#but for now another quint for the collection will just have to do | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

quintrudar · 1 year

Text

The Tomb of Captain Bartamaus

Gogo was never going to let me live this moment down. The rope nipped hard at my skin as I tried to twist my hands-free. My claws couldn't reach long enough and I couldn't do anything without breaking my wrist.

Resting my head against the wall of the carriage my ass was getting jostled as the carriage moved down whatever road the driver had found. My gear was gone, and I had no idea where Vanna had gone off to. Since I met Vanna in a town just outside of Limsa Lominsa we had been on the run with our map and a promise that we'd get to the treasure of Captain Bartamaus. I didn't want the treasure, what I really wanted was a book he had collected before being assassinated.

Of course, there is always another person on their way for gold and glory.

As the carriage came to a stop I groaned and shifted myself and let my numb ass get some blood flow to it. Of course by the time I was on the pins and needles stage the flap to the back of the carriage was opened and a man with a glorious mustache and an eyepatch was grinning at me.

"Enjoy your trip Mr. Rudar?" He said his accent thickly Limpsin.

"You have the greatest hostage accommodations I've ever seen, one star," I said dryly as he came in and pulled me up to my feet. He was a tall Hyur though I was still taller than him without my ears.

Being dragged out the light burned my eyes and I squinted and wished I could shield my eyes with my arm or something. We were in a large crevice that had a steady path up to higher ground on one side, but on the other was a large carved door made of stone. The stones had a language the others couldn't read, but I could. Over the last year, I had spent every waking hour obsessing over the words that now marked the door.

In a language long dead it read:

'Enter the enlightened, parish the coward'

I frowned and looked up at the writing. It was ominous, but there was a reason for it. Those words had been carved there long before, by something I couldn't name yet. All I knew was it felt right to see those words. More right than it was for anything I dealt with.

"That's one big door." A voice came from behind me and walking arm in arm were the two least likely people. One was an elaezen man wth blond hair that was pulled back in a low bun, he was dressed in a sharp suit and a long trench coat. The man who spoke... That would be Vanna.

Vanna was a Miqo'te with dark blond hair and brown eyes. I had been so shocked when he flirted with me, but I never had said no to attention. Even when I get backstabbed. He had been quickly to attach to me and during our adventure to look through the map he had I thought there was something growing between us.

Obviously he'll fuck anyone who would get him what he wanted. I almost admire that. Almost.

"Vanna." I said and tried to grind my teeth without snapping anymore.

The small man paused the fur of his tail going out a little as he saw me. I had to be in a bit of a state. I had taken a good right hook to the jaw and it was probably a nasty bruise now. "Quint, I hope you don't mind. Luis gave me insight on what we're about to face." His voice was soft and at one point I thought he was sweet, too bad he's a fucking manipulative ass.

"I hope he's worth it," I mutter and that's it, that's the end of the relationship. Easy come easy go.

"Now," The Elezen Luis strolled forward with Vanna's map and looked at the door. "This says the door will open with the correct key. Mr. Rudar, I suppose you already found said key, and idea of where you put it amongst your things?"

Of course, that's why I'm still alive. I had hidden the key in my gear, inside one of the devices I carried around with me. If they mishandled one of the items it could kill them with a deadly spring or short circuit. That had been part of the plan, but what will they do with me once I gave them the key?

I had no choice but to go with my instinct. I'm not going to die yet, at least not without a proper fight.

"Untie my hands and I'll get it for you," I said, turning around and wiggling my fingers. Luis did the honors as he untied my hands I leaned closer to him to whisper. "You're not the first man who's put rope on my skin, though this is far less satisfying."

Luis pushed me forward and his men threw my pack at me. It was heavy and would be full of devices they wouldn't be able to reason with. I crouched down and found one device that would keep me warm even in cold weather and got out my tools to open it up. Machines were easy, they. had a reason for always breaking to for working. Things with them made sense.

"Here you go," I held up the key but as the men moved to take it I pulled it closer to me. "I'll put the key in the door. And this key is needed for another part. Vanna might be cute, but I'm the one who figured out the puzzle to get this key. I'm the brains."

The Miqo'te rolled his eyes but he had to be right, he was the one half screaming senselessly as I was dodging poisoned traps set up by the Captain's men. Luis frowned and looked at the door. He had to know there were going to be traps involved. We weren't popping into a random cave. Captain Bartamaus had been ruthless in his clever traps. the last cave system of his I went into had three different traps that required me to play games with an unseen enemy, balance a scale to an obscure reference, and wait until a floor went out from under me to find my prize.

If this was anything like that, they were going to need me.

"Fine, let Mr. Rudar use the key." Luis moved away from me and the other men cleared the path.

Coming up to the door I reread the message and found the covering for the keyhole. Inserting the key I twisted it, a mechanical sound churned behind the rock and the wall opened up. A gust of stale air hit my sensitive nose and I tried to blow out the air before it lingered in my lungs for too long.

"Let's hope the good Captain has all the wonders promised to us secured down here." Luis passed me as his men pushed me forward.

The cave we entered slowly moved down and deep into the ground. The air got cooler and I knew we were getting close to the water table if we were this low to the ground. Just as I thought we would hit the water the cave opened up to a large chasm and below I could see an underground river moving below us.

On our side of the chasm, there was a pillar of crystal and a gilded hammer beside it. Next to the pillar, in the stone read:

'Ring'

Only the R also looked like an S. It as 'Ring' and 'Sing', What most scholars forgot to mention in all the historical accounts for the former Pirate lord was he loved music. He loved it so much there was reasonable proof he might have been a bard once.

"Ring the bell," Luis told one of his men.

A larger Roe stalked up to the pillar and used the hammer to ring out the tone. The sound echoed around the cavern but nothing happened.

"Great," Vanna said his voice letting out a huff. "Do you think the mechanism broke?"

Given the puzzle used magic, I highly doubted it was going to break down. I watched the men argue over the validity of the puzzle as I tried to test out if I could hum the tune. It took me a few tries but soon I got the right pitch and let out the tone.

The rock on the other side started to move, singing in chorus with me. The magic was something to behold and I stopped the tone and noticed the rocks rumble back into the wall that they came from. The men looked back to me some of them had their mouths so open I swore I could see into their stomachs.

"What?" I said and moved over to the ledge. "It can be read as an R or an S. Ring and Sing."

The other men looked at each other and again the hit the pillar again, this time they were the ones who had to search for the note, only this time when they hit it I drew in a long breath and sang as well.

When the bridge started to form I bolted down the bridge. Only there was one problem with that sort of plan. Running takes air, and singing takes air. Singing and running could work if I was a bard, but I'm not. I'm a mage who's fallen in love with engineering and history.

I can hear that the others have stopped singing, if I stop, if I don't hold this note for long enough, I will die. My lungs are burning, and my eyes watering as I try to find more air. As my feet carry me across the bridge. With each pounding step, I get to the edge and throw myself to the other side. I hit the ground hard and take a long, cool, choking breath.

Even as I catch my breath the others are having a much less dramatic cross. I debate about trying to run. Give myself a head start and get to my goal before they come in and ruin the site. I had to stop waiting, I needed to move.

Getting back to my feet I found the next passageway and started down it and tried to look around for clues for any next test they might give me. But as I came to the next room I saw a checkered board of tiles, some green, some blue. I skitter to a halt and knew I only had so much time to figure out this puzzle before they caught up to me.

The Captain had a flag, and from what historians could recount it was green, but it was also true that the man had a love for blue as that is what he normally wore. Where we were going was his final resting place, so the only people he would want to come this way are those who knew what he loved.

The sound of footsteps was right behind me and I started to jump to each of the blue tiles. Crossing the room I could see the other side when I heard the others coming into view. The large Roe stepped onto a green tile and instantly he fell through it and probably to his death. Luis and Vanna stopped seeing me get to the other side.

"He really is fast isn't he," Luis said. "Mr. Rudar, it seems you're trying to race ahead."

I paused and dusted off my jacket. "I can't help it, I like good competition. I'll see you gentlemen at the other side." I gave a small bow and kept going forward, not telling them the solution to the problem. They will either take forever or do something rash and figure out the blue ties are safe.

Coming to the next room I stopped dead in my tracks. The room had bellowed out ahead of me and there was all the gold that was promised. A small mountain that would make even the most modest-living person wonder if they could steal a few of the coins or gems.

The treasure was off limits.

I knew better than to take wealth from tombs. The person who made this tomb wanted to keep his money even after death. Crossing the room there was a long table where a skeleton was resting, lounging like it was waiting for someone to bring him back to life.

"Captain Bartamaus I presume." I moved closer, the table was full of empty bowls, plates, and goblets covered in gold and gemstones. One of those goblets could keep my airship in the sky for a year.

Wiping my brow I bowed to the dead captain and looked around him. "I don't want your treasure, just a book," I said, noticing behind him a shelf full of items on display. Spiders had made their home amongst the treasure, creating curtains of webs that I peeked through until I saw it.

The book was humble. It was after all a personal journal of the Captain, detailing his journey into unknown lands. I needed that information.

I needed to know what happened to her. To the woman who gave birth to me.

Picking up the journal I cradled it in my arms like it was a newborn child. It was older than me, probably older than anyone I knew, but it was precious to me. Opening the book I flipped through the pages and saw the dates, the information had to be here, but I needed time to properly read it.

The sound of footsteps caught in my ears and I looked up to see Luis and Vanna running into the room. Both of them looked tired from the chase but as I started to move Luis pulled his bow and arrow and aimed it at me.

"I would put that book down Mr. Rudar." He said his voice light and his smirk growing wide. "You're not going to get out of this alive if you try to run."

I might be really good at running, but I'm not so good when there are two people, and I know Vanna can close a distance in no time if he knows it's safe. He might believe he's able to hide behind being a pretty face, but he also is more deadly than most would give him credit.

"What are you going to do with the book?" I said. "You know there's more gold here, you could retire somewhere comfortable. I just want the book."

"If that was the reason we were here, we wouldn't have to worry." Luis's eyes were on the book. "Put the book down now, or I'll kill you now."

"Why haven't you killed me then?" I said and realized there had to be a reason for it. "There's something you need from me isn't there?"

Vanna shifted on his feet his tail whipping side to side as he grew irritated. I was close to something. I had something they didn't. Could this book be taken unless I gave it? Was that the answer? I opened the book and noticed on the front page of the book, where I had skipped in my first search was a sigil that would burn the book if it was stolen from its next owner. Me.

Freezing into place I looked at the other men and knew they. They could threaten me, kill me, but they would then lose the book.

"I'm sorry gentlemen." I said and shook my head. "but I'm not going to do that."

"Fine." Luis loosed the arrow and it pierced the leather of my jacket, the pain bloomed cold in my arm as I dropped the book. The cold slithered through me like a snake going towards its borrow. It was poison, and I didn't have any antidote on me. All of it was outside... with my gear.

I fell to the ground feeling boneless for a moment.

"Give us the book, and I'll give you the antidote, you'll get to live, live to fight another day." Luis crouched down beside me. The cold was cutting through me, but he did produce the antidote to show me he was being truthful. "Go on, just tell me it's mine, and then you're safe."

It can't be true. He can't be telling me the truth? But what choice did I have?

"Fine," I grunted. "The book is yours."

My breath hitched as his hand moved to the book. He picked it up and pulled away, without dropping the antidote. "You know it's sad, I hear you've been looking for this book because what did he tell you Van dear?"

"His mother vanished while researching the Captain's life," Vanna said, smirking at me. I was shivering now, the poison had latched onto me fully. "I think you said she might be dead?"

"She probably is dead. Not like she'd care about you." Luis opened the book and flipped through the pages. "This is perfect. Just what I was needing."

"The antidote." I croaked.

"I'm giving you what you really want Mr. Rudar. To see your mother again, in the afterlife." He turned back tucking the book into his jacket. Only for a moment later to draw a knife and plunge it into Vanna's chest. "And that's for betraying him, I don't keep traitors as lovers."

Blood bubbled up from Vanna's mouth his brown eyes large with concern. His death was going to be far sooner than mine I feared. He fell to the ground and he didn't even have the decency to look at me. Instead all of his shock was for the man who betrayed him.

"I think this is fitting, both of you, together." Luis paused momentarily to admire his handiwork then turned on his heel. "Goodbye, Mr. Rudar."

As his footsteps faded I started to crawl closer to Vanna. The light was barely left in his eyes, but that didn't mean he couldn't help me. Early, far earlier I was a mage. One who was willing to do darker magic to get ahead. But I had felt how draining that magic can be.

I dug my fingers into his blood and whispered words I had locked away. Swearing to a deeper thrumming magic that rested far within me. It swirled and twisted like it was too much for my skin. My body shook, I opened my mouth and the contents of my stomach came up. My whole pulsing mass of organs flexed and retched as a burning sensation seared its way through my veins.

Whispers happened next, dark whispers that told me I was coming home. I was going where I belonged if I died. I don't want to die, I will live because I have too much to live for.

Again I retched and this time a large lump was coughed up. It was a wiggling mass that looked like worms. The worms were a manifestation, it was the poison. All of it. But I fell over the dust of the ground covering me as I tried to breathe.

Taking each cool breath I settled my stomach. One breath, two breaths, three breaths. I counted to ten to know I was still alive. The poison was gone, and I was going to survive this.

Looking up I saw Vanna, his body had twisted during my spell. Like all of the living essences in him had dried up. He was already going to die, and I could have joined him or used him. In the end, I needed to live. I could regret this later. But I can't blame myself for it.

I'm covered in dust, blood, and sweat, and I have nothing to show for it. Looking back at the skeleton of the Captain I wanted to shout at him. Curse him for not making better traps to kill Luis before he got to me. But there is no point in being angry with a dead man.

I would find Luis again, I would find him, and convince him to give me the book. Then I'll be back on track. Then I can keep searching for my mother.

#First short #Indiana Jones Vibes #Not such a short short #Sassy Bunny Boy

3 notes · View notes

ojcobsessed · 3 years

Photo

Oliver Jackson-Cohen, on Bly Manor and Other Things That Haunt Him

by Diana Colcer for Cosmopolitan Romania, 24 October 2020

Energetic, suave, and anchored in the reality of the problems around us, Oliver Jackson-Cohen is part of a generation of actors looking for something else, something that will remain imprinted in the collective memory. I talked about this with the actor you know from The Haunting - by the way, the latest season, The Haunting of Bly Manor, now on Netflix, is the ideal choice for a scary night, if you want to spend Halloween at home this year. Let's see what Oliver Jackson-Cohen has to say about Bly Manor and other things that haunt him.

"Why choose a role that's safe when you can take risks?" This is the question that came to my mind as I was documenting the interview with Oliver Jackson-Cohen. Because that's what I was gathering from the things we know about him. You first saw Oliver as Luke in The Haunting of Hill House - and now, just in time for Halloween, you can see him again alongside Victoria Pedretti in the even scarier second season, The Haunting of Bly Manor. In this adaptation of the short ghost story The Turn of the Screw by Henry James, Oliver Jackson-Cohen plays the charming and manipulative Peter Quint, a character who hides many scary secrets and… I won't give away more!

So you understand what I'm talking about: Oliver is used to playing characters haunted both by their own inner conflicts (PTSD due to childhood traumas, drug addiction, etc.) and, well, ghosts. And the answer to the question at the beginning of the text, which I did not ask out loud, was given to me while I was talking to him. Born in London, Oliver, the son of fashion designer Betty Jackson, has dedicated his entire career to a different philosophy of acting, starting from the premise that fear makes you grow, develop and get out of your comfort zone.

And that's exactly how most of his roles are. After the BBC drama Larkrise to Candleford, he starred in the Emmy Award-nominated mini-series World Without End, then in shows such as Dracula and Man in an Orange Shirt. In real life, when he "strips off" his characters, Oliver is a guy oozing charisma and sex appeal: he’s 1.91m tall and has a pair of blue eyes in which you can get really lost, an extremely attractive and a style of being (and, let’s face it, dressing) extremely cool.

So, he’s one to watch, and, as such, we invite you to read the interview he gave us exclusively for Cosmopolitan Romania, after which we found out spectacular details about the unseen parts of horror, fashion, lifestyle and what Oliver Jackson-Cohen has something to say about Bly Manor and other things that haunt him.

What made you determined, at only 6 years old, to become an actor? Simple! I saw Home Alone at the movies and suddenly I wanted to be Kevin McAllister. I just couldn't believe a child was appearing in a movie. I remember my father explaining to me that he was an actor and then I said to myself, "Well, I'll do all that, too."

Many people who discover their dream at such a young age change their minds later. How did you stay in acting?

Looking back, it was probably a stupid thought [process]. But I became fascinated by how you can disappear into another world and how you can become whoever you want. I still think that these things are what kept up my passion for acting. I love the whole process behind this job and the way you translate into reality something that is not, in fact, real. It's also been about luck, I admit - that people pay me to do that, and that's how I make a living.

You appeared in the first season of The Haunting of Hill House as Luke Crain. I was impressed with how you managed to get Luke away from the typical drug addict stereotype. How did you avoid this cliché? I have seen many portrayals of drug addicts over the years and I wanted to show what the person behind the addiction is like, the one who is not defined by this addiction. I think that's an extremely important thing. All over the world, people are struggling with drug addiction and, most of the time, they are excluded and marginalised because of this, but also because they are seen only in this way, as addicts. I didn't intend to do this with Luke. I felt that it was essential for the public to see the man in him, to see that he is someone who is really shaken inside, someone who has lost control of what is happening to him, but who is always trying to control his addiction.

