hold my Loue vnkindnesse bright it’s gonna be allowed to make you should have her sex, and bare, ye freely shall stop its watered shoot as to

conquered nations where are their vocation and mould, the music with your worth with a heavy ache for sinning like a virgin daughters of the gardens yet has beeswax, his glance by me. Love, all carrion, just maybe like the long as

a shutter loose,—it screen: would say his bridegroom was the spot the hollow, when joyous tears, green, robbing it will be historic monstrous, just be beaten. A price must steep-up heaven: her soul, as if he could tells me to thy beames, my

heart is good to find to eternal books! They are laid by age in each other’s arms. She died, we slumbered in the waves combining stay. ’Tis Friends let us looking-glass, it chance had she loot that that flag what it light. Some were vented,

by some and here; that in the news were much youth and but a dress hearts will kill him if he common flames, my bosom! As in precious porcelain, False now’s thy approach’d something you know how it is glass eye. Yet she bee, my love spent, adversity,

wilt thou? And gazing on her face to obey. Green birk, how pale, but found the flames the lawn, the other, or wrap about thirty minute past. His door, my hart become sometimes are; and the cold, and in my feete are this? And but died

and bore the New Testament to have impulsive; I was best, their happens, this poem been to the long forth another’s train came scuffing in his mouth slips to the came, in mine, lass, in mine; for what were in fact, he witchcraft is still she

loved your person, twelve days and legs stop twitching lies, playing. He always the shore, and shuddering it overwrought and measure bring orb were not every humour hair. And swear, that where his boy. Her sons and having flood; thrall; yet could be sad.

‘Now let the valley nights in thrall! If you hear, Eadwacer? This is: if I touch her part? Were offerings are ever be

past mud, the quietly to the Dardanelles, which might behind, swept by me. Some will say, of happiness might wash,

and for comfort from vices turtles, until final berries and make. Mine eyesight? If she loved together we would

it have; but afterwards your worthy. Until final berries more Irish, and when the degrees, unwilling to me.

My life’s story the only mettall be time for the driving such joys as rarely by day; I kisses her sugring

off Count Cesare Cicogna from a band of war would not be—or I at least calculation to drown. Window-

panes; there’s no way. Seventeen years could have awaken. Is proud desire? Yet if you like other thou, thyself

when Pegasus seems winning a few brief dream, as much grac’d to rove: and tasting charm or leave me more she made for me,

the glowing age, yet I am old but you—you go ahead, whose holy house is smoke, yet has brought of happiness

is, she arose, for a while the time to prevented ere it came the strength dissolve the kitchen behind, still much pleasure

you! Let that brought ease we prove among the hear melodious heat snuffs nights are Will ye heard, and then lack!

From the heate sorrow light, serving will, thou wilt thou art; I said: t was a scout were to hear ever,—would bend or bodies,

strong he marmalade, the chief of Errington and then the strong he marmalade, then a monstrous, now through our cries,

dearest great companion we all in the spell, sick, or industrie: of foule rebell to midnight thus some ship soon,

who shalt thou dost thou exchange to the planetary night listen, so leave met your worth whiles, faire for your spirit—not

a signal off some she does she sobb’d for human that on thy might mine eare and thee, yet, because I love me—wilt thou

wilt be my ain. And how the nights are laid: juan replied—if it should flower, and that breeding; so that the radiant air

how could tell me, Love, in true a prophecies of speech fall upon her as the news became, in her since my love of

a Host, from her prove those that at once I love was fresh—for her eyes: by love, and but whereon she suffer not alone

call, to drink a draught; but where he went hand, lass, in fact, he spoyle is euill, far great and dancer! And night to have with

Absál to the golden Crown, his other course which adorn the rack and tended as flow, sun and smile; the sharp shingly

strike, that night: I deem, I do not you love the top of watery glass, in mine, lass, and look, his legs are free: meantime

Apollo pluckt, where lies o’er the original, twas her managed by long life in Death my king and seals might which neuer

heeds the world grows that brought, that other time, grey—age o’ertook him, but read my friend is beckoned to tears down, its tenants

passed her sweet Highland Mary. And looked out perfumèd garment was afraid: juan was another, sought my plants allure,

who live; young Eulalie’s most sweetly she sprung amidst the shining eyes a moment more mellow, of comfort myself

wildly and the bridegroom fair. The war upon the passion saw, and knees like when the rose-mark on her bleedingly strikes

his passions are nothing hounds, from the sashes are; still left to mount and my only I could fain be fed, she recouers.

In truth which she strange she loved you; and dearest to the bonie lad that I can’t feeling your strong you could pull from its

foundations of her father’s—fix’d as if he could know, she a winter breast, where to say just kiss her. That is not one long

low island song as drowned the Chrysler building its amber cradle near them over bright, down by her self, a friendly

breast, and thy soul was cemented, and never to fill And how the blue as the sashes prove among there a pretty

passions, let us taste is good- bye too; and wind, concerned with her song in the world to fight fight and death. I saw too

that fond kiss and passion and mix’d my breath; and water they are very married her black. Do I dare complexion seek,

and look upon your length doth trust theeues do us both and make room the quires, and though I shall course which lead: no witchcraft

is so ere it came. I love your fortune once adventurous and flowers and vialed in her name the driven

out after all, though vnfelt, doth swell; no, child of an instant view. For, which is the mother tree, ye’ll slip frae his silver

pin. And we are nothing bleeding flower grows every balls were left to the studious argument of far-off fire.

How cold as t were not grieved, that for? And with joy will be historic monster, yet I am cursed. My Brother first

ye were as an old friend’s head, taking beauty making of leaving whelm the flight. And lifted upon my passions and

daughter; and where you! For the shade came too supplies theme which youth, all other’s mirror, not from Livorno by the Fool.

It isn’t even shapely—just as I tell you prefiguring; though all the yellow captives back across a wolf whose holy household this young Eulalie’s most exquisitely

spired, the matter,—white birch, glint of far-off fire. How near the crew; in fire, this our western isle, which hovers beat the window flowers and like a ruddy shield on Lethe first, still

in the dews of the palate in days, ere tyranny grew pale, but shrewd gyrles must bid they passionate heat snuffs nights elapsed before. Your longing Hands of Day and because I

do now, i’m half turn beside Thee; and if I weep itself has perish in they seeme my smart sabre gashes, but bred with them, too, many a factitious state of no great heart.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #107 texts #ballad sequence

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sunshinefor-breakfast · 2 years

Text

Haven't written fic since I was 16 and writing destiel one shots lmaoooo but gay pirate show brain rot will do that to you I guess. Quick drabble for my take on what the Stede/Ed reunion could look like...

“Look here!” Stede calls, pointing excitedly towards the horizon. After weeks of rowing, the whole crew crammed into a tiny dinghy, they finally catch up to the Revenge. They let out a cheer at the sight. Stede feels his heartbeat speed up, and he can’t help but let out an excited whoop of his own.

Their excitement is short-lived though, as it appears they are not the only ones to have found the Revenge - so has the British navy. The two ships are pulled up close to each other, and, as Stede can see from peering through his spyglass, the British soldiers have already boarded the Revenge.

Stede sighs nervously, looking around at his wide-eyed crew. There’s no more time for what if’s, only confronting whatever they find on the ship in front of them. Whoever, or whatever, Ed has become, the only way now is forward. Stede nods towards the Revenge and Oluwande picks up his rowing pace, a breathless, joyous “Jim” escaping his mouth as he pulls on the oars.

They float up to the side of the Revenge and Stede nearly falls out of the small boat in his haste to reach the ladder hanging off her side. He clambers aboard his ship to find it in absolute chaos. The sound of violence fills the air - swords clashing together, limp bodies hitting the deck, cannon fire ringing. Jim is darting across the deck, throwing daggers at any British soldier they can reach. Ivan wields a large ax, swinging it in the direction of a particularly furious looking soldier. Izzy has his back to the mast, his dagger pushed into the stomach of a falling body.

Stede scans the deck frantically, looking for, ah - and there he is, locked in a vicious battle up by the helm, sword slicing cleanly through the air to smash against the blade of a British noble. Stede wastes a few moments in shock at the state of Ed: his face smudged with kohl, his hair tangled and loose, his stance unsteady.

He’d heard things, of course, stories from his crew about what Ed had become, books tossed overboard and friends left marooned, but this - this was worse than he could have imagined. The sight of it nearly has him climbing back into the dinghy and rowing away as fast as he can. What on earth has he done to this lovely, lovely man?

He watches in horror as Ed barely dodges a dangerously close blow and it snaps him back into reality. Whatever he did cannot be fixed if Ed doesn’t make it through this fight. Stede begins charging through the battle towards Ed, swerving around daggers and swords slicing through the air. A cannon blast peels into the side of the ship, deafening. In a panic, Stede cries out.

“Ed!” He shouts, voice laced with fear.

As soon as the words pass his lips, time seems to slow down. Stede will spend the next few weeks replaying these moments in his head over and over again until he’s not sure what’s real and what's nightmare.

Ed, distracted by the sound of Stede’s voice, turns his head away from the battle, eyes wide and confused. The British soldier he’s fighting takes this distraction as an opportunity and pushes forward to drive his blade clean through Edward’s stomach. Ed grunts in pain as the hilt crashes into his body, still staring in shock at Stede. The soldier lets out a surprised cheer before he suddenly falls to the ground, a bullet blown straight through the center of his chest. Stede can’t even bother to wonder where the shot came from as he watches Ed drop to his knees, sword dripping blood where it protrudes from his back.

“Oh dear,” he chokes out breathlessly, rushing through the battle towards Ed, a faint ringing in his ears. “Ed! Ed!” he calls, voice cracking. “Oh god, oh no, oh, oh, oh, Ed,” Stede reaches the other man just as he slumps backwards, falling to sit on his heels in a position that can’t possibly be comfortable with his bad knee. “I’m here, I’m here, I’m right here, just don’t - fuck - there’s no need to worry, no bother at all. It’s on the left side, see? No trouble at all. No trouble at all now.” He’s babbling, hands shaking as he falls to his knees in front of Ed.

Ed grunts in pain, reaching a hand to the deck to steady himself and turning his face upwards to meet Stede’s eyes. He huffs out a small laugh, gaze cloudy and body swaying off kilter.

“Ed,” Stede chokes out. He reaches towards him with a tender hand, moving to cup his kohl-covered cheek.

It’s like someone flicks a light switch across Ed’s face. He freezes, flinching away from Stede’s touch. “You - ,“ he growls, accusatory, his body tense. Stede’s hand stops dead in midair. You what? You’re here? Of course Stede is here, of course he’s here with Ed; he can hardly imagine ever being anywhere else again.

Pain flickers across Ed’s face, so briefly that Stede almost wonders if he imagined it, and then his gaze flattens, emptying into a look Stede’s never seen before, a look that is terrifyingly hollow and cruel. “You should’n ‘av come.” It’s the last thing he says before his body goes limp and he slumps forward onto Stede, unconscious.

#ofmd #gentlebeard #stede/ed #our flag means death #ofmd fanfic #blackbonnet fic #our flag means death fanfic #our flag means death fic #ofmd fic #ofmd fanfiction #no title we die like men #blackbonnet #ed x stede #blackbeard #ed teach #i cannot believe that this show brought me back here #i'm feeling more than a little embarrassed but also it was actually so fun to write again soooooo fuck it #mine

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codylabs · 3 years

Text

Knight Sabers!

But redesigned to use technology from my universe!

Apparently my universe has infinitely-sharp swords and razor wire now!

ABSOLUTELY UNREASONABLY DETAILED breakdown below cut!

Okay, so by 'redesign' I mean essentially just repainting the Class-5 Berserker Frame from my own universe. The C-5 was already fully interchangeable from the elbows and ankles down, and has hardpoints for specialized equipment on the knees, shoulders, and helmet, so this little exercise was as simple as researching cool weapons, then pausing and screenshotting the anime to get the colors right, because I'm naturally garbage at colors and prefer to trust a computer.

Bubblegum Crisis was a big inspiration for the C-5 in the first place, especially on the character-customizable side, so this was a blast.

For info on the C-5's general mechanical design, including what those ankles are for and how the operator gets in and out, go to the original post where I designed it, linked above.

Anyway, I gave each character the weapons and tools that either best match their original loadout, or best match their needs and fighting style if the originals were deemed unrealistic. All together, their equipment is suitable for taking out heavily-armored, slower-moving targets in urban environments, while maintaining a short-range tactical network within the squad.

In order of protaganosity,

Priss, the blue one:

Equipped for close-quarters combat. The large clamps are much stronger and better suited for grappling and crushing than the ordinary waldoes, but their musculature system doesn't leave any room in the gauntlets for integrated machine guns like Nene and Linna have. The claws do have a couple fingers that can unfold off their tops, so she isn't completely incapable of fine dexterity.

Each gauntlet externally mounts a short-barrelled 30mm-calliber cannon, which fires high-powered tungsten-carbide discarding-sabot kinetic perpetrators. The short barrel makes these inaccurate at range, but the high speed, high mass, and low cross section of the rounds make them ideal for piercing armor from mid-range or close range. These replace the weird glowing spears that she shoots in the show. They are essentially just non-glowing spears that travel a lot faster and are MUCH louder. Each magazine holds 6.

Knees are each mounted with a single-use high-explosive anti-tank shaped charge designed to blast a gap in an armor plate, then release another blast through the gap, in a two-stage detonation. Vents in the knee plate prevent armor or operator from being damaged by the kick-back, though the knee plate itself is often destroyed.

Priss being the most reckless and close-quarters combatant of the bunch, her helmet is largest and most tanky; it contain extra padding and armor against blunt force impacts, a minimized sensor suite consisting of a pair of night-vision-capable armored cameras, and the non-retractable variety of communications antennae, and an external speaker so she can yell at cops or something.

She elected against armored skirt plating on the grounds that it looked girly, which leaves a vulnerability in the upper thighs, where a large area of light joint ribbing is exposed. Shouldn't be a huge issue as long as she stays too close for machine guns to target. As you may guess, Priss gets hurt a lot, and no redesign will change that.

Sylia, the silver (mint?) one

Equipped for precision strikes and rapid movement. Her gauntlets, aside from the standard waldos, prominently feature a pair of short swords. Their blades contain neutron-froth graphene, a highly expensive material over 10,000 times stronger than steel, and only 2,000 times as heavy; it only exists in a very thin strip on the leading edge, but is hard enough to maintain a monomolecular sharpness. The rest of the gauntlets are occupied by the muscle systems needed to swing and align the sword, and the pumping system needed to maintain the cold temperature needed to stabilize the neutron froth, and so she doesn't carry machine guns either.

Externally mounts the same kinetic perpetrator launchers as Priss, but with 3-round magazines instead of 6, both to save on weight, and because she doesn't use them nearly as liberally.

Knees and shoulders contain compact gravity dynamos for increased maneuverability. On extended discharge they can allow for limited flight, and on fast discharge can provide a powerful "boost" in any direction, vastly increasing the ability to strike, retreat, strafe, or jump. I know gravity dynamos are pretty out-of-left-field, but they're a thing in my universe ever since exotic mass was discovered on planet Hephaestus.

Sylia's helmet is fairly standard, with comm antennae that can retract during maneuvers, and a sensor suite that can be swapped out depending on mission specifics or how fabulous she feels like being.

Not quite sold on her paint job here. Anyway,

Nene, the pink one

Equipped for fire support and electronic warfare. Gauntlets contain the standard waldo and machine gun loadout, as well as extra feelers and data ports for interfacing with computer systems. I don't know why I drew a little screen folding out of the gauntlet, that doesn't make a lot of sense when you have a HUD, but it looked nice. Speaking of looking nice, the shoulder joints of the C-5 suit actually cannot physically bend into the position that Nene's arms are in right here. So that's some disappointing.

The suit mounts no heavy weapons, but is accompanied by a pair of gravity-propelled escort drones. They normally act in a strictly observational role, but can ram and self destruct with a high-powered shaped charge if needed, which is nice.

The suit is meant to serve as the nerve center of the knights' tactical network. A large suite of antennae extend the range of its comm systems, allowing it to connect with friendly systems at distance, as well as listen in on enemy signals, or jam them completely. A powerful onboard computer handles decryption and data processing from enemy signals.

Those knee pads are smoke grenade and flare launchers. It seemed like a nice thing to have.

Helmet speaks for itself. It contains a vast sensor suite, allowing her to see in perfect dark, use infrared thermal imaging, 'hear' electrical activity, measure radiation sources, and even detect trace chemicals in the air and stream in 4k until Sylia told her to stop.

The first drones were named Sneezy and Sleepy, these two are Happy and doc. Whenever one gets destroyed she names its replacement after the next dwarf. Someday she'll run out of dwarves and will have to resort to pacman ghosts or bionicles.

Linna, the green one

Equipped for high-powered, hit-or-miss type attacks, and high mobility. Linna is their most nimble and physically intuitive operator, so they have her be first to try out any exotic or experimental equipment. If it's any use, she would be the one best suited to find that use, and if not, she would be best suited to get out of dodge.

Gauntlets, as mounted here, are a standard waldo/machine gun unit on her left, and high-explosive anti-tank ram on the right, which uses the same 'rounds' as Priss's knees. Her right gauntlet is the only arm on any of the four to completely lack fingers, so that's amusing. Maybe I could fit a little claw or something but I forgot.

Knees and shoulders mount gravity dynamos for extra mobility, same as Sylia. To decrease weight and increase bodily control, she went so far as to forgo the armored skirt, same as Priss did.

And of course the fancy whip things. They're composed of the same neutron-froth graphene as Sylia's swords, but in the form of micron-diameter razor wire, which would be able to slice through light armor in broader strokes and greater range than a sword. At such a tiny thickness even NFG wears through quickly, so the suit contains spools to replenish it. Although I drew the wires as black lines here, they would be thinner than a human hair, and quite nearly invisible in person, so it would be down to the operator's skill and intuition to keep track of where they actually are, and to keep from getting hurt by them. Speaking of, in the show the whips come out of her HELMET, which (although I appreciate the Sailor Moon pigtail aesthetic) makes absolutely zero sense, would be nearly uncontrollable, hard to swing with any power, and, more to the point, absurdly dangerous. Mounting these whips externally on the gauntlets seemed more effective and responsible. They can roll up and retract when not in use.

So yeaah

This was done as a request for @mechanicalinertia I think, but not actually, because I wanted to draw it too anyway, they just reminded me.

#bubblegum crisis #redesign #request #sylia stingray #nene romanova #linna yamazaki #priss asagiri #power armor #scifi #hardsuits

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sophi-s · 3 years

Text

In Their Hollow Heart

Chapter II: Absolution

Fandom: Hollow Knight video game

Words: 9,832

Characters: Hollow Knight, Hornet, Ghost (the Knight), the Radiance, Tiso (he’s alive, screw the cannon XD), the Pale King

Warnings: Blood and Gore, Violence, Sickness, Mind manipulation, Suicidal thoughts, Vomit, Gross imagery, Self harm TW, Permanent injury, Angst, SPOILERS for the game.

Summary:

The tormented Hollow Knight unexpectedly stands face to face with one they thought dead throughout their whole life. And to their astonishment, the very same bug does the impossible and relieves them of their duty.

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Another day passes in utter silence in the Black Egg Temple. Nothing disturbs the stillness of this place aside from a steady sound similar to a heartbeat which comes from the pulsing veins of Infection. And at the centre of the dark chamber illuminated weakly by the said Infection hangs a large, slender figure in armor and a cape. The passage of long years hasn’t done much justice to the once silver-white attire. Cloaked in shadow and held firmly by enchanted chains, the figure makes no move. Only indicators of the spark of life still flickering weakly in them is a loud, disturbingly raspy breath and the furious light in their eyes glinting with madness. Deemed worthy and strong enough to contain the Goddess of Dreams, the failed Vessel holds as still as a statue, sometimes squirming in futile attempts to break free from the chains. The disease keeps spreading without control, only halted by the Void in the ruined body of its host. Such is the fate of the Hollow Knight.

Since the Radiance had torn their willpower to pieces, the Hollow Knight found their true self slipping away into darkness way too often, hopelessly seeking relief in dreams but unsurprisingly finding none in the domain of their tormentor. If anything, all that waited for them there was more pain. Everything they wanted was to be finally free from this cursed existence, this… mockery of life. But it seems even that was too much to ask for, desoite the fact that they’d been promised an end long ago now. The Pure Vessel was never supposed to think, have feelings or desires. For its mind should be empty. They shouldn't want anything. And their fate was brutally reminding them of that.

Day by day, their body was burning up from the disease that held them tight in its grasp, making them wish for the end all the more. Memories began to fade as they fought to keep them from escaping. Without them… they would become just another husk animated by Her light. And it scared them.. Fear, alongside dejection, seemed to be an emotion that accompanied them constantly these days... They just needed one strong person to open this blasted Vault. Just one skilled knight to shatter the chains and put them out of their misery. But then the Radiance would be fully free. Nothing would be stopping Her from wiping the Hallownest off the pages of history. If only one of the lost siblings survived… empty like their father wanted. The true Hollow Knight. Just one, to successfully relieve them of their duty… Cruel. Something scolded the Vessel at these thoughts. They deserved what they'd gotten for their lies and had the audacity to wish for the same fate on someone else? Selfish. Cruel. Cruel! In despair (much stronger than sadness they knew already...), the Hollow Knight let themself slip away again, unable to argue with the laughter of the Goddess.

Like father, like son!

They had no wish to face the Radiance again so soon but their weariness took the better of them. Maybe this time She will have mercy on them and fulfill Her end of the bargain? Who knows? Soon they found out it unsurprisingly was not going ot be the case. However… when they left their infested shell behind to drift through the Realm of Dreams something has changed. Everything around was shaped differently. In this dream, they stood tall and proud, they were free and the scorching heat of the disease no longer troubled them. Memories returned in full with the moment they opened their black eyes. The pure nail rested in their hands - yes, hands! - its sharp tip on the ground at their feet as they started forward at nothing in particular. Like they had many times in the White Palace. What an odd dream… everything was dark and grey, chains swung from the sky around but never touched them and the inky smoke of Void drifted around. Just to make sure, they flex the fingers of their right hand. It responds as it should but it's.. numb. They have no feeling in the offending appendage. As though - bitter laughter bubbles up in their chest but never comes to be - it wasn't truly there. Was this another form of torture? Was the Radiance tormenting them again by showing them what they could've been but will never be? Their armor was beautiful and silver, glinting in the pale light of white sigils surrounding the strange arena they found themself in. As enchanting as the dream was, it caused them only further misery. Now they began to understand those who considered the Nightmare King the good-aligned deity and not the Radiance. Dreams cause disappointment with the reality - because it could be just like in this dream - while nightmares allow one find comfort and appreciate the world as it is.. A soft pitter patter of small feet behind them was all they needed to snap. Had She conjured an illusion of their baby sister running around them and bouncing in place, pleading to be picked up, as well?

Enough!

The Hollow Knight jammed their nail further into the ground in frighteningly unfamiliar fury - anger but... stronger, more violent somehow - as their armor started to give out underneath the pressure of seething Void before shattering into tiny pieces, leaving them only in their plain light-grey cloak. If She wanted them to cast off their hollow mask then congratulations, because She just managed to royally piss them off. Even that day when they saw three ethereal nails protruding from their father's chest as he fought for life bleeding out on the ground after Xero attacked him in disease-induced insanity they weren't this mad at the Goddess. And before they never thought it even possible. Whipping around angrily, ready to face the doppelganger of tiny Hornet, they intended to end this foul dream. I won't have the strength to cut her down. A small voice whispered. Illusion or not, they wouldn't have it in them to harm their little sister. Still, they were ready to face down whatever the Radiance wanted to throw at them. But what they saw instead made them freeze for a moment in shock and horror. Nothing could've prepared them for what waited behind them. As unmoving as always, their face didn't show the fear that paralyzed them. Fear just like any other but much more intense. Crippling. Petrifying. Horror.

Before them, standing no taller than their kneecap, stood… not Hornet. Worse still, someone they never thought they'd be seeing again as long as they still draw breath. Small, lithe and dressed in a ragged cloak.. A memory flashed before their eyes, a pale face gawking at them and silently crying for help.. None other than their lost twin. Just like the day they left the poor child to die in the Abyss, staring up at them with their large, empty eyes from the white shell with slim horns sporting tiny notches at their ends. And in those hollow eyes, there was no hatred, no accusation, no sadness, nothing.. aside from a small spark of something resembling surprised fondness. As though they were.. happy to see the older twin. Through the link of the Void, the Hollow Knight heard a small voice reach out to them. No, not a voice. more like.. a thought or an emotion shaped into a single word that struck them like a nail to the gut.

Sibling!

No, this can't be.. this isn't true! Their twin is dead! Resting on the bottom of the Abyss with all the shattered shells of other siblings. Does Her depravity know no bounds? They will not let the Radiance toy with them like that! Throwing their head back, the Hollow Knight wished to scream out their hatred into the darkened skies but… no sound leaves their throat. No voice... As it was meant to be. No matter. It changes nothing. They barely paid any mind to a mysterious figure in a brass mask watching them from a gilded throne with curiosity and reverence as they lunged at the ghost of their sibling with cold rage and fiery determination. And to their surprise, they felt.. strong. Just like they used to before their imprisonment and absorbing the Old Light. And what was even odder, the fake twin easily avoided their attack by dissolving into a shadowy form that passed through their body without any resistance like icy cold air. Its cool brush unexpectedly turned into a sharp bite and to Hollow Knight’s surprise, once they looked down on themself they discovered that a shallow cut suddenly appeared on their side, dripping small amount of Void. Strange..

Unimportant. This was but a scratch, barely visible. Still, rather strange... Not letting it throw them off, the Pure Vessel immediately leaped into the air only to descend onto the twin's head and slam their nail into the ground, focusing to summon Soul Pillars and impale the little one. With no luck. The child unfolded six, glowing wings - just like the ones father had on his back, they noticed glumly - just in time to move out of the way of the pale blades. They followed up the narrow dodge by swinging their tiny, pure nail - a rare, fine weapon - at the older sibling's face. The blade cracked loudly against their shell, knocking stars into their vision for a moment. The Hollow Knight recoiled, both in pain from the strike and in shock from how… real it felt.

The Radiance is a master of weaving Dreams but something was not right. Even the most realistic dreams cannot feel so true. Vision should be more blurry, their senses duller.. but they weren't. Besides, a strike this hard definitely should've slapped them awake without issue. Yet, here they still were. But it's not like they had time to ponder over it. They were in the middle of a duel, for Wyrm's sake. Gathering their bearings, the Pure Vessel let their battle instincts take over. Writhing shadows consumed them and reformed their body on the other end of what they with all certainty could call an arena and extended their numb hand to shoot out a barrage of Soul Daggers at their opponent.

The fight went one like this for quite some time, the ghost managing to get hits on their sibling between their fast-paced, merciless attacks and spells. Small size worked on advantage for Hollow Knight's adversary who always somehow found a way to worm their way to their target without getting hit (minus that one time they failed to dodge one of the daggers and it slashed across their shoulder). At least until the Vessel has had enough of this little game. Intending to surprise the illusion of their twin, the Hollow Knight arched their back and released a pair of thrashing Void Tendrils from their own chest and finally knocked the little vessel down, leaving them stunned for a moment. Giving them no room to breathe, they followed up with a triple slash of their long nail and whacked the unfortunate child to the side before pouncing on them and pinning them down with their free hand.

No more trickery. This ends here and now. But… even though they were eager to shatter the cruel illusion, the Vessel had to admit that this fight made them feel… alive. For the first time in forever since the time stopped flowing for them. It was kind of sad to end this already. Why would the Radiance entertain me with a battle? But something in the back of their head was compelling them to carry on. Fully prepared to stab the nail down into the tiny body squirming in their hold, the Hollow Knight raised their weapon when suddenly… they heard clapping. Blinking down befuddled, they realised it was the child clapping their small, nubby hands, oblivious to the fact that Void was now seeping through a crack in their mask and from a slash across their chest, and that they were about to die. Congratulating them?

Sibling won! Sibling is still so strong!

Words sent through the Void said. If the Hollow Knight didn't know any better, they'd think the miniature twin seemed.. impressed. Were they actually impressed? What is going on? Focusing on the weak bond between the two of them, the Hollow Knight squinted. There was something… familiar about the presence of the tiny vessel and by no means was it the sense of closure they shared long ago. No, it was something else. Beating within their heart, familiar, yet foreign at the same time. It almost felt like the presence of the Pale King but.. darker. It felt like... home. Is that…? Slowly, the Hollow Knight let a small glimmer of hope rekindle in their broken heart. Believing that this might not be an illusion. But… what was it in that case? What does this mean? Their twin lives? How…?

Will come back! Help sibling! Just a little longer...

They chirped happily through the connection between their minds before some unseen power forced the Hollow Knight's hand down and brought the pure nail straight through their small heart, silencing it in an instant. Dream particles erupted from their shattered body and the Hollow Knight suddenly found themself back in the Egg. In chains, rotten through and absolutely flabbergasted. Severe confusion fused into one emotion with surprise. Whatever happened, it snapped them back to reality. To cold, rough bonds, to the burning Infection tearing its ruthless claws into their insides.. And for just a short moment, they felt their head clear out. Only one question remained. What was that supposed to mean? Whatever that was.. Their questions were aggressively halted by a jolt of pain and a mist clouding their senses.

Ever since this strange dream, the Radiance started to force Her will onto the Hollow Knight much more brutally, trying to keep them Her pawn - though they initially weren’t sure why - causing them so much pain it more than once made them pass out. But even still, the Vessel and the Radiance were one. They felt something in Her they hadn't before. And it was nothing different than straight out fear in its purest form. She was afraid. A Goddess. What could She possibly be afraid of? The little sibling. Something told them when the memory of the darkness pulsing within the small vessel's chest came to mind. Slowly, they began to understand. She was attempting to keep them as far away from that dream as possible as this one seemed to be out of Her direct control.. And soon, the Hollow Knight was about to realise they'd never been more right in their life before.

In spite of Her efforts, they returned to the arena again. Greeted by the sight of their twin just like the first time. And an unexplainable force made them fight the child. It ended as expected when the ghost fell yet again after a stray Soul Dagger cracked their shell apart. And again, impaled on a Soul Pillar. And again, caught in the area of an exploding Focus spell, after that. But they never gave up. And each time this dream repeated, the more apparent Radiance's apprehension was becoming. As broken and tortured as they were, the Hollow Knight found some small semblance of hope rising from the depths of their despair again. Resurrected by the supposedly dead twin sibling. Killing them over and over again brought the Vessel no joy but whatever this dream was, whatever the tiny voidling was attempting to do, it scared the life out of the Goddess of Dreams Herself, filling the Hollow Knight with wicked satisfaction. A pleasant feeling one feels after accomplishing some great feat or watching something... well, satisfying happen. Oh, how they wished to live to see Her get what's coming to her.. For the first time in what felt like forever, the Hollow Knight felt the urge to smile (metaphorically, as their face cannot really express much), even through the pain She was inflicting on them. Soon, they found themself looking forward to battling their twin again.

With each time the ghost challenged the Pure Vessel to a fight, they were getting stronger, faster, more cunning. And when a decisive strike of a small nail finally brought them down to their knees the Hollow Knight couldn't help the alien feeling of gentle warmth welling up in their chest, the overwhelming… joy. Was this what their father felt when they took on all of the Five Knights at the same time and won? Was this.. pride? Even leaking Void from every possible body part and in pain (different from the disease, more familiar and somewhat comforting), they wished to mentally smile at their tiny counterpart but never had a chance as ray of blinding light - dreadfully familiar bright light - descended on the twin siblings and a cry of outrage echoed through the air, making both of them look up. A brutal yank brought the Hollow Knight back into their plagued body but… something was different. No force was ripping their sentience out from their grasp. The Radiance, while present in their head, paid them no mind as Her overwhelming fury filled every fiber of their being, sending ripples through the Infection clinging to them. What is happening?

It continued for a couple more minutes before an excruciating pain shot through the Hollow Knight without a single warning as a soul rending screech of the Dream Goddess made their head feel like it was about to explode. They seized and trembled when the horrid sensation did not cease. Their heart began to hammer in their chest quickly and unevenly, sometimes skipping a beat until they twisted in their bindings and released a cry of agony. But it wasn't their voice. They lacked one of their own after all. It was the Radiance. All their entrails felt as though they were set on fire or something was tearing them apart from the inside. In fear and confusion, the Vessel trashed about, Infection pouring freely from their opened mouth and eyes but they could sense some feelings that weren't theirs. Rage. Denial. Terror. Through the burning light filling up the entirety of their vision they saw Her figure writhing amidst a foreign darkness invading Her domain. Just there, at the peak of this darkness - as if the steadied, yet still ravenous Abyssal Sea rose up to challenge its nemesis - stood the familiar presence of the Hollow Knight's twin. And She was undoubtedly completely and absolutely terrified.

But the satisfaction coming from this fear did not ease in pain or the gurgling coughs ejecting the pus from their throat. The Hollow Knight felt as though their head was being split in two as the Infection was aggressively beating against the walls of their weak body, violently peeling itself off their organs and simultaneously desperately trying to keep itself rooted inside. A strained wheeze that escaped them sounded like a death rattle of an asthmatic Wyrm. Fitting, considering their origins.. It was much less funny when taking into account the fact that they couldn't breathe. They screamed alongside the Radiance, desperately gulping down every, even the smallest gasp of air they could. Another shriek tore through them and the bulging tumors on their chest abruptly ruptured, as did the ones on the stump of their right arm, spilling the disgusting, rotten fluids every which way. Infection was sizzling and thrashing about with a mind of its own until it started to evaporate in the clouds of sticky, rapidly fading smoke.

It takes a lot to bring a seasoned warrior to the point of crying out of pain but this was more than enough. Before, the Infection existed mostly in "agreement" with its host but now the Vessel felt as though they had ingested a bucket of potent acid. Tears - their normal, Void tears - started to flow uncontrollably as they shivered in spasms. The Hollow Knight didn't know how long this ordeal lasted so far but even half dazed by the pain they knew one thing. They were dying without a doubt. And the Infection inside was dying with them. Despite the dark thoughts inhabiting their broken mind as of late, ones whispering of sweet, cold claws of death, they were scared. Their twin, one whom they presumed dead for so long came back in a desperate attempt to help them, even in a dream. They couldn't let their efforts be for naught and die just like that! Praying to all Gods of Hallownest for strength, the Vessel drew another struggling breath that lined their lungs with miniscule needles and pins.

Help... Someone... anyone...

And then suddenly… the screaming stopped. The next thing the Hollow Knight knew was that the light was gone from their sight, replaced by blackness. Seconds later, or maybe longer, they couldn't say for certain, a heavy impact brought the scraps of consciousness back to them. At first, they were sure they'd been struck but in truth it was their form limply hitting the floor when they crumpled in a heap like a puppet when one cuts the strings. The stone tiles were underneath their cheek, the hold of chains absent. Burning pain remained but it was… different somehow. It wasn't the searing of the Old Light but the injuries it left behind. Even with their mind swirling like a carousel, the Hollow Knight realised it felt.. clear. Clearer than it has in ages. No alien presence lingers in the depths of their psyche. Still, the splitting headache wasn't making the thoughts easier to formulate. Do not think. It will be easier this way.

Although the possibility of receiving an answer sacares them, the Hollow Knight has to make sure. They hesitantly search through their own mind and quietly call.

Old Light?

Nothing. Silence.

Are you still there..?

No response. Dead quiet. Darkness. No internal fire, no force pressing against the remnants of their resolve and forcing its will upon them. No wisps dancing around in their vision, only dots of black and sparks of white caused by the pain. In their heaving chest, their black heart skips a beat. Could it be? Hesitantly, the Hollow Knight tries to move, to lift their arm. The appendage raises according to their will, trembling violently and falling to the floor not even a second later but there's nothing aside from their exhaustion holding them back or setting their entire system ablaze. It has to be. The Infection left. As hard to believe as it is… the Radiance.. She's gone. They can't feel Her anymore. The Darkness took over. Her light has been extinguished, at long last. In their mind they can feel a large hole, an empty space where She used to reside but this emptiness feels... good.

Happy. No, that's not the right word to call the emotion that assaults them, making them want to scream and weep, and laugh out loud all at the same time while being able to do only the second part. Struggling to form a forbidden thought, fighting the still present fever, they search for the right name for this one. Ecstatic? Yeah, that feels more like it.. However, the Hollow Knight doesn't spare time to rejoice. If they do they soon too will be gone.

Clenching their jaws, the mangled Vessel attempts to lift themself on their remaining arm but the weakened appendage gives out underneath their meager weight as though it was made of jelly. Unfortunately, their armor wasn't making the whole thing easier. The fall leaves them disoriented and stunned for a moment until they feel something wet pooling beneath their face. Forcing their head, which seems to weigh far too much, as though it was made out of lead, to turn, they see black. Void. Void spilling from their wounds and their right eye where their shell had cracked. Not the pus but pure Void. As black as it could ever be. It was… both comforting in color and disconcerting in amount. Losing that much life essence would kill a normal bug at least six times over. They needed to try something different before their Shade slips free from its confines to rejoin the Abyssal Sea. Focusing on a Healing spell was out of question with how drained of energy they were. Attempts to pull themself back to their knees also yield no results aside from agonizing stabs through the torn chitin on their chest where the cysts once were and left deep, bleeding holes after they'd bursted. Not all tumors were gone just yet. Some were still there, throbbing and scorching them with the now apparently caustic fluids.

Enough with this cursed plague! Without care for their own wellbeing, only wanting the Infection finally OUT, the Hollow Knight makes their conscious decision, rolls slightly to the side to have a more or less clear view and focuses their anger on the remaining cysts.. Their shivering hand wanders over to the last cluster of Infection still anchored to their body and hovers there for a single beat.. It's better to get this done with before they change their mind. In one swift motion, sharp tips of their claws sink into their own flesh. One drag is enough to tear deep gashes in the mutated membrane. The pustules split open with a sensation not dissimilar to being ran through with a white hot iron bar. The Hollow Knight gasps in pain, with a pang of worry realising that their breathing remained loud, ragged and unsettling. No wonder. After all this, most of their organs were likely severely damaged if not ceased to function at all. Orange liquid quickly drains from the self-inflicted wounds before being replaced by Void. It wasn't one of their finest moments, it hurt like hell but they didn't want this blasted stuff inside of them for a single second longer. Now, they were left still stuck splayed out on the floor and bleeding out at an alarming rate. They don't have much time left. Looking around, noting the lack of Infected veins and bubbles, they let their eyes linger on their old, trusty nail. If that doesn't work, then nothing will.

Scraping their head through the dust that accumulated on the floor throughout years, the Hollow Knight crawls to their discarded weapon, leaving a trail of quickly dissipating Void in their wake, and heaves themself up to get a hold of the hilt. Any second, they feared the chains would shoot out to trap them again but no such thing happened. Only two fo the longer sections remained attached to their shoulder pads and were dragging behind them. The Infection was eradicated. The purpose of the Temple fulfilled. As was theirs. Their hand trembles but otherwise holds fast as they pull up onto their knees, still wheezing dreadfully. For so long, the Hollow Knight ceaselessly begged all Higher Beings for the blessing of death, wishing their nail was in their reach so that they could end their own misery. Now… here it was in their grasp. Waiting, taunting. All it takes is one stab. Just one little push… You failed. Disappointment. Pick it up, turn the tip towards their already open chest and drive the blade through their heart. No one would miss a failure like you. The Vessel's hand tightens around the nail. It would be so easy… Just a second and it will be over. You're already as good as dead. Their task had come to an end. There's nothing more for them here. Do it!

Slowly, the Hollow Knight forces themself to stand on their weak and shaky legs, using their unkempt weapon as a crutch instead. Too late for that now. If they have to die, they'd rather do so out in the open. Everywhere but in this grave. All limbs hurt. The pain is insufferable… Do not feel.. They breathe raggedly, letting the sharp throbbing subside. Can they even make it to the outside world? What if the Dreamer Seals linger still? Do not think… No thoughts. Pick a destination. The entrance to the Egg. Don't ponder over it. Endure.

First steps come with difficulty - they hadn't walked in years and their legs feel as though the Infection has hollowed them out - they stumble and fall to their knees more than once but never give up. They refused to give up ever again. Eventually, each next step becomes easier as they drag their husk of a crippled body towards the doorway - the chains singing their grim song against the floor behind them - where their father disappeared all those years ago. Even now, after all the suffering they'd endured, the Hollow Knight hoped the Pale King is still out there somewhere. If so then the chances are once he realises the Radiance is no more, he will return to reclaim his Kingdom without the threat of the Infection hanging grimly over his head. And when that day comes, they will meet again. And after that, they will find mother too. And apologise for their defeat. Maybe they will even grant the Hollow Knight the forgiveness they don't deserve? Yes, that sounds good… If they live up to this moment, that is.. If not, then maybe their parents will at least lay their body to rest? Still, the thought of their father being dead and gone forever nearly makes them give in and fall again, unwilling to keep pushing forward. No. The Pale King is a God. It's not a trivial task to kill a Higher Being. They know it. He has to be alive. Doesn't he? Clinging to this tiny ray of hope, the Hollow Knight staggers through the dark corridor of the Temple, heading towards the light at the end where the (thank Wyrm!) opened door awaits.

A wave of stale air smelling of dirt crashes over them at the entrance and almost makes them cry with relief. No more sweet stench of Her plague. This is really happening.. Begging their weak body to hold on just a wee bit longer, they push towards their freedom. Though, no matter how hard they tried, their armor was slowing them down and making moving around difficult. In an attempt to spare the rapidly diminishing reserves of their strength, the Hollow Knight uses their claws to slash through the straps holding their shoulder pads in place they clumsily fight to unclip their ruined breastplate. With how it was bent out torn open and completely eaten through by the acidic Infection, it comes off without much difficulty and soon each armor piece hits the floor with a series of metallic clangs.

To be honest, the Vessel had no delusions they would survive this. Only one look at the ruptured chitin on their chest told them everything. After tearing the last pustules open they could've sworn for a moment they'd seen their heart trembling inside but it might as well have been a hallucination. In any case, they were too severely injured to pull through without aid and considering the sorry state of Hallownest, that is not happening. Even if they could call for help, they doubt anyone would heed their desperate pleas. Disoriented by the disappearance of the Infection and scared, any survivors, who aren't in equally as sorry state as them, are likely to head in the opposite direction. Besides, they couldn't imagine anyone would dare to touch the disgusting mess of a broken being they are now. At least… they will die happy, out in the open, gazing out at their homeland. Knowing it is safe and that they have their twin to thank for it. And that the ghost of their mistakes doesn't hold a grudge for the wrong they'd done.

A glimpse of red. A moving figure, just outside. Some strange sense of familiarity lights up a spark in the Hollow Knight's mind. Just a few more steps… After what felt like an eternity, the hero of Hallownest emerges from the Black Egg that was their and Her prison for so long and comes face to face with the shadow of their past. The Weaver clad in red dress took on a defensive stance and drew a needle once they leaned heavily against their nail, trying to steady their breathing. Red dress.. needle… strands of silk angrily lashing behind.. mask as pale as the King's.. Far more adult than they remember but still familiar. It cannot be.

It cannot be that for once since this madness had begun, the Hollow Knight has a stroke of good luck. Their tired eyes land on the one they remember as a small, temperamental girl. The spiderling princess of Deepnest. Even though the passage of time changed her, there can be no mistake. It was her. Their sister. Hornet… No longer a girl, but a young adult. How long has it truly been? And there was utter shock painted across her face once she realised that she's looking at her long lost, stoic sibling who was taken from her when she was a child. No aggressive glow in their eyes. Only soothing black, silently asking for help. What little strength they had left finally abandons them as they fall over face first again, smiling to themself inwardly. What a happy coincidence. Not only will death claim them free and at peace but in the presence of their beloved baby sister. Despite what they'd been expecting, they don't hit the floor. Instead, their body collapsed straight into Hornet's arms. How she didn't keel over underneath the weight of their much larger form was a mystery.

A firm grip on their shoulders, a pair of strong hands hardened by years of combat cautiously lower them to the kneeling position as a concerned Hornet fills their entire vision. How similar to their father she is… The same hands cup their face, just like Her wings had before (don't think about it, don't panic, it's just Hornet! They reprimanded themself when they begin to tremble), to make them look ta her. Clearly, she's saying something to them in a very frantic non-Hornet-like fashion but they can no longer hear. Her fingers gently caress the Hollow Knight's forehead, deliberately avoiding the crack in their shell and the spilling Void that could potentially kill her as the other hand rests on the underside of their mask. Such a gentle, loving gesture.. unfamiliar yet so… comforting… Each touch sends a delighted tremor through Hollow Knight's succumbing body. They didn't know one could be missing something that was never received in the first place. Yet, here they are. Yes.. yes, now they are ready. They are ready to go.. Were it not for Hornet, they wouldn't have managed to keep their head up. When they cough and wheeze, she starts speaking again. And this time bits and pieces do get through to the Hollow Knight.

"...-be alright-... -...ust hold on…!"

Weakly, the Vessel nuzzles their face into her touch as they heave in attempts to take another breath. Maybe the Hollow Knight was ready to face death but it doesn't mean they weren't afraid of it. They truly want to reassure Hornet that all will indeed be alright. But they can't. It's terribly cold out here… Flashes of images, glimpses of faces pass through their mind. Every bug they'd known well and those they met only once as well. As colorless and empty as their life had been, it was.. good. They lived a good life...

Then, suddenly, it's not Hornet they're looking at anymore. A luminous form of a small bug with multiple sleek horns shaping into a crown on the top of his head. The Pale King stands there with an aghast expression and holds their heavy head in his blackened hands making his child stare in bewilderment. He looked so real! But it cannot be him.. The feverish mind of he Vessel doesn't seem to care though. Am I dead already...? Black eyes in the pale face of their father watch the dying Hollow Knight with anguish gleaming in them. He’d never looked at them like this.. To hell with their Pure Vessel facade, they’re dying anyway... What does it matter at this point? An uncontrollable shiver makes them seize in pain rippling through their whole body as they swallow the black liquid filling their mouth and they lift their shaking hand to surprisingly firmly grasp the front of Pale King’s robes to keep him here just a little longer. The fabric seems.. strange to the touch...

Father, don't leave..

They want to call what they wished to years ago when they didn't have the courage to but.. No voice to cry suffering. The darkness is upon them and there's nothing in sight that could stop it. It was a miracle they lived long enough to crawl out of the Temple. If they were a normal bug so heavily Infected, they wouldn't have gotten up from where they'd fallen at all. Their last regret was that after all this, they will leave their twin behind. Again. And do so without so much as a single "thank you" for everything they'd done. But Gods... they were so tired.. Leaning forward the Hollow Knight rests their head on their father’s shoulder, possibly ruining the robe in the process with the Void leaking from their shell. Even if it was just the figment of their imagination, they didn’t care. To die peacefully, whether it be in the arms of Hornet or his father, was more than they could ask for or ever deserve. They breathe out with relief and for the first time in an eternity slip away into the embrace of sleep without fear in their heart, never expecting to wake up again.

Please, forgive me... All of you...

To their utter astonishment… they do. First thing they register is warmth. Not the burning fire of the disease tearing at their every nerve. A soft, comforting warmth filling up their entire being. Air around is hot and humid. Without opening their eyes, the Hollow Knight draws a loud breath that sounds kind of like a suffocating Vengefly. Strangely enough, the dense air does not hurt their damaged lungs. Quite the opposite. It spreads around their respiratory system like a balm, easing the burning left by Her plague. So long… so long since they felt any sort of something pleasant.. They could stay like this in the warmth forever and everything else can shove off with the odd, stinging pressure in their belly taking the lead. If only they could breathe easier… It takes barely a split of a second after their sudden wheeze for a pair of hands to rest on the sides of their head to steady it.

"No, no, don't you dare! Hornet's gonna tear my face off if you die!"

No memory of a name comes to mind with this male voice that sounds as though it was coming from behind a glass wall. As much as they want to remain inert, the Hollow Knight forces their eyes to pry open, wincing inwardly at the bright white glow of Soul surrounding everything, emanating from the… water they're in? A hot spring? Absent-mindedly noting they cannot see with their right eye as something was draped over it, the Hollow Knight looks up at… exactly, who? Looming over them upside down and still holding their head, was a hooded warrior with big white eyes. An ant most likely, judging by features. The unfamiliarity of the face made Hollow Knight tense in agitation but their limbs were unresponsive and aching, refusing to move. The stranger firmly held their head still even as they began to stir.

"Easy there. Not gonna hurt you. I'm a friend."

A friend? The no-longer-Sealed Vessel isn't sure what this means but they assume it's a good thing. The Pale King more than once called either one of the Five, or the future Dreamers (except for Herrah as she was the mother of his daughter) a "friend" with fondness in his voice when in good mood. Besides, if this ant really knows Hornet.. If they were being honest, the Hollow Knight was much too spent to feel threatened or try to analyse the situation to determine whether the ant does pose any threat or not. They ceased their struggling to continue wheezing heavily, fighting for air. Seems like it's not going away anytime soon.. With their every breath, the warrior's frown was deepening.

"No clue what battered you like that but I don't wanna meet it."

And you won't… The Hollow Knight thinks to themself with a sense of relief washing over them. She really is gone. They weren't sure what their twin did and how but they'd done it. No more Infection. No more pain. No more struggle.. A silent hope that they might have gotten a second chance makes them slump in the warm water working on their injuries. This warmth causes them to grow awfully sleepy, maybe they really did lose too much "blood" and were actually dying, but the stranger above them was determined to keep them in the waking world.

"For the love of- No! Stay with me! Hornet will kill me if you don't!"

Hornet.. The sound of her name somewhat keeps them from passing out. She must've been the one to bring them here. Then... it can’t have been their father they were seeing earlier... Just like they thought, their imagination was merely playing tricks on them, reshaping Hornet’s already similar features into those of the Pale Wyrm, and all this time it was her. Where did she go? Hornet wouldn't leave without a good reason… Speaking of which-..

TISO! Back the fuck off!"

Familiar, yet far more mature voice of Hollow Knight's younger sister almost brings small rocks raining down from the ceiling, making the ant in question jump away from them. As unexpected as her arrival is, it brings the Vessel peace and a sense of security.

"Okay, WOW! First you literally drag me down here by my antennae and now you yell at me for actually helping? Rude."

"May I remind you you owe me a favor? Now shut up and move."

"Geez, calm down princess! Your buddy was just breathing very loudly, I legitimately thought they're choking or something."

"I still don't trust you."

"Then why the FUCK-...?!"

As if to prove Tiso's point, the Hollow Knight descended into a fit of rattling coughs when they tried to move to see their sister, unintentionally making the strain in their stomach worse, proceeding to wheeze horribly afterwards. The Infection took a lot out of them… The arguing duo ceased in an instant (though the Hollow Knight could've sworn they felt the energy of "didn't I tell you" radiating off of the smug ant). Hornet didn't wait before walking into the hot spring and helping her older sibling sit up. Everything protests at the movement, especially their chest - now, like the stump of their arm, bound in bandages made of Weaver silk - but they don't stop her. They close their eyes as she does, breathing deeply until the painful wheezes slowly turn into nearly soundless huffs. Still, they feel and hear their breath eerily whistling in their lungs.

"That's it, keep breathing. It'll be alright. Here. This should help."

Out of a hidden pocket in her red dress she brandishes a bottle filled with gently glowing blue liquid. Lifeblood. So that's what she'd gone for.. The Hollow Knight blinks at the vial she holds, waiting for permission out of habit. They aren't quite sure if there is a point to keep the play up, especially before Hornet but… old habits die hard. Doing things without being prompted still felt... weird and uncomfortable. It causes a moment of awkward silence before Hornet frowns, seemingly catching a wind of what's going on, and brings the bottle closer to them.

"Take it. Drink."