As a society, we usually condemn or shun such people. We need more empathy in these cases, and these people need to receive the attention shown primarily to them, not to the addiction they suffer from.

When your work is so rigorous, so emotional, I imagine it consumes you a lot to play a character who has struggled with addictions all his life. How do you detach yourself from this intensity? I can't tell you exactly. I don't think you can, to be honest. For the series The Haunting… the filming was long and stressful for all the actors, but also for the crew. I think you have to gradually detach yourself from the story, as much as you can, when you get home, but at the same time, you have to stay in the character's shoes, because the next day you return to the set for a new round of filming. It was a demanding experience, but it was worth it.

Is there anything you wish you’d known before you started working a horror TV show? Or about a series with an intense family drama? Know that it's not that scary when you're filming. Not at all. I started working from the pre-production phase and I knew it was going to be a ghost series… and, initially, I had the impression that there was always “someone” in my Atlanta apartment. But from the moment you get on set, you realise that the series about ghosts is just another job. The coolest thing when you are part of a horror series is when you realise, in the end, that you can watch it [later] without any problems, because all the tension and panic are built up in the editing process.

I know you're a big fan of the horror genre in general. Is it an area you want to explore further? I think so. But I wouldn't say that I intended, from the beginning, specifically, to explore any certain genre. Everything is, in fact, in the characters. Always. If it's an interesting role, I definitely want it. But what I find incredible about this genre is that the dose of horror is often a metaphor for other elements of our lives. But when horror is done properly, it can affect us incredibly, which is true.

You're back to haunt us again in the second season of the Netflix anthology series, this time called The Haunting of Bly Manor. What can you tell me about the new character you play? I'm afraid I don't want to reveal too much and I'd rather you watch the show and form your own impression. All I can say is that the new series, Bly Manor, is completely different from the first, which I like. My current character, a young man named Peter, is the polar opposite of Luke, so for me, as an actor, he was wonderful. Ah, also don’t even try to watch this season at night, alone at home, because the plot is really creepy!

About The Invisible Man, another classic monster comeback, in which you play alongside Elisabeth Moss (The Handmaid's Tale), what can you tell me? The film debates the notion of ownership of a person (editor’s note: Jackson-Cohen's character is a sociopath obsessed with control, and we don't know if he terrorises his ex-girlfriend as a ghost or if he actually staged his death). I look forward to seeing how this film will be received by the public, because Leigh Whannell is an incredible screenwriter and director. He wrote a fresh story, which I find brilliant, which follows the Invisible Man in the context of connections with other characters, but also with real people. It's a very clever movie.

How would you best describe yourself using the title of a movie?

Hm… The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, the classic directed by Sergio Leone in 1966.

Are you into fashion? Yes, I really am. I was raised by my parents who worked in the fashion industry, which influenced me quite a lot over the years.

Do you wear high-fashion pieces in everyday life? Why not?!

Your mother is the designer Betty Jackson. Has he ever given you advice on clothing style?

I don't know if she gave me style advice in the true sense of the word, but it's great to talk to her about style and clothes. Her belief has always been one like "Wear something that makes you feel good,” so I adopted this perspective as well. She is an incredible woman, with a good eye for fashion, so she often helps me.

You divide your life between London and Los Angeles. How do men groom themselves in the two cities? Have you noticed different approaches?

Probably. LA is a more eccentric place in terms of style and fashion, with more pressure to that end, at least from what I've noticed. In Los Angeles, it's more important to look good physically. In London, on the other hand, it seems more important to combine clothes and accessories in a cool and smart way.

How do you stay in shape?

I honestly don’t care. I only exercise when I have to, and when I don't have to, I eat everything I can. I go to the gym if I notice that my weight is getting out of control.

What do you like to do in your free time?

To be the laziest person. Seriously. I would love to count all the hours I’ve spent sleeping or lazing around!

#oliver jackson-cohen #oliver jackson cohen #peter quint #luke crain #thobm #the haunting of bly manor #the invisible man #interviews #2020 #photo shoots #translated by me and google

36 notes · View notes

thedistrictsleepsalonetonight · 4 years

Text

100 words (or people aren’t letting Jamie sleep but she doesn’t mind because she loves them)

The part Jamie is super mad about, is that if Peter Fucking Quint hadn’t existed, she would never have realized she was in love with Dani.

It is an irrational sort of exasperation, she knows, one that doesn’t even come halfway up the massive totem pole of problems that the man caused and in theory there are a lot more things she should have been mad at him about, she knows, but this, this tiny fact irks her most. She knows she should be madder about the fact that he was stalking them all at Bly Manor, that in his misguided belief that they, rather than he himself, had caused Rebecca to kill herself, he had attacked Hannah, and Dani and nearly kidnapped Flora but. Well.

(Guess it is easier to be furious about irrelevant things. Jamie supposes if she gives an of the above things more than five minutes of thought, she really will start boiling over with uncontrollable rage like some sort of demented teakettle.)

It is certainly easier to loathe the fact that Peter Fucking Quint will now forever be a part of their love story, one that she might quite possibly be telling her children at some point.

(A long, long time into the future, she will be telling this to Dani as they sit in their apartment, eating pancakes together.

“Children?” Dani will ask her, one eyebrow raised, lips pressed together to keep from laughing. “I don’t remember agreeing to having children with you.”

“Who else are you gonna have them with? Edna from next door?”

“Edna’s already got a husband.”

“Oh, that’s what’s stopping you?”

Dani will roll her eyes, hard and Jamie will note that it is not exactly a denial)

*****

Things have barely settled down at Bly Manor after what they’ve collectively dubbed as “The Peter Incident”, when Owen proposes a sleepover.

Everyone knows why that is. He hasn’t been able to let Hannah out of his sight for more than a couple of hours ever since she was attacked by that rat bastard. Neither has Miles. The poor kid is so wrapped up in all sorts of guilt and anger (the latter directed at Peter) that he’s been trying to make up for it by helping Hannah when she’s cleaning. They’ve tried to talk to him, but in his very young head, once he gets an idea, it’s almost impossible to talk him out of it.

And so Jamie finds herself lounging on the couch, playing cards with him, Owen and Hannah while Dani’s gone to the kitchen to get them another helping of the giant chocolate cake that Owen had baked earlier in the afternoon. Flora’s already asleep on the giant rug in front of the fire, having tuckered herself out by making them all chase her around the hall.

“You’re cheating,” Miles says, eyes narrowed.

“I most certainly am not!” Owen replies, indignantly. “I’m Owen.”

Jamie groans, and immediately gets shushed by Hannah.

“Control this man, please,” Jamie begs. At this rate she’s going to end up forfeiting by chucking all her cards at him and that would not be optimal to her ‘Impress Dani by being really cool at cards’ strategy.

Hannah just smiles fondly at him.

“You two are the worst,” Jamie grumbles. “Completely absorbed in each other.”

Of course, the statement is completely devoid of sting because that’s the moment Dani walks back in again, arms delicately handling four plates loaded with cake, and Jamie loses focus.

(Okay, so sue her for not caring about a stupid card game when her girlfriend was walking. Or breathing. Or simply existing. Everything Dani does is a glory to behold.)

She’s wearing Jamie’s bomber jacket, a jacket that is entirely too huge for her delicate frame. The sleeves have been bunched up close to her elbows, so they don’t cover her hands and the end of the jacket falls somewhere approximately mid-thigh, and Jamie is so floored by her that she forgets how to breath. The air freezes in her lungs, a product of the strange things her stomach seems to be doing inside; the blood rushing through her veins speeds up in response to the overtime beating of the very smitten organ inside her chest, and it would not be an overstatement to say that Jamie disintegrates into an enamored puddle in her seat.

“Gross,” Miles whispers, and the spell’s broken.

Owen and Hannah laugh quietly in the background, but Jamie can’t see past Dani, can’t hear anything besides the gentle ‘Hi baby’ that is whispered in her ear as the girl of her dreams settles in next to her.

The game continues.

“I don’t even know why we’re even playing,” Owen says, a few rounds later. “I mean, Jamie’s probably going to win anyways.”

“What? Why?”

“I mean, I’m sure you have a spade!”

There is a lot of staring.

“Because,” his shoulders are already shaking in laughter, “she’s a gardener!”

Hannah sighs.

“Get it?”

Dani’s the one who ends up grabbing all of Jamie’s card and throwing it at him in the end. The idiot is still laughing.

*****

Jamie watches Dani follow a trail of chaos all the way up to her room from Miles and Flora’s, picking up all sorts of things lying around. She sits, cross-legged on the bed, wrapped up in the blankets, and smiles brightly every time Dani looks up at her.

“You could help, you know?”

“I’m sorry, I’m just the gardener,” she replies, cheekily. “I’m just gonna sit here, all warm and bundled up and watch you do the child-rearing blah.”

Dani sticks her tongue out. “I’m all warm and bundled up too. And just because of that bit of cheekiness, your jacket is now mine. You’re not getting it back.”

I don’t want it back, she thinks, feeling very much like a crumpled-up piece of paper at the precious sight of her girlfriend in her clothes.

“Only if you pay me in kisses for it,” she tells Dani, solemnly.

Dani raises an eyebrow, advances, very, very slowly until she’s right up to the edge of the bed, pushes at her shoulders, until Jamie’s lying down. And then in a flash, she’s hovering over Jamie, so close that all she can see is the intense, bright blue of her eyes, all she can feel is the comforting weight of Dani on her, and the steady in and out of her breath hitting somewhere on her neck.

Jamie shivers. “Oh,” she says, because her mouth is apparently only capable of forming single syllables in the moment.

“Tell me, Jamie,” Dani asks, very quietly, the small puffs of her breathing making her feel very dismantled, “where, exactly, do you want me to kiss you?”

(If anyone asks, no, Jamie does not pass out for almost a minute. Nope. No sir. That is definitely not a thing that happens)

*****

Jamie is dreaming of flying through the village with steel wings, so it’s a surprise when all the people start hurling stones at her.

It’s the uneven tap-tap of the pellets hitting her wings that wakes her up, and even in through the groggy haze of consciousness, she realizes the sound, hesitant as it is, is actually coming from the direction of the door.

Disentangling from Dani is a task. An arduous one at that, mostly due to the fact that she’s so warm that Jamie kind of never wants to leave. Also because her girlfriend sleeps like a koala, completely wrapped around her. Her leg was resting on Jamie’s thighs, and she had an arm thrown over her stomach. When Jamie finally manages to get out from under her, she makes a noise in her sleep that has no business squeezing at Jamie’s heart the way that it does.

She tiptoes to the door, opens it very quietly, and then immediately drops onto her knees, looks at a very small-looking Flora.

“What,” she asks, frantically checking for she doesn’t know what. “What happened? Are you hurt? Is Miles okay?”

Flora blinks up at her. “I had a dream.”

Jamie’s hands still and come to rest on Flora’s shoulders. “Uh huh.”

“A scary dream,” Flora elaborates.

Oh thank God, she thinks, and on the heels of that, Fuck Peter Fucking Quint. She gently pulls the door close behind her and picks up Flora in one fluid motion, carrying her towards her room.

“What was the dream about?” she asks, once, she’s deposited Flora onto her bed, and complied with her request to let her hold one of the dolls.

“Peter,” Flora says, her eyes wide and serious.

(From the bottom of her heart, fuck Peter Fucking Quint)

“Peter isn’t here, though,” she says, getting up from the bed and making a huge show of bending down to check under the mattress. She walks over to the closet, and pulls it open with a flourish, turning her head in an exaggerated motion from side to side to scan it. “See? Nothing.”

“Behind the dollhouse,” Flora points.

“If he were behind the dollhouse, your dolls could easily beat him up,” Jamie tells her, and Flora giggles. She checks, anyways.

“Jamie, I’m awfully sorry I woke you up,” Flora says once she’s next to the bed again, and Jamie feels an invisible hand nudge something into place around her chest at the look on her face.

“Well, I’m not sorry you woke me up, so don’t worry about it, okay?”

Flora smiles.

*****

When she walks out of Flora’s room, she nearly get another heart attack at the sight of Dani standing, motionless, just behind the door.

“Jesus fucking—” she gasps, hand on her chest. “What is with the members of this place trying to scare the fuck out of me?”

“You’re a giant baby,” Dani says, already falling into step beside her, hand instinctually coming up to wrap around Jamie’s waist. “And I thought I was supposed to be the child-rearing expert, huh?”

This is Flora, she thinks. She’s grown up in front of me. I’ve watched them shoot up like my roses. I’ve loved those buggers a thousand times more than any flower I’ve ever raised.

“You’re an eavesdropper,” Jamie retorts, instead.

“And you’re a leavesdropper,” Dani announces, and immediately starts giggling. “Because you trim the plants.”

Jamie sighs.

*****

They stand by the window in the middle of the night, looking out over Bly Manor grounds. Jamie has dragged the blanket out of the bed, and wrapped it around them, as she rests her chin on Dani’s shoulder from behind.

“Has Owen worked up the courage to kiss Hannah yet?” Dani asks, as they watch them crashed on top of each other next to the fire burning near the lake.

Jamie chuckles. “I don’t think so.”

“What a loser.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she deadpans, pressing a quick kiss to Dani’s red cheeks. “Some people like taking it slow. Unlike others who propose sleeping together on the first date.”

Dani tips her head back, looks at her, her eyes bright and full of laughter. “You didn’t sound like you minded very much. In fact, if I remember well, you sounded a lot like—”

Jamie holds her palm over Dani’s mouth. “Shut up,” she says, blushing.

Dani maneuvers until they’re facing each other, presses her forehead to Jamie’s. “No regrets?” she asks, and the question is casual, but her eyebrows are drawn together.

Jamie smoothens her brow. “None.”

Dani kisses her. “Same. Every shitty thing Peter did to us, I’m — I’m still okay with it in some weird way because it led me to you.”

The girl of her dreams stands in her arms in the middle of the night, sleepy and earnest, and Jamie feels her world tilting for a minute. It settles on a new axis; the air shifts to make space for all the extra tenderness she guesses is probably pouring out of her right now; and Jamie realizes her world will never be the same again.

(There’s something finally prettier than the moon in her universe)

She opens her mouth, almost says three words.

“What?” Dani asks.

Jamie shakes her head. Too soon.

“Let’s go to bed,” she says, instead, and things are as close to perfect as they could possibly be.

#the haunting of bly manor #dani x jamie #thobm fanfic #fanfiction #based on a prompt #found family feels #everybody lives #again #no editing we die like dani clayton #my back is killing me but i absolutely had to write it so forgive me if there's an insane number of references to hearts #I'm only like semi-functional at the moment

37 notes · View notes

boat-dock · 3 years

Text

“Snapshots” Chapter 1

Hello all! this is chapter 1 of my first ever Her Royal Highness fic. this is going to be a collection of oneshots which will start before they are together and will continue past the end of the book. I hope ya’ll enjoy and as always any and all feedback is appreciated and enjoyed

Chapter 1 “Her traitorous heart” is set between the visit to Skye and the surprise Thanksgiving.

Millie laid on her stomach in her bed, with her laptop open staring at a blank screen where her essay was supposed to be. She’s been sitting there for half an hour trying to do her homework and not getting anywhere. Flora was in the room with her, not helping her distraction levels. Instead of trying to do work, Flora was rolling around the room in a rolly chair, the scraping of the wheels against the floor and her swishing blonde ponytail constantly pulling at Millie’s focus. It was a strangely childlike activity for a princess to be doing and brought a smile to her face.

“Can you please be a little quieter?” Millie groaned, causing Flora’s head to snap towards her, “I’m trying to work.”

Now the chair was being rolled toward her bed so Flora could rest her chin on the edge of her bed, so that she was only inches away from Millie. “But I’m bored Quint,” she whined, a strand of hair falling in front of her eyes.

Millie rolled her eyes at that,” You could try doing some homework,” she offered, trying to nudge her away. Flora huffed at her and scrunched her nose. She was not deterred, however, she seemed even more determined to get attention.

“Quiiiint,” she dragged out, poking her lightly on her arm. Millie ignored her and tried to bring her attention back to her essay, letting her fingers run quickly over the keys even though no useful words came out of it. “Millie,” she whispered and a shiver ran up her spine. She was so used to being called Quint that hearing Flora say her name caused her mind to go blank and her breath to hitch. Millie looked at her and blinked back to reality.

“Yeah Flo?” she asked. The nickname she had heard Seb call her so many times, slipped out without her evening thinking about it.

Flora’s face lit up, but she couldn’t tell if it was from the nickname or just from her attention in general. “I would like attention please.”

It would have been so easy to drop everything and hang out with Flora, in fact she’d been doing that more and more these days and that was doing nothing but fan the flames of her pesky little crush. It was easy to follow Flora, she was powerful and confident in a way that only a princess could pull off. It was dangerous, because Millie found that her feelings were not nearly as aware that a relationship with Flora would only end in heartbreak as her brain was. “I can’t, “ she pushed back,” I have to write this paper.”

The look Flora gave her could only be described as a puppy dog look and Millie’s resolve almost broke. They sat in silence as she tried to keep working, but Flora stayed next to her, watching with her large golden eyes. “Can I have your phone?” she asked. Normally Millie might have questioned this but she was desperate to actually make progress on this paper so she handed it over no questions asked.

With a grin she rolled away from the bed to mess with Millie’s phone. A strange weight was lifted off of her shoulders and she could breathe again. Being that close to her old roommate, now friend, shouldn’t be this hard. The princess was now taking various selfies and saving them to Millie’s phone. “Couldn’t you do that on your phone?”