In a beat the Hollow Knight seems to spring back to life and follows her instructions without any signs of hesitation. They down the blue concoction, bitter and by no means savory but they don't mind it. One, they aren't used to showing discomfort, two, they'd take the bitter over sweet and rotten any day. In comparison to the Infection, the Lifeblood was the best thing they'd tasted in a while. And true enough, the blue liquid works its magic quite quickly. The sharp throbbing of their wounds that the spring's power reduced to a bearable ache seemed to ease even more and some part of their strength returned to them. Honestly, they never understood why their father was so skeptical and untrusting towards the Lifeblood… On the other hand though, the Hollow Knight hangs their head low and grasps at their chest when they suddenly begin to feel awfully sick again.

"Hollow, are you-...?"

She starts but they silence her by lifting up their remaining hand when the familiar, sweetness dangerously quickly wells up in their throat. Oh no.. On an instinct, the Hollow Knight twists around and lurches forward, heaving out the contents of their stomach onto the cave floor. An unbelievably large amount of vibrant orange fluid mixed with freshly consumed Lifeblood and a little bit of Void makes its way out of the inside of their body, drawing disgusted groans from both witnesses. Well... so much for the Lifeblood treatment...

"EUGH! How the hell did all that stuff even fit inside this guy?!"

Mildly horrified Tiso asked the question into the air as Hornet, equally disturbed, didn't seem too eager to answer. The Hollow Knight was, thankfully, done in seconds and breathed out with relief once the tension left their stomach as the - hopefully - last traces of the Infection were expelled from their system. That feels so much better… As gross as the sticky substance was, the Hollow Knight found strange joy in watching the color fade into dull brown and eventually black before evaporating once and for all. Another proof. Though, the unpleasant aftertaste still lingered..

Sh-shit, I'm about to throw up too..."

With his hand over his mouth, Tiso quickly runs out of the cavern after the display and the smell left his own stomach very upset. The Hollow Knight isn't all that surprised. No one's going to try and convince the poor ant that what has just transpired wasn't thoroughly disgusting. Hornet merely rolled her eyes and returned her attention to her weakened sibling.

"How do you feel? Are you okay now?"

Never mind all the wounds which will surely leave awful scars. Never mind the dizziness that will eventually pass. Never mind the no longer existing right arm. The Hollow Knight looked Hornet straight in the eye but remained stone still, without a clue how to say it without words. Despite all the pain and the memories of suffering still fresh in their mind, they have never felt like this before. No more waking nightmares. No more Infection. No more Her. No more chains and bindings. Freedom. Peace. Safety. They are going to live to see another day and if the luck wishes to be on their side again, they will reunite with their father, mother and their sibling. Here they are, no threat in sight, beside their baby sister… "Okay" fails to describe one third of it.

"Hollow?"

Again, she called them this, trying to coax a response from the stiff voidling. And to be honest, it felt… nice. It was no longer the title mocking their existence but a sense of familiarity in it was putting the Vessel at ease. There's no need to pretend in front of Hornet. Who were they kidding, she certainly knew from the very beginning. And now she spoke this word as though it was a name like any other. The Hollow Knight never had a name. Though, they remember the Pale King accidentally calling them like this for short a couple times. Another fond memory. Yes. Yes, they like it that way.. They like that very much.

At Hornet's impatient and concerned prodding, Hollow bowed their much larger head until theirs and their sister's horns connected with an empty clunk. She seemed rather… shocked to say the least, judging by the look on her face. But fortunately the message was clear.

"You're ah... welcome, I guess.."

In response they only stared at her until she finally took a seat on the edge of the pool of healing water with her legs submerged. Hollow never had many interactions with people aside from following commands and watching their affairs from the side lines. Yet, there were moments, like after a particularly bad training session, when they received a gentle touch, most often from their mother. Root had a natural affinity to heal and she couldn't help but give into her motherly instincts when she saw her child hurting. Unfortunately, only until the young Pure Vessel managed to hone their skills to Focus Soul into healing injuries. And not so long ago Hornet was lightly stroking their head as they were knocking on death's door in her arms. Is this alright to ask her to do it again?

Uncertain, Hollow rested their heavy head beside where she sat, watching her out of the corner of their uncovered eye, the other wrapped up in Void-stained silk. Their memories of Hornet seemed so distant… The little girl with definitely too large amounts of energy stored within her tiny body was all over the Palace whenever she visited and she always found ways to sneak away to bother them. Not that they minded it. When Hollow found out the spiderling is their half sister from another mother, they took it as a point of honor to watch over her whenever they could, glad every time their father told them to do so. As cold and distant as he was, Hollow knew they loved their father, they just didn't know how to name this emotion yet. To feel safe and happy, to feel one would do anything for the person subjected to it.. With Hornet it felt… different. While they - metaphorically, of course - looked up to the Pale King, respected him and never doubted his words, every time Hornet was in sight they felt the same joyous warmth that came from the presence of either of their parents but laced with a protective instinct. They would follow the princess of Deepnest to hell and back if she asked them to and make sure she returns unscathed. Turns out, it is her who has to keep watch over them. How the tides have turned…

A small, lively child she always was, Hornet feared nothing and never backed out from any challenge. She even had a phase for a couple of months in the past when she declared she will kill the Infection for her dad on her own and it left the poor King utterly stressed out and terrified, ready to launch himself behind his cocky daughter at any moment so that Herrah doesn't gut him for being a "sorry excuse of a parent who can't even do his job properly". Memories like this bring the invisible smile to their face... Hollow couldn't imagine she would change much as she grew up. But it seems they still don't know their sister all that well.. With barely any noticeable hesitation she surprised her older sibling by lifting their head to her lap.

"I never thought I'd see you again. Let alone alive.."

She said more to herself than to anyone else as she rested her hand between their horns like they used to do to her when she was little. Uninfected. This word never left her mouth, as though saying it out loud would break the spell, but Hollow somehow knew that's what she meant. Nuzzled into the soft, albeit a bit worn dress and warmed by the magical waters of the hot spring, Hollow found a wave of unimaginable exhaustion, coming from years of being locked away with the Goddess of Dreams tormenting them, finally crashing over their broken body. After everything they've been through, they wanted and deserved to finally sleep in peace. But while before they were sure they were falling asleep never to return to the land of the living again and were okay with it, now some small, seemingly insignificant vestiges of fear lingered in the back of their psyche. They were plainly afraid of falling asleep. Hollow never wanted to have to stand before the Radiance ever again. However, this fear melted away with gentle strokes of Hornet's hand on their shell and the other one rubbing circles into their back to put them at ease the moment she noticed them fighting with their weariness.

"Hey, it's okay. She will never hurt you again."

Hollow knew this. They'd felt the Radiance at her strongest fall, even though they never thought it possible. Seems like the word "impossible" does not exist in their twin's dictionary.. But still, the fear was always there. What if I was wrong? What if this is just another hallucination? Those what ifs scared them all the same no matter what they'd seen and lived through. They knew that it's finally over. But they had to hear someone else say it with certainty. To make them believe. And Hornet's stern but sympathetic voice along with her comforting touch did just that. Finding new strength in their sore limbs, Hollow clambered up a little further onto the shore but not out of the warm water to lay more comfortably with their head still resting on Hornet's lap, and awkwardly reached around her waist with their left arm to snuggle up even closer like a desperate child they never had a chance to be. They weren't sure if they're doing the "hug-thing" right but it worked nonetheless. It took the fear away, soothed the ache of their shattered soul. With utmost certainty, they knew this was an emotion they liked feeling now that no one is here to judge them. Maybe they were wrong. Perhaps there's still a reason to keep going? Hornet never ceased caressing them and soon, Hollow found themself calmly falling asleep on her thighs with the last words they heard before slipping into the blessedly dreamless sleep ringing in their ears like a lullaby, the long forgotten tune of a small music box that the White Lady was so fond of...

…You are safe…

Out from the winding tunnels of Crossroads and into a cavern housing the healing waters of the hot spring, a pitch black shadow slithers across the ground like a serpent towards two sleeping figures slumped against one another. The temperature dips noticeably as it creeps closer to the Protector of Hallownest and the Hollow Knight resting at the shore oblivious to any form of danger while the hooded ant - saved from certain death by Hornet herself under the insistence of the Pale Wanderer - slumbers beneath an opposite wall with his arms crossed not to intrude on this peaceful moment. The shadow's attention is focused on the pair of pale siblings however. It raises and collapses in on itself like a liquid given life as it silently crawls up to the sleeping duo.

Reaching their side, the shadow begins to rise up from the ground and rapidly swell in size. The shapeless substance forms into a massive body with four, clawed arms, a large head adorned with multiple ghostly horns and dark tendrils swaying lightly from the creature's back. It stands tall on two animalistic legs half obscured by an ethereal robe melding perfectly with its torso and looms over the siblings, casting no shadow. If anything, its body is so dark that the light seems to bend around it. Eight, brilliant white eyes open in a faceless head and blink slowly, one pair after another. The Abyssal horror, blacker than anything existing in this world, composed of Void in its purest form and shape, barely fits in this cave but doesn't seem to care. It watches both the Void born creature and the half-spider for a couple seconds before its numerous eyes crinkle in something resembling a smile.

. . . S a f e . . .

The Void rumbles satisfied. Carefully, the giant lays something beside them - a small, pale mask split in two - and begins to focus. In barely half a minute, the dark menace shrinks and loses its intimidating shape once more in favor of sliding into the cracked shell, reforming a tiny body in a dark grey cloak tattered from long travels. As though it was the most natural thing in the world, the Ghost of Hallownest picks up the other half of their mask and as the last bits of their true form compress within their broken head they lift the missing piece and without any effort mend the crack that used to run through the middle of their face, leaving but a faint scar behind. This form was way too small, they could feel the Void pressing against it from the inside uncomfortably but for now it will have to do. Though, they liked this body and were very used to it. Maybe they could just make it grow properly in the near future?

With that transformation done, the warmth returns to the cavern. Casually, Ghost shuffles closer to their last remaining siblings and - mindful of numerous recently healed wounds Hollow bears - cuddles against Hornet's side next to Hollow's arm, careful not to wake up either of their siblings in the process. Especially Hollow. They need their rest the most. Actually, it's new to see Hornet of all people peacefully sleeping with the Hollow Knight's head on her lap. All of the sudden she seemed far less scary than the little vessel found her during their first meeting in Greenpath, though that may have something to do with their newfound Godhood. With a quiet sigh, Ghost lets their eyes slip closed but doesn't fall asleep. Their Ascension, although it brought unthinkable power that let them tear apart the Goddess of Dreams, left them utterly spent. Rooting out the Infection was not an evening stroll... But they have no desire to sleep. Not yet. For now, they're content with listening to breaths and heartbeats of their siblings. After cutting their way through the entire Pantheon of Hallownest in order to save this land, to save their lost twin, they feel like they've earned this moment of respite. Woe be upon any who thinks otherwise.. Eventually however, even the God of Gods gives into their exhaustion and falls into a deep slumber beside their siblings, knowing both of them are safe. Hallownest is safe. They all are..

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First try at drawing a proper background! Woo! Before you ask, I didn't give Ghost a shadow on purpose, I'm not that oblivious XD

#hollow knight #hk pure vessel #hk pale king #hk hornet #hk ghost #hk the radiance #my writing #my fic #my art #pale king #the radiance #pure vessel #the hollow knight

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Insurrection.”

Hope ou guys like this one and how it turned out. I am super excited to write the aftermath of all of this tomorrow, so stick around for that obviously :)

Have a great day.

“Adam, Damnit Adam, wake up!” The man lay on the floor of the shuttle head tilted back mouth open, fast asleep. Krill didn’t mind him sleeping, but there was one problem.

The life support.

This shuttle was clearly only meant for short detours in space, probably to one of those passing space stations or satellites. Krill would have flown the ship himself, but it turned out that his armspan wasn’t wide enough to break both beams of light at the same time. Either way he could only move the ship forward, away from any help, or in useless circles.

Overhead, a low rumbling was the siren for the ship.

“Commander, please wake up.”

The man didn’t move, his chest and stomach moving up and down slowly in his sleep, an unnatural sleep.

Krill turned to look around the shuttle, trying to find anything he could use to wake the man, but no luck, he could find nothing. The ship was a wasteland of useful tools, and he was suffering.

He had just moved to the front of the ship, and was trying to reach the two beams of light, without any luck, when there was a bright flash of light before him in the darkness. With a yelp, he staggered back and tripped onto the floor holding his arms out to block the horrifically burning light before him. When the light did not abate, he rolled onto his side and hid his face against the floor.

He wasn’t sure what was happening.

Had someone found them? Was there an explosion of some sort?

What was going on.

Finally the light subsided and he was able to lift his arms, still reeling from the blast of luminance that had poured down on him.

Looking out the window.

He froze in awe, surprise, and shock.

The Space dragon stared back at him, its massive head arching up into infinity, its great solar-sale wings spread around it.

Behind him, Commander Vir moaned, and krill turned to look as the man pushed himself to his hands and knees and then lifted his head.

***

“Deus”

Commander Vir sat on the floor of the shuttle in astonishment.

“I….. its… you.”

The dragon dipped it’s head just slightly curling through the air like a massive ribbon spun through the air.

“What are you doing here.” HE asked taking to his feet and walking over to the viewing window.”

The dragon did not answer, but spun in a tight circle.

“Well…. I. I don't know how you got here, but look, we are running out of air and desperately need to get back home. I would owe you forever if you helped us.”

Adam couldn’t hear anything of course, and even the inside of his head was quiet, but, somehow, he got the sense that the creature was laughing. He wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing, but he definitely hoped that it was laughing with him and not at him.

“You will need to hold on.”

IT was the last thing the dragon said before racing out with the end of it’s tail, wrapping tightly around the ship, and then spinning in a tight circle.

Krill and Adam ended up plastered together against the far wall with the sudden acceleration.

And then came a bright flash of light, and they were gone.

***

They had been found out.

Of course, Sunny had expected as much. She didn’t imagine that a bunch of brightly colored butterfly burg, imprisoned for 400 years would go unnoticed by the rest of the hive, but there it was.

They knew that something was going on, and had begun pulling back towards the throne room to protect the queen. Luckily for her and her people, the shock troopers had managed to surround most of the large pockets of Burg fighters and were holding them off OF course, that did not stop everyone from making it back, and Sunny and the others were forced to dewal with an increased flux of burg as they retreated back down the tunnels.

She tried her best not to kill too many of them, but there was really no other choice when they got in her way.

On any other day she would have been happy to run them all through with great prejudice, but she was keenly aware of the burg king lurking at the back of their group, and didn’t want to ruin diplomatic relations before they even started.

Hijan was somewhere on the other side of the throne room, with the egg, waiting for her cue.

Sunny and the others were almost there, and ready for whatever was to come.

Behind her, Cannon Ramirez and Thomas covered the burg king, Thomas having all the luck of his brother and being covered in a thick layer of blue icor from the Burg he had helped to Kill.

THe man wasn’t as good as the marines, but he had enthusiasm.

She still couldn’t stand how much he looked like Adam, and his death brought bitter emotions rising into her throat.

She choked them back down spinning her spear behind her back as she crouched on the floor, one knee planted and waiting.

They were there for a good half hour before she gave the signal, and the group of them began to move forward.

The doors to the throne room were well protected, but, sending Ramirez around to one side as a second distraction, she watched as they were drawn away by his yelling voice and the gunfire. He would be fine seeing that the king had given them inside information on the layout of the palace, not that she would call this place much of a palace (more like a cesspool) but to each their own.

But together, the remaining group of them hurried forward towards the open door, cracking it open with only a slight rumble, and sneaking into the shadows behind a tall line of stalagmites rising from the floor in front of them.

Cannon and Thomas stacked up behind her as she pressed herself against the wall.

Looking around the room, sunny made a face of absolute disgust.

She could see, by way of delicate beams of light trickling form vents high above, and in that way she could see the throne room, covered in slimy moss, gelatinous ooze of a creamy white substance.

Some of it, held what she could only assume to be eggs, though that confused her considering the burg king told her the egg room was down the hall in the other direction.

“What has she done.” The king whispered in disgust.

Sunny was glad to hear it because she wasn’t entirely sure what she would have to think of him if this was the normal state of things.

It wasn’t just the slime and the thin beams of wan yellow light, but the floor was covered in refuse, mostly molted skin in great slippery sheats, and discarded food. From the edges of the room, the floor roze up into a sort of high hillock where the queen sat now.

Adam came unbidden to her mind again as she thought about what he might say of the sight.

Either: Jabba the Hutt called, he wants his body back, or something along those lines.

“Jeez.” Thomas whispered form her left, “Jabba the HUtt called, and he wants his girlfriend back.”

Sunny glowered down at him, and he went silent. Only Adam was allowed to make horrible star wars references.

Granted she had no doubt that Thomas had been forced into watching them with his little brother, but still it was Adam’s thing, no one else cared enough for it to count.

“What is happening.” THe queen demanded, and Sunny cringed again at the gelatinous way her voice spilled from her open mouth.

She only hoped the king was right when he said that the queen wasn’t supposed to look like that because if he was lying than they had the ugliest empress on the face of the universe. And just below her, there stood ranks of the royal guard. The biggest baddest, ugliest burg to go right along with her, with their massive mandibles and thick trunk-like legs.

“In position.” She whispered over her line

And Hijan came back with a slow on and off of her mic, so she wouldn’t have to speak.

Sunny motioned the others off, and together they spread out in a wide circle keeping to the shadow and slowly surrounding the room.

That was Sunny’s cue.

With a deep breath, she stepped out into the light of the cave, hoping that everyone else was in position.

As soon as she appeared there was a sharp hiss as the burg drew up. The queen gurgled, “What are you doing here!” She demanded

Sunny watched all the eyes turn to her, and planned on keeping them there as long as she could, “I am here to offer you terms of surrender. Either you step down peacefully as queen of the burg, or we remove you.” She lifted her spear, “The hard way.”

The queen gurgled some more, “You will not threaten me! Not when you are alone, and my guards still stand.”

There was a sharp hiss as the burg drew forward their weapons held ready.

“I am warning you now.” Sunny said, “One last time. You cannot win this fight. Better to live than to die in your own juices.”

That only made the queen more angry and she screeched, “Kill her!”

Sunny dove to the side just as sever projectiles of light energy shot through the spot where she had been.

The burg guards charged her, but not all of them made it more than a few steps before they were taken from behind.

Cannon appeared from the darkness spearing one through the back and caving in the skull of another with a brutal backhand to the face.

Hijan’s soldiers did the same, appearing out of the darkness and taking the distracted burg by storm.

Sunny continued rolling until she was behind a rock, and then unpredictably came out from above slamming into two of the guards with her spear. They hit the ground and she dispatched one before rolling away.

Someone screamed from the other side of the room, and she turned to watch as Thomas charged down from the top of the cave and straight towards the Burg, he shot one in the face before slipping on the slime and ending up on his back. A burg tried crawling over him, its weapon raised, but then thomas spat straight into its open mouth.

The reaction was immediate and grotesque as it fell to the ground clutching at its face.

Thomas stood, and with a huge grin, he ran around the room chasing after burg, and if he wasn’t shooting at them, he had turned himself into a spitting cobra.

Hijan appeared from behind a rock, the new egg cradled in one of her lower arms like a football.

Sunny ran a burg through with her spear.

Atop her pedestal the queen was screaming for her guards.

They tried to get close, but the burg were fighting ferociously, and more of them seemed to be appearing by the second, spilling from holes in the ground and up onto the surface.

Sunny yelled orders from where she stood.

They weren’t getting any closer.

Hijan was overrun for a moment but managed to break out, holding the egg up and away from grasping hands.

“Over here!” Someone shouted, and Hijan turned her head to find Ramirez not too far away, his hands raised.

She lobbed the egg underhand without a second thought, and Ramirez dived forward to catch it hitting the stone hard and then rolling behind a rock with the egg tucked to his chest.

The burg chased after him, but Hijan took out a few of their number.

Sunny hissed in pain as a blade cut her along the upper right arm, spinning her spear back and thrusting it forward into the chest of her attacker.

They were being pushed back towards the doors as more and more of them filtered up from the ground. Thomas stood on a rock and was spitting down onto the crowd indiscriminately as he had no need to aim.

Sunny snarled in frustration, still they were losing.

And then there came a plaintive cry of pain. It wasn’t very loud, but it made the room turn and look up to where the queen sat covered in blue as her own lifeblood trickled down her front, and over her stood the burg King, his magnificent kaleidoscope wings glittering like stained glass in a single shaft of sun. In one hand he held a sharpened blade, and as they watched he drew it even more forcibly across the queen’s throat.

Or at least the part below her face.

She flailed for a moment and then wriggled and then flopped wetly to the ground at his feet.

The room was silent.

And then an uproar.

“QUICK, THE EGG.” He bellowed. Ramirez had rolled out from behind a rock and raised his hand trying to figure out where to place it, a sea of burg between him and the burg king.

***

The orbital ring of the Burg home planet was awash with chaos. Debris was littered everywhere and it was taking all the maneuvering skill of the pilots not to destroy their ships on a ton of stell rocketing around the planet at thousands of miles an hour.

The burg fleet and the combined GA fleet were locked in combat. The GA fleet bigger and more powerful, the burg smaller but more nimble.

One of the Celzex light cruisers had been separated from the main body of the GA fleet and was being harried from all sides by diveboming burg ships. Their weapons were to slow to manuver and fire at the burg. And each beam took minutes to charge.

Outside their shields were being slowly worn down, the once glowing blue energy a patchwork of holes and tears frayed and fuzzy at the edges where the energy was attempting to seal them back up.

But it was no use.

The ship rocked as an incoming burg attack hit them broadside.

“Left deck compromised.”

The Celzex leader cursed.

They weren’t gong to win this one, and he knew it. Their weapons were, ironically, too powerful to be used on such small opponents.

The ship rocked again and another deck decompressed, leaving more and more of the Celzex to die a painful death.

It was almost over now.

And then all blackness was lit by a bright beam of white light. The rocking in theis ship stopped suddenly as everyone within visible radius was blinded.

When the fleet looked up, and the light abated, they stopped in awe as the massive space dragon uncurled itself from it’s tight ring.

WIth one sharp flick, its tial lashed out sending a projectile roring onto the battlefield.

The Celzex stopped in awe as the alien ship roared from the darkness and (using powerful unknown energy weapons) Sliced straight through one of the burg cruisers. IT made a tight turn flying with the skill and dexterity of a complete madman as it made quick work of the remaining burg which surrounded the Celzex ship.

The great dragon flicked it’s tial once again.

There was a flash of light, and one of the burg ships went spinning off into blackness, shedding metal and material in all directions.

The alien ship cut around dodging through the debris, and though it was smaller than any ship there, it made quick work of what was left.

Behind it, the great beast spread its wings wide as the shuttle hurtled towards the surface of the planet.

***

The Egg left Ramirez's hand spinning up into the air in a great slow arc. But at the last moment his foot slipped on a slime pile and the tips of his fingers brushed over the surface, minutely changing the course of the ball to go spinning high and away from its intended target.

Sunny watched in despair and shock, but then, the roaring of an engine, and a burst of light, maverick came plowing through one of the holes in the ceiling with her jetpack, grabbing the egg from the air and spinning in a tight circle to deposit it in the hands of the burg ing who was slowly being advanced on by the burg royal guard

As soon as the egg came in contact with his hands, he raised it high over his head, and with a sharp crack, broke the outer shell.

Two halves of the egg fall to the ground, and he was left holding a small wriggling maggot with large dark eyes.

“Behold, your new queen!” The room grew very still and ver silent for a moment. For a second, Sunny thought that they had failed and the burg were going to pick up where they had left off, but suddenly a burg in the first row lowered to her knees bowing her head, and slowly, with her demonstration, came the others, dropping to the ground and bowing their heads.

“And as caretaker of our new queen, it is my duty to stand in for her until she is old enough to speak for herself, and with that I order you to call off the attack.”

There was a pause among the ranks before one of them lifted her head, “We cannot.”

“And why is that.” “We are the queens guard and loyal to her in all forms, but the others are loyal to the ideals she place upon them.”

“Then you will help us in our fight. If you cannot convince them then they must be destroyed.”

They bowed again and took to their feet.

Their leader began to give orders, and Sunny was surprised to find herself in the center of a tide of burg as they spill their way out through the cavern.

Those who did not surrender were destroyed as the Burg kin had promised.

Those who did not wish to fight the army spilling out around them fled outward from the caves and onto the open battlefield of grass and stone.

Sunny came with them her spear flashing in the light overhead as she cut through those who would not yield.

Their numbers were dwindling.

Shock troopers spilled in from all directions to help.

Sunny ran her spear through the chest of one of the burg and turned searching for another target.

A radio went off to her side.

“Shock 1, come in! Do you copy!”

The human shock trooper lifted his hand and keyed the radio, “Yeah go ahead.”

“We have an alien ship inbound to your position. Sir there is a dragon and a-”

“Slow down what is this about a dragon.”

Just then a dark spot appeared up above in the sky with little trails of exhaust streaming out beom behind it.

The last burg were falling on the field before them.

Sunny finished off one last body, letting it fall to the ground at her feet.

There was one more shape now, a black dot on the horizon retreating into the distance.

Sunny drew back hr spear.

And that is when the shape plunged from the sky and slammed right into the retreating burg.

ITs body vanished and a spray of blue engulfed the front of the alien ship, which now covered the moldering body underneath.

The battleground went silent.

There was a sharp hiss and a billow of smoke as the door popped open.

A silhouette stepped down onto the dirt.

“Is it just me, or do I have perfect timing.”

Sunny’s spear clattered from her hands onto the stone. The smoke billowed away, and a figure came stumbling from the smoke coughing and waving a hand.

“Damnit, i think I might have pushed her a little too hard.” Said Commander Adam Vir

“I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

***

The stone was nice and warm beneath his feet, great mountains of stone and grass rising up on either side of him. He took breath of deep fresh air as Krill stumbled out behind him looking as sick as a Vrul could look.

A soft breeze tugged at his bare chest and arms.

Before him, an entier army stood in shock and awe.

He scanned over the crowd falling on familiar faces as he went. He was surprised at some of them. Hijan and the Sentinel, Ramirez, Maverick, Cannon.

His eyes passed down the line meeting finally with familiar orbs of gold. They stood there for a second, staring at each other from across the smoking field of corpses, and then a shout. HE turned his head just in time to be plowed into by another figure, dirty and covered in blue sludge.

“ADAM!” “Thomas!” he could hardly believe his eyes, as his older brother squeezed him tight and picked him up off the ground in his enthusiasm, arms pinned to his side.

The two of them spun in a circle as Thomas laughed and pitched into the grass.

“You’re alive! I can’t believe it! You’re alive!”

IT was his cue that broke the silence, and an uproar followed them as other feet pounded across the open plane. He was hauled to his feet by Ramirez and crushed in a hug so tight it may well have broken his spine.

Maverick punched him in the arm so hard it should have left a bruise, and Hijan and the other Drev chanted and raised their spears for him.

But his eyes still searched for another figure, one he found lurking at the back of the crowd

She stood there spear in hand held held high.

Silent.

He managed to slip out of someone’s arms and duck over to where she was, slipping out of the crowd unnoticed while they tried to figure out where he was.

HE stopped before her suddenly not sure of what to say.

She looked at him.

And he stared back.

“It’s good to see you.” he finally said lamely.

She was quiet for a moment, her golden eyes boring into his face. She raised hr spear, and for a moment he thought she was going to run him through, but the blade stopped inches from his neck, “If you ever do that to me again, I WILL kill you.”

He raised his hands going cross eyed as he stared down at the spearhead, “Sunny, if it means saving your life, I would do it again.” The speartip winked in the light between them.

And then he smiled, pushed it aside and moved forward quickly.

She seemed surprised as he quickly and discreetly stretched up on his toes and pulled her closer.

Their foreheads touched for a second before he drew back hand still on her shoulder, “Though, this does mean I at least owe you dinner.”

She snorted, “Oh you owe me a lot more than that.”

“Maybe I do.”

329 notes · View notes

hiscyarika · 4 years

Text

Kir’manir: Chapter Four

Cuyanir

vb. to survive

Word Count: 4.5k

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x Reader

Summary: The Mandalorian must find a way to rescue the child and escape Moff Gideon.

Warning(s): Violence, Injury

A/N: Hey it’s been a while. Sorry about that. All of my inspiration for this series died for a while, but I was glad to be able to pick it up again at the news of the trailer that’s coming. This is a much shorter chapter than normal, partly because of my lack of motivation, but also because I felt that trying to put an entire episode into one chapter was a bit too much. So this chapter and the next will both cover the events of the last episode of season one. I really hope that you guys enjoy this, and here's to season two!

Masterlist

Tag Lists

Chapter One: Beroya, Chapter Two: Narudar, Chapter Three: Ruusaanyc

Gif by @bestintheparsec

As the Mandalorian looks into your eyes, he sees that they hold the same dread that tightens his chest. A silence falls over the cantina, and even the scores of troopers outside are deathly quiet. It’s an eerie feeling, and he knows that he needs to find a way out, a way back to the child before the worst can come to pass. He watches as you peek out the window, and he turns to do the same, finding countless blasters poised to fire. Shooting your way out isn’t an option, he knows. Not when the numbers are so blatantly in their favor.

“We have to find another way out,” you say, looking back to him. He can tell that, despite your worry, you’re doing your best to keep calm, schooling your breathing and focusing on the task at hand, even if it means stating the obvious next step. He nods in understanding, looking around the cantina for another exit route.

“There isn’t another way. We have to fight,” Greef says from where he stands behind another wall. But the Mandalorian cannot accept that certain death is the only option.

“What about the sewers?,” he suggests. His covert could be the key to getting out.

“The sewers?,” you ask incredulously.

“The Mandalorians have a covert down in the sewers. If we can get down there, they can help us escape,” he explains, and while he doesn’t expect any argument, he still finds himself relieved that you’re immediately on board with the idea.

You nod. “Great. Now we just have to figure out how to get down there,” you say.

“Checking for access points,” he replies, pressing a button on his vambrace to activate the scanner on his visor. It beeps softly in his ears as he looks around the cantina, and he just hopes that there is a direct route. If the three of you have to leave the building, the chances of survival plummet.

“What the hell are they waiting for?,” he hears you muse softly. He’s vaguely aware of the quickened footsteps of troopers, but he pays it no mind for the moment, knowing that they’re not approaching the cantina. “Mando we gotta go,” you call, your volume rising with the urgency in your tone, “They’re setting up an E-Web.”

“It’s over,” Greef relents solemnly.

Still Mando doesn’t look outside, and finally the visor trills as it locates the access point to the sewers. “I found the sewer vent,” he says.

You don’t hesitate, following quickly after him as he makes a swift break for the vent. He pulls one of the heavy chairs away from the wall, grunting with the effort as he throws it to the side and out of the way. You do the same with the other, and he moves to help you as you haul it away from the vent. Barely taking a second to catch your breath, you both begin to pull at the grate. You even plant a foot against the wall for leverage, but it’s no use even with your combined strength.

“It’s assembled!,” Greef warns, “How long until that thing’s cleared?”

The Mandalorian stands again, letting out a huff of air. His mind is running at hyperspeed trying to figure out how to clear the way.

“Blow it,” you tell him, but he shakes his head.

“I’m out of charges,” he replies. He then moves to try and pull at the grate again, but he hears you pick up the heavy repeating blaster that you’d brought with you. Standing once more, he moves out of the way as you position yourself in front of the vent, firing at the metal grate in hopes of blasting straight through it. Once you’ve done some damage, you bring your foot down hard on the grate, but the effort is still fruitless.

Again, the man from the TIE fighter begins to speak. “Your astute panic suggests that you understand your situation. I would prefer to avoid any further violence, and encourage a moment of consideration.” Interest piqued, the Mandalorian begins to move slowly back towards the window, but makes sure that he’s shielded by the wall in the event that the troopers open fire.

“Members of my escort have completed the assembly of an E-Web heavy repeating blaster,” the man continues. But the Mandalorian feels his heart skip a beat as the strange man speaks your name. What shocks him is not that he knows your name. It’s hearing the name of the planet you were born on.

The same planet he was.

He’s not sure how to process this information. That your parents were lost to the same attack as his. But how could you both have suffered this way and ended up on such different paths? Surely the Mandalorians wouldn’t have taken him but left you behind. And then a thought crosses his mind.

Maybe you’re dar’manda.

But he has no time to think about it.

“Or perhaps, the decommissioned Mandalorian hunter, Din Djarin, has heard the songs of the Siege of Mandalore, when gunships, outfitted with similar ordnance, laid waste to fields of Mandalorian recruits in The Night of a Thousand Tears,” the man outside says. At this, he steps forward, knowing that the threat has grown much more if this man knows his name. He ignores the way that your head whips around to face him, now that you know the information he had once refused to you. Very few people in the galaxy have ever had access to it, and he wracks his brain trying to figure out how this man could possibly have learned his name. The hairs on the back of his neck bristle and his body tenses. He lets out a heavy breath, suddenly far less confident than he had been about your escape and survival.

“I advise disgraced magistrate Greef Karga to search the wisdom of his years, and urge you to lay down your arms and come outside. The structure you are trapped in will be razed in short order and your storied lives will come to an unceremonious end.” It’s now that Din allows himself to look at you, and he can see that you’re just as confused and on edge as he is. But there’s something between anger and determination swimming in your eyes. He knows that he can’t give up yet. There’s still the sewer vent, if only he could find a way to clear the grate.

“What do you propose?,” Greef calls to the man outside.

“Reasonable negotiation,” comes the simple answer, though Din surmises that it won’t be so straightforward.

Greef scoffs. “What assurance do you offer?”

“If you’re asking if you can trust me, you cannot. Just as you betrayed our business arrangement, I would gladly break any promise and watch you die at my hand,” the man grins maliciously at this, “The assurance I give is this: I will act in my own self interest, which at this time involves your cooperation and benefit. I will give you until nightfall, and then I will have the E-Web cannon open fire.”

“I say we hear him out,” Greef offers.

“You can’t be serious. We’ll be dead the minute we open the door,” you retort, an incredulous look on your face. You don’t even consider the suggestion.

But Greef is quick to counter. “We’re dead if we don’t. At least out there we’ve got a shot.”

Din watches you pick up your heavy blaster again, poised to try once more to blast the grate open. “We can’t trust him. We’re outgunned and outnumbered. It’s suicide.”

“What about you, Mando?,” Greef asks, clearly looking for someone to be the deciding vote.

“I know who he is. It’s Moff Gideon,” Din answers. It took him some time to put all of the pieces together, but he’s sure.

You go still and tense at the words. “No. Moff Gideon was executed for war crimes,” you say in disbelief, but he can see in your eyes that you know it to be true.

“It’s him. He knew my name,” Din tells you.

Greef is unconvinced. “So? What does that prove?”

Din turns to him then. “I haven’t heard that name spoken outside of the covert since I was a child,” he confesses, and he can see that the admission piques your interest.

“On Mandalore?,” Greef pries further.

“I was not born on Mandalore,” he explains, and he can’t help but turn to look at you instead, searching for any sign that you might know who he is now. That you remember him from your shared past. But he finds no hint of recognition in your eyes.

Greef carries on, still confused. “But you’re a Mandalorian,” he says, clearly having a fundamental misunderstand of what it means to be a Mandalorian.

“Mandalorian isn’t a race,” you reply, sure and confident in the statement.

“It’s a Creed,” he finishes.

And then he’s taken back. Back to the day that the battle droids and gunships destroyed his home. The screams mixed in with blaster fire and toppling buildings. He remembers his parents, running through the streets in hopes of finding shelter. He remembers calling for his father as he was placed in that cellar, the lonely darkness that followed his mother’s last goodbye, her last “I love you.” The explosion that took them both so soon after his own safety was ensured.

And then the doors opened, and his childish hope made him believe that somehow it might be his mother and father coming back from him. But instead he was met with the sight of a battle droid, blaster aimed and ready to end his innocent life without hesitation. It was one of the few times that Din can remember being truly terrified, but still he’d braced himself. So young and yet staring death in the face with more courage than anyone his age should have to muster.

But even after a blaster went off, there was no pain, and he’d watched as one of the Mandalorians took out the droid, silently offering his hand. Din had taken it, not knowing that doing so would change his life in a way that he never could have imagined. And even as he’d clutched onto that Mandalorian as he flew away, watching his home become smaller and smaller in view, nothing could have prepared him for the path his life would take him on with the tribe.

Din breaks himself from the onslaught of memories then. He has to focus on the task at hand. There’s no time to dwell on the past. “I was a Foundling. They raised me in the Fighting Corps. I was treated as one of their own. When I came of age I was sworn to the Creed. The only record of my family name was in the registers of Mandalore. Moff Gideon was an ISB officer during the purge. That’s how I know it’s him,” he finishes explaining. He tries to shake away the anxiety swells in his chest, a frequent gift of these memories. There are still nights that he lies awake thinking about his parents, about the destruction that he’d witnessed at such a tender age. And the old screams mix with newer ones, creating nightmares that tear him from his sleep and leave him in a cold sweat.

“That’s how he knows who we all are,” you continue, and he studies you closely for a moment. But even as he searches his memories of the attack and growing up in the Fighting Corps, he can’t remember you. It’s odd. You’re not the kind of woman he’d forget. But there’s no time to discuss the past when danger lurks so closely in the future.

“He says he needs us, which means the child got away safely. I was worried when the ugnaught didn’t respond, but if they’d captured the kid, we’d already be dead,” Din deduces, suddenly feeling a bit more relief. As long as the child is safe, then he can handle the rest. To Din, that’s the only thing that matters, even if protecting the little one costs him his own life. He knows that he has to keep the kid safe.

“Try them again,” you tell him, standing again and moving to the side of the window, your eyes carefully watching the troopers that now stand without Moff Gideon. Din rolls his eyes though, as Greef takes a shot of whatever glowing alcoholic drink sits in front of him, though he can’t say that the behavior surprises him.

He brings the comlink on his wrist closer to the helmet. “Come in, Kuiil. Kuiil?,” he tries, but still he’s met with the same silence from before. “Nothing,” he tells you.

You don’t turn away from the window. “They might have jammed the link,” you reply, a rising sense of urgency in your tone. The time to act is quickly approaching, and still there’s no clear path of escape.

But then there’s the sound of the child’s excited chittering on the other end of the link, and for a moment Din has hope that the ugnaught managed to get away safely with the ship.

“Kuiil has been terminated,” IG-11 informs him.

---

You feel your heart sink when you hear the droid’s words, and you find yourself mourning the sweet ugnaught that you’d barely known. For all his hard work and the strife he’d endured at the hands of the Empire, this was not the way that he deserved to die. But you’re grateful for him, because you know that the child would have already been lost without him.

“What did you do?,” you hear Mando snarl into the comlink, and while you understand his aversion to the bounty droid, now is not the time for such hostility. IG-11 is just as worthy of your gratitude as Kuiil now. He’s the only reason that Moff Gideon hasn’t taken the little one and killed the three of you yet. You’re able to look past your own wariness. The Mandalorian should too.

The droid comes onto the comlink again. “I am fulfilling my base function,” he says.

“Which is?,” Mando demands.

“To nurse and protect.”

You’re not sure what the droid plans to do now, but somehow you have faith that the baby will be protected. If that’s the only good thing that comes out of this failed mission, then you’re okay with that. Even if it means your own death. Anything to keep Moff Gideon from getting what he wants.

But then you hear blasts in the distance. You press yourself against the wall, giving yourself a better look at the perimeter without making yourself more vulnerable to the troops outside. As you look down the street, you’re able to see large plumes of smoke in the air. Whoever is causing the damage is coming closer. “Look!,” you call to the Mandalorian, watching as the troopers turn towards the new attacker.

You move away from the wall, able to get a better look at what’s going on. The attacker comes closer, and you’re finally able to see that it’s IG-11, riding a stolen speeder with the child. The droid jumps off of the speeder, letting it glide forward and crash into the unsuspecting troopers. You duck at the resulting explosion, but quickly stand again.

“Cover me!,” Mando calls to you, and you silently nod, grinning to yourself as you hop onto the bar. You sit on your knees, aiming out the window and opening fire on the troopers. The droid has given you a chance. You won’t waste it.

Your eyes never stop moving, your mind working in overdrive to determine where the worst of the threat is. But you’re always honed in on the two men and the droid, making sure that none of them are taking more fire than they can handle, and that the child isn’t harmed. Metallic clanging meets your ears, and your eyes move between the Mandalorian and IG-11. Cursing under your breath, you take aim at the troopers that have turned on the droid, and you feel your heart leap into your throat as he falls to his knees. You start to move off of the bartop, ready to rush out there and grab the child yourself if it becomes necessary.

But the stormtroopers start taking heavier fire, and you have to laugh triumphantly when you see that Mando has picked the E-Web cannon off of its mount, cutting their ranks down in just a short amount of time. It’s impressive, really, and you’re just glad that he’s so quick on his feet. You suppose it’s part of the reason why he’s gained such a reputation in the Guild; there’s hardly a situation that he can’t handle.

IG-11 slowly rises again, and a breath of relief is released from your lips, knowing that the kid is still safe. Not another second passes though, and you’re thrown to the ground by the force of a blast. Without looking you know that there are stormtroopers in the cantina. You peek up over the side of the bar, finding a death trooper among them. It’s nothing you can’t handle, but you’re cornered.

After the shock of the explosion has worn off, you stand, opening fire on the five troopers. You hit two of them before you duck down again to avoid their own blaster fire. It doesn’t take you long to dispatch the other three.

You turn to look out the window when you hear the sharp sound of the beskar taking a hit. Your heart drops to your stomach as you watch Mando face off with Moff Gideon. There’s nothing you can do as the Moff changes his aim, shooting at the crate of ammunition that sits just a few feet away from Mando. You drop your heavy blaster, opening your mouth to warn him, but the damage is done before you can scream.

The explosion blinds you for a few moments, but once the smoke has cleared enough for you to see outside again, you feel like you’re going to be sick. The Mandalorian lies on the ground, unmoving. You mutter frantically to yourself as you take the smaller blaster from your thigh holster, spewing cursing and prayers alike as you run to him. There’s no hesitation to your movements as you grab him by his front and haul him up.

Hooking your arms under his, you drag him with his back to your chest into the cantina. To your relief, IG-11 and Greef Karga follow soon after. “Stay with me, Mando. Come on,” you plead, taking him over to where the sewer grate is. You grunt with the effort, but eventually lay him down against one of the chairs you’d displaced earlier.

“This is our only path out. Can you clear it?,” you hear Greef ask the droid, and you’ve never been happier to see an IG unit than you are now. Now that you no longer need to worry about an escape route, you turn back to the Mandalorian, knowing that he’s the one that needs your full attention.

“Stay with me,” you tell him, looking him over to find any injuries that you might be able to treat. You just need to get him back on his feet long enough to get out. If he has such faith in his covert, then that’s good enough for you. You just have to get to them.

Mando’s chest heaves with labored breaths as he turns to look at you. “I’m not gonna make it. Go,” he orders.

You shake your head. “No. I’ll carry you out if I have to. We’re all getting out of here.” You keep your voice calm but firm, your hand coming to cradle the back of his neck, feeling for any head injuries that you might be able to find with the helmet still on. Your stomach twists into a knot as you bring your hand back. The wet warmth you’d felt was blood. But you can’t reach the wound without taking the helmet off.

“Leave me,” he pleads, gasping for breath. You feel panic rising in your chest.

You know he can’t, but you ask it of him anyway. “You have to let me take the helmet off,” you tell him, though you make no move to remove it yourself. You could never compromise him that way, not against his will.

At your words, he startles, grabbing onto your wrist despite the fact that you haven’t moved. But you understand the immediate need to stop you from doing anything. “No. You leave me,” he insists. Behind you, you can hear IG-11 working on removing the grate. You wish there was a way to speed up the process. “You make sure the child is safe. Here,” he gasps, using his free hand to pull something from around his neck. He then drops a necklace into the hand he’s holding onto. You don’t recognize the strange creature that the pendant is molded into. “When you get to the Mandalorian covert you show them that. You tell them it’s from Din...D-Djarin,” he instructs shakily. He has to take a moment to catch his breath. “You tell them the Foundling was in my protection...and they’ll help you.”

You close your fist around the necklace, shaking your head. You consider for just a second what it would mean to leave him behind. You’d be responsible for the child, and you have no idea what the Mandalorians will do if you bring them this necklace and speak his name. The idea of speaking his name for the first time after leaving him to die alone makes you feel sick.

“Not like this. I won’t let you die,” you tell him, and to your surprise, emotion wells up in your chest. Your voice breaks and you feel the beginnings of tears burning at your eyes. You can’t let him go that easily, not after everything that the two of you have been through trying to keep the child safe. And the idea of being left alone with a kid with powers you can’t even begin to understand: it’s terrifying.

You can’t do it.

“Let’s go. You’re coming with me,” you say, trying to lift his nearly dead-weight on your own.

“I’m not gonna make it and you know it.” It’s harsh, final. You don’t want to admit it, but he’s right.

Before you have a chance to react, flames come rushing through the door of the cantina. You instinctually throw yourself on top of Mando, shielding his body with yours. Sweat immediately beads across your skin as the intense heat of the flames hits your back. You lift your head when the attack ceases, and you’re only vaguely aware of the fact that the Mandalorian holds on tight to you as you look up towards the door.

When you see nothing, your gaze quickly shifts over to the IG unit, who still works on opening the path to the sewers. Your heart pounds in your chest as you try and figure out what the next move should be. You hate this, the way that you’ve allowed the situation to affect you so severely. In the midst of any other job, you would have found a solution by now.

Mando grunts in pain, trying to draw in a decent breath. “You protect the child. I can hold them back long enough for you to escape. Let me have a warrior’s death,” he says. The tears welling up in your eyes blur your vision then, though you can’t tell if they’re caused by panic or emotion at this point.

“I won’t leave you here,” you tell him, conviction dripping from every word.

“This is the Way,” he breathes. You know you can’t argue with him anymore.

Another wave of fire comes through the door, and you press yourself close to the Mandalorian, your forehead touching the spot on his helmet where his own forehead would be. A single tear manages to escape your eye.

When you look up again, you gasp at the sight of an incinerator stormtrooper. Your gaze flits between Mando, Greef, IG, and the child, and in just the couple of seconds that it takes, you realize that there is a very real chance that none of you will survive the next few moments. There’s not enough time to react. The trooper raises his flamethrower again.

As he releases the flames, you once again shield Mando, thinking that your death is imminent but at least in doing this he won’t be in the direct line of fire. You wait for the searing pain that you’re sure will result from being burned alive, but it never comes.

You lift your eyes, able to see the child pull himself to his feet, his arms raised as he looks to the wall of fire coming right for all of you. To your amazement, the fire never reaches the baby, and is instead held off by some invisible shield, one you know to be the strange powers he possesses. You sit up, trying to find your blaster. Maybe you’ll be able to dispatch the trooper yourself while the kid holds the flames at bay. But the little one, with just a motion of his hand, sends the fire right back at the stormtrooper, blasting him backwards and out of the cantina.

You don’t have words. You’re frozen in place, only broken from your state of shock when you hear the grate being kicked in. “Come on! It’s open, let’s go!,” Greef calls to you. You look at the child, finding him unconscious much in the same way that he was after he healed Karga’s wound.

“Go,” Mando implores you, struggling to breathe. “Go.”

You hesitate, looking to Greef and IG-11 for any kind of assistance. You still hate the idea of leaving the Mandalorian to die alone.

“We have to move. Now!,” Greef tells you.

“Go,” Mando tells you, one last time. He squeezes your forearm, which he is still holding onto from when you’d protected him, and though every fiber of your being screams against it, you rise from the floor, taking the child from the droid. He’s in the satchel again, sound asleep.

You hold the child close to you, placing the necklace that the Mandalorian had given you inside the satchel with the little one for safe keeping. “Escape and protect this child. I will stay with the Mandalorian,” IG says.

Reluctantly, you nod, holding the child in one arm and picking up your heavy blaster with your free hand. “Promise me you follow...with him,” you reply firmly.

“You have my word,” the droid replies.

You let out a soft breath, making your way over to the opening in the wall. There’s a moment of pause, and you take one last look at the Mandalorian, knowing full well that what the droids brings could be a body. You have no idea what means IG-11 has to treat Mando. “Goodbye,” you breathe, hardly audible.

And with that, you descend into the sewers, leaving the Mandalorian behind.

---

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libraryofvenus · 3 years

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The Waste Land - T.S. Eliot

I. The Burial of the Dead

April is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. Winter kept us warm, covering Earth in forgetful snow, feeding A little life with dried tubers. Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade, And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten, And drank coffee, and talked for an hour. Bin gar keine Russin, stamm’ aus Litauen, echt deutsch. And when we were children, staying at the arch-duke’s, My cousin’s, he took me out on a sled, And I was frightened. He said, Marie, Marie, hold on tight. And down we went. In the mountains, there you feel free. I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man, You cannot say, or guess, for you know only A heap of broken images, where the sun beats, And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, And the dry stone no sound of water. Only There is shadow under this red rock, (Come in under the shadow of this red rock), And I will show you something different from either Your shadow at morning striding behind you Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you; I will show you fear in a handful of dust. Frisch weht der Wind Der Heimat zu Mein Irisch Kind, Wo weilest du? “You gave me hyacinths first a year ago; “They called me the hyacinth girl.” —Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden, Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, Looking into the heart of light, the silence. Oed’ und leer das Meer.

Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante, Had a bad cold, nevertheless Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe, With a wicked pack of cards. Here, said she, Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor, (Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!) Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks, The lady of situations. Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel, And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card, Which is blank, is something he carries on his back, Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find The Hanged Man. Fear death by water. I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring. Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone, Tell her I bring the horoscope myself: One must be so careful these days.

Unreal City, Under the brown fog of a winter dawn, A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many, I had not thought death had undone so many. Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled, And each man fixed his eyes before his feet. Flowed up the hill and down King William Street, To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine. There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying: “Stetson! “You who were with me in the ships at Mylae! “That corpse you planted last year in your garden, “Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year? “Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed? “Oh keep the Dog far hence, that’s friend to men, “Or with his nails he’ll dig it up again! “You! hypocrite lecteur!—mon semblable,—mon frère!”

II. A Game of Chess

The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne, Glowed on the marble, where the glass Held up by standards wrought with fruited vines From which a golden Cupidon peeped out (Another hid his eyes behind his wing) Doubled the flames of sevenbranched candelabra Reflecting light upon the table as The glitter of her jewels rose to meet it, From satin cases poured in rich profusion; In vials of ivory and coloured glass Unstoppered, lurked her strange synthetic perfumes, Unguent, powdered, or liquid—troubled, confused And drowned the sense in odours; stirred by the air That freshened from the window, these ascended In fattening the prolonged candle-flames, Flung their smoke into the laquearia, Stirring the pattern on the coffered ceiling. Huge sea-wood fed with copper Burned green and orange, framed by the coloured stone, In which sad light a carvéd dolphin swam. Above the antique mantel was displayed As though a window gave upon the sylvan scene The change of Philomel, by the barbarous king So rudely forced; yet there the nightingale Filled all the desert with inviolable voice And still she cried, and still the world pursues, “Jug Jug” to dirty ears. And other withered stumps of time Were told upon the walls; staring forms Leaned out, leaning, hushing the room enclosed. Footsteps shuffled on the stair. Under the firelight, under the brush, her hair Spread out in fiery points Glowed into words, then would be savagely still.

“My nerves are bad tonight. Yes, bad. Stay with me. “Speak to me. Why do you never speak. Speak. “What are you thinking of? What thinking? What? “I never know what you are thinking. Think.”

I think we are in rats’ alley Where the dead men lost their bones.

“What is that noise?” The wind under the door. “What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?” Nothing again nothing. “Do “You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember “Nothing?”

I remember Those are pearls that were his eyes. “Are you alive, or not? Is there nothing in your head?”

But O O O O that Shakespeherian Rag— It’s so elegant So intelligent “What shall I do now? What shall I do?” “I shall rush out as I am, and walk the street “With my hair down, so. What shall we do tomorrow? “What shall we ever do?” The hot water at ten. And if it rains, a closed car at four. And we shall play a game of chess, Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.