“Perhaps, but I couldn’t use the fun snapchat filters,” she answered, shooting her a sly grin and snapping another photo. She forgets that Flora isn’t allowed to have social media by her family.

“Go crazy then,” she says, leaving her to enjoy her selfies.

Flora flashed her a dazzling smile and left her to try and do her homework. Even with the new found quiet she still found it hard to concentrate, her mind wandered and all her thoughts seemed to find their way back to her ex-roommate. Somewhere along the way, her fingers stopped typing and her eyes glazed over. She’s snapped out of it when Flora’s voice disrupts the silence, except this time it wasn’t aimed at her.

When she looked she found Flora talking to her phone, “Hi Americans,” she sang, waving at the camera. It was then that Millie noticed the blinking red button on the bottom of the screen that showed it was recording,” I’m..”

“What are you doing?” Millie cut in, scrunching her eyebrows. She shifted her weight so she was fully facing Flora and the camera.

Flora turned toward her and spoke, while sliding the chair back closer to the bed,” I’m talking to the Americans and I’m going to post it to your story,” she said blatantly. She almost snorted but stopped herself, she had at most 20 friends on snapchat, four close friends, her aunt Vi and the rest were random kids she used to go to high school with but never really spoke to.

She leaned forward and rested her head in her hands making eye contact with the camera,” and how many people do you think are going to see that?” she asked.

“Don’t really care,” she commented,” I’m just bored, love.” she now turned back to the camera,” Amelia here, is very busy writing her essay and I have nothing to do.” Millie huffed and gave a small eye roll.

“You could go do your homework ya know,” she was deliberately ignored.

The door to her room flew open as Sakshi and Perry came in carrying snacks and coffee laughing with each other. Flora flipped the phone camera with ease, so that their friends were now in the shot, “ Say hello to the Americans,” she announced, startling them.

Saks regained her composer quickly and answered,” Hullo Americans,” she grinned, waves of super model charms flowing from her.

“Hi,” Perry murmmured,” we come bearing snacks.”

Millie’s stomach growled loudly at the mere mention of snacks. The camera switched back to her and Flora and the filter snapped back into place, giving their skin a ethereal glow that made her kind of uneasy. Not that Flora needed any filter to be beautiful, she always seemed to glow all on her own.

“Time to go,” she said waving,” Anything to say before we leave Quint?”

She thought for a second before smirking and answering,” Send help,” she deadpanned, letting her eyes slide to Flora to see how she reacted.

“Oi!” she exclaimed, in what Millie assumed was mock outrage.

“Kidding,” she grinned,” Bye y’all,” she quickly grabbed the phone, effectively ending the video. Accepting a muffin and coffee from Perry, she tried to forget the video, knowing that Flora definitely was not going to.

“Are we going to ignore the fact that Millie just said y’all,” Saks’ asked through a mouthful of muffin, in a surprisingly unlady-like manner for her.

“...I’ve probably said it before,” Millie answered as Saks sat on her bed on the opposite side of the room. Flora abandoned her chair to join Millie on her bed so that Perry could have it. She sipped her coffee and scrunched her nose, in an annoyingly cute way, before setting it to the side. “I’m from the American south, it’s part of my vernacular.”

“I like it, “ Flora replied, “ it’s got a cute twang to it.”

Millie’s cheeks burned against her will and she ducked her head, avoiding eye contact with everyone. She had gotten used to hearing the Scottish accent around her now, but sometimes it still shocked her. It was strange to think that they might think the same things when they heard her talk. She didn’t have a good way to respond to this, so instead she just kept her head down, ignoring the weight of Flora’s eyes on her and the knowing look Sakshi was giving them.

Her paper now forgotten, Millie closed her laptop and moved to put it on the desk simply so that she would have something to do with her hands. There was officially too much attention on her and she did not know what to do with herself. She was used to being in the background, not the center of attention and right now there was no doubt that all eyes were on her.

Her phone dinged next to her annoyingly quickly indicating that someone had messaged her. She sighed knowing that it was about the video Flora had posted of all of them. The princess eyed the phone but before she could make a move to grab it Millie snatched it and clicked it on.

She had a list of people from her old high school that she did not want to talk to and while the person she caught Jude cheating on her with was not on the top of said list he was definitely on it. Mason’s name sat heavily on her screen and she almost didn’t open it, but her curiosity got the better of her.

She tried to make her fingers move but they sat stubborn and still. This was ridiculous, Mason didn’t know anything about her and Jude, there was no reason for things to be weird between them. Taking a deep breath, she clicked the message.

Damn Millie who’s your friend?

A distressed sound escaped from her throat, it started off as a yelp then turned into a groan. On instinct she threw her phone onto the bed face down trying to erase the words from her mind

No. This was not happening. Not again.

No. No. No.

“What’s wrong with you Quint?” Flora asked, picking up the phone. Millie could see her eyes scanning the message. An all too familiar smirk formed on her lips and Millie could barely keep herself from staring, “Oh,” she says and an emotion that Millie couldn’t place flashed across her face, but disappeared as quickly as it had come,” Some American lad thinks I’m attractive. I don’t think that requires that level of a reaction.” she teased, her smirk returning causing Millie’s cheeks to heat up.

By this point Saks and Perry were peering over Flora’s shoulder to read the message too. “It’s not the message as much as the person that sent it,” she backtracked.

“Who is he?” Perry asked.

She took a second too long to answer, “ his name’s Mason,” they all stared at her, waiting for more information. “He’s who I caught Jude cheating on me with.” she murmured and lowered her eyes.

Saks gasped and before she could blink the phone was in her hand. “I want a picture of this boy,” she announced only to find that there was nothing for her to see. With a disappointed huff she and Flora glared at the home as Perry wheeled the chair across the room to join them.

“Check his instagram,” he announced and then Saks’ fingers were flying over the screen.

“Give me that,” Millie growled, taking the phone back to respond to the message.

I thought you were with Jude?

Mason typed and deleted his reply at least three times before it finally came through.

We broke up about 2 months ago.

I thought she would have told you

Her stomach knotted. She wasn’t happy about that, she wasn’t. But there was some sick satisfaction in knowing that the relationship had not worked out. She pushed down those feelings scolding herself.

We haven’t talked much recently.

Her friends were watching her intently but she made no move to let them read the messages. She deserved some privacy after all.

That sucks

This conversation had turned painfully awkward fast. She started looking for ways to end it.

For you too

She thought that would be the last of it and they would both go back to not speaking to each other for the next three months, until she was back in Texas for Christmas. Sadly she was mistaken.

So is that a no from your friend?

Just like that Millie closed the phone without answering and tossed it, determined to forget the entire conversation had ever happened. Sadly her friends didn’t agree with her. “Well…” Flora pushed, her eyes sparkling with the prospects of new gossip ,” What did he say?”

“Nothing important,” she said bluntly, trying to put an end to this whole thing. They all moved in closer to her and she realized that the only way to end this was to give them what they wanted,” he just said that he and Jude aren’t together anymore and then he asked about you again.”

An annoying smirk was again graced Flora’s face, she was relishing this, she was relishing how Millie was reacting to this. Millie hated how she was reacting to this situation, she hated that she wasn’t mad at Mason because of his relationship with Jude, she was upset because he was interested in Flora. Except she had no right to be possessive over Flora, Flora was not her’s. They were ex-roommates and barely even friends, nothing more.

If only she could convince her traitorous heart that.

#her royal highness #flora baird #princess flora #millie quint #there are not enough fics for this book #wlw

11 notes · View notes

jewish-gay-elves · 3 years

Text

Oh, Calamity

“I don’t believe in the Maker,” he says, breaking the silence that followed your coupling.

A soulmate/reincarnation au fic where I play around with the idea of soulmates without identifying marks or timers that have to find each other every lifetime!

Words: 4803, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 3 of the Stephan Cousland: There's Never Much of a Choice for You

Fandoms: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age (Video Games) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Alistair (Dragon Age), Male Cousland, Goldanna, Cailan Theirin, Anora Mac Tir Relationships: Alistair/Warden (Dragon Age), Alistair/Male Warden (Dragon Age), Alistair/Cousland, Alistair/Male Cousland Additional Tags: ok just wanted to cover all my bases on the ship tags lol, also goldanna/cailan/anora's presences in the fic are v limited, like a sentence each p much, Songfic, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Reincarnation, please let me know if there should be more tags!, also please ask if you have questions!

“I don’t believe in the Maker,” he says, breaking the silence that followed your coupling. You lift your head and rest your chin on his chest, mulling over his words. Morrigan is always scolding you for saying the first thing to come to mind, and this feels like it requires a more thoughtful approach.

“Okay,” you say, and it is. Truly, it is okay. His belief or lack thereof in the Maker has no impact on how much you both care about each other. Your own faith in in the Maker hasn’t been the most unshakeable, who are you to decide whether or not he’s wrong? You can feel the tension in the arm he has around your waist lessen until his grip is as gentle as it was before. He was never really one to go in the Chantry and it makes sense to you now why not. You thought he just wasn’t really one for all the anti-magic shtick that they preach.

“One of my tutors, he came from Rivain,” he begins, offering an explanation. “While we still had Aldous, my parents wanted Fergus and me to have a more rounded education. He kept his lessons mostly academic, but I enjoyed his company so much I often stayed after and he told me of Rivain and their beliefs,”

You rest your cheek against his chest again, still listening but curling closer to him. He waited a minute, just listening to you breathe before continuing.

“He said that everything in Thedas and beyond were made of energy. Humans, elves, dwarves, qunari, and all the other beings. That energy exists in a cycle. Once the energy in a being has been exhausted in say, an old man, it would go then to a newborn. This continues the cycle, with the same energy and souls from before, just reborn. He said the stress of childbirth erased the memories from the past life, making it harder to remember things from before,” he explained.

“Have you ever remembered anything from one of your past lives?” you asked, wondering if stray dreams may have influenced his belief in the Rivaini.

“No, and I doubt I will remember anything from before. This is a fairly new line of thinking in Ferelden and if it’s true I doubt that any of my past lives believed in it. I think that increases the chance of never remembering those lives, just thinking that nothing came before solidifies the experiences in this time. As sad as it sounds I’m not even sure I’d like to remember those lives,” he said, puzzling you.

“Well, why not?” you ask, lifting your head to look at him again.

“I can’t know if those lives were as lucky as this one to have been able to find you,” he says, lifting a hand to your cheek as you two look at each other. You both lean in for a kiss and you think to yourself that it’s hard to imagine never meeting him in any kind of life.

When I was younger I was certain I’d be fine without a Queen Just a king inside his castle, with an ocean in between Now all I do is sit and count the miles from you to me Oh, Calamity!

You sit on your throne, looking out at the crowd gathered in light of festivities. Teagan stands by your side, Maker bless him. Eamon and young Connor are back in Redcliffe, Isolde caught fever and Connor insisted Eamon stay with them until she recovered. The other nobles are all drinking heavily, well into their cups and you are painfully aware of the missing Arl of Amaranthine. You know he passed on the title back to the Howes and Nathaniel years ago before he even began his search for a cure but, he should be here.

You can see Fergus from your throne speaking to the nobles around him, some minor lordlings from South Reach looks like. They must be discussing politics for you can see Fergus’ top lip twitching. His brother had the same twitch that tells when either of them are about to seal a good deal. Probably speaking of possible marriage arrangements for Fergus’ boy.

You wonder if he thinks about his first son often but as the lordlings turn to retrieve more drinks you see a wave of grief pass over his face before the mask is back in place. You were able to return Highever to the Couslands but in the years since you’ve wondered if they even wanted it back. Nothing either of them said to you indicated otherwise but whenever you visit and they are both there they get certain looks on their faces. As if they were forced to eat Orleisian cheeses.

He must have noticed your eyes on him because Fergus turns to look up to where you sit. The grief is still in his eyes as he gives you a nod before returning to the festivities. You always wondered if he blamed you for having to remarry and raise heirs, knowing that his brother was otherwise occupied as Warden Commander and would never have given Highever heirs of his own willingly.

Seeing as you won’t be making heirs either and that the throne was mostly going to one of his sons you doubted that he could hate you forever. You make a mental note to later write to Fergus about the idea. Provided that you spoke to your fellow Warden about it as well. As soon as he returned of course. Because he would return, he’s the Hero of Fereldan for Maker’s sake, and also because you have had a cold spot in your bed for far too long. Teagan leans over and makes to whisper in your ear.

“Stop thinking about the Prince-Consort, you have the most unwelcoming look on your face,” he says before leaning back. You shoot him a grin upon seeing his sly smile.

“I’m that transparent am I?” you ask rhetorically, straightening your back with only two or three pops compared to the normal five or six. The chair (Eamon says you must refer to it as the throne but in all honesty, it’s just a chair) is far too uncomfortable and you wish said Prince-Consort was here to complain to but that will have to wait for another day.

We get older by the hour, watch the changes from afar. Keep forgetting to remember, where we’ve been is who we are. Now all I do is wonder why we ever set the scene Oh, Calamity

You lean against your shovel, looking up at the sky. Your eye is drawn to where they say the Breach once tore the heavens asunder. You think back to the stories the older servants tell of being children while the world was thrown into chaos by the Archdemon.

They say that among the rubble of the Temple of Sacred Ashes the Inquisitor arose as the Herald of Andraste with a hand sparkling green with ancient Elvhen magics. That they had been touched by Fen’Harel himself. Your knowledge of the Elvhen Parthenon is limited, but the savior of Thedas being touched by the Dread Wolf seemed a bit ironic to you.

It had been almost a century since the sky was closed by the might of the Inquisition and while it still had power, Ferelden no longer felt torn. Struggling to choose between the Inquisition and the throne. While the Inquisition started in Ferelden it had no power over country affairs. King Alistair and his Prince-Consort, may they rest at the Maker’s side, supported the Inquisition in that it would close the Breach was sure to remind them that true power in Ferelden laid with the crown.

To be honest you preferred the late monarchs of Ferelden, may they rest at the Maker’s side, to the Inquisition. The two surviving Grey Wardens of the Battle at Ostagar, saved by a Witch of the Wilds to unite Ferelden and prevent civil war in order to fight the darkspawn.

No one quite knows when or how the two Wardens got involved after ending the Fifth Blight, or whether or not they weren’t together before slaying the Archdemon. But they stood together against the nobles at the Landsmeet, declaring King Alistair the rightful heir and their engagement to each other. You always thought it was very romantic, the last two Grey Wardens standing together against nobles and darkspawn alike.

“What a lazy arse you are Marc!” a voice you recognize as Quint’s called from behind you. You turned to see him walking down the hill towards you, his hands dirty from where he was likely gardening in front of the main house all day, an equally dirty spade tucked between his belt and trousers. You gave him a smile as he approached, knowing that the work day was likely over and he was coming to collect you for dinner.

“I happen to know that you like my arse, whether it’s lazy or not,” you said back to him. Your mind’s eye flickered as he smirked at you, a delicate golden circlet with lavish jewels appearing on his head, the spade at his side now a decorated sword. You frowned, shaking your head to clear the vision. As he reached you he slid his arms around your waist.

“You alright, love?” he asked cautiously. You smiled for him, returning the gesture and wrapping your arms around him as well. You wondered if Quint had ever had a moment like that. As if a memory placed itself over the current view you had. Doubtful, Quint was likely more focused on his next meal.

“Fine, I’m fine. Just tired I guess,” you said blinking the strange vision out of your eyes. “Let’s go see what Cookie’s whipped up for tonight shall we?”

“Hey I heard that the Lord has a visitor from Rivain staying for a while,” He starts telling you earnestly, already coming up with all sorts of wild tales.

It’s such a shame that we play strangers No act to change what we’ve become Damn it’s such a shame that we built a wreck out of me Oh, Calamity.

“It’s not the first time I’ve had one of these visions Neil! There has to be some meaning behind them I just can’t figure out what!” you exclaim, curling your hands into fists against your temples. Neil sits on the cot a foot or so away from where you are curled in on yourself.

“Okay, okay, Wil I believe you,” he says extending his hands out in a placating manner. You peer at him, lifting your head from where you pushed it against your knees. He’s looking at you earnestly with his wide honest eyes and you find your initial fear of him ridiculing you disappearing.

“Just start from the beginning, when did they begin?” He asks you patiently. You take a deep breath and lower your arms to wrap around your calves. You collect your thoughts and decide to be honest.

“I think I’ve always had them, but I could never remember them until after I met you,” you start out. “It’s like I’m living another person’s life, but it just overlaps my own. I’ll see my papa start walking towards me but then his face isn’t his but instead its some Rivaini dressed in the Grey Warden uniform from before the Fifth Blight. My mother gets replaced by someone in servants clothing patting my cheek. And you, you have five different faces. All of them look like they lived centuries ago. There is maybe a century between each of them, with the oldest one from before the Breach.”

“Lived before the Breach? Wil that was back in what, 9:34 Dragon?” Neil says concern clear on his face.

“The Breach opened in 9:41 Dragon,” you correct him.

You’re scared to tell him that he doesn’t take on the face of just anyone from before the Fifth Blight but the face of the Warden who defeated that Blight. You’re scared to tell him that sometimes you look in the mirror and it’s not your face that greets you. That you have five different faces as well. And the oldest face that you see is one drawn in countless history books from the royal portrait archives to your classroom textbook. King Alistair, the last of the Theirins to sit on the throne before he gave it to his Prince-Consort’s nephews, he looks at you in the mirror. He’s always much younger than in the portraits but you know it’s him.