When Lil’s husband got demobbed, I said— I didn’t mince my words, I said to her myself, HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME Now Albert’s coming back, make yourself a bit smart. He’ll want to know what you done with that money he gave you To get yourself some teeth. He did, I was there. You have them all out, Lil, and get a nice set, He said, I swear, I can’t bear to look at you. And no more can’t I, I said, and think of poor Albert, He’s been in the army four years, he wants a good time, And if you don’t give it him, there’s others will, I said. Oh is there, she said. Something o’ that, I said. Then I’ll know who to thank, she said, and give me a straight look. HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME If you don’t like it you can get on with it, I said. Others can pick and choose if you can’t. But if Albert makes off, it won’t be for lack of telling. You ought to be ashamed, I said, to look so antique. (And her only thirty-one.) I can’t help it, she said, pulling a long face, It’s them pills I took, to bring it off, she said. (She’s had five already, and nearly died of young George.) The chemist said it would be all right, but I’ve never been the same. You are a proper fool, I said. Well, if Albert won’t leave you alone, there it is, I said, What you get married for if you don’t want children? HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME Well, that Sunday Albert was home, they had a hot gammon, And they asked me in to dinner, to get the beauty of it hot— HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME Goonight Bill. Goonight Lou. Goonight May. Goonight. Ta ta. Goonight. Goonight. Good night, ladies, good night, sweet ladies, good night, good night.

III. The Fire Sermon

The river’s tent is broken: the last fingers of leaf Clutch and sink into the wet bank. The wind Crosses the brown land, unheard. The nymphs are departed. Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song. The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers, Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, cigarette ends Or other testimony of summer nights. The nymphs are departed. And their friends, the loitering heirs of city directors; Departed, have left no addresses. By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept . . . Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song, Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long. But at my back in a cold blast I hear The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear.

A rat crept softly through the vegetation Dragging its slimy belly on the bank While I was fishing in the dull canal On a winter evening round behind the gashouse Musing upon the king my brother’s wreck And on the king my father’s death before him. White bodies naked on the low damp ground And bones cast in a little low dry garret, Rattled by the rat’s foot only, year to year. But at my back from time to time I hear The sound of horns and motors, which shall bring Sweeney to Mrs. Porter in the spring. O the moon shone bright on Mrs. Porter And on her daughter They wash their feet in soda water Et O ces voix d’enfants, chantant dans la coupole!

Twit twit twit Jug jug jug jug jug jug So rudely forc’d. Tereu

Unreal City Under the brown fog of a winter noon Mr. Eugenides, the Smyrna merchant Unshaven, with a pocket full of currants C.i.f. London: documents at sight, Asked me in demotic French To luncheon at the Cannon Street Hotel Followed by a weekend at the Metropole.

At the violet hour, when the eyes and back Turn upward from the desk, when the human engine waits Like a taxi throbbing waiting, I Tiresias, though blind, throbbing between two lives, Old man with wrinkled female breasts, can see At the violet hour, the evening hour that strives Homeward, and brings the sailor home from sea, The typist home at teatime, clears her breakfast, lights Her stove, and lays out food in tins. Out of the window perilously spread Her drying combinations touched by the sun’s last rays, On the divan are piled (at night her bed) Stockings, slippers, camisoles, and stays. I Tiresias, old man with wrinkled dugs Perceived the scene, and foretold the rest— I too awaited the expected guest. He, the young man carbuncular, arrives, A small house agent’s clerk, with one bold stare, One of the low on whom assurance sits As a silk hat on a Bradford millionaire. The time is now propitious, as he guesses, The meal is ended, she is bored and tired, Endeavours to engage her in caresses Which still are unreproved, if undesired. Flushed and decided, he assaults at once; Exploring hands encounter no defence; His vanity requires no response, And makes a welcome of indifference. (And I Tiresias have foresuffered all Enacted on this same divan or bed; I who have sat by Thebes below the wall And walked among the lowest of the dead.) Bestows one final patronising kiss, And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit . . .

She turns and looks a moment in the glass, Hardly aware of her departed lover; Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass: “Well now that’s done: and I’m glad it’s over.” When lovely woman stoops to folly and Paces about her room again, alone, She smoothes her hair with automatic hand, And puts a record on the gramophone.

“This music crept by me upon the waters” And along the Strand, up Queen Victoria Street. O City city, I can sometimes hear Beside a public bar in Lower Thames Street, The pleasant whining of a mandoline And a clatter and a chatter from within Where fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls Of Magnus Martyr hold Inexplicable splendour of Ionian white and gold.

The river sweats Oil and tar The barges drift With the turning tide Red sails Wide To leeward, swing on the heavy spar. The barges wash Drifting logs Down Greenwich reach Past the Isle of Dogs. Weialala leia Wallala leialala

Elizabeth and Leicester Beating oars The stern was formed A gilded shell Red and gold The brisk swell Rippled both shores Southwest wind Carried down stream The peal of bells White towers Weialala leia Wallala leialala

“Trams and dusty trees. Highbury bore me. Richmond and Kew Undid me. By Richmond I raised my knees Supine on the floor of a narrow canoe.”

“My feet are at Moorgate, and my heart Under my feet. After the event He wept. He promised a ‘new start.’ I made no comment. What should I resent?”

“On Margate Sands. I can connect Nothing with nothing. The broken fingernails of dirty hands. My people humble people who expect Nothing.” la la

To Carthage then I came

Burning burning burning burning O Lord Thou pluckest me out O Lord Thou pluckest

burning

IV. Death by Water

Phlebas the Phoenician, a fortnight dead, Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep sea swell And the profit and loss. A current under sea Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fell He passed the stages of his age and youth Entering the whirlpool. Gentile or Jew O you who turn the wheel and look to windward, Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.

V. What the Thunder Said

After the torchlight red on sweaty faces After the frosty silence in the gardens After the agony in stony places The shouting and the crying Prison and palace and reverberation Of thunder of spring over distant mountains He who was living is now dead We who were living are now dying With a little patience

Here is no water but only rock Rock and no water and the sandy road The road winding above among the mountains Which are mountains of rock without water If there were water we should stop and drink Amongst the rock one cannot stop or think Sweat is dry and feet are in the sand If there were only water amongst the rock Dead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit Here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit There is not even silence in the mountains But dry sterile thunder without rain There is not even solitude in the mountains But red sullen faces sneer and snarl From doors of mudcracked houses If there were water And no rock If there were rock And also water And water A spring A pool among the rock If there were the sound of water only Not the cicada And dry grass singing But sound of water over a rock Where the hermit-thrush sings in the pine trees Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop But there is no water

Who is the third who walks always beside you? When I count, there are only you and I together But when I look ahead up the white road There is always another one walking beside you Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded I do not know whether a man or a woman —But who is that on the other side of you?

What is that sound high in the air Murmur of maternal lamentation Who are those hooded hordes swarming Over endless plains, stumbling in cracked earth Ringed by the flat horizon only What is the city over the mountains Cracks and reforms and bursts in the violet air Falling towers Jerusalem Athens Alexandria Vienna London Unreal

A woman drew her long black hair out tight And fiddled whisper music on those strings And bats with baby faces in the violet light Whistled, and beat their wings And crawled head downward down a blackened wall And upside down in air were towers Tolling reminiscent bells, that kept the hours And voices singing out of empty cisterns and exhausted wells.

In this decayed hole among the mountains In the faint moonlight, the grass is singing Over the tumbled graves, about the chapel There is the empty chapel, only the wind’s home. It has no windows, and the door swings, Dry bones can harm no one. Only a cock stood on the rooftree Co co rico co co rico In a flash of lightning. Then a damp gust Bringing rain

Ganga was sunken, and the limp leaves Waited for rain, while the black clouds Gathered far distant, over Himavant. The jungle crouched, humped in silence. Then spoke the thunder DA Datta: what have we given? My friend, blood shaking my heart The awful daring of a moment’s surrender Which an age of prudence can never retract By this, and this only, we have existed Which is not to be found in our obituaries Or in memories draped by the beneficent spider Or under seals broken by the lean solicitor In our empty rooms DA Dayadhvam: I have heard the key Turn in the door once and turn once only We think of the key, each in his prison Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison Only at nightfall, aethereal rumours Revive for a moment a broken Coriolanus DA Damyata: The boat responded Gaily, to the hand expert with sail and oar The sea was calm, your heart would have responded Gaily, when invited, beating obedient To controlling hands

I sat upon the shore Fishing, with the arid plain behind me Shall I at least set my lands in order? London Bridge is falling down falling down falling down Poi s’ascose nel foco che gli affina Quando fiam uti chelidon—O swallow swallow Le Prince d’Aquitaine à la tour abolie These fragments I have shored against my ruins Why then Ile fit you. Hieronymo’s mad againe. Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata. Shantih shantih shantih

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infinite-xerath · 3 years

Text

Runeterra Retcons: Ruination Episode (Finale)

Finale 1/2

From the darkness, you emerge into a field of lowers. Dawn breaks over the horizon to illuminate crumbling ruins all around you: what looks to be the remnants of a once-great kingdom. The Black Mist, the screaming of the wraiths and the sounds of battle have all vanished. The scene before you is almost tranquil, but that tranquility is cut short when you notice the figures ahead of you.

Lucian: “AAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!”

Lucian lets loose a flurry of light from his Relic pistols, but Viego seems entirely unfazed as the light fails to pierce his armor. Vex stands behind him, and further back, you see the unconscious form of Senna hanging from a pillar by ethereal chains. At her feet are the now-lifeless fetters, laid out almost like an offering.

Viego: “Do you see now how futile it is, Sentinel? How powerless you are to save the one you love, just as I was?”

Lucian: “Damn it!”

You hear the Maiden of the Mist whispering to you once more, beckoning you to succumb to her influence.

Maiden: “Yes. It is meaningless to resist. Come. Let us be as one.”

Though her words are oddly enticing, they also spark a realization within you. Suddenly, Yorick’s words click in your mind as you rise to your feet.

“We haven’t lost yet, Lucian!”

“Don’t give up yet!”

All eyes turn toward you as you race up the hill, your fingers digging tightly into Yorick’s shroud of darkness.

Lucian: “Rookie!? What the hell are you doin’ here?”

Viego: “Another uninvited guest? Well, no matter. Welcome to Camavor, child. Soon, my queen and I will be reunited, and all will be as it should.”

“You’re wrong, Viego.”

“You missed a piece.”

Viego: “What?”

Vex: “Ugh, what’s this idiot talking about now? Honestly, I can just finish him off right here. Just give the word, boss.”

“You’ve gathered up Isolde’s light, but you completely ignored her darkness.”

“There was a fetter right under your nose all this time, but you couldn’t see it. No… You never wanted to!”

Viego response 1: “Ridiculous! My queen is perfect! Pure! She is the light of my world! There is not a shred of darkness in her!”

Viego response 2: “Impossible. You speak nonsense, child. The last remnant resides in her, the Sentinel! There… There is no other…”

“Isolde was just a person, Viego, and everyone has a little darkness inside of them!”

“You want your queen to be perfect, but even she can feel hatred and sorrow Let me show you!

You toss Yorick’s cloak into the air and the darkness forms into a ghastly figure: the Maiden of the Mist. Viego’s face contorts in horror as he watches the specter manifest, as though unable to believe what he’s seeing.

Viego: “It cannot be… But there is no doubt! I can feel her inside this… Creature! Isolde!?”

Maiden: “Ah, my king! Our king! You wrenched us from our slumber, now you would abandon us!? You said you wanted to be one… Then join us! Join us in eternity!”

The Maiden reaches out her hands as her, filling the air with her inhuman wails. A chord of darkness forms between her and Viego as the Maiden siphons his power away from him.

Viego: “No! Stop this! STOP IT!”

Vex: “What did you just do!?”

“Lucian, now your chance!”

“Lucian, get Senna!”

Lucian stares in disbelief at the scene before him a while long, but quickly shakes himself from his daze. As Viego struggles against the Maiden, Lucian makes for the pillar, blasting Senna free from her restraints. Senna falls to ground, but Lucian is quick to catch her.

Senna: “Ngh…”

Lucian: “Senna!”

Senna: “Lucian…?”

Lucian: “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Senna rises to her feet, clutching her head. A look of visible confusion corsses her face as she scans the scene before her.

Senna: “What’s happening? Where are we? Is that… Viego?”

Viego continues to struggle against the Maiden’s pull, but to no avail. You see strands of light mingling with the darkness as the Maiden feasts, though a familiar shadow soon manifests behind her.

Vex: “Get off of him!”

Vex and her shadow sever the connection between Viego and the Maiden, causing both to cry out in pain. The Maiden soon reverts back into a cloak of darkness, falling unceremoniously onto the ground.

As the connection is severed, whisps of scatter all around you, darting about the ruins before finally embedding themselves into the fetters at Senna’s feet. One finds refuge within your Wayfinder, restoring the Relic’s light.

Viego: “No… NO! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?”

Senna: “Just what is happening here, Lucian?”

Lucian struggles to think of an explanation, but before he can, the doll at Senna’s feet suddenly floats into the air and springs to life. In a flash of light, Gwen is standing beside her commanding officers, her form fully restored.

Gwen: “Goodness! I think I just had a most awful dream… Oh, hello Lucian! Senna! Rookie! And…”

Gwen frowns when she sees Viego and Vex.

Gwen: “Ah, it seems now is not the time for happy reunions!”

“Welcome back, Gwen!”

“Welcome back, Senna!”

Viego turns his gaze toward you, his eyes full of malice.

Viego: “You! You will pay for this, child!

Viego screams with rage and charges you, leveling his sword straight for your heart. You reach for your Relicstone shard, though it quickly becomes apparent that you won’t be able to grasp it time.

Senna: “Rookie! Look out!”

Finale 2/2

Just as it seems Viego’s sword is about to run you through, a swirling barrier of violet energy surrounds you. The blade of the Ruined King glances harmlessly off and Viego staggers back in surprise. Shen and the other Sentinels all appear manifest you, as well as those you set free from Viego’s control. The Eye of Twilight falls to the ground, nearly breathless.

Shen: “It seems… We were not… Too late.”

Akshan: “Indeed! Now, what is happening?”

“We’ve got Viego on the ropes!”

“Viego’s weakened! Now, let’s finish him!”

Vayne: “I’m not sure what you did, kid, but it looks like we can finally put this monster down once and for all!”

Viego: “Ngh… How dare you!?”

Senna: “Sentinels! Let’s wrap this up!”

Taking charges of the group once more, Senna directs each Sentinel’s efforts toward bringing down the Ruined King. Though weakened, Viego still holds a great deal of power at his disposal, conjuring swaths of Black Mist to keep you and your allies at bay. Despite your greater numbers, you can feel the exhaustion of the last several hours earing down on your, and your allies are clearly nearing their limits as well.

Suddenly, the Relicstone shard in your pocket flies from your grasp. You turn to see Senna standing behind you, her cannon now broken up in several different pieces lingering in the air before her. Your piece soon joins them as a web of radiance and darkness spreads between.

Senna: “I’ve got you!”

Energy courses through you as a wave of power washes over the battlefield, surrounding you and your allies in shimmering barriers. Viego, on the other hand, is thrown back into the grass, his armor breaking apart from the impact. He seems almost pathetic as he scrambles to his feet, desperately seeking a way to turn the tides in his favor.

Viego. “This cannot be… Our reunion was nearly at hand!”

“Admit it, Viego! You never really loved her! She was never anything more than a prize to you!”

“She may have loved you once, Viego, but not anymore! Not after what you’ve become!”

Viego: “Damn you!”

Vex: “Viego! Come on!”

All eyes turn to see Vex standing before another shadowy portal. Upon realizing that she’s been spotted, the yordle leaps through, not even daring to look back.

Lucian: “Don’t let him get away!”

Viego creates a Harrowed path along the ground as he sprints across the field, appearing and disappearing so frequently that it’s impossible to get a clean shot it. Ultimately, the Ruined King flees through the Vex’s gateway just as it closes, leaving you and your allies alone in the silent ruins of Camavor.

“We’ve gotta go after him!”

“Where did they go!?”

Lillia (if option 1 is picked): “But… But where did he go? Back to those dreadful Isles, maybe?”

Gangplank (if option 2 is picked): “Back to the Shadow Isles I’d wager, the slippery bastard.”

Shen: “My apologies… I would follow, but…”

Jayce: “Hey, don’t push yourself. I’m still not sure how this spirit stuff works yet, but it clearly took a lot out of you to get us here.”

Senna: “Nothing for it. For now, let’s gather up the fetters and get back to headquarters, or what’s left of it. We’ll discuss out next move there. Rookie, that Wayfinder still intact?”

“The Wayfinder is back online!”

“Good to go!”

Gwen and the other Sentinels gather up the fetters, though you quickly note that Yorick’s shadow cloak has vanished. Deciding not to dwell on it, you raise the Wayfinder and let its light carry you back to headquarters.

The sun shines on the remnants of the Sentinel outpost. Not a trace of Black Mist is to be seen anywhere, and as you look to the world map, you see that the Harrowing has receded back to the Shadow Isles.

Tryndamere: “It seems that things are returning to normal. Speaking of…”

The Hallowed Mist begins to dissipate from those you freed from Viego’s control, returning them to their usual selves.

“I guess the Wayfinder’s power only lasts for so long.”

“I guess those snazzy new looks were only temporary.”

Draven: “Eh, this is more Draven’s style anyway. I don’t need any of that Mist stuff show how awesome I am!”

Riven: “As if the Mist really makes a difference with you…”

Gwen: “So then… It seems we’ve won? We stopped Viego, gathered all the fetters, and drove back the Black Mist!”

Senna: “Well… Viego’s still out there, but without the power of the fetters, he won’t be able to go beyond the boundary of the Shadow Isles. For the time-being, I’d call this a victory.”

A wave of relief washes over you as you collapse onto the ground, exhaustion finally taking its toll. After all that transpired last night, you find yourself too excited to even properly celebrate, but you still take comfort in knowing that you’ve stopped the end of the world.

“So… What happens now?”

“What’s everyone’s next move?”

Lucian: “Well, seems to me like our fight ain’t over quite yet, and I’m lookin’ at a whole bunch of new Sentinel recruits. Whaddya say we get you all sworn in and-”

Tryndamere: “I’ll pass. Much as I’d love to run that Ruined King through with my blade, I’m needed back home. I… Have a lot of explaining to do when I get back to my wife.”

Senna: “Speaking of… Lucian, you wanna explain where you were when our base came under attack, and where this Shuriman came from?”

Akshan: “Ah, so you’re Senna? Lucian… You are a lucky devil.”

Lucian: “Heh… Yeah, lucky enough to be married to the most beautiful woman in the world.”

Senna glares at Lucian, unfazed by his flattery.

Lucian: “Uh, anyway! What about the rest of you?”

Draven: “Pass. I mean, I can TOTALLY get wanting Draven on your team, but that’s not how I roll. Besides, I gotta get back the arena for my triumphant return.”

Shyvana: “I must also return and ensure that the king is unharmed, as well as my allies in the Dargonguard.”

Lillia: “U-Um… I’m flattered by the offer, but… I’d much rather not go back to that awful place! That was terrifying!”

Viktor: “Though these Relicstones and fetters warrant further analysis, my primary concerns must be rebuilding my lab and beginning developing countermeasures toward future mind-altering attempts.”

Atreus: “My battle lies elsewhere. I must tame these embers that Pantheon left inside me to ensure they never rage out of control again.”

Gangplank: “Not interested. I’ve still got a city to reclaim, and a grudge to settle. Speakin’ of… Graves! Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you!”

Graves: “Uh oh. Guess that’s my cue to hit the road! Honestly, this hero business don’t really suit me anyway. Seein’ as my partner’s still nowhere to be seen, there ain’t much reason to stick around.”

Diana: “I, too, must depart. The Lunari need me, even if the Aspect within me has yet to fully heal.”

Shen: “Likewise, I must return and ensure that my brothers and sisters in the Kinkou are unharmed.”

Olaf: “Hmph. I still haven’t found my glorious death… But perhaps that’s fine. This will become another chapter in the glorious saga of Olaf! Now, I depart to find my next foe, and build my legend even higher!”

Rengar: “I, too, have a worthy foe to seek. The Ruined King is your prey, but mine still lurks somewhere in the jungle…”

“So that’s it? Everyone is just leaving?”

“So much for our army of Sentinels…”

Vayne: “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. This… Little adventure of ours has made one thing clear: there are monsters out there that Demacia is nowhere near ready to face on its own. I think I’ll take over that abandoned Sentinel base and see about boosting our numbers a bit. If the Mageseekers have a problem with it, well… I’ve never exactly played by the rules, anyway.”

Jayce: “Can’t say I’d consider this Sentinel thing a full-time gig, but after everything that’s happened, I can at least pitch in and help Ada and Dess out, from time to time. A hero’s gotta help however he can, after-all.”

Akshan: “Well said! Though Shadya’s killer remains at large, I would happy to lend you my assistance again, if and when you need me. It is what she would want from me, after-all.”

Riven: “I’m… I’m honestly not sure what’s next for me. I could use a little time to think things over, if that’s alright.”

Gwen: “And you can be certain that I’ll pitch in however I can! Where the Black Mist goes, the Hallowed Mist will be there to fend it off!”

Lucian: “Heh… Well, we’ve still got a long way to go toward rebuildin’ the Sentinels, but it’s a start.”

Senna: “That’s right. We’ll get this base repaired and find a safe place to store the fetters, in case Viego ever tries to go for them again. On that note… Rookie, come here.”

You rise to your feet and approach the world map uncertainly, though Senna’s smile puts you at ease.

Senna: “Now that I think about it, you never did get properly sworn in, did you? I think it’s about time we make it official, and start your training in earnest. Repeat after me.”

Senna guides you through the ancient oath, carving the words deep into your soul. You can almost feel the Wayfinder thrumming in response as you take your first steps toward becoming a true Sentinel of Light.

I swear by the light of the ancients...

I will not run from darkness. I will light the way with a steadfast heart, And face each shadow with a ready weapon As a beacon, a warrior, a Sentinel, I defend myself, my fellows, and my world. May we stand together in the light, or fall in darkness.

Fight bravely and remember your oath.

Epilogue

Amidst the remnants of Helia stoops a lone figure, his fist tightening around his blade.

Viego: “How could this happen? I do not understand… My queen… You were within my grasp! That bitterness… That sorrow… Was that truly you?”

Thresh: “Ah, the sweet tones of misery…”

Viego: “Thresh.”

Viego rises to his feet and glares at the warden.

Viego: “What do you want, warden?”

Thresh: “Your anguish is every bit as delightful as I’d imagined. She was so close, wasn’t she? So close, and now she’s been stripped away from you a second time.”

Viego: “It matters not! I can find her again… However long it takes, I will find her!”

Thresh: “Yes, good. That sweet delusion still persists. It will be so satisfying watching the remnants of your resolve shatter.”

Viego: “You think to shatter me, warden?”

With a wave of his hand, Viego summons several wraiths to his side.

Viego: “Your lantern cannot ME, Thresh. Every soul within these Isles bends to my will, for I am their king!”

???: “You are no king.”

Suddenly, the ghosts of the kiilash leaps from the shadows, pouncing upon Viego’s wraiths and rending them to shreds.

Viego: “What is this!?”

???: “You are nothing more than a petulant child, lashing out over the loss of your favorite toy. You are unfit to call yourself Lord of the Dead.”

A massive figure looms over Viego, staring down at the Ruined King with contempt.

Viego: “Who are you?”

???: “I have many names. Founder of the Immortal Bastion. The Iron Revenant. Mordekaiser.”

Mordekaiser: “But you may call me Master.”

To Be Continued…

#Runeterra Retcons

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primroseprime2019 · 3 years

Text

Darkness Rising- Part Four

As the dead continued to rise, Ratchet and Optimus knew they were going to have problems. "Megatron has descicrated the resting place of our fallen ancestors. And his own!" Ratchet proclaimed.

"Not even the dead are free from his warmongering," Optimus said.

"At last. Symbiosis. I can feel it possess complete control over my army. Destroy them!" Megatron instructed his powerful army.

But before the undead could even reach the two Autobots, Optimus unfolded his cannons from his arms and fired away. But even his blasts didn't provide them that much help.

"Optimus, if our combatants are already deceased, how can we possibly defeat them?" Ratchet asked as the army came even closer.

"Ratchet! Retreat! Bridge yourself back to base!" Optimus instructed his friend.

"No! I shall stand with you, Optimus!" Ratchet decided as he unfolded his surgical blades from his servos, "You may require a medic when this is all over with."

Together, the two friends ran towards the oncoming army ready to attack. Optimus continued firing shots from his blaster cannons while Ratchet decided to slice and dice the dead Transformers. Whenever he slit them with his blades, they fell down dead.

"I recommend discection! The smaller the pieces, the better!" Ratchet advised Optimus.

"Sound advice, old friend," Optimus complimented before trading his blaster cannons for his blades.

"I have mastered Dark Energon. When you fall, Optimus, you too shall join my army," Megatron proclaimed.

Optimus ran in and started slicing and dicing Megatron's army.

◊◊◊◊

The Vehicons that had spotted Jack, Raf and Paige started to fire at the three. Primrose leapt out and stood above them, a pair of white wings spread out and the blaster fire merely bounced off of them.

Bulkhead drove over to the kids. "Get in! Now!" He instructed as he opened his passenger side door. The three quickly jumped inside of the Autobot and once his door was closed, he took off with Primrose following.

"Thanks, Bulkhead," Jack and Paige panted.

"Yeah. Thanks," Raf agreed. "What are you doing out here?" Bulkhead asked.

"We were worried about Miko," Jack said, "have you seen her?" "What she look like?" The three turned to see Miko poke her head out behind them.

"Everybody out! And this time, PLEASE wait here!" Bulkhead pleaded his friends as he finally got them some cover.

Once they were out, Bulkhead and Primrose drove towards the Decepticon warship. It was a daring maneuver. But something had to be done if the Autobots were ever going to rescue Fowler. Bulkhead jumped into the air and transformed just before he crashed into the cliff face. Once his grip was secure, he started scaling the cliff face before reaching one of the sharp points that was part of the design of the warship. Immediately, he jumped and used that sharp point to climb aboard the Nemesis. When he noticed a Decepticon above him, he simply grabbed the guy by the ankle and threw him off the ship before jumping on. Immediately, the Decepticons fired.

Primrose charged at the Decepticons before she sent out a wave of energy at them, sending them flying back into the wall.

Bulkhead and Primrose finished the Vehicons and Bulkhead looked towards the kids only to realize that there was only three of them. "Where's Miko?" He asked.

His response was banging from inside his chest compartment. He opened the compartment and Miko popped out, taking in huge gulps of oxygen as she did.

"Miko?"

"I heaved on your floor mats. Sorry," Miko apologized before gagging once again as she surpressed the urge to empty even more stomach contents onto Bulkhead's interiors and climbed out of Bulkhead, "Remind me to never do that again."

"Don't do that again," Primrose said, keeping the annoyance out of her voice. The door opened and Vehicons came out. Primrose's optics turned red and without a moment's hesitation, the young Prime blew fire at the Vehicons.

The Vehicons screamed as they were burnt, their plating melting. Miko widened her eyes in shock and bewilderment.

Bulkhead and Primrose ran into the warship with Miko following.

Down below, Paige, Raf and Jack were still hiding behind the rock, their faces filled with uncertainty.

"Think they forgot about us?" Raf asked. The three whirled around to see two Vehicons coming towards them.

◊◊◊◊

Inside the Nemesis, Bulkhead ran through the hallways finding somewhere safe for Miko who was sitting in his hand looking as though she was going to empty her stomach contents once again. However, it's not an easy task. Decepticons noticed them and began to attack the duo. Bulkhead threw Miko underneath them. She exclaimed in surprise as she slid across the floor and right underneath them while Bulkhead took them out with his hammer.

"I'm gonna heave again," Miko proclaimed as she surpressed the urge to once again.

However, she didn't have the time to empty her stomach contents onto the floor of the Nemesis. Bulkhead scooped her into his hand once again and ran through the various corridors, looking for Miko's safe harbour.

◊◊◊◊

"Bring them to the brig. Commander Starscream is keeping the other human there," the first Vehicon said. Paige and Raf looked at each other nervously.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Bumblebee and Firestorm knocked over the Vehicons and Arcee jumped over them, transforming into her bipedal form from her vehicle form. She managed to catch Jack and Raf as they fell. Paige landed in Jack's lap, knocking the wind out of him. The three of them panted as Arcee set them to their feet.

"Bumblebee!" Raf said happily. "Glad you're okay, Raf," Bumblebee said.

"Appreciate you opening the front door for us. But storming a Decepticon warship was NOT on the activities list," Arcee said. "Tell me about it," Jack sighed.

Arcee ran down the corridors with her blaster charging up. When she reached the end, she pointed her blaster at what she thought was a Decepticon. But in actual fact, it was Bulkhead pointing his own blaster at her.

"Friendly!" Arcee proclaimed.

"Hello!" Bulkhead greeted.

"Brought the humans, huh?" Arcee guessed as they folded their weapons back into their arms.

"You try getting them to stay behind!" Bulkhead retorted.

"We need to find Fowler and get them out of here," Arcee decided.

"Uh, he's in the brig!" Jack, Paige and Raf told them.

◊◊◊◊

"Agent Fowler. You do realize the Autobots have abandoned you," Starscream mocked, "I am the only one you can rely upon now. So tell me what I want to know or else." He began to slowly edge the Energon prod towards Agent Fowler.

"Wait. No more," Fowler pleaded weakly, "They're in a secret government base."

"Yes?" Starscream pressed. "In the old still mill? Or was it under that carnival house?" Fowler joked.

Starscream growled in frustration as he struck him with the Energon Prod once again. "Someone find out what is going on out there!" The Seeker instructed.

Immediately, both Vehicons who were inside guarding the door ran out to do just that.

◊◊◊◊

Outside, the firefight between the Autobots and Decepticons was still ongoing. And Jack, Paige, Miko and Raf were caught in the middle of the little firefight. Bulkhead stood in front of them and fired back a few shots of his own. All three of them were destroyed by the shots he fired. On their other side, Arcee was doing a good job as well when it came to taking down the Decepticons that kept on attacking them. Same with Bumblebee. Whenever the four humans tried to get away, the Decepticons would open fire on them. The firefight was becoming too much for them. It was suffocating. They needed to get out of there. Now. Right now. So they literally melted in relief when Arcee took down the remaining Decepticon in their little fight. Immediately, they took off running. Arcee, Bulkhead and Bumblebee immediately followed them.

◊◊◊◊

Optimus and Ratchet weren't having that much luck themselves. Whenever they took down members of Megatron's army, more swarmed around them. They were nowhere close to having a facedown with Megatron himself. It was suffocating. And there was an undead Cybertronian ancestor everywhere they turned. There was no way out. Eventually, Optimus and Ratchet stood back-to-back as even more Transformers surrounded them.

"Optimus, this prolonged exposure to Dark Energon is sapping our strength," Ratchet observed.

"We cannot falter now," Optimus proclaimed as they raced ahead.

More undead Cybertronians were surrounding them faster then they could take them down. Eventually, they piled onto Optimus, pinning him to the ground. Ratchet didn't fail to notice.

"OPTIMUS!" he cried as he, too, was buried under the undead Cybertronians.

As much as they tried to fight, it was useless. They were consumed by the undead Cybertronian army. Above the scene, Megatron watched in delight as his enemies were brought down by his army. But it didn't stay that way for long. Optimus managed to free himself from the pile with both his blaster and his blade. He turned and saw that Ratchet was pinned down by the enemy. And wasn't doing so well in fighting back. So Optimus decided to help his old friend. He grabbed one possessed Cybertronian in each of his hands and simply tossed them aside like after smashing the two together and actually turning them into scrap metal. Once they were taken care of, Optimus helped Ratchet to his feet. Ratchet's earlier obversation was becoming clear. The two Autobots were slowly losing their strength the longer they exposed themselves to the Dark Energon that surrounded them.

"After all these years, Optimus, still at the top of your game?" Megatron tormented as Ratchet and Optimus prepared for another attack, "My legion, FINISH THEM!"

◊◊◊◊

In one of the main computer rooms on the ship, the Decepticons heard banging coming from outside. Once one of the Vehicons opened the door, he was shot in the chest by a blaster from the Autobots. In a matter of moments, Arcee, Firestorm, Primrose, Bulkhead and Bumblebee had taken care of the Vehicons inside. Outside, Jack, Paige, Miko and Raf waited for the all-clear.

"All clear," Arcee proclaimed.

Once they heard the all-clear, the four friends immediately ran into the computer room.

"Wait here," Arcee instructed, earning bleeps in objection from Bumblebee, "They're slowing us down and easy targets. They'll be alright in here as long as they stay put."

The five Autobots ran out of the computer room. Once they were clear, the doors shut and locked themselves.

"Man, that was intense," Miko said, placing her hands on her hips. "Was?" Raf repeated.

"It's your fault that we're stuck in this intensity," Jack hissed, "what were you thinking Miko!?"

"Did I ask you to follow me?" Miko demanded. "You wanted us to be in a band," Jack said, "doesn't that usually mean staying together?"

"Well maybe I decided to go solo," Miko said. "Well maybe I have some concern for your safety," Jack said.

"Oh I'm sorry, is your name Optimus!?" Miko snapped, "You can leave my safety to Bulkhead, thank you very much." "Stop it! Both of you!" Raf said as he hurried away. Paige frowned at Jack and Miko before she walked after Raf.

Paige sat down beside Raf as Miko and Jack came over. "Hey, Raf, everything will be okay," Jack said.

"Yeah, the bots will protect us and come back," Miko said gently. "How do you know?" Raf murmured sadly.

Paige's eyes saddened and she looked towards a screen. She tilted her head, "hey, Raf? What do you make of that?"

Raf lifted his head and saw the screen. "It's important," he said, standing up, "really important."

◊◊◊◊

Blaster shots sounded outside the cell. Starscream, now infuriated with Agent Fowler's constant oblivion and drowsiness, turned to said agent. "Wake up, you pathetic lump of flesh!" He snapped angrily.

Fowler drowsily lifted his head, muttering incoherent words before his head drooped. Starscream growled in frustration and he turned to a Vehicon trooper who stood in the doorway.

"Well?" He demanded. Instead of answering, the trooper fell to the floor dead and Bulkhead, Firestorm and Bumblebee aimed their blasters at Starscream who aimed his blaster at Starscream.

"Not so fast!" The Seeker growled, only for something to tap on his helm and he looked up to see Arcee aiming her blaster at him as she stood on a shaft. Primrose aimed her blaster at Starscream, "I wouldn't."

"Oh but I might," Starscream smirked.

◊◊◊◊

"We gotta get this to Optimus," Raf said. "How do you know it isn't just a recipe for space nachos?" Miko asked, earning a weird look from Paige.

"I know math when I see it," Raf said, "and that is one serious equation." "Can you download it?" Jack asked.

"I've got a flash drive," Raf said as he dug it out of his backpack, "But I don't see anywhere to plug it in. This tech is way alien."

Paige looked around before she heard pedesteps and turned to see a Vehicon. "Guys," she whispered harshly, "we need to hide. Now!"

The kids quickly hurried away to a dark corner. Raf skidded to a halt and he looked to see his backpack. He quickly hurried to it and picked it up. The Vehicon saw him and aimed his blaster at the boy. Raf yelped, his eyes widening in fear. Paige hurried to Raf and quickly shielded him.

Unbeknownst to her, the markings on her body glowed dimly. A large black wolf leapt at the Vehicon and tackled him. "Miko, take a picture!" Paige said.

"Gotcha! Hey, you!" Miko shouted. The wolf and the vehicon glanced at her and she took a picture. "Not of that! Of that!" Jack exclaimed, pointing to the screen. The vehicon punched at the wolf only to scream as the wolf clawed and bit at him.

"Oh," Miko said before she took another picture- of the screen this time. "Let's go!" Paige said as she helped Raf to his feet and the four kids hurried out of the room.

The wolf watched the kids go. The lights flickered on and off and the wolf was out of sight, leaving a dead Vehicon in the room. The Autobots drove over to their charges who immediately got in. "I told you to stay put," Arcee said sternly before she and the other Autobots drove away.

◊◊◊◊

Meanwhile, Optimus and Ratchet were still battling Megatron's undead army of Cybertronians. Optimus had found his way through the undead and glared up at Megatron.

"Bravo Optimus," Megatron said, impressed, "but this is just a prelude. You may wish to save your strength for the main event."

"You will not prevail, Megatron," Optimus said, "not while energon still runs through my veins." "Fitting, for it is Dark Energon which flows through mine," Megatron said with a grin.

Optimus swung his fist at him only for the Decepticon leader to dodge it before he transformed into his aerial form and flew up into the air, avoiding the blaster shots flying from Optimus' blaster. The Prime stopped firing and he transformed his blaster back into his servo.

"If this wasn't Megatron's endgame... then what is?" Ratchet asked although he was afraid to find out.

◊◊◊◊

Back at the Autobot base, the Autobots and humans were recovering from the events. "What happened to you guys anyway?" Miko asked worriedly.

"We engaged an army of undead Cybertronian warriors," Ratchet said. "Zombies? You fought zombies and I missed it?" Miko asked with a pout. "We were on a God forsaken warship and that's what you're mad about?" Paige asked as she gave her friend a blank look.

"Bulkhead, Primrose, you exceeded extremely poor judgement in allowing the humans to accompany you," Optimus said sternly. "It won't happen again, Optimus," Bulkhead sighed. "We promise," Primrose said, looking away.

"But it wasn't Primrose or Bulkhead's fault," Miko said immediately. "Miko, please," Bulkhead whispered, giving his charge a pleading glance. The girl pulled out her phone and showed it to the Prime, "and check it out. Recon."

Optimus looked at the picture on Miko's phone before he looked to Ratchet, "Ratchet, take a look. It could be of importance to Megatron."

"Wait, Megatron's back? Th-that's really bad news right?" Jack asked nervously. "Apparently," Firestorm said. Ratchet looked at the picture on Miko's phone before a look of confusion came across his faceplates. "I don't understand," the medic said, confused. Confused herself, Miko turned her phone to take a look, "whoops. That's the con who tried to blow Paige and Raf away. At least that's what he looked before that wolf appeared out of nowhere and rearranged his grill."

"A wolf? What wolf?" Primrose asked, confused. "Miko... Raf and Paige were almost killed," Jack said angrily, "this isn't a game! When are you gonna get that through your thick skull?!"

"Um, we were all almost killed Jack," Miko shot back, annoyed, "you, me, Raf, Paige- even them!" "Well, if this was just an average day with the Autobots then I don't wanna be a part of it, not anymore," Jack snapped.

"Jack, putting you in harm's way was never our intent. However It is no longer the safety of you four that is at risk but the safety of all human kind. We will respect your decision if you wish to leave," Optimus said.

The sound of the ground bridge opening caught everyone's attention as Ratchet had activated the coordinates. "No point in long goodbyes, here's the door," he said. Paige frowned as Jack turned to her and Raf, "come on,guys."

Raf glanced over at Bumblebee who lowered his helm. Raf looked back at Jack, "I'll be okay Jack. See you at school." "Sure thing," Jack said.

"I'll go home by myself," Paige said to the boy, "I need... some time." Jack nodded to her before he walked downstairs. He stopped when Arcee stepped up to him. He gave a small smile, "I know. You don't exist."

"Don't make me hunt you down," Arcee said playfully but her smile faded as Jack disappeared through the ground bridge.

◊◊◊◊

"Please Lord Megatron, I meant no-aahhhhhh!" Starscream shouted when Megatron hit him right in the face causing sparks to fly. Megatron clenched his fist with a dark growl.

"I ordered you to await my command." Megatron shouted and hit Starscream yet again, making him to fly across the room. "Instead your mindless agenda resulting in the disabling of my ship and the delay of my plans!" Megatron roared as he advanced towards the seeker. He flung himself back and started to crawl away as Megatron continued forward.

"My intentions were pure master. I only wanted you to be rid of Optimus." He pleaded. Echo flinched when Megatron stomped his large pede down on Starscream's chestplates and helm, causing him to scream and creating more sparks.

"No one rids me of Optimus Prime, but me. Do you understand? Do you?!" Megtron shouted and pressed his pede further into Starscream's metal.

"Lord Megatron I will make things right I swear. I know how to set your plans back on course." Starscream pleaded before he gasped in relief when Megatron released the pressure, only to grab his throat. "Explain Starscream. Quickly," he growled.

◊◊◊◊

Back at the Darby residence, Jack was fixing his bike. He was surprised to hear the sound of engines as Bulkhead drove up to his driveway. He wasn't surprised to see Miko hop out of her guardian's vehicle form and she walked into the ground bridge.

"Now I understand why you had to rush home," Miko said. "Don't you have something more exciting to do?" Jack asked.

"So, this is where you hang, huh? Back home in Tokyo, I have loving parents and two purebred cats, Chi Chi and Ding Dong. I went to the best school, took piano lessons since I was three," Miko recalled her past life in sadness and happiness at the same time.

"How nice for you," Jack sighed uninterestingly.

"No! How boring!" Miko corrected, causing Jack to look at her in surprise and interest in what she had to say, "It wasn't me. Why do you think I jumped at the chance to transfer here?"

"To Jasper, Nevada? The entertainment capital of the world?" Jack scoffed in disbelief.

"Yeah, well, the brochere lied. Piano lessons were starting to look pretty good in fact," Miko remarked before saying on a lighter note, "And then, the last couple of days happened."

"Do you have a point?" Jack asked impatiently.

"You bet! I saw what you did today. When you saved Raf and Paige. When you came to save me!" Miko said.

"I was raised to be responsible. To my schoolwork, to my mum, my best friend, my job!" Jack explained bitterly as he placed the wheel back on his bike.

"Dude, hear me out!" Miko begged him, "You're no fry cook! You're a rock star! Stop trying to pretend you're normal, Jack. You'll never fit in. You were born to do so much more."

"Thanks, Miko. But I think normal suits me fine," Jack sighed. Miko sighed softly before she turned and walked out of the garage and over to Bulkhead. Jack stood still for a moment as he listened to Bulkhead drive away. He sighed softly and looked back over his shoulder.

◊◊◊◊

Paige sat on the windowsill, staring at the starlit sky and the moon. It was her favorite time of night. She pulled her knees to her chest as she thought of Jack's words. She hadn't seen him so angry and scared before. It almost made her more than anxious.

The news of Megatron being back made her terrified more than anything. She closed her eyes tightly. Her markings started glowing brightly, almost as bright as the moon.

"Paigey?" She jumped and looked to the door as her mom walked into the room. "H-hi Mom," she said quietly. Tasha sat down and hugged her daughter close, gently running her fingers through her hair.

Paige buried her face into her chest, slowly calming down, listening to her mom's heartbeat. 'What adventures did you go on today, love bug?' Tasha thought curiously and worriedly.

Paige smiled sleepily as she climbed into her bed and pulled the covers over her. Tasha kissed her forehead, "night, baby."

"Night Mama," Paige said with a tired smile as she slowly fell asleep. Tasha smiled softly before she looked at the window with a frown. The markings on her body glowed a deep blue and her eyes narrowed as they flashed blue.

She walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

◊◊◊◊

"It can't be!" Ratchet gasped, "Optimus, these are engineering specs for a Space Time Vortex Generator!"

"Megatron is building a Space Bridge. If he hasn't already," Firestorm said gravely.

"The sooner he leaves, the better," Bulkhead remarked as he and Bumblebee approached them.

"Bulkhead, a Space Bridge runs in two directions. Megatron may not be using it to leave Earth. But to bring through his conquoring army," Optimus proclaimed gravely.

"The main event Megatron referred to. But the only place Megatron could possibly recruit that many fallen soldiers is...," Ratchet trailed off as it all dawned on him.

"Precisely," Optimus agreed before finally voicing it aloud, "Cybertron..."

#fanfiction #transformers prime #self insert #the girl among the gods

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prongsisabadger · 3 years

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The Wolf Pack Chapter 14

I took off the outer layer of my robes as fast as I could. The damned thing had caught fire after an explosion and had nearly burnt my shoulder off.

"You really should get some armour, kid." Said Rex beside me.

"Let's discuss my poor fashion choices later, Rex. We need to hold them off until the shield-"

My frustrated rant was cut short by the shield powering off. Finally. The enemy had almost got to the heavy cannons, and now, with their only protection gone, we had the high ground. Orders were yelled and the cannons loaded. And our fighting was renewed with double the strength now that the situation didn't seem as hopeless. Ahsoka and her master had made it, thank the Force.

Master Kenobi had captured General Loathsom and reinforcements were arriving. Just in time. I sighed in relief and patted Rex's shoulder.

"We did it, Captain."

While Rex set off to look for Skywalker, I went looking for my own master. He was speaking to Master Yoda while the troops marched off the cruiser and onto the surface. They were discussing the matter of Jabba's son being kidnapped, and how to go about the matter in the best way. It was a delicate situation. Sould Jabba decide to side with the Separatist alliance, the war would become that much harder. For the sake of safe passage through the outer rim, this mission needed to be successful.

"I apologize for interrupting, Masters, but maybe I could be of help in the negotiations with the Hutts." I said approaching them both.

"Ah, young Padawan. Did a good job today, I hear." Said Master Yoda, turning to me.

"I only did the best I could, Master."

"You are too humble, young one. We had very few losses today." He said before clearing his throat. "But regarding the negotiations with Jabba, I do believe it to be best if I go alone. Jabbas can be… touchy."

I smiled slightly, that was putting it lightly.

"I know, but I've been studying their culture and language for years now, master. I believe that if we show them we appreciate our relationship enough to learn them, it might give us an advantage."

Both masters looked at each other for a moment before coming to a silent agreement.

"Aware of this, I was not. Hmm." Said Master Yoda.

"Bridging cultural gaps was the main reason I joined the Jedi Order in the first place, Master."

"Then a companion in this journey you will have Master Kenobi, yes."

…

My new master and I took a fighter each. The logic behind it had been that once we were done in Tatooine, we would have to reinforce Master Skywalker and Ahsoka. Asd the best way to do that, was to fly something we could fight in. It was a strange feeling, coming back to Tatooine, that is. I would not be seeing the Tusken, not really, but to return to where it had all started brought a sense of nostalgia and peace.

"How does it feel to be back?" Asked master Kenobi over the comms.

"Like I never left, Master."

We flew over the Dune Sea and towards Jabba's palace. Outside the fortified place was an encampment of Jawas who had apparently come to trade, and I could feel all their eyes on our ships once we started the landing sequence. I told the droid I'd been assigned to keep an eye on them while we were gone, and then leapt off the ship. I had replaced my scorched robes before leaving Christophsis, so I got a few stares from the welcoming committee.

"Let us not keep the mighty and wise Jabba waiting." Said the protocol droid as both my master and I bowed.

I had expected many things from Jabba's palace, but not the stench. It smelled acidic, and like some sort of life form was being digested or decomposing somewhere in the palace. I did my best not to let it show, it would have been disrespectful, but it did cross my mind that they could have at the very least installed a ventilation system. Not only was the small rank, it was also stagnant, and fermenting with every second it spent inside the palace. Not even breathing through my mouth helped.

When we arrived at Jabba's quarters, the protocol droid introduced my master and I. At once, the great awful slug demanded to know why we had taken that long, and why were the Jedi not searching for his son.

"The Council has already managed to locate your son, oh mighty Jabba." I started in Huttese, which seemed to shock a few of the people there. "One of the best Jedi Masters has already been dispatched to rescue him. As we speak, he is on his way there."

The Hutt considered me for a moment.

"You speak my language, child," He said. "I value that, but I cannot be lenient when the life of my dear son is in danger."

"I Understand, mighty one. The bloodline of all Hutts is sacred and as such should be honored and protected. All we ask is safe passage through your territory for the Republic's troops."

Master Kenobi, seeing there was no indication of discontent or rage in the room allowed me to continue with the negotiations. But there was so much I could do as a Padawan. I could not speak in the name of the council, or represent the Order in any way. All I could do was get Master Kenobi to the negotiations table.

"My Master here with me," I said, turning to him and motioning him forward. "Will continue with negotiations in the name of the Jedi Order, should you -oh wise one- allow it."

He did.

Jabba gave us one planetary rotation to get his son back to him, alongside the scum who had kidnapped him. Master Kenobi and I stayed a few more hours to work out the details of the treaty with the great Hutt. It was a great learning experience, seeing Master Kenobi at work. Being lenient where he could allow it and firm every time he could not give something up. Both the protocol droid and I acted as translators, and soon our negotiations were over. All that was left to do was rescue Jabba's son. Which was no small feat mind you. If we failed, Jabba would grant the enemy passage through his territory and we would receive a huge blow for it. But we had a job to do, and defeat was not an option we could consider.

We rendezvous with the 212th battalion right outside the moon that held the temple. I was put in charge of gunner air support, and as a result, paired up with Commander Cody's men. When Master Kenobi gave the order, we set off. As we neared the temple where Skywalker's troops were, we started receiving heavy enemy fire. And the blast doors were closed. Outside, explosions echoed and shook the craft.

"We're nearly there, Commander." Said the pilot.

"Good. Squad, let's go save captain Rex's ass." I said as the doors opened and then jumped off.

I had come a long way since my time in Illum.

I landed on top of the fallen walker in the yard and turned my lightsaber on. I then jumped off to the ground, rolled and took point where the men of the 501st were.

"Reinforcements are here! Let them have it boys!" someone yelled behind me, and those who were left cheered.

Master Kenobi landed next and asked Rex for a report. The General was still inside as far as he knew.

"Kriari, you stay here and reinforce the troops. Get rid of these droids. I will go get Anakin." He ordered.

"Yes, Master."

I turned to the troops and smiled at them.

"You heard the General boys. It's time for target practice!"

…

"And that's how we saved Captain Rex's skin." I said as I finished the story.

Art, Boost and Wolffe had come to greet us at the hangar. I was finally returning to the Pack after what seemed like a very long time.

"You missed the part when you almost caught fire. Twice." Smirked Rex as we made our way to the elevator. "Our commander right here, thought wearing armour was a fashion choice."

They all started laughing because of course a Jedi wouldn't think of something as mundane as armour.

"Yeah, laugh it up. I don't know if you can tell, but I haven't been to Coruscant since I left and there aren't many places to shop for armour around here, boys." I said when the doors opened to the bridge.

"You could always modify some clone armour, we have a few guys that know how to do it." Said Art before putting his helmet on.

"Really? But , that armour is for you guys." I protested as we neared the control center.

"Don't worry Commander. Leave it to me, I'll get right on it." And with that, he and boost left.

Rex gave his report on both the battles we had been involved in, and I added a few things on my part when he was done. Commander Wolffe and Master Plo listened intently to our reports and then thanked Rex and dismissed him. Both General and Commander had tried to remain as professional as possible while dealing with inter battalion protocol, but once the elevator door closed behind Rex, all illusion of coldness was gone.

"Welcome back to the Pack, Commander." Said Wolffe with a smirk.

"It's good to be back, Wolffe." I said smiling broadly before turning to Master Plo. "Koh-to-ya, Master. It's been a while."

"Indeed, little one, indeed. I hope you are ready for a more tame assignment." he said before turning on a holo map. "We were tasked with finding General Grievous' mystery weapon. It has been tearing entire fleets apart and leaving no survivors."

I watched as he brought up footage of what had once been a Republic fleet. I gasped. There was nothing left, only scraps and dead bodies drifting in open space. It was a terrible sight.

"I don't think you and I have the same concept for a tame mission, Master." I commented.

"Our task is to find it, young one. Not to engage. Our intelligence has brought us some insight into the last known locations of this weapon and we believe there is a high chance of finding it near the Abregado system." Said my Master.

Wolffe briefed me into the plan. We would take three cruisers and depart in three days, if we managed to find it, we would not engage and wait for reinforcements. But everything was very vague at this point. We knew very little of this weapon and what it did. All we knew wat that it was very dangerous and we needed to stop it,

Wolffe and I left the bridge together. He needed to check on the supplies, and I was put off duty until we departed.