You’re scared that if you tell Neil he will remember the history lessons that covered King Alistair and his Grey Warden Prince-Consort. That they would only be known as the first two men to rule Ferelden as a couple together if they hadn’t also defeated a Blight. You’re scared because this is too new with Neil, you aren’t even sure if you like like him that way and what if he doesn’t like like you like that either? He’s been your only friend since you moved to Lothering a year ago. You refuse to lose a friend like him for something- something like this!

Neil is just as quiet as you, now that you’ve finished your tale. A moment passes before he scoots nearer to you on the bed and slings an arm around your shoulders and drawing you closer to him.

“We’re going to figure this out, ok Wil? I don’t know how, and I don’t know when, but we'll figure it out,” he says and it disturbingly sounds like a promise falling from his lips and you look at him in surprise. He has a soft smile on your face, and a little twitch in his upper lip and you’re almost overcome with another déjà vu vision but you tamper it down and stay in this moment where there is just you and Neil.

You find yourself nodding with a grin spreading across your face. His good mood and attitude becoming infectious as you sit on the little cot.

“C’mon, let’s go downstairs, I remember Ma said there was a visitor from Rivain who checked in yesterday,” Neil invited you, standing up and offering you a hand up. You gladly take it and you both head downstairs together.

I’ll remember nights alone, waking up to dial tone Always found my greatest moments in the sound of your hello. Now I struggle to recall the reasons you would come to leave. Oh, Calamity

You didn’t want to call Elijah, you didn’t want to call Elijah, but you wanted to call Elijah. Damn it, you thought to yourself, picking up your telephone. You impatiently pushed the rotary around waiting until it finally put you through. Thankfully, it wasn’t either of Elijah’s, frankly lovely if not a tad overbearing, parents who answered the phone.

“Hello, this is the Philips?” he said, sounding a bit confused by the late call.

“Elijah, it’s me. Benjamin,” you replied. This was a bad idea, you can already tell. You both don’t really know each other how can you be sure it’s him? Your parents always said it took a little while to know if someone was your soulmate. They told you it took time before you could be sure that the overlapping faces were truly the person you were meant to be with. That sometimes, if you rushed it, it wouldn’t be right. But you’re scared, scared it’ll never be right and if you never say anything you’ll never know what you missed.

“Oh hey, Ben. What’s up? Did you forget something at my house?” He asks, not picking up on your nerves at all. You can’t tell if he’s just dense or extremely considerate. Either option is endearing to you and makes the lump in your throat that much harder to speak around. Should you even tell him?

“Uhh no, no I’ve got everything, I just, wanted to call?” it comes out as a question and you want to hang up and then beat yourself over the head with the receiver. You can hear him pause and huff out a laugh of sorts. You want to smile because you’ve seen that laugh in person and can imagine him doing it in your head but it was at your expense and you are so nervous.

“Well, so you’ve called me. Are you feeling okay Ben?” he asks and you almost panic because he can tell, he can tell can’t he, that you don’t know why you called and you want it to be more than what it probably is but you are propelled by fear and nerves and find yourself confessing.

“Eli have you ever met someone and felt like you know them? Like you meet them and something clicks and it feels like you’ve known them all along?” you ask nervously, your voice cracks in the middle but you power through because you are not going to let your sixteen year old voicebox ruin this for you. You listen to Eli suck in a breath of surprise and pause before cautiously picking out his words.

“Ben, I uh. I have felt that way about someone before,” he says to you and you can feel your heart slowly crawl its way out of your stomach and into your throat. You want to ask who, and whether or not it is you. Whether or not he knows what you’ve been going through. However it seems as though you let your indecision carry on too long because Eli is speaking again.

“I’ve felt that way about you Ben, and I don’t know if you ever would feel that way around me but, the dreams stopped after I met you Ben. I don’t see my soulmate in the Fade anymore and I’m scared about what that means but I think I caught a flash of him on your face the other night when you smiled at me and I. I don’t know what this means but I, I would very much like to find out.” he rambles, his voice barely louder than a whisper, almost too quiet for you to hear over the blood rushing in your ears.

“Elijah, oh Elijah, I want to find out too. I want to find out so very badly,” you say twisting the cord between your fingers, nervous about what you’re about to ask him. “Do you maybe, want to go to the fair with me tomorrow then? And come over afterward?” you have the cord wrapped so tightly around your finger that you think it’s starting to cut off circulation but you’re too busy waiting for a response to answer.

“Yes,” he breathes out, like it was the only way to respond “Yes, I’d love to go to the fair with you Ben,”

It’s such a shame that we play strangers No act to change what we’ve become Damn, it’s such a shame that we built a wreck out of me. Oh, Calamity

You always dreamed of a man when you were younger. A man who was as gentle as the breeze and as strong as the oaks in your backyard and he was the right kind of funny. A man who was sharper than knives and had a tongue to match his quick wit. He didn’t always look the same, his hair would change color and length, he’d get short and then tall and then short again. His eyes however, no matter what color they were, always looked at you with the gentlest expression.

You’re five years old and you only see him when you sleep, wrapped in the Fade together. You both play tag chasing each other round floating bookcases and sheer cliffs.

In time you realized that this was what your parents called “nature’s way of showing you your other half”. There were more technical terms for it now but you weren’t really interested in that. You were excited about this other half business. As a child you wondered if he liked playing with toy cars too, or if he was one of those boys who’d rather build towns only to wreck later, pretending to be great archdemons from old.

You’re twelve years old and your mother finally sits down and talks to you about how sometimes it doesn’t happen. That you aren’t always guaranteed a happy ending due to location and distance.

Your teachers explained that as you grew older, your soul began to recognize that it was missing something. Missing your soulmate, to try and amend this, your body produced dreams and visions of previous lives and people who your soul had found time and time again. Your body doesn’t know what your soulmate looks like this cycle so you can’t see who it is now, but you can dream, and remember. That’s why you see the boy in your dreams.

You’re nineteen years old and lonely and tired of searching and tired of disappointment. Despite this, no matter who or when someone offers a night to alleviate the pain a bit, you decline and dream of your boy who smiles at you with the same sad look in his eyes that you’ve started carrying in your own.

You wake up the morning before your birthday alone in your apartment when your brother calls to tell you that he’s found his soulmate. He invites you to dinner to meet the girl and you accept it, happy to share this moment with your brother. You get there and are reminded that in this lifetime happiness is for the man once called Cailan who died before he even knew he had a brother. Happiness is for the woman once called Anora who watched her father get executed in front of her. Happiness is not for you.

You’re fifty-four years old and playing with your nephews despite your angry knees and their arthritis. Your only niece sits with her mother because the mud just wasn’t her cup of tea and you can hear the perceptive little ten year old ask “Momma, why isn’t Uncle married like you and Daddy?”

When the alzheimer’s starts to take you, it gets hard to remember your niece’s name even though she was always your secret favorite. She still visits you but it’s hard on her and you can tell. She reminds you that she’s in college for her Master’s degree but you still don’t know what the degree is. You are forgetting a lot of things these days, but when you close your eyes the same familiar face greets you every time and you feel young again.

You’re eighty-seven years old and that is the best description of you. Old.

If I catch you on the corner will you even know it’s me? Will I look familiar to you? Do you offer me a seat? Can we find a new beginning? Do you turn the other cheek? Oh, Calamity!

Job hunting sucked. End of story, no other options, game over, it sucked and that was it. Thankfully Gwen (you wonder if she remembers yelling at you in that dingy house back in Denerim) said that you only had to do it for a few hours and three hours seemed long enough to you at least. You walked to the closest café, pulling the messenger bag higher on your shoulder as you turned the corner. The day was nice enough; maybe you could stop and sit down at one of the outside tables.

After ordering (a tea of some sort and a cheesy croissant) you went back outside looking for a table. Sadly other patrons must have had the same idea that you did and most of the tables were already full. A particularly rowdy group of teens had already occupied one corner of the outside arrangements and you’d like to sit as far away from them as possible. You walk over to see if perhaps there are more tables around the side of the building, you’re out of luck but no one’s sitting in such a dense group as at the other tables.

You gaze around and finally you see someone sitting with a laptop and a few papers. You aren’t sure how friendly they are but they seem a better choice than the dodgy old man who glares at anyone who comes near. You walk up to the table with the man and his laptop, not the old guy, and hesitantly get the attention of the man sitting there.

“Oh uh hello, uhm may I sit here? This café is strangely busy and I’d rather not sit by all those teenagers. Not that I have a problem with teenagers but it’s a tad distracting when they scream random memes. Am I rambling? I think I’m rambling, I can find another table somewhere else,” the words fall out of your mouth in a somewhat coherent pattern and you hope he understands what you said.

“No, no you’re alright. Please, sit,” he says with a gentle smile, he even shuffles his papers closer to himself so you can set down your cup. You sling your bag over the back of the chair and sit down across from him. After sitting you smack yourself in the forehead before speaking again.

“Where are my manners today I’m sorry, my name is Van, pleased to meet you,” you say, extending your hand across the table to shake his. He has a strong grip and you’re glad you can return it in kind.

“The pleasure is mine, you can call me Ryan,” he says to you. After a moment, he watches you as you meticulously take apart your cheesy croissant. You flush under his gaze in embarrassment.

“Sorry, I’m just a little curious as to what you’re doing?” he asks looking over your mangled food.

“Oh! Well, you see, they hide the good bits under all this bread in some attempt to even out the flavor. However the truly tasty part is the lovely cheese blend they make here and I think they should just sell that on it’s own but the dear owner disagrees with me. Quite strongly in fact,” you explain to him. He chuckles at your explanation and then adds his own input.

“You know, the last time I met someone so in tune to the finer aspects of good cheese, he was a very strange man who spent time remembering his former life in a monastery where the boys had some fascination with lamp posts,” he says, and your eyes snap open to take in his features anew, yes there’s the twitch of the upper lip. You smirk back at him and take a second to remember a highlight in your relationship.

“Well, have you ever licked a lamp post in winter?” you drawl out hoping that your voice in this lifetime sounds similar to when you first said it back in the ninth age. He full out grins back and stands up to lean over the table and grab your shirt tugging you in.

“Congratulations on coming back to me again, my King,” he retorts, ignoring your question.

“I think you’re the one I should be saying that too Mr. Grey Warden who simply had to push me out of the way so that he could deal the last blow to the archdemon,” you snark back at him, remembering that fateful night. He just rolls his eyes at you and closes the distance, leaving the past memories in favor of making new ones.

It’s such a shame that we play strangers No act to change what we’ve become Damn, it’s such a shame that we play strangers No act to change what we’ve become Damn it’s such a shame that we built a wreck out of me Oh, Calamity

“Almost makes you wish we could just fight another Blight and be done with it?”

“I’d take a Blight over a hundred awkward first dates, maybe not actually. There are too many darkspawn during those. And with our first dates I’m more likely to get laid now,”

“The one thing the movies never have, a shambling horde of shrieks and genlock to ruin our day,”

“The movies do end up with me back at your place more times than not surprisingly, seeing as you were the last one to lick a lamp post in winter between the two of us,”

“Oh we’ll see who’s licking the lamp post this time around Warden,”

“You know I’m not one of those anymore, especially since it’s been what, five centuries since the order died out?”

“Yes but this is probably our twentieth first meeting and it gets confusing if I try to remember all of the names you’ve had,”

“True enough, you royal bastard,”

Oh, Calamity, come back to me.

#alistair theirin #writing #stephan #stephan cousland #m!cousland #dragon age #dragon age origins #goldanna #cailan theirin #anora mac tir #songfic

4 notes · View notes

missjosie27 · 4 years

Text

The Other World Part 2

Hello, everyone.

Welcome to Part 2 of this short story epic that I’ve written. I must warn you it’s considerably longer than Part 1, but it had to be, given the subject matter. It also gets very heavy. I almost shed tears writing this multiple times. And I hope that passion is reflected in my work here today.

What else can I say except this is for you @hogwartsmysterystory. Consider this my thanks and appreciation to both you and Ethren.

If anyone needs a bit of back history for my MC please go here

Enjoy, guys!

Entering the classic wizard shop had been simple enough. Tom the barman was still there and the same tapping sequence still existed to actually get in. At least that hadn’t changed.

As it was with the previous two institutions he had visited, any damage caused by the war to Diagon Alley was already repaired and the streets were alive and full of busy shoppers, running children, and nervous parents once more. There were still a few wanted posters up, but David didn’t pay much attention to them, as they were only reward information for the capture of a few unseemly looking men and one haggard, scowling looking young witch.

His primary destination was Flourish and Blotts, a bookstore that had almost every kind of publication imaginable. Other than the Hogwarts Library itself, it contained one of the largest assortments of knowledge in all of England, including history. If there was a place he could find some answers in peace, it was there.

As he walked along the cobblestone streets, David gave more thought to his situation and tried to consider the facts of what he knew instead of going completely bonkers. He was clearly in the magical world of the UK. Hogwarts, the Ministry, and Diagon Alley existed, and the war had taken place much in the same fashion as he remembered. The time was a year into the future…except this wasn’t the future. If that were the case, why was Talbott alive, he reminded himself. Why were some of the names on the monument unfamiliar? Why was there no record of his existence in the halls of his own government? And what did this American with the last name ‘Whitecross’ have to do with this?

Surprisingly enough, the last question was the one David felt most intrigued by. He couldn’t explain why, but he was sure that whatever happened in this particular instance had a lot to do with the name he saw on the monument. The fact that Talbott wore a miniature American flag only added to his suspicions.

This is really fucked up. I still want to believe Talbott was pulling the other one, but there was no lie in his eyes. The bloke I knew…there’s no way he’d turn me away like that.

Walking into the pristine bookstore didn’t arouse the same sense of excitement and wonder he felt as a teenager when buying new schoolbooks or investigating the disappearance and motivation of his brother, but he appreciated the vast collection of books and editions all the same.

I wonder what Jacob would say if he could see me right now? Probably tease me relentless and give some cryptic advice on how to get out of it

Though he did miss the usual familiar, cheerful greeting from Madam Villanelle, who politely nodded in his direction and treated him as a brand-new customer, it only emboldened him more to find out why no one in this crazy world knew who he was. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for him to come up with a plan. One of the perks of being a pure blood, even from a minor family, was that it was much easier to trace your family lineage through the centuries than it was for half bloods or those who were muggle born. Thanks to Merula and her own resources, he had managed to trace his lineage all the way back to the time of William the Conqueror and the Norman French invasion. With any luck, he’d be able to find out the fate of his family and that of his mother, father, and brother as well.

David quickly found the book he was looking for, the one his wife bragged about all those years ago when they were children: Quibus Sunt Pura- A List of the Oldest Families of Great Britain by Linesrta Quint. Unlike the Sacred Twenty-Eight, who’s criteria was much stricter courtesy of the pure blood supremacist Cantankerous Nott, this book covered a much wider berth of material. The author in question also wrote the book as a purely academic, historical exercise not a means to propagate an exclusive group of people above all others. It revealed that many more wizards than just twenty eight specific families carried a great deal of history, including his.

Remembering almost fondly how Merula single handedly showed him more about his family history than he knew before, he reminded himself that finding his wife was a top priority as much as his own peace of mind. He needed to know where she was and if she existed as well. It was all information that could be gleaned by this one book.

Summoning water in his hip flask and taking a swig, he set to work in reading the introduction and scouring the index for the last name ‘Grant’. Strangely, however, he could not find it. It was usually right after the summaries of the ‘Gaunt’ and ‘Gamp’ families. But as he flipped back and forth, there was no mention of anyone of his last name having existed in magical England nor anywhere else for that matter.

Not a good sign.

Flipping about a dozen pages more, he came across the ‘MacMillan’ family expose and saw that his mother’s side of the family was intact, including all of his cousins. But there was no sign of Heather MacMillan having ever known or married John Grant.

David’s heart and pulse began to race. He thought back to what he and Merula discovered all those years ago: that his common ancestor Robert Graund had settled in England after the successful invasion of William the Conqueror, who unknowingly employed many Norman French wizards in his service, including Robert. Over time, the name became Anglicized to ‘Grant’ and each male whether by a pure, half blood, or muggle born woman also produced at least one magical son through the centuries. Certainly not as ‘pure’ as the bigots would have it, but then again that was the least of his worries.

Going back over to the front of the introduction, David finally found what he was looking for: the name Robert Graund. Apparently, alongside other pure blood families of French Norman descent: Malfoy, Lestrange, Rosier, etc. Robert had also taken part as it was before. But unlike before, there was also a miniature cross next to his name with a brief note that he had died during the famous Battle of Hastings, a decisive conflict that eventually led to William being crowned King of England.

David ran his hands through his hair once more and leaned back in his chair at the realization.

So that’s what happened. My first ancestor was struck down during that fateful battle. Therefore, no one in my family beyond him even exists. Including me.

But there were some parts he still didn’t understand, namely how he could go from existing one day to fast forwarding a year later where he didn’t at all? There was no logic in it. He knew the veil within the Department of Mysteries carried many secrets that even the Unspeakables didn’t fully understand. But did it transcend more than just life and death itself? What if perhaps the archway didn’t merely lead to a path beyond death, but other possibilities relating to time and space?

Peering around him, David took a deep breath and rationalized everything once more. Almost everything about this world was exactly the same as it was yesterday. Except today Talbott Winger was alive and there was no trace of him or anyone in his family having ever walked the earth.

“I must be insane,” he muttered to himself. “This whole place is insane.”

But the reality kept biting him until he could no longer deny it. Unless the world was playing an extremely sick joke, the only other possible explanation was that somehow, he had ended up in an alternate timeline or scenario where his very family had died almost a millennia before it could actually take root. Thereby the events he experienced at Hogwarts, as an Auror, a bounty hunter, and at the Battle of Hogwarts never took place. Which lead him back to two more avenues.

“Merula.”

Turning the pages to the ‘S’ section, it didn’t take long for him to find what was looking for: the Snyde Family crest and information. And it was just as accurate as he remembered. Merula’s own common ancestor was actually of Danish-Norse origin, a wizard Viking to be exact, who settled along the area of modern East Anglia only fifty years before William the Conqueror’s invasion. He traced his finger right down to the modern names, specifically her father, mother and aunt: Matthias, Lyra, and Lucretia respectively. Sure enough, Merula’s name and birthdate was there but that’s not all that was written. In tiny black letters below was the name ‘Alaire Whitecross b. 1997’.

David was absolutely convinced now that whoever this ‘Ethren Whitecross’ was, had to be related to Alaire in some way but the implication was becoming abundantly clear. If he, David Grant, had not existed in whatever realm this was, logic pointed to Merula being involved with another person. And in all likelihood this American was it.

There were several other factors to consider, however. If his hypothesis was correct, how had this person died? How had he gotten involved in the first place? And what was Merula’s role in all of this? And if Alaire was her son, where was he at the moment?

David quickly closed the book and stuck it back on the shelf. Even among the circumstances, he still loved Merula no matter which universe she was in. At the very least, he wanted to make sure he was safe, sound, and happy no matter if she was married or taken by someone else. It was too important.

Then, a sense of déjà vu hit him for more than the first time that day. His own Merula was effectively shanghaied into the ranks of the Death Eaters. Could the same have happened here too? Suddenly, his stomach again dropped multiple notches below his belt as he recalled the poster of the haggard witch he had passed by earlier.

“No..” he whispered in horror.

Rushing outside, not even bothering to say goodbye to Madam Villanelle, David ran about fifteen paces outside on the cobblestone street, narrowly avoiding two small children running in front of him before finally coming upon the wanted poster he sought.

What he saw nearly crushed him.

Wanted for crimes against the Ministry and Humanity:

Merula Snyde

Age 26

167 cm

Offense: Ex-Death Eater under You Know Who

Status: Missing/On the Run

Any information about her whereabouts should be sent to the Auror Office of the Ministry straight away, and any assistance will be rewarded with a sum of 1000 galleons

He didn’t want to believe it. No part of him wanted to believe this was the girl he had fallen for all those years ago. Technically speaking it wasn’t and the unkempt appearance only contributed to his feeble denial. Though far from being a girly, girl, Merula always kept herself moderately groomed to a certain degree. This person couldn’t have been further from that image: her porcelain skin and soft features were gaunt and much thinner, permanent bags seemed to be fixed underneath her eyes, the normally chin length bob a tangled mess of brown that went far past her shoulders.

But there was no mistaking that tuft of orange on top of that mop, nor the vivid violet eyes. He’d know them anywhere. It was her alright and no amount of disbelief could change that fact.

“Merula,” he whispered. “What happened to you?”

Resolve surged through the Auror once more as the search for information took on a whole new dimension. This wasn’t merely about himself anymore, no this was much bigger. He needed to find this version of Merula and talk to her. He was sure she could reveal the true story of what occurred in this world and why. She was the key to everything, including the American on the monument that was becoming increasingly relevant.

Snatching down the poster, David pocketed it and began heading east. If Merula was a wanted witch with a dark past, she was sure to be in hiding somewhere. And if that place was England, he knew the exact spot where dark and outcast magic folk loved to congregate.

It was time to leave the serenity of Diagon Alley for the dirt and grime of Knockturn Alley.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

In all honesty, going to one of the foulest areas in the British wizarding world was far more of a hunch than anything else, but he did have his reasons.

The first was Merula’s own history with the place. In his own world, she had discussed in detail her encounters in Knockturn Alley and all the times she visited with her parents as well as unsupervised instances. The amount of run ins they experienced together while at Hogwarts only added to that notorious history.

Second was his own experience as an Auror. Make no mistake, if someone wanted any information or news about the underworld, this was the proper location to do so. The trick was getting people to talk. Some would loosen their lips for a few extra galleons, but the dark, blackened alley ways held their own code of honor, one that was extremely hostile to outsiders and law enforcement. A man in blue had to be very careful with how they approached things.

Unfortunately for David, time was not on his side and he desired answers. The sad fact of the matter was, there was a distinct possibility Merula may not have remained in England after the war. Anyone on the run from Aurors wasn’t likely to stick around for long. He remembered Kingsley falsifying all those reports about Sirius Black being on some tropical island and Fudge buying it hook, line, and sinker.

However, assuming this version of his wife was still kicking around somewhere, this was the best place to ascertain that information, if anyone had it. Pulling the black hood over his head, he tried to give himself the appearance of someone who was collecting a bounty not an Auror making rounds. It helped that he did not have the blue robes on, but even so, it paid to have eyes on the back of their head.

That brought back memories of Mad-Eye, another painful loss he wasn’t prepared to deal with at the moment. After all, he was the personal mentor of a certain pink haired witch that became one of his best friends…

“Watchoo lookin at?” growled a short, squat, white bearded patron with a fish eye.

Snapping out of his daydreaming, David responded quickly and decisively.

“Nothing,” he responded. “Not unless you’ve seen this woman. Then we have business to discuss.”

He held up the poster of Merula and the dwarf like man gave it a good glance over.

“Ain’t seen head or tail of ‘er. Personally, me thought the Ministry already rounded up the last o them Death Eaters.”

“Apparently not. If you do see her, let me know. I pay rather handsomely for information of this kind.”

That definitely intrigued the man.

“Ye got yerself a deal.”

As he shuffled along his way, David grabbed another random person, this time a hooded witch and showed her the picture.

“Have you seen this woman?”

The hood fell back to reveal the face of a rather grotesque looking banshee, who began to screech as though she were being tortured.

“AREEEEEEEECCHHHHHHH!”

“Bloody hell! SHUT UP!”

He shoved the banshee away in an effort to reduce the attention he had unwittingly drawn on himself. This wasn’t going well thus far. Even the most transient, unsavory looking characters didn’t appear interested or knowledgeable about his wife. The longer he stayed here, the more likely he was to become a target and the last thing he wanted was to get caught up in a scrum in this Godforsaken place.

You taught me well, Rakepick you miserable bitch. Thankfully, Kingsley and Mad-Eye taught me better.

He was just about to take his questioning to another part of Knockturn when he noticed a middle aged woman in a black cloak staring at him and the poster he was currently holding. It dawned on him that she recognized the picture but before he could say so much as a word, she dropped everything she was holding and sped off into the street.

“Hey! Come back!” he shouted, immediately taking off after her.

The crowd was thick and various people shouted at him for shoving them, but he didn’t care. Just as long as he was able to keep the woman in his sights, he’d catch up to her eventually. He was only about five steps behind her, when she suddenly ducked into a side street in an attempt to shake him loose.

“Trying to do this the hard way, eh?” he muttered to himself. “We’ll see about that.”

The woman thought she could lose him by utilizing the maze of narrow streets and alleys that Knockturn was well known for. Unfortunately for her, David knew just as well as any of the sleazeballs who sold black market poisons on the corner and prepared a plan to cut her off. Using his superior speed and agility, he booked right knowing that the woman was trying to reach a secret passageway that led onto Piccadilly St., where she would blend in more easily.

Muttering incantations, he pointed his wand at the sky and a puff of golden smoke filled the air.

“That oughta keep you here.”

Sure enough, his guess was right. He took a left and then another left peering around the corner where the woman was attempting to use the passageway but she was too late. She had nowhere to run and there was no way out.

“You don’t strike me as the completely unscrupulous type but it would be better if you simply gave up now,” he told her.

The woman’s response was to send a cutting hex his way, which he easily dodged.

“Or not. Either way, you’re not going anywhere.”

David the saw woman try to apparate, but it was to no avail.

“Yeah that’s not going to work,” he said in the casual tone of someone scrapping butter over a biscuit. “Temporary anti-apparation ward. Really comes in handy in these kinds of situations.”

Realizing now that she was completely trapped the woman raised her wand, her arm shaking like a leaf in the wind.

“Stay back,” she said in a thick cockney accent. “I’m warning you.”

A silent disarming spell was all it took to send her last line of defense spinning into the air, which David caught before grabbing the woman by the wrists and pinning her against the wall.

“I’m only going to say this once,” he growled, his voice full of steel, hazel blue eyes boring into the woman’s light green. “You tell me the information I need to know about this person, and I won’t have to break your wrists and arm today. Start talking.”

“I swear I don’t know anything,” the woman pleaded.

“That’s why you ran away once you saw the picture, right? Listen, I’ve had a very rough day and I’m on my last leg of patience with other people’s shit. So I’m only going to say this once more. What do you know about this woman?!”

David, sensing that she was no longer a threat to him, eased his grip slightly, allowing some of the iron in his eyes to subside. She wasn’t the type you had to scare to death in order for her to talk. Just enough to know that you mean business.

“I seen her bout few weeks back. She comes around every so often looking for supplies and other things like that. She gives me no grief, so I don’t tell no authorities.”

“And you know that she’s Merula Snyde?”

“Aye,” the woman nodded, still nervous at the much bigger man maintaining a firm hold on her. “She was one of them Death Eaters. One of the few to escape gettin thrown into a bloody cell in Azkaban. No one knows how she did it.”

That was code for: I don’t personally know but I’ve heard rumors. David knew all the tricks the backalley types liked to pull.

“Enlighten me.”

The woman lowered her voice to a quiet, hushed tone as though admitting it out loud could get her into trouble.

“They say the night she was captured, some Yank was watching over ‘er in a cell way up in a tower or some such. Then, when his back was turned, she slipped by ‘im and into the black of night. Been on the run ever since. No one’s been able to find ‘er or touch ‘er. Cept when she comes around buying food and what not.”

David tried to process this in his head. The American in question was supposedly dead, marked by a gravestone and subtlety confirmed by this world’s Talbott. But if an American had been watching her and she escaped, how then did this Ethren Whitecross die?

“She didn’t kill him?” he asked.

“Didn’t ‘ave a wand. Or so I heard. It’s all just gossip round this place.”

Gossip it may be, but it often held an element of truth to it. However, there was only one way to truly find out.

“Do you know where she is now? Any location she was last seen or frequents?”

“Last I knew, she was ‘iding out in a little hovel up in Liverpool. There’s a muggle pub up there called ‘Thomas Rigby’s’. Apparently, she’s pretty fond of the drink nowadays.”

That was all he needed to hear. Having no more use for the woman, he let go of her wrists and tossed her wand back toward her.

“Oi! Don’t I get a little something for my trouble? I have needs too ya know and make no mistake.”

“Not for chasing you down,” he called back over his shoulder. “Besides, what you need is a bloody bath.”

Ignoring her cursing and insults uttered to his back, David now walked with more of a purposeful stride than ever before. He was getting to the bottom of this, in fact he was so close he could taste it. The only premonition? Not liking what he found. In the center of his gut, he had a nasty feeling that this version of Merula did not share much in common with the one he left behind.

I just hope she didn’t join them because of….no, I’m not even going to go there

There was no time to waste. It was on to Liverpool.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

David didn’t try to waste time in finding other Merula’s residency. The city itself was far too large and industrious to pinpoint an exact location. But he did find Thomas Rigby’s rather easily. It was a cozy little pub- well lit, quaint, a standing and sitting barroom with numerous tables for patrons to sit, drink, chat, or mind their own business. If one was a witch or wizard seeking to blend in, there weren’t many spaces better to do so. There wasn’t a single patron in here looking for anything out of the ordinary. And why would they? It was a lazy, Sunday evening on a cloudy British day.

The twenty five year old knew that there was a chance of sitting here all night without so much of a trace of Merula. But he also acknowledged that very few other alternatives existed short of breaking into the Ministry and looking at her last known whereabouts and that was something he could not afford at the moment. He didn’t even know how was going to leave this crazy world much less solve the mystery of what happened. The universe seemed content to just take him along for the ride.

So in the meantime, he decided to take off his hood, sit back for a bit and sip on a few pints of Guinness while he waited.

When the waitress came over to give him his drink, he handed her two hundred pounds worth of notes and told her, “Just keep them coming until I say otherwise. You can keep the change.”

The blonde waitress, a woman who looked to be in her mid thirties, merely shrugged.

“Suit yourself.”

David began drinking and began lamenting that wizarding beer lagged far behind in its quality compared to that of muggles. It had been a damn good thing he learned how to use dollars, euros, and pounds during his time abroad. They were two among many things he had discovered.

In the old days, meaning the time before the war, David was at his most content sitting in a bar such as this one, drinking the night away with some friends. As he had many times that day, his mind wandered back to memories that were now too painful to consider anymore. It was tradition on every Friday he Tonks and Talbott would go to a London pub and see who could hold the most liquor. Strangely enough, Talbott was usually the one with the highest tolerance. Badeea didn’t drink, so their excursions were usually just the three of them. Sometimes, they’d get Penny, Tulip, Barnaby, Andre, Charlie, Bill, Ben, or even Merula to join in the festivities.

Those memories only served to bring back even older ones. Nights in Hogsmeade where he and the lads almost destroyed the Hogs Head Inn, Penny’s cocktails, the lampshade Tonks wore while dancing on top of a table, parties hosted by random popular kids in the Three Broomsticks, including one where Ismelda and Diego first got together.

Draining Guinness after Guinness, David couldn’t help but think back on those days and how fleeting they were. Almost the relic of another time, a universe that no longer existed, similar to his own predicament. They were rare moments where everything wasn’t so complicated…they were just teenagers being teenagers, growing up in the best way they knew how. No war, killing, mourning, or death. No one had to choose a side under the point of a wand.

But eventually, they all did. Things fell apart. Their island home and their entire world went to hell: Barnaby fled the country taking Ismelda with him in an to avoid the fate that would befall so many of their housemates. Diego too found England increasingly dangerous and went back to Spain. Rowan, always sensitive by nature, never forgave him for putting Merula before their own friendship and soon embarked on his own journey across the world and soon found a husband along the way (to no one’s surprise he had a bit of a resemblance to Bill). Charlie went off to Romania to tame dragons, Bill to Egypt to advance his curse breaking career. Chiara became a healer at St. Mungo’s, Penny a potions lecturer, Andre the starting Keeper for the Tornadoes, Tulip a freelance journalist for international publications….

With the exception of a few (Rowan being among those who stayed away), all had come back to fight in the end, which made Merula’s situation all the more painful. Her forced subservience to her parents, long after she had renounced them and their blood purist ways, was an act of cruelty that made David want to break the glass in his hand. Whatever her flaws and faults, joining the ranks of the Death Eaters was not truly his wife’s own choice, but an abusive sin enacted by Matthias and Lyra Snyde.

I hate them. I hate them both. I don’t even regret accidentally killing Matthias. He deserved far worse for what he did to her.

They were manipulative, sociopathic people. But even from a young age Merula was able to see through that.

The ringing of the bell signaled the arrival of new customers as the pub slowly started to fill up. There was no sign of her yet.

He continued his internal monologue. No, his wife was no more a Death Eater than he was. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever happened in the world he was in was much different than the outcome in his own. He was almost afraid to continue searching, but some other entity pushed him on, as though a cosmic force was actually trying to show him something.

He was already on his 5th Guinness when the door opened again. Just as he began to believe that the exercise was all for naught, there she was, standing in the doorway, completely cloaked but there was no mistaking those violet eyes nor the trodden black combat boots she still wore even into her twenties. And underneath the robes, she looked every bit as tired and worn down as the wanted poster.

By Merlin, is that really her? She looks as though she’s ten years older than she is

David supposed alcohol had a lot to do with that, after all the stuff was highly addictive. But there was more to it than that and it was plain enough on her face. There was a lot of turmoil hidden underneath the brown haired mess- anger, regret, denial, depression, and pain…so much pain.

“I’ll have my usual,” she said in a bored monotone, tossing out a couple of coins.

“Coming right up,” the barkeep announced.

He could have guessed what she ordered: a vodka tonic with a lime to top it off. Her favorite. Though there was no doubt this Merula had no idea who the heck he was, it also stood to reason she was just as clever as his own version. She would know if a wizard was either observing or following her. So he kept his head down and bid his time, resisting the temptation to look in her direction.

A couple of hours passed and the Slytherin kept downing more and more vodka tonics. By this time, David had ceased drinking, the mind needed to be clear for what came next and it would not be easy. But if she was intoxicated enough, he just might be able to get her to talk long enough before she inevitably tried to hex or kick him. Either way, he tried not to focus on the awful appearance and keep himself focused on the ‘why’ and not the ‘what.’ It did no good to do the latter.

Finally, at the stroke of ten, Merula paid for her last drink, hopped off the stool and made her way outside. David, having paid in advance, stood up, and also opened the door to the warm pre-summer air. He pulled his cloak over his head and faked as if he were going left but secretly veered right, careful to mask his presence with a concealing spell. The onset of darkness also assisted in avoiding being seen.

“Come on, just a little more,” he muttered to himself.

When Merula was about fifty yards away from Thomas Rigby’s and headed towards the River Mersey, either to hang on the railing, puke, or a combination thereof, it was time to make his move

With a small *pop he apparated from the corner of the street and almost directly behind her. Immediately, he was met with a wand to the face.

“I suggest you back off right now, wanker,” she spat viciously, though her words were slightly slurred. “Not unless you want to lose a nose and your cock in the same night.”