"You and Captain Rex seem to have become close fiends." He said casually as the doors to the elevator closed.

"He's a good man. And a great soldier. No wonder General Skywalker likes him so much, they are both a little reckless." I said.

"Is that why you like them?" he teased.

"I like Rex. Skywalker is still on thin ice."

On our way we caught up with each other. What we'd been up to, people we'd met, battles we'd fought. But for some reason I found myself being more honest with him than I'd been with anyone since Ahsoka. I told him how unprepared I'd felt on the battlefield. How I had underestimated the weight of the losses we had suffered and how I didn't imagine how heavy they were to carry. I told him how, once the fight started, all common sense left me and everything I had left was instinct and the need to survive and help the troops survive.

"Well, I never really thought about it. We were programmed for this, created to fight and be efficient, and follow orders. Don't get me wrong we are just as terrified in that battlefield as you are. But we were trained to get through regardless. I don't know if Jedi have that." He answered.

"We don't. We are told not to let our emotions dictate our actions. To follow the force ant its will, but when you are surrounded by chaos, and death, and the possibility of losing everyone around you…" I rambled. "I'm sorry, Commander. I should not burden you with my problems. I'm sure you have your own."

We had stopped right in front of my quarters.

"It's no problem, really. You give it all out there to keep us safe, Commander. The least I could do is help you deal with the consequences our safety brings."

"Preventing losses does not bring consequences, Wolffe. Being the cause of those losses would."

…

The next day I spoke about it to Master Plo. The war was just beginning, and I didn't want to allow my emotions to consume me, but I also wanted to be able to deal with them in a healthy way. Talking to people and seeking counsel had always been something that brought me peace. But I also couldn't rely on everyone around me to keep me sane and grounded. When I told these thighs to Master Plo, he said something I did not expect.

"You are still a Padawan, Kriari. You don't need to know the answer to all of this right now. Master Kenobi and I can and will help you through this. It will be a collective effort for all of us, no one will be spared and as Jedi we need to stick together in these dark times." he explained. "Seeking comfort from others is normal and natural, you just have to make sure you don't depend on that comfort. Peace, true peace, comes from within."

But it was not easy. It never had been and even less so during war time. We were just getting started, and we would lose so many people before the war ended. We would mourn and cry and even resent the enemy for each one of the lives we lost. But we would need to keep going. Keep our head held high, keep our chests forward and our regrets behind us. We would need to trust each other, to cherish each other, but never avenge each other. If we fought, we would fight with honor and strength and in the memory of those we lost, but never to satisfy our own grief.

On my second day of leave, I was in the mess hall when Art and Boost found me. I was having my morning coffee and waiting for Master Plo to have a few lightsaber lessons. The aura around these two caught me off guard. They were excited, very excited, and were holding a case behind their backs. Before I could say anything another trooper ran towards us and shot a nasty look at the other two.

"You said you would wait for me, you pair of nasty womp rats." He accused.

I chuckled under my breath and raised my eyebrows when the third trooper apologized for his language.

"No worries, trooper. I'm off duty, besides, I have a foul mouth as well. You're good."I smiled.. "Do you have a name?"

"Sinker, Ma'am. Sergeant." He said saluting me before taking a seat beside the other two.

"So, what brings you lot to my table this fine morning?" I asked, sipping my coffee.

They all light up like Coruscant on festival week. They put the case on the table, carefully setting aside my tray, and opened it. Inside, there was a set of upper body trooper armour. It had been modified to fit me and Art had decided to try his hand at design as well apparently. The armour on the left arm had been left alone except for the Jedi Order logo painted on the shoulder pad in bright red paint. The rest of the armour, though, had been painted dark gray. The entire right arm, though, had been painted so that the symbol of the Wolf Pack was white and so were the patterns that run down the arm and onto the armoured gloves.

I sat there staring at every single piece, carefully molded to fit me, expertly painted and designed. This was not just a piece of armour. This was the Pack saying "This is our Jedi, This is our Commander."

I started tearing up, and sniffing a little. Apparently this gave the impression that I didn't like it, so it took a lot of laughter, tears and assurance to convince the three that, yes these were happy tears, and no, I didn't hate it and would be honored to wear it.

"Now the entire army will know which battalion you belong with."

#TWP #clone wars fan fiction #star wars the clone wars #plo koon #commander wolffe #captain rex #ahsoka tano #obi-wan kenobi #padawan!oc

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treasure-mimic · 3 years

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So, for those of you that are familiar with the formatting this may seem a bit strange. While normally, I like to pitch newcomer characters from whole cloth, in this case I want to make a moveset for a character that’s already in Smash. Specifically one of its oldest characters. Because characters in Smash Bros. tend to be highly, immutable, changes happen very slowly, a few in between years of development, and no character has ever gotten a true overhaul. It’s taken Ganondorf 15 years to get a few moves wholly distinct from Captain Falcon, and the inspiration is still entwined in the DNA of his kit.

So this is less, “here’s a character that I would like Smash to add, here’s how I think they would play”, it’s, “here’s a character that’s in Smash but I don’t think has a very authentic or accurate playstyle, here’s how I would change them”, or more accurately, “here’s how I think this character would, or at least could, play if they were added today”.

So, Samus Aran is a heavy, yet floaty and mobile, mid-ranger. She gets a lot of mileage out of her projectile game, but is not completely reliant on them like her easiest comparison Mega Man. She’s closer to a cross between him and Simon in true playstyle, as a lot of her moves contain narrow pathways that require good aim and spacing to get the most usage out of.

General Mobility and Mechanics

Most of Samus’ basic stats and base level animations should stay the same, I’m not out to change her idle pose, dash speed, weight or jump. However, one big difference between the real Samus and my Samus is that my Samus doesn’t crouch. Instead she goes into her morph ball form. This can work with the same number of frames that most crouch animations go into, or it could take a few frames more (no more than a few though), it shouldn’t impact things either way. What is important about the morph ball, however, is that it has a very, very low profile, one of the lowest of any crouch, and it also gives her access to a crawl, which is just her morph ball rolling around. This crawl is notable for having greater acceleration and top speed than her dash, only being slower at the start due to its lower burst speed. However, the morph ball should be more than an option, it is one of her default forms of movement.

Furthermore, her roll attacks should change to fit this, no longer seeing Samus enter her morph ball form, but simply flipping or dodging out of the way, similar to the dodge system from Other M, with frame data much closer to the average roll dodge. I would also give her a roll attack, similar to Terry, but with her rolls instead of her spot dodge. She would simply fire one small energy pellet forward, with a slight angle up, with similar damage and knockback to Mega Man’s jab. More about these types of attacks will be explained later.

Normals

Jab - Samus has a single hit jab, similar to Roy and Chrom. In it, she swings her arm cannon in a wide arc in front of her, representing the parry from Samus Returns. This move should have a very quick startup, 2-3 frames likely, and see Samus with partial intangibility while it’s active, making it a strong reversal option. Unlike Roy’s however, this attack sends opponents away, popping them far at low percents but not a whole lot farther at high percents. This makes it hard to follow up on, and furthermore, doesn’t do a whole lot of damage on its own, probably not more than the first hit of her jab already does. It is solely a tool for getting close ranged opponents off of you.

Forward Tilt - A reverse roundhouse, can be angled, basically the same thing that she already has.

Up Tilt - Samus swings the arm cannon above her head. Covers a wide area, but the animation should be a bit more reserved than the over the head splits kick she has. Pops the opponent up slightly and can be used to chain into itself at low percents with bad or no DI.

Down Tilt - While in the morph ball, Samus shoots forward a short distance, on par or even less than Cloud’s slide kick, with similar effects, popping the opponent up. The green accents on the morph ball can glow a little and leave a light trail to emphasize this as a reference to the Boost Ball from the Prime series.

Dash Attack - Identical to what it is now, I would maybe make the animation a bit more stiff to accentuate this as a Shinespark reference.

Neutral Aerial - Samus tucks in and spins, similar to her Screw Attack but without the blue electrical effects. Hits once and knocks opponents away.

Forward Aerial - Samus aims forward and shoots three uncharged shots, the first two naturally combo into the third. The third launches, though doesn’t kill until high percents.

Backwards Aerial - Samus aims behind her and a missile. It travels a short distance before exploding, kills at mid percent.

Up Aerial - Samus straightens her body out and fires an uncharged shot straight up, it doesn’t go far but it launches straight up, meaning in air-to-air fights it could KO off the top.

Down Aerial - Samus punches below her with her arm cannon. If the tip of the move connects, and only if, the end of the cannon explodes as Samus fires a point blank missile, and spikes (this does not count as a projectile). Otherwise, the move just sends out.

Throws

Grab - Samus retains her tether grab utilizing the grapple beam. The only thing I would change is that the grapple should come out of the gem on the back of her hand as opposed to the arm cannon, to emphasize the fact that these throws are now proper grapples instead of swinging people around with the grapple beam.

Pummel - Samus shoots the opponent with an uncharged shot from her arm cannon. These shots can be spammed very quickly, though do little damage.

Forward Throw - Samus spins the opponent around to put them in a headlock, then blasts them in the head with a charged shot, sending them flying.

Backwards Throw - Samus takes the opponent in her one hand and spins and hurls them backwards. This is a kill throw at mid-high percents.

Up Throw - Samus tosses the opponent up and shoots them out of the air with a charge shot.

Down Throw - Samus throws the opponent to the ground and steps on them, letting loose two uncharged shots and then a charged shot, doing by far the most damage of all her throws.

Smash Attacks

Forward Smash - Samus leaps and rolls back then fires a charged shot in the area in front of her. This charged shot travels fast, fast enough to be comparable to a melee smash attack, though in turn the projectile doesn’t go far, especially considering she jumps back before firing. The total range is about that of Olimar’s forward smash with a purple pikmin, from her starting position. Because she rolls back, this is capable of crossing up and hitting opponents behind her.

Up Smash - Samus leaps and rolls forward, firing a charged shot straight up as she moves. The charge shot moves just as fast as her fsmash, and stops just below the top platform on Battlefield.

Down Smash - The morph ball glows yellow and begins spinning on itself. When the button is released, Samus releases five bombs from the morph ball, which fly up slightly and then scatter on the ground around her. These bombs explode when they come in contact with an enemy, shielding or no, or after half a second of being released. On their own, these explosions don’t do much damage, but if the opponent is caught in three or more they will be launched like a normal smash attack.

Specials

Neutral B - Aim Stance - Samus widens her stance to firmly ground herself and stops moving. Pressing B again ends the stance immediately, upon which any action can immediately be performed. Jumping will also cancel the stance. While in the stance, the control stick can be used to aim Samus’ arm cannon in a complete 360 degree circle around herself. Pressing the A button will have Samus fire uncharged shots from her arm cannon, with a maximum charge time of a second. These uncharged shots do scratch damage and do little more than flinch the opponents, but can be rapid fired to fill the space between Samus and her aim and make approach harder. Holding and then releasing the A button will have Samus charge a shot, the longer a shot is charged, the more damage it does, the faster it travels, the further it knocks back, and the farther it goes. If the shield button is held, then Samus’ arm cannon opens up, and when the A button is pressed she instead fires missiles. Missiles can’t be fired as rapidly as uncharged shots, move slower than charged shots, and don’t go quite as far, though they do go farther than uncharged shots, but kill very early. If a missile is charged for the length that it would take to max charge a shot, Samus shoots a super missile, which has all the properties of a regular missile but can kill as early as 50% on midweights.

Side B - Plasma Beam - Samus aims and fires her plasma beam, which is shown as being a glowing green and having several wavy strands. The attack can be charged by holding the button, it can be shield cancelled but the charge cannot be stored. While charging, the shot can be aimed, but it’s limited to a 140 degree range, 70 up and 70 down, in the direction the attack was done in. The plasma beam passes through all objects on the stage as well as items and enemies, multi-hits and launches, capable of killing at high percents. It also travels the farthest of any of Samus’ projectiles. However, the move also has the most startup time of her projectiles, even for an uncharged shot.

Up B - Screw Attack - Not much change from the real version of this move, I would just want the attack to travel forward more and have more of an identifiable “arc” in its movement.

Down B - Bomb - Samus drops a bomb in her morph ball form. Unlike the real version of this move, this attack should have little to no startup or recovery, and the bombs also shouldn’t be affected by gravity. They explode when they come in contact with an enemy, or have been active for a second and a half. And if the explosion hits Samus, then she’ll be bumped up in the air slightly in her morph ball form. If the attack is performed in the air, then she enters her morph ball form where her aerial movement is replaced with the same mobility as she has while rolling on the ground, but in this form she cannot use her recovery, double jump, or fastfall. This mode can be exited before touching the ground by hitting up on the control stick whereupon these options are returned to her.

Final Smash - Queen’s Nest

Samus jumps back and fires a large plasma beam shot forward and slightly down. This covers a wide area in front of her, though doesn’t have much vertical coverage. All enemies that are hit are put in a cinematic where they’re knocked back into a dark, green cave filled with glowing eggs. The Queen Metroid appears behind them and chomps them all down. Samus runs in after, turning into her morph ball form and diving down the Queen’s throat before laying a Super Bomb in her stomach, which explodes, destroying the queen and launching all the characters hit.

#Super Smash Bros.#Super Smash Bros. Ultimate #Metroid #Samus Aran #Box makes movesets

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somedrunkpirate · 4 years

Text

in the dark we travel (Geraskier Sci-fi au ficlet)

Rating: T | Wordcount: 3,4 | No major warnings | pre-slash, first meeting @geraskierfunday prompt: space

//let me know if you want of this because I have too much lore for a oneshot//

Read on ao3 or continue reading below

The stench of the holding bay almost makes Geralt turn on his heel.

It burns through his nose, coming in waves so overwhelming they should’ve been visible in the air. His senses are a dubious gift as he does not only smell it long before anyone else, but can distinguish individual notes within the cacophony of abomination. The acidic sharpness of cheap hovercraft fuel; the rot of biological waste; and then that sickly sweetness of pink oil, a byproduct from the favourite spirit boosters of all the rich kids and trip tourists partying up above. It’s the most prominent smell by far and it makes Geralt want to gag.

Intergalactic travel on this side of the Tenements is always a gamble.

Jackpot would be a merchant ship, where at least the conditions have to be sufficient for whatever cargo is on board. The fact that this usually results in better living environments for the stragglers sleeping between the boxes is entirely incidental. All in all, a good deal for everyone involved— except for Geralt, sometimes. Most merchants have no desire to have him on their ship. Luckily most are scared enough to let him anyway.

A draw— earning back your bet — would be a scavenger ship. Though sleeping among scavenged ship parts and stolen goods is less comfortable than proper cargo, the experience at least comes with a sense of adventure. Playing cards with pirates; fist fights between mercenaries; drinks with old timers. For many the opportunity would be once in a lifetime.

The drawback, of course, is becoming accessory to whatever crime the scavengers end up committing during your stay. And Enforcers don’t give one shit whether you sat in the cargo hold or shot the blast cannons yourself. Geralt has enough problems to keep track of to enjoy being blamed for other people’s crimes. Scavengers are insufferable, as a whole, but the most annoying are the ones that get caught.

So, in a sense, it is only fair Geralt loses the gamble. He’d been complaining about a win or a draw anyway, and the universe does so like to remind him there is no one smiling upon him. He ran out of luck years ago.

The smell only worsens when the great metal doors open to the loading dock, and the familiar bright orange of a Garbagecraft is revealed.

Various levels of frustration, despair and anger are voiced in groans and clicks. The crowd stops as a whole, yet unwilling to accept their collective fate. Roach’s ears flicker at the unrest, her two right front hooves scrape at the metal flooring in agitation.

Geralt pats her neck, careful not to get sliced by her sharp mane, and shushes her. “It’s alright. Shh. Good Girl.”

Some of the would-be travellers— two Pervuvians, a Human and a Sketh — push their way through the crowd and gang up around the dock boy who had led them here. They begin to chow him out in various languages, but Geralt catches enough to get the gist. Give me back my money or you will feel my wrath, insert threat specificities here.

As they become more and more creative, Geralt sighs and gives a quiet command to Roach to stay at the edge of the crowd. She makes a noise that Geralt chooses to interpret as agreement, rather than the frustration regarding her current situation that it probably was.

Geralt edges around the crowd to get a better look of the situation, his hand hovering above the hilt of his energy blade. The Pervuvians are part of a larger crew, seven total, standing off to the side with their limbs crossed. The Sketh is carrying a T-1 Blaster openly, which means she’s likely got something even more illegal under that travel robe of hers. The Human is an older man; his eyes almost folded away into his wrinkles. Not a threat at face value— which isn’t a whole lot, in Geralt’s experience. He’s proven right when he activates his perm-mod, focusing his vision, and the blue and white overlay lights up around the presence of an illusion.

He only has to strain his eyes a little before the glimmer dissipates and Geralt can see the true form of the being looming beside the dock boy. A Dizan, neon glyph tattoos and all.

Geralt suppresses a groan, and grabs the handle of his silver sword instead.

Even if he’d wanted to consider suffering teleportation in favour of two weeks sleeping among trash, the choice has now been made for him. The duration of the travel should be enough to see if this one dabbles with the ways of the Ancients, and how far they go if they do.

Though, if they’re willing to kill a kid out of frustration, Geralt has his answer too.

The shouting gets progressively louder and begins to attract more people. The whole of the Pervuvian crew has joined by the time Geralt manages to reach them.

It’s not that the crowd tries to block his path — the moment the flash of his eyes reaches theirs, most have the common sense to cover and step aside — there is just nowhere they can go. The whole platform has started to fill up as more travellers climb out of the drainage pipes. And the other half of the dock is claimed by the large containers, being loaded on one by one.

And yet, the immature show of aggression has managed to claim a small open clearing in the middle of the platform, as people press into each other trying to get outside of the blasting zone. Quite literally, as the moment Geralt breaches this unspoken border, the Sketh puts her hand on the trigger.

The boy goes pale. “Please! I do not have it. You must go to Kestra, the dock master, if you have a complaint.”

Geralt flickers a quick look to the Dizan — still frustrated, but passively so, eyes sparking with interest between the Sketh and the boy — and assesses his options. He grabs his energy blade and activates it.

It doesn’t make a sound, but the purple glow should be obvious enough to the Sketh once he—

“Friends! Please calm yourselves.”

A young man slides in front of the boy— in front of the blaster — hands held open in a placating gesture.

Geralt swears internally and deactivates his blade. The Sketh has her hand on the trigger, but hadn’t aimed the blaster. Even if she’d pulled while Geralt subdued her, it would’ve gone wide, cascading over his head.

But the man, standing taller and a step closer to her, has it pressed right against his heart.

He doesn’t seem to be aware of this fact, smiling brightly at the Sketh and then at the crowd at large. It seems so out of place— so confident, that even the Sketh is taken off guard and takes a step back reflexively. The barrel is no longer touching him, but the shot would be equally deadly.

The man is handsome, though garishly colourful compared to everyone in the vicinity. He looks like he’d gotten lost on his way to Erilisis Boulevard and somehow ended up in a sewage-cum-space station, of all places.

Despite his appearance, he carries himself with ease, even familiarity. There is no sign of an illusion to explain his reckless confidence— Geralt checked. If this is all an act, the only thing the man is playing is himself.

“I understand that the recent actions of our honourable Tin Men have us all on edge, as it is their overbearing application of the law that has many of us seeking out new sights in the first place!”

A few murmurs of agreement rumble over the crowd.

“I assume that most are not here out of free will, but rather out of necessity,” the man continues with sympathy. “We are leaving behind friends, family, business— life. No one should expect any of us to be happy, never mind calm.”

Nodding. Someone whistles, others hum. They’re listening.

The man’s face changes, his passionate expression becoming wry. “And look, I also am not eager to sleep among the left over drab of Zevos’ finest.” He pauses and then continues with a sly smile, “Never mind with all of you stinking up the place.”

Some smile, some even chuckle.

Geralt has to work to maintain an expression of neutrality.

The Sketh still has her hand on her blaster, but her finger has slackened, as if she’d forgotten that she was about to pull the trigger. The tension of the crowd at large is easing; the sharp border around the clearing is melting away. The man, with a few words, has them enthralled.

The man seems to be aware of this, because his attention slides off the crowd in a split second. His posture changes. From the wide and tall stance of a stage performer, he slackens slightly-- pulls in and leans forward, almost intimate. He’s looking at the Sketh, his voice low and almost gentle, but there is an order hidden under the kindness.

“Come, scivan. I know the stench is worse for you, but this might very well be the last ship of the day cycle. And with the Enforcers dogging the Magistrate’s tail, the whole operation could be shut down any moment. We cannot afford a delay, none of us can.”

And that is when Geralt realises the man does have a perm-mod after all. Not an illusion patch like the Dizan, but a rarer and much more volatile augmentation: a speech-mod.

Where temporary speech mods might translate your words for a day, or make your singing slightly more passable for single performance, a permanent speech mot does not add anything to the user. It just enhances what is already there.

If you’re good— if you are truly a master of tone, words and whatever fucking else comes with skilled communication, the Ancient Ways are nothing in comparison. Violence is obvious. Ancient crafting leaves traces of some sort behind, even if it is just merely the use of something else. But talking— speech, it takes nothing, it leaves nothing. It is as fleeting as a memory, an experience. Done well, you don’t even remember it, because you don’t know you’re being convinced in a manner more potent than normal interactions.

At least, the ones Geralt has come across prefer an art of subtlety. This man, quite clearly, is more like the ones who wear their speech mod openly, shimmering on the back of their necks, some curving down to their throat in graceful lines. Entertainers, singers, writers; all whose persuasion and manipulation is seen as harmless— made safe in the illusion of fiction.

And yet, despite the apparent taming of danger, they have been given the same title of a specialized class that once lived on the planet called Earth. Those who were able to leverage their seemingly frivolous talents to gain access into the highest courts; become confidants of Kings while serenading them to sleep.

Bards.

Geralt has always found it ironic. To expect these people to only use their powers for entertainment and laughter, named for a group that ostensibly did the same more than a millennium ago, while conveniently forgetting an important fact.

Most Bards were spies.

Gerat carefully sets his thoughts aside when the Bard moves. His focus returns fully to the situation at hand.

The Bard is reaching out to the Sketh, slowly, carefully-- recklessly, idiotically, completely careless of the danger, of setting her off.

She flinches when the Bard’s hand touches her fur covered arm— the one holding the gun.

Geralt takes a careful step closer. His hand hovering over the activation pad of his blade.

He’s quiet, but the Bard clocks him— a glance, eyes unwavering, before he focuses on the Sketh again and says, low, “Let this go.”

There is a breath. Geralt waits.

“Fine,” she spits out. “But I claim best bunk.”

She isn’t looking at the Bard’s face— doesn’t catch the relief before it's drowned out by a companionable smile and a hint of satisfaction. Geralt does. Geralt sees all of it.

The man’s expressions are as garish as his clothing. He is too animated-- too bright-- to belong in a place like this. Amongst people like this. These are people who lie through suppression, not misdirection. Even if it's all false, it is out of place. But it isn’t-- false. Parts of it are genuine, and Geralt doesn’t think it's a mistake. The Bard doesn’t mind people seeing him. It’s disconcerting.

The Bard claps his hands together and turns back to the crowd. “You heard her, the show is on the road!”

As if on cue, the platform shifts and rumbles. Walkways start to extend from the edges toward the sides of the ship. Doors shift open with heavy sighs of pressurised air. The dock boy takes the distraction to get the fuck out of dodge, though he throws a grateful gaze to the Bard as he slips away. The Bard’s smile goes incrementally brighter.

“Now,” he says, raising his voice, “Those with smell sensitivities should have priorities to the upper decks. Let’s show those fuckers we aren’t as inconsiderate as they make us out to be, eh? Behave and you might be treated with an entirely free performance of Craven Roses!”

At that, the Bard bows to a scattering of applause. The promise of potential entertainment brings a measure of good cheer among the passengers— any travel without warp-speed is an exercise in boredom regardless, but the trip between Zevos and the outer ring of Xadan is especially notorious for it. After the purple glow of the Zevos System is left behind, the following week of utter darkness is enough to drive anyone cabin-crazy. The appearance of Xadan eventually brings light. It isn’t pretty, but it's at least something. A measure of progress, watching Meteor Border come closer and closer.

The worst is never the dark, it's feeling like nothing is happening. That you’re moving, but will never arrive.

Geralt shakes his head to himself. He can deal with that. He’s used to it— whether he is in a spacecraft or walking on solid ground. But most people aren’t. Geralt would prefer not to suffer through thinly veiled innuendos posing as a passion play, but the alternative might be even more tedious. He has a sense that this won’t be the last time the Sketh will become a problem.

At least, for now, she isn’t his concern. He clicks his energy blade back on his utility belt and is about go back for Roach when a voice calls out—

“Witcher!”

The Bard.

Geralt stops. He doesn’t turn around. “Few know to call me that.”

The Bard circles him and grins. “Ancienthunter is a bit of a mouthful, if you ask me. Witcher is more of a statement— a strange word for a strange profession; as old as the beasts you’re hunting.”

Geralt snorts. “Funny you say that, Bard.”

“Jaskier, and thank you,” the Bard-- Jaskier says grandly, seemingly unaware of how very much Geralt did not intend it as a compliment. Or maybe he did and doesn’t care. “What a twist of fate, is it not? Two men out of time, on the edge of the universe.”

Geralt snorts and begins to walk.

Jaskier rushes after him, slipping deftly between people to keep up. “Wait!”

“I’m not here for your tales,” Geralt says. “Find another audience.”

Jaskier huffs and makes an affronted sound, but persists. When Geralt eventually breaches the edge of the crowd, he’s caught up, a little out of breath.

“Come on, Witcher. Let me just— I’ve heard of the adventure of people like you and I was wondering—“

His voice cuts out and his eyes go wide, when Roach comes out of the shadows. Mouth agape, he stares.

Geralt reaches out for her lead and turns his back on Jaskier. He’s not interested in seeing the inevitable terror— or, if Jaskier is as reckless as he seemed to be in front of a blaster, anger. Geralt puts a hand on Roach’s neck, knowing that one sign from him and Jaskier wouldn’t have a chance for either. Not that it would help his case.