“You know it’s really quite impressive how many of those things you downed in a couple hours,” he responded dryly. But that had been the wrong thing to say as she sent a curse of unknown origin his way.

Yeah, that’s her alright. Probably thinks I’m trying to get in her pants.

“Do you think just anyone can sneak up on me?” she snarled. “Do you know who I am?”

“Believe me, I’m very familiar with ‘The Greatest Witch at Hogwarts.’”

There was a minor look of surprise on her face indicating that was a term she had not used in quite some time. Nevertheless, she remained hostile.

“I don’t know you and I don’t want to know you,” she said wand remaining directly pointed at his chest. “So whoever you are, mind your own business and hit the road.”

David internally struggled with the situation. On the one hand, Merula was still his wife, no matter which universe he found himself in….no, that was wrong. Scanning this woman up and down she bore almost no resemblance to the woman he’d left behind, either in appearance or temperament. She was an ex-Death Eater on the run and also a drunk. This was not someone to be saved or redeemed.

This is about closure. Something is going on here that’s bigger than yourself.

As much as it pained him, he could not give the impression he was a pushover or else she’d walk right over him.

Suddenly, quicker than Merula could anticipate, he disarmed her physically and grabbed her left arm.

“Hey! Let go!”

True to his prediction, she gave him a mighty kick in the leg with her combat boot but he stood firm, rolling back her sleeve to reveal the ugly, faded remains of the Dark Mark. The skull and snake were still there, but with Voldemort’s death it was already becoming gnarled and reduced, and soon it would be nothing more than a permanent scar- a black stain on all those who wore it.

“So it’s true,” he whispered harshly, pushing her away. “You did join them.”

Merula didn’t try to escape. She didn’t have her wand for one thing but the look on her face was nothing short of grim.

“A real genius you turned out to be. Didn’t you read the wanted poster before deciding to collect this bounty?”

“I don’t give a damn about the wretched bounty,” he replied, hurt creeping into his tone. “What I want to know is why.”

She held her grim, harsh gaze, unwilling to say more. But David hadn’t come this far to be denied now. If this was some lesson being brought upon him by the universe by Merlin he was going to learn everything.

“Please…” he said, his voice dry and cracked from all of the beer. “Please tell me that joining the Death Eaters was not something you did voluntarily. If you were forced, it’s not the same thing but I need to know that you did not do this by your own actions.”

It was yet another in a long line of cosmic twists and also another painful reminder of just how different this woman was from his own Merula. She didn’t need to say anything, her silence said it all.

“Why?” he repeated painfully.

“Because I couldn’t disobey my parents!” came the ragged shout. “Because people don’t change! It was war and I had to choose a side…”

“…and ended up choosing the side you despised since you were a little girl. You said so yourself, that mark was something you feared.”

“They manipulated me! I-I….DON’T YOU GET IT?!” she screamed in rabid fury. “I said the same thing to him all those years ago! There is no such thing as happy endings!”

It was all the confirmation he needed to know that this woman, whoever she was, couldn’t be further from the Merula Snyde he had come to love and lay his life for. The person standing before him sounded no different than the version he’d known in third or fourth year: petulant, narcissistic, angry, and blaming everyone for her problems except herself.

“You still had a choice,” he responded firmly, willing himself not to quiver as he spoke. “No one forced you to join Voldemort. And look what it got you.”

“What’s it to you, whoever you are?” Merula snapped, leaning against the railing as though unable to properly stand upright. “You sound just like him. Preaching about morality and choice as though any of us have it.”

They were coming to the crux of the issue now.

“Whitecross,” he said and there was immediate recognition of that name upon its proclamation. “What was your relationship with him? Where is your son?”

“So, you know about that too,” she huffed. “Are you some two bit author looking to make a buck on our life story?”

“Look, it doesn’t matter who I am,” David responded in frustration, knowing that there was no point in telling her the truth. “I just need to know what happened to Ethren Whitecross. Humor me and I’ll leave you alone.”

This seemed to do the trick as other Merula sighed and stood up a little straighter.

“We were….an item so to speak. Hogwarts sweethearts, dating pals, whatever you want to call it. He loved me.”

“But you chose opposite sides,” David confirmed. “He must have been an Auror or with the Order.”

“The latter of the two. He was always a magnet for adventure, especially during the curse breaking years. Then again what else do you expect from a Gryffindor?”

Though this universe had been the opposite of his in so many ways, David was starting to see some parallels as well. A Gryffindor boy falls in love with a Slytherin girl, dating while at Hogwarts, going on curse breaking adventures…it was all quite similar. And yet, so vastly different. The dynamic of their relationship had not played out as it did in his own world.

“How did he die?” David continued. “I was told he was guarding you in one of the Hogwarts towers when he turned a blind eye and allowed you to escape. But the memorial says he was killed on that night.”

“That wasn’t him.”

He raised an eyebrow, features turning into a confused frown.

“He’s the only Whitecross listed on that memorial. So either you’re lying or-”

“It was his brother guarding me you prat!” she cut across him. “Jaxson Whitecross. He wasn’t the only American there that night. He was the one who let me go.”

“Jaxson,” David breathed out. It was a name remarkably similar to Jacob, his own brother. “So if he was the one who let you go, what happened to Ethren?”

There was no mistaking it this time, tears were forming in the defeated violet eyes. A look of hatred formed on her sullen, hollow features but it was not a hate directed at him. No this hatred was internal.

“He was killed….protecting me.”

For the second time in as many days, David felt his body go numb. He knew that the person he sought was already deceased, but hearing how he was taken from this world made it that much more…potent.

“Protecting you?”

“Yes,” she answered, salty discharge streaming down her cheeks, managing to tell the story through emotional breaths. “I-I had killed two Death Eaters that were trying to do him in. But then reinforcements from the Order arrived including a herd of centaurs. One of them saw me and shot an arrow directly at my heart….h-he took it instead.”

And so the answer had been revealed at last. This was the connection that the universe had been trying to show him all along. The man who loved Merula Snyde in this world, died doing so without hesitation for a person that did not deserve it.

Sacrifice. The ultimate sacrifice.

“And your son,” he managed to choke out. “What of your son?”

“He lives with his uncle in America…I’m sor….I couldn’t take care of him. Not after everything that happened. I’m not a mother. I’m not anything except a lush anymore.”

It was the closest thing to an apology David heard thus far and he suspected that was as close it was going to get. At long last he finally understood. Stories had more than one way of playing themselves out. A choice made by one was not a choice made by someone else. This was the legacy of the world he currently stood in laid bare: Merula had refused to better herself and as a result the story of Ethren Whitecross ended in tragedy, not redemption.

How then, would his own conclude?

Looking down at the crying woman in front of him, a mixture of pity and supreme sadness weighed in his heart. He wanted to say that he was sorry and to help in any way he could. But this was a person beyond any sort of help he could give. And if he and Ethren had truly been similar, nothing he said would change that.

“Take this,” he said, tossing back her wand. “Though I doubt you’ll need it much. If my hunch is correct, no one will be able to harm you until the day you pass from this world.”

He began to turn to leave but before doing so, there was one more thing he needed to know.

“Merula,” he spoke softly. “Where is he buried?”

“O-on the shores of Lake Michigan in the United States. There’s a large house by the shore overlooking a grassy hill. He…he’s there.”

Then that’s where I’ll go

“Take care of yourself,” he said to other Merula, though in his heart he knew she wouldn’t. Whatever her future held, it didn’t involve proper self-care. It was out of his hands now.

Even now, I understand…that could have just as easily been me lying in a grave. He gave his life for her even when she was beyond all hope…he still loved her just as I would have.

He walked off from the docks and apparated away. There was one thing left to do.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Somewhere on the shore of Lake Michigan an unknown man arrived at a beautiful, melancholic scene.

David had never been to this part of the United States, his interactions being limited strictly on the east coast in cities like New York, Boston, Washington, and what not. But he resolved to visit again someday to the Midwest, because what he saw was truly mesmerizing. True to Merula’s word, there was indeed a large mansion overlooking a green hill which contained nothing save for a white marble headstone. Beyond the shore, were the waters of Lake Michigan in all its spring time splendor. In the distance, tall oaks and pines mixed together creating a deciduous-boreal forest, the scent of which could be inhaled even from the edge of the water. The oaks were at last in full bloom, creating a vivid green that contrasted wonderfully with the afternoon sun and the dark, turquoise sky. The air was clean…so clean. He truly envied anyone who grew up in an environment like this. America was always a much sunnier place than England, both figuratively and literally.

But that was not the purpose of this visit. David couldn’t explain but he sensed his time in this world was coming to an end.

Which brought him to this final task.

It hadn’t been hard to sense the magic surrounding this place and after probing with his wand, David detected only a minor muggle repelling charm by the gravesite, which thankfully wasn’t rigged with a caterwauling charm or any other such alarm. After temporary disabling it, David walked the length of the hill before arriving at the foot of the headstone. He silently read the writing of the deceased for the second time that day.

Ethren Whitecross

1973-1998

A proud American

A wonderful son & brother

You will be missed

“The father that never was,” David breathed out.

He took one more glance back at the mansion, ensuring no one noticed his presence. To ensure absolute privacy, he tapped his head with the disillusionment charm, rendering him completely invisible. After one more look towards the beautiful forest beyond, he began to speak.

“I don’t know what I was expecting,” he finally uttered, struggling to hold back the lump in his throat. “I don’t know what to say really. This whole thing is bloody crazy. You never knew me, and I only just learned about you. We’re literally from different worlds. And not just because I’m from across the pond,” he added with a choked chuckle.

“But at the same time, I feel a connection to you. I can’t explain it, but after the events of today and all the shit that’s happened, part of me feels like I’ve known you almost my entire life. And…I couldn’t leave without honoring you.”

He knelt down, taking another deep breath.

“Thank you. Thank you for the kindness and consideration you gave my wife. I know she’s not my wife but she’s still Merula and my love for her transcends worlds. No matter how difficult she was or how lost she became, you never stopped loving her. Even when she found herself in the dark pit of the Death Eaters, you never gave up. I only wish she had done the same for you before it was too late.

“Thank you, for making me realize…just how lucky I am. Before I arrived here, I genuinely thought there was nothing left to live for. But I was wrong, I have everything to live for. My wife is alive, so are scores of others. We have the opportunity to build a better world than the one before and we will. Through it all, I’m still here and so is Merula. That’s more than enough.

“Lastly, thank you for your sacrifice…the ultimate sacrifice. You gave your life so others could live, and the evil of Voldemort permanently ended. You did so out of love, and because of that your Merula will carry that protection for the rest of her life. People owe you so much more than just a memorial and a gravestone.”

Taking out of his locket, the one that contained the picture of his beloved wife, he clutched it tightly as he uttered his last sentence.

“I promise you for as long as I draw breath, your story will not be forgotten. I swear it on your grave, Ethren Whitecross.”

He reached out and touched the white marble and that’s when he felt it. The same overpowering, white hot sensation that threatened to rip him apart molecule by molecule and every action and thought seemed to run for an eternity. By the time he thought his mind would be lost to the pure chaos, darkness took him once more and there was nothing.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A thunderous force pushed David so hard, he fell straight back onto a hard stone floor with an incredible thud.

“AGH!”

Ignoring the pain he felt in his back and shoulder, he slowly lifted himself off the ground and tried to make some sense of his surroundings.

“Grant?” a voice called out. This one, however, was not mysterious or a whisper.

“Hello?” he called out.

The figure of Williamson made its presence known as he stepped into the lighted part of the room.

“Blimey, Grant what are you doing in here? This area’s off limits, you know that.”

Dusting off his robes and pocketing his wand, David saw that he was still clutching the photo of Merula that he had taken out only seconds earlier at the gravesite. But if he was back in the room of death that could only mean…

I’m back. Son of a bitch, I don’t know how but I’m back in my own world. And not a second from where I left it.

“Uh, Grant? David? Can you hear me? What’s gotten into you?”

Shaking his head, he pulled his focus back to the matter at hand, trying to give off the impression that nothing was out of the ordinary…which was a shame because he had never been very good at lying.

“Oi, yeah. Sorry, Williamson. I zoned out for a second.”

The smaller, dirty blonde Auror eyed him carefully.

“Just what exactly were you doing down here anyway?”

“Nothing,” David murmured. “Just…needed some time to think. I’ll be on my way.”

But Williamson held up a hand to stop him.

“Breaking into a highly restricted area of the Ministry aside, that’s actually not the reason I came to see you.”

That gave him pause, as he stuck the picture back into his jeans pocket.

“What do you mean?”

“I come bearing news. The Minister has decided to release your wife, Merula Alice Snyde, effective immediately with no charges being brought to bear as of now. She’s free to go pending further evidence.”

David could hardly believe his ears nor dare to feed the excitement of his heart.

“She is?” he asked lamely.

“Yes. We’ve received new intelligence in the last hour or so, one that just came to my attention. It confirms directly that your wife was under the control of the Imperius Curse and that her actions were indeed not her own.”

As overjoyed as he was, David didn’t quite understand how this was possible. One moment Merula was looking at a life sentence in Azkaban and now she was free?

“How? I mean…how-”

“Two people, including one who was very high in You Know Who’s inner circle, have agreed to give testimony against any and all of his captured servants. One confirmed that Miss Snyde was indeed being controlled by Death Eaters Matthias and Lyra Snyde and is prepared to confirm that in court to the Wizengamot.”

“And just who is this informant?”

“That is confi-”

“Out with it, Williamson, who am I going to tell?”

With a sigh, his colleague relented.

“Lucius Malfoy. And his wife, Narcissa.”

Yup that confirms it

Williamson gave an irritated look and gestured towards the door.

“Look you’re really not supposed to be in here and I imagine you’ll want to see your wife now. She’s waiting for you in the lobby. Shall we?”

He didn’t have to be told twice. Jumping down from the giant rock that supported the veil, he followed Williamson out of the door and back towards the Atrium.

“By the way, I do hope that you didn’t touch that thing in there.”

David gave a cheeky grin and response.

“Perish the thought Williamson, old boy,” he in a fake posh tone.

Yes, teasing him would never get old.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It didn’t take long for David and Merula to reunite. The moment the spotted one another they ran into each other’s arms and embraced, hugging so tightly that neither one was prepared to let go.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered in her ear, tears running down his cheeks once more. “I’m so sorry.”

“What are you sorry about you prat?” Merula responded, wiping away tears of her own. “You saved me from being a slave. From my parents.”

“No, you saved yourself,” he affirmed to her, his forehead pressed against hers. “You made the choice. The right one.”

He kissed her, long and passionately, one that she returned.

“I’m okay,” she whispered. “We’re all okay. We’re going to get through this.”

“Yes, we will.”

An awkward clearing of the through interrupted their tender moment and David realized Williamson was still there.

“Very sorry to cut in, but there is one other thing I needed to inform you of,” he stated.

“It can’t wait until after post-prison sex with my wife?”

Merula kicked him in the shins, which caused him to wince and hop on one foot.

“Just joking, dear.”

“I shan’t keep you,” Williamson said, completely unperturbed. “I only wanted to confirm your appointment with Minister Shacklebolt regarding your reinstatement to the Auror Office. He seeks to discuss the matter with you personally this Wednesday at ten o’clock. It seems he desires your return.”

Relief awashed the twenty-five-year-old as he looked towards the heavens.

Yes, everything was going to be alright.

“Tell him I’ll be there on the dot.”

“Wonderful, I shall inform him of your decision,” he turned to go but not before adding the smallest of smiles. “Congratulations to you both.”

“Many thanks, Williamson.”

With the last of the formalities concluded, he and Merula were set to exit.

“Shall we go home?” she asked him.

“Wherever the hell that is. I pretty much abandoned my London pad two years ago. I do hope no one’s trashed it.”

“We’ll figure it out,” she reassured him. “We always do. Now let’s get out of here. I never was a fan of the Ministry.”

“Wait.”

He stopped her. Before they did anything else, David had to get a good look at her…just to be sure. What he saw, warmed his heart. Yes, she was still covered in cuts and bruises from the battle, and dark circles permeated underneath her violet eyes. But instead of alcoholic self-loathing he saw they still radiated life. Her hair was still the cute little bob he adored as opposed to a tangled heap. Her posture gave no indication of defeat. She was not the broken Merula Snyde daughter of Death Eaters who gave up on herself, but a woman who had passed through multiple trials and won them all.

It’s still her, he thought joyfully. This is still the woman I fell in love with and will continue to love for all time.

“Uh, David?”

“Yes?”

“I appreciate that you want to bask in all of my beauty, but the staring is kinda off putting. Can I at least shower beforehand?”

David smiled.

“Of course. It’s just…I love you is all. And I’m the luckiest man in the world to have the ‘Greatest Witch at Hogwarts’ by my side.”

Merula laughed and interlocked her chipped, black polished fingers with his.

“Wow, it’s a been a long time since either one of us used that title.”

“I don’t see you complaining.”

Merula leaned in, a soft, but eager look on her beautiful features.

“I’m not,” and she gave him a gentle kiss. “I love you too.”

Together they began to walk towards the exit of the Atrium but not before Merula had one last question.

“Dave…you mentioned something earlier about me making the right choice. What did you mean by that? There was a funny look on your face when you said it.”

Clever as ever, she is

“It’s a bit hard to explain,” he said rubbing the back of his head as they approached the exit.

“Did something happen to you in the short time I was in a Ministry cell?” she joked to him.

The image of a marble white headstone appeared once more in his mind, the shores of Lake Michigan calming his heart as he squeezed Merula’s hand a little tighter.

“It’s a long story. A story that will never be forgotten.”

The End

#ethren whitecross #david grant #gyrffindor #hogwarts mystery #hphm #hphm fanfiction #harry potter #mc #merula snyde #mc x merula #fanfiction #au #worlds collide

11 notes · View notes

pictureamoebae · 5 years

Note

Hi, same anon (so, sorry for this slew of asks I appreciate your help immensely) I downloaded the updated 4.x qUINT shaders (thank you!) because that is the version I have. Does this mean that I also need the updated Official Shaders for 4.x? If the problem still persist I'll take your advice and delete qUINT. I don't have a tumblr so I can't message you off anon unfortunately. I'm willing to exchange emails. Thank You!

Hi!

If you’re using 4.x here’s how you would install it all:

Download ReShade 4.x from the ReShade front page and install as you normally would, saying yes when it asks you if you want to download a collection of shaders

Download the most recent qUINT shaders from github, unzip them, and place the loose files directly inside your Shaders folder (inside your reshade-shaders folder in you Bin folder)

Download my Clear Bloom ReShade files and unzip them

Go into the Shaders folder in my download and delete the qUINT_mxao.fx file (or move it somewhere safe)

Copy my Shaders and Textures folders from my download and paste them into your reshade-shaders folder, saying yes if it asks you to merge any folders and replace any files

If you want to still use qUINT_mxao alongside the other MXAO shaders, follow this tutorial on how to edit MXAO files to use them alongside each other – you’ll want to edit the qUINT_mxao.fx that is now in your Shaders folder (inside the reshade-shaders folder in your Bin folder). This is the most recent qUINT_mxao file you downloaded from github in the steps above. You do not need to rename the file, just the lines inside the file.

This last step is optional, if you don’t want to use qUINT_mxao you can miss this out, remembering that you won’t be able to use it in-game without it causing compatibility problems with the main MXAO shader – in which case delete it from the Shaders folder (inside the reshade-shaders folder in your Bin folder) so you don’t accidentally enable it.

If you do follow that last bullet-point, however, the reason you’re having to do it is because you’re using the most recent qUINT_mxao shader that was written to work with ReShade 4.x. I had already done this step for you to the qUINT_mxao.fx included in my Clear Bloom download, but it was with the shader written for 3.4.1. It might have worked anyway, but since you’re having errors we need to eliminate conflicting version numbers as the reason, so you need to be using the shaders appropriate to the version of ReShade you have installed.

I hope this makes sense, anon. Clear Bloom was created with ReShade 3.4.1, and there can always be quirks or problems when using presets written for one version with another version (especially if that version is from an entirely different major update). Thankfully 3.x to 4.x didn’t bring a significant rewrite to the shader architecture like 2.x to 3.x did, so it’s easier to migrate presets between them.

#reshade faq #reshade help #reshade troubleshooting #reshade tips #reshade #reshade installation #quint faq #mxao faq

28 notes · View notes

alittledropofheaven · 6 years

Link

As India slowly wakes up to the horrors that were inflicted on eight-year-old Asifa Bano in January, collective outrage is gathering steam. New hashtags are trending every day. Horrifying details about the crime are emerging to shake us out of our consciousness. Armchair activists are leading the shout to get justice for Asifa.

Rightly so. It is impossible not to be moved to tears after reading the terrible details about the Kathua rape case. From being drugged, to being gangraped by men who wanted to ‘satisfy their lust’, to being strangled and bludgeoned to death in two horrific attempts, to her tiny withered body being dumped in a forest, Asifa was treated to inhumanity that is unimaginable. Like many others, I am also walking through my days unable to shake off her brutalised face. How can our nation produce such depraved souls? And how can they be protected under the guise of religion and nationalism? How did we go from #BetiBachao (save our daughters) to #BalatkariKoBachao (save our rapists)? Today, we are seeing the true face of India and it is ugly.

Protesters demand justice for Asifa. PTI Photo

But what is even more disgusting is to call Asifa 'the new Nirbhaya'. Why? Because it shows us that we haven’t learnt our lesson. We haven’t had enough. We haven’t changed. When we call another rape victim by the name of India’s most brutalised rape victim, it shows us that we’ve made peace with the brutality of rape and with what happens to its victims. How can we reduce the victim of rape to a moniker?

When the Supreme Court awarded a well-deserved death sentence to the four convicts who brutally raped, mutilated and murdered 23-year-old Jyoti Singh Pandey, we called it a ‘day of victory’ for India. The death sentence was supposed to send a strong message to rapists and perpetrators of sexual violence. It was supposed to stop them from committing further heinous crimes. It was supposed to set a precedent for India. It was supposed to demonstrate that India could protect its sisters, daughters and mothers in a dignified and fair manner. It was supposed to be the beginning of justice, equality and safety to all the women in our country.

But, did it? Look at where we are now. Back to square one. Where is the change? There is none. It would appear that Jyoti Singh’s verdict has taught us nothing. Our candle marches, our protests, our outrage, has come to nothing. The relentless work of selfless activists, lawyers, citizens, and NGOs, who fought long and hard to ensure justice, has meant nothing.

Because today we are still seeing incidents like Kathua and Unnao. We are still reading about horrific cases like Rohtak, Jisha, Bilkis Bano, among many others.

Because we really haven’t had enough, have we?

We read incidents of rape every single day; obviously because a woman is raped every 20 minutes in our country. Yet, we react only when the rape is grossly heinous. Our anger is as cheap as our lives. As a nation, we’ve become desensitised to rape. We still need gross human violations to have our collective conscience shaken. We still need brutality to be inhumane for us to realise our humanity. We quantify rape as ‘good rape’ and ‘bad rape’ and make time only for the rarest of rare cases and the most brutal of brutal crimes. We forget that rape is rape, and should be met with revolt, no matter what the severity.

In Saudi Arabia, they behead men for rape. In China, they castrate men. In North Korea, it’s the firing squad. And we — the rape capital of the world — just seem to love our rapists. We are lenient with the way we punish them. Our great ‘Anti Rape Bill’ requires proving offense beyond a reasonable doubt, while giving the accused the benefit of doubt. We do not have effective laws; they exist but are not implemented, like the POCSO Act. We have a low rate of conviction. We do not use stringent punishment. We even fight against capital punishment for men who treat the lives of women as flimsy. We do not use fast track courts. We have only one judge for every one lakh people. Our schemes help women in distress after the crime is over, not to prevent crime. Knowing all this, the rapists take a chance. They continue raping, because they know there’s a bigger probability that they’ll walk away scot-free than be indicted. If there’s no punishment to a crime, why will the criminal stop?

More so, we glorify rapists by saying ‘boys will be boys’. When Mulayam Singh Yadav says ‘boys make mistakes’, when Abu Azmi says ‘even women are guilty (of being raped)’, when ML Sharma says ‘there is no place for women in our culture’, we make them household names instead of punishing them for incitation. We normalise rape in our culture. Bade bade deshon mein aaisi choti choti baatein ... hoti rehti hai, right? (Small squabbles happen in big countries).

This subversion is demonstrative in the new video by The Quint where we see the cavalier attitude of men and women, boys and girls, about rape. From saying it is consensual to saying ‘ek haath se taali nahin bajti’ to saying that girls are responsible for getting raped, it shows us the pervasive attitude in Haryana about rape. We’ve made it a ‘culture’. And, no. This is not about Haryana. Or Uttar Pradesh or Jammu and Kashmir. This is not about Hindu rape or Muslim rape. This is not even about the BJP or Congress. This is about what we've become. Nothing but animals. Because we continue to make women the repositories of shame in these matters. Because it is women who remain victims even after so-called justice has been delivered. Because the extent of violence and inhumanity of sexual assaults against women is not only continuing, it is increasing.

So what about Nirbhaya is there to really be proud of? Yes, the December 2012 case was considered a landmark verdict, the second of its kind in India after the Shakti Mills gangrape case. Yes, it provided retribution not just to the rape victim but also to our nation’s outraged citizens. Yet, one of Jyoti Singh Pandey’s rapists, the juvenile who allegedly inflicted the most serious wounds, is now free. We haven’t even put to use the Rs 3,000-crore Nirbhaya Fund to improve the safety and dignity of our women. Isn’t justice delayed, justice denied? Clearly not enough has been done in the case for us to nonchalantly evoke 'Nirbhaya' again.

'Nirbhaya' means fearless. The only people who were fearless in Asifa’s case were the perpetrators — the rapists who did the crime and the police who covered up the crime. How can we equate the two? 'Nirbhaya' evokes dignity, at least in death if not in life. Let’s give Asifa that, in death if not in life, before we call her 'another Nirbhaya'. Let's scream and shout and protest until we get justice for Asifa. Let’s do that before we become dead as human beings. Let's do it before we fail all the women in our country.

Asifa is not 'the new Nirbhaya', because there should be no 'Nirbhaya'. Let’s never forget that.

The writer is an award-winning author, columnist, feminist and TEDx Speaker. She tweets @MeghnaPant

7 notes · View notes

dnd-drunks-n-debauchery · 3 years

Text

Recap/highlight reel of Friday’s session

Brought to you by @nevergonnarollagain aka Cookie (16/04/2021)

The session picks up from where we left off last week; Rosania making the decision to go check out the mines to try and get the diamonds there instead after finding the jeweler's business style to be rather unsavoury for her liking.

Most of the group stay behind at Hallow to look after Jayfice's body and get some rest, but Ned, Quint, Javier and Harmony all accompany Rosania to the nearest mountain to locate the mines.

As we approach a mining town near the mountain, Rosania pauses briefly to look at the sky. It's a calm day, weather wise. Blue sky, a few fluffy clouds, bright sun...so when lightning suddenly strikes about 200 feet ahead of them, creating a fairly large crater in the ground, naturally it catches everyone off-guard.

Quint lets out a scream but quickly collects himself, leading the way to go look at the crater. Rosania hurries after him while the others hang back a little, with Javier keeping just ahead of Harmony in case things get nasty.

As the group draw closer to the crater they spot a wood-elf approaching the crater from the direction of town. Quint calls out to them but they don't respond, and as Quint nervously scans the area he spots some giant spiders moving around. Rosania also looks around but doesn't register the spiders as her mind is on other things.

The elf walks right over to the crater and peers inside, only to suddenly get shot by a bunch of arrows. They fall over unconscious and the shooters are revealed to be two skeletons on the backs of skeleton horses. Two other skeleton riders accompanying the two who just shot the elf shoot at Quint and Ned, while the spiders come racing over with skeleton jockeys of their own who shoot at Javier and Harmony.

Quint is the first to react, shooting the closest skelehorse and rider with his crossbow. The spine of the skeleton snaps in half, but the ragged old t-shirt it's wearing prevents it from falling apart completely.

Rosania is next to take action, pulling out her wand and summoning the thorny whip which she swings at one of the spiders since it's closest to her. The spider dodges out of the way, however a quick glance at Quint is enough to determine that he's upset at her trying to attack it.

Rosania isn't the only one to notice how upset Quint is; Harmony, who seemed about to attack one of the spiders as well, catches sight of Quint's displeased expression and quickly changes target, instead shooting a beam at one of the skeleton horses and disintegrating it.

Javier stares dully at the monsters and casts Fireball at them, wiping out all of the skeletons and skeleton horses. The spiders survive but are half-dead, and Javier rolls his eyes and pulls out his fire rapier, activating it ready to fight.

Ned warily eyes up the situation and thinks for a moment, then casts Moonbeam. What looks like a giant eye opens in the sky above a couple of the spiders and shoots them with a huge beam that comes shooting out of the center.

The spiders panic and break formation, cartwheeling around everyone and stopping in front of each person.

Quint attempts to cast a spell to speak with the spiders, but they seem too panicked to listen to what he has to say. He notices the elf again and casts Spare the Dying, stabilizing them for now.

Rosania turns to the spider in front of her, gripping her wand tighter. She's not exactly a fan of spiders, so to have one this big standing this close to her was...unnerving to say the least. She manages to keep calm however, swinging her wand-whip again and this time landing a hit. The spider falls to the ground but isn't quite dead yet, and she reckons another blow would finish it off.

As much as she doesn't want to upset Quint, Harmony knows she doesn't really have a choice by now. She blasts the spider in front of her, killing it instantly.

Javier glances quickly between all of the spiders. Since Harmony's already killed her spider, Rosania seems to have things under control in regards to her spider and Ned can handle himself, he runs over to Quint and attacks the spider in front of him with his fire rapier, finishing it off.

Ned grabs one of his axes and swings at the spider in front of him, cutting its head in half. He spots the spider in front of Rosania and, realizing it's still alive, directs the moonbeam to target it instead. The beam delivers the final blow, and everyone relaxes a little.

Rosania stares down at the spider in front of her for a moment then silently puts away her wand, glancing over at Javier and Harmony as she does so. She's concerned about both of them, and despite having only been part of the group for a short time she can tell that something's not quite right with how either of them have been acting.

Quint, meanwhile, turns his attention to the unconscious elf. Sure, they’ve been stabilized, but they need healing. He scoops them up in his arms and starts hurrying in the direction of the town they came from, and one by one the others follow him.

We walk into the town and there's no-one around. All of the windows and doors are shut tight. Quint calls out to announce our presence and one of the temple windows opens slightly, and the person inside asks who we are.

Quint explains that we mean no harm to the people here, and that we rescued the elf in his arms and brought them to be healed. The person at the window moves away and opens the door, although there's rope tied to the door so that it can be quickly pulled shut if needed.

We all walk over to the temple and head inside. As we do we notice that everyone in here seems to be elves, and that the one who'd been talking to Quint looks pretty old. Since Quint is a human and Javier and Rosania are both elves the elves who were here don't pay much attention to them, but they all seem pretty surprised at the presence of Harmony and Ned, what with them being a tiefling and a dwarf respectively.

The doors close behind us, and the room is plunged into nearly complete darkness. The only light is from a small handle-hole in the window, which isn't enough to properly see by. This wouldn't be an issue were it not for the fact that Quint has no darkvision what with being a human. He awkwardly asks if someone can light things up, and about a quarter of the elves immediately conjure various light spells. The room gets so bright that some of the elves have to dismiss their light spells.

The elf who opened the door asks Quint what exactly happened, and he explains that the unconscious elf was walking towards where the lightning had struck, looked in the crater and got shot by skeletons on skeleton horses. The elf sighs and comments that Avadele (the unconscious elf) was probably trying to pet the skeleton horses, and asks someone to go fetch a Truth spell scroll so that they can ask Avadele when they wake up.

He leads Quint to the altar and has him place Avadele down on it. As one of the elves comes over with a Truth spell scroll, he heals Avadele and they wake up. As Avadele wakes up, the head elf casts the truth spell and asks them what happened. Avadele pauses for a moment, then responds by saying "There was a horsey and I went to go pet it, then lightning struck and big needles stuck into me. Then I was here." The other elves in the room exchange glances and roll their eyes, clearly expecting an answer like this.

Quint tells Avadele that they were shot, and they respond in confusion by saying they didn't see anyone with spell-shooters. Quint asks if they know what arrows are and Avadele nods, which is when they catch sight of the arrows which are still sticking into them. Before anyone can stop them they break off all of the arrow staffs, much to the horror of Quint and unsurprised looks between the other elves.

As a few of the elves start conjuring Mage Hands and using them to remove the arrow heads still embedded in Avadele, Rosania walks over to talk to Javier. She asks if he's ok and he just looks at her, then quietly says that he just wants Jayfice brought back to life. She nods sympathetically, then decides to go through with her plan and asks if they might need therapy after they come back.

Javier pauses for a moment, but tells her that aside from the missing leg and injured arm, theoretically they should be fine. Rosania explains that she's asking because she's not sure how traumatizing being dead would be, since she's never been dead before. Javier agrees, muttering about how he's never actually been dead before either. He tells her about a therapist he knows and tells her that if she's looking for therapy he highly recommends that one, and Rosania nods to herself and comments that "Therapy can be very useful" before walking away.

It's as she's walking away that she realizes Javier's wording. "If you're looking for therapy." She stops walking and blinks a few times, then turns and looks over at Javier, who's moved to the side and is currently sitting on the floor, leaning against one of the walls. Does he think she was trying to get therapy recommendations...for herself?

She rolls her eyes at the idea and turns away from him. She doesn't need therapy. Sure, a camping trip on her own to get over her feelings for her best friend that ended up being three years of isolation and only ended when she accidentally became a druid was weird, and turning into a...dinosaur, as Jayfice called it...every time she got extremely scared was probably a little concerning, but she was fine. Nothing another camping trip wouldn't fix, anyway.

As she reaches this conclusion, the head elf walks over to her and rests his hand lightly on her head. She realizes that he's just trying to heal her and allows the contact before silently pointing him towards Javier. She wasn't attacked during the fight so she doesn't need healing, and as soon as the head elf turns away she turns and walks towards Harmony.

She asks Harmony how she's feeling, and Harmony explains that she's feeling ok since the head elf healed her. Rosania nods and asks how she is mentally, and Harmony admits that she's a little shaken up after everything that's been going on, but is more worried about Javier. Rosania nods sympathetically and says "If you ever need to talk about it..." but trails off as she's unsure of what to say. Harmony thanks her for the offer and heads over to Javier, sitting down with him and running her hands through his hair as he snuggles up to her.

Despite neither of them watching what she's doing, Rosania feels it'd be a little suspicious if she just asked them how they were and not the others. She walks over to Ned and asks how he's doing and he tells her he's ok, and satisfied for now she walks over to ask Quint the same question.