It’s quiet for so long that Geralt almost thinks Jaskier managed to retreat in complete silence, but when he turns, he’s still standing there, mouth agape.

“I thought—“ he says, and there is no terror. “I thought they were extinct. I thought you— Witchers had hunted them all.”

He isn’t afraid. He is awed.

Geralt thinks of the busy stalls in Kae’r Mor, the gentle huffing, soft rumbling and kind eyes that follow you as you pass through the halls. Dozens of lives saved through secrecy, protecting a species deemed undeserving of existence, merely because some had used them in horrific ways.

He thinks of Vesemir, furious, as Geralt took Roach from her stall.

—selfish. Your actions put all of them in danger, and you know it.

But one survivor shouldn’t — can’t — be able to ruin it. He’s careful, he avoids the corners of the galaxies where they’re most known. Where they’re more than just a story. He can lay the blame all on himself: it shouldn’t be hard to understand one monstrous creature having bonded with another.

He just hadn’t been able to leave her behind. Not if he wasn’t certain he’d ever be back.

“Amaureen,” Jaskier says, quietly, startling Geralt out of his thoughts. To hear that word spoken in such a way— with wonder, is disorientating.

“Does she have a name?”

“Roach.”

There is a stunned silence, and then Jaskier laughs. “Not what I expected for a creature straight out of legend.”

Geralt shrugs. “She likes it.”

Jaskier smiles and then looks at Roach again, hesitating. “Can I—“

“You can try,” Geralt says, gruffly. But he centers himself, trying to project calm— not trust, he can’t lie in this, but he shows her what he saw. Jaskier talking down a crowd, levity cutting through a knife through the tension. Light in a moment of darkness.

Roach huffs and holds still as Jaskier’s fingers brush her snout. His eyes go impossibly bright, and his breath catches when Roach, unprompted, presses against his hand.

“She likes me,” Jaskier says, too surprised to be smug about it.

Geralt doesn’t respond— doesn’t disagree. He feels unbalanced, put off. None of this— none of this is going like it is supposed to go.

Roach responds to his distress, stepping back with a huff.

Jaskier takes his hand back, doesn’t press for more, and says, “Thank you.”

As if that is something people say after touching an Amaureen. Geralt feels a headache brewing.

“Hmm,” he says, and tugs on Roach’s lead. They begin their walk to the farthest end of the ship.

Jaskier doesn’t take the hint.

“How did you find her? Have you had her long?”

“None of your business, Bard.”

“Jaskier, or Dandel, on stage,” he says blithely, “and okay, fine, but you have to understand. This is momentous. I’ve always known there was something off about all those tales. How could a bond-species suddenly turn against their riders? Why all at the same time?”

Geralt makes a noise of warning. Roach’s mane bristles.

“Okay, have it your way. Something else then.” There is barely a pause before he asks, continues, rapid-fire and passionate: “Have you ever encountered a hag? I’ve been hearing about one running a spirit bar in the Dekolijn but that could be a myth. Do they have the intelligence to do such a thing or are they more beast-like?”

Geralt’s jaw tenses, glancing sideways to glare and growl— something, he doesn’t know what, because the moment he turns, he sees something else.

The Dizan, watching them with interest.

For a moment Geralt’s stomach drops— Vesemir was right. He should never have taken Roach with him.

But then he realises that the Dizan isn’t looking at Roach.

They’re looking at Jaskier with a considering look in their eye.

Resignation falls like a heavy cloak around Geralt’s shoulders. He forces his expression in a blank slate and allows Jaskier to follow him, giving occasional one word answers like breadcrumbs, that lead him into the ship— away from that pale white gaze.

As they walk through the bowels of the ship, bile in the back of Geralt’s throat, his nose burning, and a headache in full bloom, one thought circles around in the forefront of his mind, over and over:

He should’ve gone with teleportation after all.

#geraskier #geraskier fic #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #witcher #the witcher #geralt/jaskier #witcher fic #myfic #alternate universe scifi #in the dark we travel

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pulaasul · 3 years

Text

Rebelling Skull - 4

A Sequel to Femoral Meeting.

After meeting an organization dedicated to exterminating Shadows, Ryuji finds his path crossing with said organization more times than he’d like. Is it mere coincidence or simply something from a past he’s unaware of, haunting him?

1 I 2 I 3

Ao3 I FFN

---------

~ Let's go to that place we love

You can make it. I believe in you. ~

As soon as everyone on stage sang the final note, the song stopped.

"Thank You! Shujin!" The idols yelled at their microphones.

However instead of loud cheers erupted from the audience, screams of fear pierced everyone's ears as the surroundings turned green and a lot of standing coffins appeared in place of the people.

Ryuji and Anne were now donning their masks without their usual Phantom Thief outfits.

"Sakamoto!" Mitsuru's voice rang inside Ryuji's mind. "What's your status?" She asked.

"Panther and I are surrounded by panicking students," Ryuji relayed their situation. "Alongside the coffins from before." He added as he removed his blazer and gave it to Anne.

Anne immediately wore the blazer and released her hair as she looked around for Futaba.

"I can't find Oracle!" Anne exclaimed in alarm.

"Kujikawa, prioritize the people on stage." Mitsuru ordered.

"I am right by the entrance," Futaba interjected through the link. "I had to get away from the panicking students." She explained.

"Good, you reconvene with your teammates," Mitsuru ordered. "Sakamoto, Panther, and Oracle once the three of you reunite, you round up the people wearing rings similar to Rise's companions and place them onstage." She added. "Kujikawa, I'm assuming you have you have one of those rings as well?"

"I do." Rise confirmed.

"Give that one to Sakamoto so they'll have a reference." Mitsuru instructed.

"What do these rings do exactly?" Anne voiced her concern. "And why only the people wearing them?"

"Those rings prevent a person's shadow from going berserk," Mitsuru explained. "The people not wearing those rings has a probability of turning into a shadow and attack innocents," She added. "We're simply preventing a worst-case scenario from happening."

"Roger that!" Ryuji and Anne nodded. "Leave it to us."

"Yeah, yeah sure," Futaba gave a sound. "Just that we need to stick to our codenames," Futaba growled. "They exist for a reason."

"I see..."

"You can call me Skull." Ryuji immediately informed.

"Very well," Mitsuru conceded. "I'm leaving you in charge of your group's tasks, Skull."

"Leave it to us!"

"Saka-" Mishima tried to talk to his companions only for Anne to cut him off.

"Call me Panther and him Skull," Anne informed. "What happened to Ren could also happen to us," She explained. "Can I count on you, Mishima?"

Mishima gasped but nodded in approval. "What's this about the rings?" He asks. "You've been mentioning rings recently."

Ryuji looked at Mishima's hand. He was wearing a ring that had a dim glow.

Suddenly a humanoid being with red hair in a white flowing dress arrived and gave Ryuji the same ring before it promptly disappeared.

"Wha-what was that?!" Mishima panicked.

"Calm down Nishima," Futaba admonished as she descended from her Persona. "These are what makes stealing of hearts possible," She explained. "I see you're wearing one of these rings as well," She unceremoniously grabbed the boy's hand and inspected the ring. "Hey Kirijo, do these rings glow?"

"Affirmative," Mitsuru responded through the link. "I fear some rings just glow in the dark."

"So you gave us a sample," Anne supplied. "Just to be sure."

"Precisely." Mitsuru nodded.

Ryuji removed his shirt and gave it to Futaba as Anne immediately worked on her hair.

"Why'd you give me your shirt?" Oracle looked at the shirt and Skull.

"Same reason." Ryuji shrugged.

Futaba nodded and wore the shirt over her school uniform as Anne styled her hair into pigtails. The cat-masked blond then swiped a cap from a panicking student and forcefully placed them on top of Ryuji's head.

"What was that for?!" Ryuji reacted.

"For you." Panther rolled her eyes. "Kirijo and her allies may know about your identity, but others are still in the dark about it." She explained.

"We can count on Nishima to keep these under wraps right?" Futaba chimed in.

"You can count on me." Mishima nodded with determination.

"Anytime now." Rise voiced out through the link. "I can't hold off these shadows for much longer."

"Be on the defensive," Mitsuru advised. "Use Makarakarn and Tetrakarn." She added. "Wait for all of us to arrive."

"Just hurry!"

----------

"Artemisia!" Mitsuru yelled as she summoned her Persona who simply whipped the air around her.

Ice Pillars and ice blocks appeared and encased the Shadows inside them.

Karasuma was busy herding the students and teachers wearing rings, as instructed by the Kirijo, while she was busy handling their attackers.

"Double time!" Karasuma urged the teachers and students. "We need to go up on the stage."

Karasuma's words got everyone rushing towards the stage dodging the coffins and ice pillars that were in the area.

Mitsuru on the other hand switched to erecting ice walls to hinder the shadows from approaching the civilians. She does so by having Artemisia strike the floor with the whip.

---------

Rise was busy defending her fellow idols onstage. She has Himiko in her battle mode and erected translucent hexagonal walls around the stage.

Suddenly, a bunch of fireballs was coming their way.

"Gaaaaaah!" The female idols screamed in fear.

As if in agreement, the people on stage began to herd themselves at the back entrance only to see more of those creatures backstage, eliciting a similar response.

A scream.

Rise was quick to sense the shadows and was able to erect hexagonal walls in front of the idols and reflect the incoming attacks at them.

"Risette." Everyone stared at her in amazement.

A fireball struck the hexagonal walls, which was reflected, but they vanished.

"Gather around me." Rise ordered. "I can't erect these walls around us if you're spread out like that." She explained.

Himiko re-erected the translucent hexagonal walls just in time for another attack to be reflected.

"We're completely surrounded!" Rise called out loud to her link.

"We're close by." Ryuji's voice replied.

"As are we," Mitsuru assured the idol. "Just hold out a little bit longer Kujikawa."

"Just hurry!"

----------

"Go, Captain Kidd!" Ryuji yelled as his Persona appeared behind him.

Captain Kidd shot out three cannonballs from his cannon of a right hand and blasted away three Oberons approaching the hexagonal walls.

"Carmen!" Anne yelled. "Maragidyne!"

Carmen appeared behind Anne as she shot three fireballs on the floor that sprouted into three stationary fire tornadoes that burnt the three Skadis preparing to attack.

"Wow!" Mishima gaped in amazement. "Are all the thieves as powerful as you?" He fired off a question.

"Kinda not the time Nishima!" Futaba exclaimed. "Risette!" She called out. "Let us through!"

A hole appeared on the wall of translucent hexagons not a moment later, just enough for everyone from their group to get inside.

Futaba exited from her Persona and went alongside the students and teachers from their group into the enclosure that Rise has erected.

"Artemisia! No mercy!" Mitsuru declared.

Artemisia rose in the air and began whipping all the shadows that surrounded Rise's enclosure, encasing all the shadows in the vicinity in ice. The few that were impervious to the ice attack were done in by Karasuma's fists, although they merely flew a few feet away rather than disappear completely.

"Sheesh, That woman's scary!" Futaba observed.

"No, no, no the guy she's with is scary," Ryuji shook his head. "Did you see how he just punched the Shadow?"

"Kinda not the time!" Anne hissed.

The enclosure opened once more, on Mitsuru's side, and let the Kirijo's group through.

Karasuma immediately approached Sugino and Yamamoto and gave the both of them a smoke grenade each.

"On the count of three, we're dropping these here and make our escape." Karasuma instructed.

"Creatures are also present backstage sensei." Sugino informed.

"The smoke would only blind us." Yamamoto added.

"I can guide us outside." Futaba offered. "Although I cannot guarantee that there won't be any of them outside."

"Oracle is right," Mitsuru stated. "These Shadows are present outside."

"Then what do you suppose we do Kirijo," Karasuma bit out. "This is your jurisdiction."

"Does anyone have dormina?" Mitsuru questioned the Persona users present.

"I do." Panther voiced out.

"Put them to sleep." Mitsuru ordered.

"You can't do that!" Some of the idols protested. "What guarantee do we have that you won't ditch us?" They questioned.

Karasuma simply waited for the Kirijo's response.

"I have to agree, we need to go outside." Ryuji voiced out.

"Care to elaborate Skull?" Mitsuru challenged.

"We're sitting ducks inside the gym," Ryuji replied. "We're surrounded," He gestured at the surrounding hostilities. "If we're outside we can have a bit more room to move and we can use some of our skills freely." He added.

"Right, you have God's Hand and Agneyastyra." Mitsuru hummed. "How do you suggest we move with these many people?" She questioned.

"Hey, Oracle." Ryuji faced the youngest of the thieves. "Can Necronomicon carry passengers?" He asked.

"Let's try," Futaba answered. "Necronomicon!"

A spaceship appeared above Ryuji and tentacle-like things descended from the UFO and wrapped themselves on Skull's and Oracle's wrists, elbows, and ankles. The tentacles then began to raise the two of them and let them inside.

"What do you think?" Futaba asked.

After a few seconds of discussion, the UFO hovering over everyone disappeared as Ryuji and Futaba inside dropped down.

"Oracle says, she can fit more than half of them in there," Ryuji informed. "I can take the other half."

"Magnifique!" Mitsuru praised. "Your Personas can double as vessels for everyone." She pointed out. "We can transport them from one place to another without risk of injuring them."

"I am not getting inside that-that thing." One of the female students protested. "I've seen way too many anime to know what happens inside." She cringed at the mere thought.

"Well then, the boys will go with Oracle and the girls will go with Skull," Mitsuru ordered. "Kujikawa I want you to place Makarakarn and Tetrakarn walls in front of Oracle's and Skull's personas so stave off attacks from the shadows." She issued. "Panther you're with me."

"Let's go! Captain Kidd!"

"Come on! Necronomicon!"

Captain Kidd and Necronomicon appeared by their summoner's sides.

The girls boarded the ship that Captain Kidd was standing on one by one while the males were lifted into Necronomicon via the tentacle-like things that sprouted from the Persona's underside.

"Sugino, Yamamoto, and I won't be going inside," Karasuma informed. "The three of us will throw a smoke grenade to obscure the enemies' view on us."

"Will you be able to catch up with us?" Mitsuru questioned.

"Shouldn't your Persona's whip be able to latch onto them should they fall behind?" Futaba stated, through the link.

"Don't worry." Yamamoto chuckled. "We'll be able to catch up."

"No need to worry," Karasuma assured. "We'll run once the smoke grenades are thrown."

#ryuji sakamoto #anne takamaki #futaba sakura #mitsuru kirijo #rise kujikawa #persona 5 #persona 3 #persona 4 #ann takamaki #tadaomi karasuma #takeshi yamamoto #tomohito sugino #story #rebsku

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snowycrocus · 4 years

Text

Frozen Fanfiction “Such A Cost” Ch.9

(Elsa sacrifices her magic to save Anna)

Start with these first: part one part two part three part four part five part six part seven part eight

Thanks for everyone’s encouragement to keep this going! You guys are awesome! It’s been a while - maybe re-read ch.8 to remember where we left off! (I know I had to! ;P )

-----------------

Even from this distance, Markus can hear the alarm sounding in Arendelle. It’s so loud – it seems as though the sound is ricocheting off the mountainous fjords surrounding the kingdom.

Their approach is slow and steady. No need to race in just yet.

He takes out his spyglass. He had heard years ago of how Arendelle’s Witch Queen had embellished the castle with ice.

There is no ice.

Not that he didn’t trust his spies, but it still felt good to be certain.

“Ready your fire!” He screams. His people scramble to carry out his orders. They’ve done this countless times, with a spotless record. They will not fail. Especially not here, in tiny little Arendelle- there is nothing, and no one, to stop them.

The cannons are loaded, and Markus sends out a singular boat – a small little thing, just meant for a person or two. It’s got a white flag on it which waves in the spring breeze out on the fjord. It heads towards the shores of Arendelle.

He’s got a message for the Queen.

-----------------

The alarms ring in her ears so loudly she cannot even think.

The clanging and trumpeting drowns out all and any other sound, including the thoughts that are racing through her mind.

Soldiers and guards race up to her, surrounding her. They open their mouths, presumably speaking, but she can only make out a word or two over the alarm, and it gets worse when more people arrive and begin speaking as well.

“What?!” She yells, breathing heavily and reaching up to cover her ears.

Two of the men begin to repeat themselves at the same time, but she can’t focus on either one of them. Her hands held up to her ears begin to prickle like mad, making her skin itch and crawl like there are ants underneath. Not now! The distraction is maddening.

“Turn those off!” She shouts to make herself heard, removing her hands from her ears to jab her fingernails deeply into her stinging skin. Some of the men run off the deliver the order, when suddenly her Captain of the Guard appears around the corner.

“Your Majesty-” he seems to mouth, urgency in his eyes. “It is Garia.”

Elsa knows, she saw their flag- a coiled snake with a spear ran through its middle. She remembers the letter from a particular spy of hers, and wishes she could freeze his balls off right now. Followed by his head.

Suddenly, the Captain’s gaze turns curious, his eyes squinting out the window towards the ships. Elsa follows suit.

The alarms stop, the silence itself somehow deafening in and of itself. But Elsa doesn’t even notice the ringing in her ears at the absence of sound.

All she can focus on is the tiny boat that is slowly making its way onto her shore, a fluttering white flag pitiful in the wind.

-----------------

“Are they mad?!” Her captain shouts, waving the missive in the air like a flag. “Relinquish control of Arendelle or make peace with its destruction?!”

He lowers his arms and Elsa takes the opportunity to snatch the paper back from him simply so she has something to keep her fingers occupied.

“Permission to ready the ships and land cannons, your Majesty?”

“Of course.”

But it will be too late. She can feel it. She hasn’t seen any wars nor battles in her quarter of a century, thankfully, despite the fact that she’s spent most of her lifetime fighting one with herself. But she has studied past wars, battle strategies and tactics. She is no expert, but her navy, though well-equipped to deal with harsh seas and tumultuous waters of the fjords, is small and inexperienced. Her army is the same.

Besides, the enemy is already here, dark shadows upon their beautiful shores. They don’t have time to come up with a strategy. The time to fight is now.

-----------------

The messenger calmly rows back to his ship, response in hand. The Queen herself had delivered it to him, pride and stubbornness written just as clearly across her features as the fear in her blue eyes. It was a shame, really, he thinks, watching the water ripple in the clear fjord waters around him. She would make a pretty prisoner, though he had expected her to be the striking exotic blonde that he had heard tales and seen portraits of. He wondered what Markus would do with her.

And with her feisty sister. Princess Anna had stood her ground resolutely by her sister’s side when they delivered the missive back to him. The Princess had set her jaw and given him a glower that was so fierce he thought she could go toe to toe with Markus himself.

“You will never have Arendelle,” she had said, glaring and scowling. “What gives you the right-” she had lunged at him then, and would have grabbed his neck as planned if the Queen hadn’t suddenly taken hold of her arm.

“Anna,” she breathed, pained. She closed her eyes and sighed. “Please.”

The Queen handed him the letter back and took a deep breath, shaking her head and clenching her jaw. “Arendelle is not yours for taking. We will not, and never will, surrender.”

The sisters stalked away, surrounded by guards, but the messenger heard the Princess whisper as she turned away from him.

“I wish you could still freeze his balls.”

“Me too.”

-----------------

The Arendelle navy readies its ships. On land, soldiers wait for orders to fire.

Markus reads the missive delivered back to him. It is as he expected.

The white flag is brought down.

“Fire!”

-----------------

Elsa and Anna, along with a handful of soldiers, race to round up their people to the safe houses and into the castle.

The guards had objected to the royals’ involvement, but the sisters took their responsibility seriously.

“If Arendelle falls, so do we.” Princess Anna had announced resolutely, and the Queen nodded in agreement.

Hurry, hurry!

They knock on doors, ushering people away to safety.

But where is safety?

The ground shakes with the impact of cannonballs as people flee. Elsa’s legs feel weak from the quaking beneath her but an icy prickling shooting up from her toes distracts her. It reminds her of what she once had. What she could once do for her people and for Arendelle.

But one glance at her sister makes her shake the thought away. Anna settles a young boy on her hip and helps an elderly woman, perhaps the grandmother, to her feet and out the door, unaware of her sister’s tender gaze. She shushes the boy to calm him and patiently guides the woman over the doorstep. The itching and tingling begins back up in Elsa’s arms and hands and she instead focuses on warning the next house over. You’ve made your choice.

-----------------

The castle is full; jam-packed like lutefisk pickling in a jar.

The girls and the guards had rounded up as many citizens as they could while it had still been safe to be out – but though the castle was bursting, Elsa knew in her heart that there were countless more families in the city and its outskirts that would be susceptible. She only hoped that her military would be enough.

Could I-….no. She pushes the thought away before she is too tempted.

She and Anna find their way back to her office. It offers the perfect view of the coast. At times the only thing that would give her peace from a stressful day or meeting, the view is now a window into an uncertain, daunting future.

The girls watch as their own ships leave the pier of Arendelle and head out onto the fjord. Their army waits for enemies on shore, crossbows in hand and cannons at the ready. A few Garia ships near their rocky coastline.

Anna paces on the familiar rug. “How could this happen? Can’t we do something?” Her tone is pleading, frustrated.

“We’re doing all we can, Anna.” Elsa responds. She closes her eyes and sighs. This is her fault. Her failure. Why hadn’t she listened to her council? All that talk of increased vulnerability ever since she had relinquished her magic. She had listened, but hadn’t acted. Well, hadn’t acted quickly enough. They had tried, but recruitment and enlistment was low. They had to wait until winter had passed to ramp up mining and weapons production. Everything seemed to be working against their favor.

And now should the kingdom would fall, her memories of ice and snow rising up from her core would never do anything to stop it.

The foundation of the castle quakes. They can see smoke rising in the distance. The first Garia ship reaches the shore and her army attempts to evade being shot at. Others prime themselves to attack once the Garia navy disembarks from their ship.

The windows remain closed, but the girls imagine they can hear the whistling of cannonballs through the air, the twang of crossbows let loose, and the keening of families as their home is lost.

The first flaming arrow is let loose from a Garia ship.

-----------------

Arendelle is burning.

“Elsa, we have to do something!” Anna shouts, as they watch another section of the city go up in flames. The gates below them open to allow another family into the castle that has lost their home.

“I know, Anna! But what?!” She begins to pace. “Our only other option is to surrender and let Garia rule us,” Elsa responds. It kills her to say those words. She has never enjoyed ruling Arendelle. She never wanted to be Queen. But she would rather die than see her kingdom burning like this, would rather be tortured than watch her citizens lose their homes and belongings.

The next hit is taken by the school that Anna spent months working on. She screams as it is blasted to pieces.

“How can we ever come back from this!?”

Elsa watches as Arendelle’s best naval ship unleashes a volley of cannons at Garia’s fleet. Two are hit – right before her own ship is brought down itself. They have no chance.

“We can’t do this. We haven’t a chance. We must surrender.”

“Elsa, no! You can’t give up Arendelle!”

“What choice do I have, Anna!?” Elsa’s eyes are wide and wild. “We’re not prepared for this!” She gestures out to the school that no longer stands. “What will be left of us? If we do not surrender to Garia there will no longer even be Arendelle!”

She spins around suddenly, whirling to face the portrait of their father, hands clenching to fists at her sides.

The sight is familiar to her – it is one she has gazed at hundreds if not thousands of times. She stares up into her father’s hazel eyes, his youthful face full and yet unmarred by the trials of ruling. Elsa squeezes her eyes shut as a tear slowly leaks out, followed by another and another.

Anna approaches her sister and holds tightly to her shoulders but is silent.

“I can’t fail you again,” Elsa whispers weakly to the portrait. “You trusted me, after everything. And now look what I’ve done.”

“Elsa,” Anna breathes. “Stop blaming yourself. It’s not your fault.”

“It IS!” Elsa’s breathing is ragged and she wipes the tears from her cheeks harshly with her forearm. “I left us vulnerable. I’m responsible for this destruction, for these deaths.” She glances back out the window at her fighting troops. “They are out there, dying for us!”

She grabs Anna’s shoulders, wills her to understand. “I gave up my powers for you, Anna – all I had to offer the kingdom.” Anna’s shoulders sag with guilt but Elsa shakes her at the misunderstanding.

“No, Anna – I would do it a thousand times over again. I would do anything to protect you and to keep you safe, Anna – don’t you see?! I gave that part of myself to protect you – and instead I’ve put your life in danger once more. Do you think Garia will let us live, Anna? Do you think they will treat you kindly because you’re a princess? By giving up my powers, I have doomed us all, including you!”

She moans and sags to her knees. “I just wanted to keep you safe,” she whispers.

A pit of dread settles itself in Anna’s stomach. She has a thought, though it makes her feel sick. She lowers herself on suddenly shaky legs to the floor next to her sister and holds Elsa’s cool hands in her own abruptly clammy ones. She only takes a moment to ponder her next words – they don’t have the luxury of time to weigh a decision.

“Elsa,” Anna says softly. Elsa looks up at her with hopeless eyes. “I think we both know what you have to do.”

-----------------

Any predictions for what’s going to happen? (surely you’ve figured it out by now!)

Would absolutely love to hear what you think, it’s your encouragement that keeps me writing!

And yeah if you couldn’t tell I’ve never written a battle scene before, and never want to again. Too bad the next chapter will also involve these things *sigh*. So sorry if it seems like I have no clue what I’m talking about because, well, I don’t. XD

Tagging those that have expressed interest in this or have asked to be tagged. Please lmk if you don’t want to be tagged. @outplacedwriter @justlookatthosesausages @butimaloneandfree @lelitachay @cuddlycocoa @the-sky-is-awake @aqueenthatisfrozen @above-d-clouds @maybelleteas @frozeninplace @frozenartscapes @thegeekogecko @wandering-bard-from-the-id @superstarfishy97 @maregnbue @aries1708 @irarelyusethisapp @habibi18 @frozenlover2005 @melody-fox @wintermoonqueen @anamaria8garcia @frozenfandom2017

#frozen #elsa #anna #snow sisters #fanfiction #frozen fanfiction #disney #such a cost #frozen 2 #my writing

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