Quint seems calm enough as Rosania approaches him, but when she asks how he is, the full gravity of the situation hits him. He starts panicking, rambling about how he didn't expect any of this to happen and asking why the fuck we even need diamonds in the first place.

Rosania has no idea what to do. She can feel her own fear starting to bubble up in her chest, which only escalates as she wonders what the hell she's going to do if she turns into a dinosaur in here. Thankfully though, Harmony has also noticed Quint's panicked state. She quickly brings the group together and casts Calm Emotions, and a state of calm falls over everyone. Quint stops panicking, Javier and Harmony seem more at ease, Ned looks calmer than before, and Rosania feels pretty relaxed herself as the emotions just seem to dissolve.

The head elf comes over to check up on us himself, and Harmony reassures him that we're fine now. Quint asks if we can stay here at the temple for tonight, and he responds by saying that if we're happy with sleeping on the pews since all of the rooms are filled up, then that's alright with him.

Later that night, Rosania and the others start to make themselves as comfortable as they can on the pews. Rosania's mind is buzzing as she tries to relax, thinking over both Javier and Harmony's words. Since it seems that Harmony may share her concerns about Javier's mental state, she makes up her mind. As soon as Jayfice is brought back to life, she's going to get Javier some therapy, no matter what.

Satisfied with this conclusion she slowly slips into her trance, only to be jolted out of it again by a loud noise coming from outside. It's loud, and annoying, and...familiar. Her mind kicks back in as she tries to work out where she knows it from, and as the others start sitting up and looking around she realizes what it is.

It's a signal horn.

(cue dramatic cut to black with text that reads "To be continued..." since that's where the action ended)

#recap #Cookie's recap #Cookie #dnd #d&d

0 notes

mischiefandspirits · 6 years

Text

She Never Felt Alone

Part of the Cat of a Different Color series

With Allura all healed up, the team decide on their next move. It was supposed to be a quick in and out mission. Instead one of their own ends up captured while another ends up at deaths door. Can the team save them both before it’s too late?

Part 2: Curiosity Killed the Lions

Something is very wrong with Merla and Allura's been captured. It's not exactly the best day for the team.

“Merla!” Keith shouted as he saw the cheetah get thrown into one of the tanks. He dodged the blast the druid sent at him and jetpacked towards them using the smoke from the blasts as a cover. He brought down his sword, but they caught it with a blast of magic. His eyes widened just before they increased the strength, tossing him back. His back slammed into one of the cases and he heard it crack under the strain.

Shaking and panting, he looked down at his hand to see it marred with lavender tinted burns.

Keith looked up at the druid, but they were looking away from him. He turned and felt his breath catch in his throat.

Merla was lying in front of the shattered tank. Her body was smoking as the yellow liquid she was drenched in burned away her body like acid.

“Merla,” he whispered, reaching out for her with his mind.

He felt nothing.

“Merla!” Keith shouted, scrambling to his feet. As he ran towards her white and gold lights began hovering around her body. “Pidge, we need an extraction now! Hurry!”

A blast from the druid cut him off. He turned back to them just in time to jump to the side and avoid another blast. Keith growled and shot towards them, but they teleported away. He spun around, trying to find them, and saw them reappear near Merla. “Stay away from her!”

The druid ignored him and reached towards the fallen cheetah.

Suddenly the lights shot away from the druid as Merla’s body finished burning away.

The lights collected near Keith, the gold fading into red or white as they collected into a feline shape. Keith gasped as the form solidified into a shape similar to Maece, only smaller and primarily white with curling red designs. She was also lacking a halo and had black eyes.

“Merla?”

The figure turned to him and he felt a foreign pressure in his head for a moment. She turned to look at the druid and her tail began curling and flickering like a flame. She tilted her head up and her muzzle ripped open, revealing a void that flames spilled out of. They shot out at the druid, who barely managed to teleport away in time. She immediately spun around and fired another stream of fire, which caught the druid’s side as soon as they appeared. The druid staggered back gripping their side, then teleported away.

Tail relaxing and mouth closing without a trace, the figure turned to Keith and the foreign pressure returned.

“Merla?” Keith repeated, kneeling down.

She tilted her head.

He reached out to run his hand over her head. “What happened to you?”

She pulled back before he could touch her and stared at his hand.

He flinched as he saw the burns. “Yeah, forgot about that. The adrenaline must still be dulling most of the pain.”

The pressure increased in his head and her ears uncurled. The tips reached over to brush against his hand. The tips felt warm, but soothing as they traced the burns. A red energy covered his hand and he watched with amazement as the wounds healed, not leaving a scar.

As her ears curled back up, he pulled his hand close to look it over. The only sign he’d been hurt was the vibrant lavender splotches that still covered his hand. “Wow, thanks. Since when can you do that?” he asked.

The pressure left his head and Merla laid down, her tail curling around her.

Keith frowned, the panic that had faded to the background resurging. “Merla, what’s wrong?”

The red designs flickered as they started to fade.

The ceiling began to collapse and Keith switched his bayard to his other hand so he could raise his shield over the both of them to protect them from debris.

The Green Lion exploded into the room and landed next to them. As Chip’s mouth opened, Pidge called through the intercoms, “Get in! We’ve got to get Shiro and Allura!”

Dropping the shield and letting his bayard return to his armor, he carefully scooped Merla into his arms and carried her into the Green Lion.

He only went so far as through the airlock before sitting down with Merla in his lap. “Come on, Merla. Speak to me.”

The designs flickered once more before disappearing altogether.

Keith started to shake and brought their heads together. “Mama, please,” he whispered.

“Keith?”

The Red Paladin looked up to see a blurry Lance and Hunk walking towards them.

“What happened?” Lance asked as Keith brought his hand up to scrub at his eyes.

“I-I don’t know. We were fighting the scary guy and she got covered in the quint-whatever and she turned into this and scared him off, but then she just collapsed and now… I don’t know. Something’s wrong. She’s not talking to me.”

“Wait, that’s Merla?” Hunk said, looking at the cat-like creature.

Keith nodded.

Lance stepped forward and set his hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ll get her back to the castle and into a pod then she’ll be fine.”

Keith shook his head.

“It’s alright, see. Just calm-” Lance set his hand on Merla’s tail and the energy collapsed under his touch, dissipating into the air.

Keith yanked her close to his chest and hissed, “Don’t touch her!”

“I-I’m sor-”

“Don’t you get it! This isn’t like last time! I can’t hear her! I c-can’t feel h-her. She-she’s…” Keith ducked his head.

Lance reached his hand out to the boy, then stopped. He let his hand fall as he turned to Hunk.

The larger boy had his hand over his mouth and tears in his eyes.

“We should tell the others.”

Hunk nodded. “Sh-Shiro.”

“What is it?”

“I… I think we know why the lions are so messed up.”

“Why?”

Hunk opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out.

“Hunk?”

“Shiro,” Lance said. “I think Merla’s dying.”

Keith flinched.

“WHA- I’m coming, Allura! Guys, we’ll talk when we get to the lion.”

Hunk shifted from foot to foot before walking over to sit next to Keith. Careful not to touch Merla, he wrapped an arm around Keith and pulled the smaller boy against him.

“I’m… going to go talk to Pidge,” Lance said.

Keith didn’t look up, but Hunk nodded.

Lance walked into the cockpit to see Pidge holding the controls with white knuckles as the Green Lion approached an escape pod. “Chip?” he asked.

“She’s terrified. I don’t think they have any better idea what’s going on than we do.”

“The cryo pods will help.”

Pidge nodded, but looked unconvinced.

Shiro stared blankly at the doors of the escape pod as the Green Lion approached.

She’s gone and Merla’s dying.

Once Pidge had locked onto the ship, Shiro ran into the lion. His heart broke when he saw Keith and Hunk huddled together, a limp feline lying in Keith’s lap.

Keith looked up at him with tears in his eyes. “Shiro?”

“Oh Keith.” The Black Paladin dropped down next to his nephew. He went to hug him, but was stopped by Hunk.

“Don’t touch her.”

Shiro was confused, but nodded and carefully pulled Keith into his arms.

Hunk looked around with a frown and asked, “Where's Allura?”

Shiro tightened his grip around Keith and pressed his face into the boy’s hair.

“Shiro?”

He looked up to see Lance standing in the doorway. He looked away. “She sacrificed herself to save me.”

“So, she's still on that ship?” Pidge asked over the comms.

“The ship that's headed to Zarkon's Central Command?”

“Shiro, what are we going to do?” Lance asked.

“We can't let Zarkon get Allura.”

“But you said going there would be a huge mistake. You said for us to attack that place head-on would be the dumbest possible thing we could ever do.”

“I know. But now we don't have a choice. Pidge, get us back to the castle. We need a plan.”

“Right.”

Coran was waiting for them when they came out of the Green Lion.

“What happened? Pidge only told me to prepare the cryo-replenishers.”

“Merla’s… injured. She need to get into the pod, asap.”

He nodded, then looked around as Pidge stepped out and Chip rose up. “Where's Allura?”

“They captured her. She sacrificed herself to save me and the information. I didn't have a choice.”

“How is that possible?”

“Coran,” Shiro said, just short of snapping. “I'm sorry things didn't go as planned, but we can't focus on what went wrong. We've got to figure out how to make it right. Right now, that means getting Merla into a pod.” He turned to Pidge. “You head up to the bridge and scan the download from the ship. Find out where Zarkon's central command is.”

“On it!” She gave Keith a pat on the back before running off.

The rest of the group headed to the infirmary. Coran opened up the prepped pod and Keith carefully set Merla inside. The pod closed, then immediately opened.

“What’s going on?” Keith growled and Shiro set his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

Coran checked the pod’s info and frowned. “It’s not detecting any signs of life.”

“You mean…” Hunk whimpered, grabbing Lance’s arm. “She’s dead?”

Coran shook his head. “No, no, the pod’s not detecting any signs of life at all, not even deceased life. As far as the pod’s concerned, it’s empty.”

“But she’s in there!” Keith shouted.

“It doesn’t make sense,” the Altean agreed.

Shiro sighed and squeezed Keith’s shoulder before stepping back. “You three stay here and try and fix it. Lance, come with me. We need to go see what Pidge found.”

“Right,” Hunk muttered, walking over to stand next to Coran at the control panel, and Lance nodded. He patted Keith’s shoulder before following Shiro out.

Pidge turned to them as soon as the walked onto the bridge. “How’s Merla? Where are the others?”

“Something’s wrong with the pods. It’s not picking Merla up. Coran and Hunk stayed to try and figure out how to fix it and Keith…”

Pidge nodded and turned back to her screen. “I hadn’t expected to see him.”

“Did you find anything?”

She nodded and sent the info up onto the main screen. “Look at this.”

The display gave the details of a huge ship similar in shape to the Galra symbol.

“I think we should go in right away. Every minute we waste gives Zarkon time to prepare for us,” Pidge said.

“I agree. We form Voltron, fly in, fly out, dust off our hands, and walk away,” Lance agreed.

“I don’t know. We had trouble on the Balmera against one fleet. Who knows how many Zarkon’s got stashed in such a large base. It could be risky,” Shiro countered, studying the designs. “We’ll need a plan.”

Keith paced back and forth as Hunk and Coran talked.

“I don’t understand. All the diagnostics are coming back clean.”

“There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with the hardware.”

“Maybe-”

“This isn’t getting us anywhere!” Keith snapped. He stomped over to the pod and picked up Merla.

“Keith-” Hunk started, but the Red Paladin ignored him.

He was halfway to the Red Lion’s hanger before he realized where he was going. When he reached the hanger, the lion was lying down and completely dark without even her particle barrier.

He set Merla down on one of the paws then climbed up. He pulled off his helmet and laid down next to her. Gently running his bare hand down her back, he whispered, “Please be okay.”

“Anything?

“There's just no way in. They'll have us tracked from every direction.”

“There's gotta be something. Keep looking.”

Shiro was hovering behind Lance when Hunk and Coran came onto the bridge.

“Did you figure it out?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

They both frowned and Hunk shook his head.

“Nothing appears wrong with any of the pods,” Coran said. “We tested everything and it all seems to be working fine.”

“So you couldn’t do anything for her?” Pidge asked.

“Unfortunately not.”

“Where’s Keith?” Shiro sighed.

“He grabbed Merla and took off a while ago. We haven’t seen him since,” Hunk said.

“Look at the size of it!” Coran gasped, catching sight of the base.

“I know, we’ve been trying to find a way in,” Shiro explained before turning to the Yellow Paladin. “Hunk, give it a good look over. See if you can see any structural weakness that we could take advantage of.”

“Right.”

“Shiro,” Lance started. “What are we going to do? Allura’s been captured and with the state Merla’s in, will the Red Lion even work? How will we form Voltron?”

“I don’t know. Just focus on what you’re doing for right now. One thing at a time.”

Lance nodded and turned back to his screens and Shiro could see the other two paladins do the same out of the corner of his eye. He walked over to Coran. “You okay?”

“Are any of us?” Coran sighed. He tilted his head down and grabbed the edge of his consol. “And we aren’t even the ones in danger.” He looked up at Shiro. “I want to blame you, you know.”

Shiro nodded. “I know you're worried about Allura. We all are. I'm sorry I let her slip away.”

Coran shook his head. “No, don’t. I know it's not your fault. It's just… I've already lost so much. I can't lose Allura, too.”

“We'll find a way to get her back. If there was just a way to get close to Zarkon's ship unseen…”

Coran looked up at the images on the main screen. His eyes widened as he spotted something and used his panel to bring up a closer look at one of the planets orbiting the base. “Wait a tick. I think I've got a way.”

“Come on, Merla. There has to be something we could do.”

“Keith?”

The Red Paladin picked his head up to see Lance standing a short ways away. “What?”

“Thought you’d want an update, we think we’ve got a plan to get Allura back.” He came closer, peaking up at Merla with worried eyes. “How’s she doing?”

“Worse,” Keith sighed, looking down at her tail, which had begun crumbling even more. “Did Coran and Hunk fix the pod?”

“No, sorry. They couldn't find anything wrong with it.”

“Quiznak!” Keith dropped his head back down and slammed his fist against the paw.

Lance sighed and reached up to Keith, then paused with his gaze locked onto the white and red energy from her tail fade away like mist. His eyes widened. “What if we’ve been thinking about this wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, the cats aren’t actually, you know, cats. They’re magic robot spirits or something. Maybe that’s why the pods aren’t picking her up.”

“The pod worked before.”

“Yeah, but she at least looked and worked like a normal cat then. Now she’s just… whatever that is. A star cat?”

“How does that help? The pod still won’t work!” Keith growled

Lance raised his hands. “I’m just saying, maybe whatever is wrong with her has to do with whatever she is now. So if we can figure out what she is maybe we can help her.”

“That’s… a good point. But how would we find out? She’s obviously not any kind of Earth creature and Coran didn’t say anything about recognizing her species.”

Lance shook his head. “Maybe there’s something in the castle archives? We could ha-“

There was a sharp tug at the back of Lance’s mind.

Blue?

Another, harsher tug came.

“Blue! Maybe one of the other cats know something! Come on!”

“Wait!” Keith called, but Lance was already running out of the hanger. The Red Paladin quickly hopped down from his lion’s paw and scooped up Merla before following after as fast as he dared.

Blue opened up as soon as they came into her hanger. “Okay, beautiful. We need help healing Merla,” Lance called as they hurried inside. He staggered slightly as the full weight of Blue's illness hit him, but did his best to push through it. He turned towards the cockpit, but instead a door opened up leading further into the lion. The two paladins shared a look before heading through the door. Blue guided them deeper into the lion than Lance had ever explored until they reached a dead end.

“Now what?” Keith asked.

Lance ran his hand over the wall Blue kept tugging him towards. He opened his mouth to ask as well when his fingers found a slim, almost unnoticeable opening in the wall. His eyes widened as he traced it horizontally across the wall. “Hey, I think there’s something here. Like a secret door or something.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded and started moving around the wall. “Maybe there’s a secret button or a lever or -”

Shnk!

Lance jumped and turned to see Keith’s blade sunk into the opening, Merla laying on the ground a short ways behind them. “Or we could do that,” he chuckled, moving over to help Keith pry the door open.

Once the two got it wide enough for them both to fit, Lance held it open while Keith stepped in before following.

The room beyond was small, about half the size of the cockpits, and relatively plain looking.

Unless you looked up.

The boys gasped as they saw the large crystal hanging above them. It was as tall as Lance and twice as wide. It pulsed with sapphire light, but was otherwise completely clear. At its center was a hollow in the shape of a stylized comet curled into itself.

“It’s so pretty,” Lance said, reaching up to run his fingers over the crystal.

Keith tried to do the same, but yanked his hand away as soon as he touched it. “It’s freezing,” he hissed, rubbing at his stinging fingertips. It felt like that time he’d poked the dry ice in chem class. He pulled his glove off to check for frostbite.

Lance frowned and set his hand flat against the crystal. “It’s not that cold.” It was chilly, but in a nice way, like jumping into the pool or ocean on a hot day.

“Maybe not for you.”

“Well, she is my lion,” he hummed, closing his eyes. He could feel the chill sinking into his hand. He could also feel the light pulsing through the crystal. It was almost rhythmic.

Thum-thum thum-thum thum-thum.

It was almost like…

Lance’s eyes snapped open. “It’s a heartbeat.”

Lesson of the day kiddos: Don't be like me and Keith. When your teacher says not to touch dry ice, flipping listen.

Also, I can't believe it took me writing this chapter to realize the station looked like the Galra insignia!

#Cat of a Different Color #voltron #voltron legendary defender #Collection and Extraction #The Black Paladin

2 notes · View notes