#ch: Kassa
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Spend the Night: Ch. 14
~Coauthored by @zeitghest~
Fandom(s): Five Nights At Freddy’s: Security Breach
Description: The familiar melody of Grandfather’s Clock chimes through the echoing halls of the Pizzaplex…
Charlie wakes up in her Puppet’s vessel yet again with one goal in mind: to stop William Afton’s reign of terror for good. She enlists the help of Glamrock Freddy, the emphatic leader of the newest iteration of the Fazbear Band. But there seems to be more to this bear than meets the eye—and the same goes for the mysteriously familiar kid the duo find tinkering with animatronics down in Parts & Service.
With some help from friends new and old, Charlie’s journey into the bowels of the Pizzaplex will unravel mysteries none of them ever expected.
Rating: T
Read on Ao3
Don’t lose heart
‘Cause you are
My superstar!
Don’t give up
With some luck
Together, we’ll make it, I know it
My superstar
~My Superstar by Kassa Jae~
“Don’t!” Michael yelled, lurching forward with arms outstretched as he realized what William was about to do. His shout made his father pause, while Gregory merely stared up at him with eyes full of utter terror.
“I… I-I don’t think he needs that right now, Father,” Michael continued, his voice low and placating. He attempted another grin, this one tinged with a hint of brotherly pride. “His body's much stronger than before already—did you know he managed to take down Monty? Even took his glasses as a victory prize! Show him, Evan!”
Michael hoped Gregory still had those shades he’d seen him slip in his pocket while they were in the security office. If he could somehow convince William that “Evan” was resilient, perhaps he’d ease off again.
“No—Evan did that?” William asked in disbelief, turning the boy around by the shoulder and looking at him expectantly.
This guy wasn't even Gregory's real father and his intimidating stare made Gregory want to sob the truth out. Yet somehow he had a feeling Michael really wasn't trying to get him killed, and that hope made Gregory shove his hands into his pockets for proof. After finding the broken shades that poked his palm painfully upon discovery, he held them out for William to scrutinize.
“...Ooo-hoo, look who's a big tough guy now.” Will began to laugh and poked Gregory playfully against his shoulder, causing the boy to tip slightly from how tense he was. The crazed murderer spoke as if his favorite character being replaced was a personal offense. “Isn't that something? Did it feel good, getting rid of that knock-off?”
“Duh, he was trying to kill me all night!” Gregory snarled in annoyance, which had reminded William of an unintentional little snag.
“Ah—I'll have to call them back to their rooms. 'Fraid the band's been a bit cranky. Sorry, kid...” The delusional man felt somewhat silly for almost making the same mistake twice. The needle was put away for now, but William had returned to holding Gregory's shoulders to keep him in place.
“He’s been so brave, going up against all those cranky bots!” Michael praised, copying William’s language in a subtle attempt to gain more favor. Crouching down, Mike grinned widely and held his arms out wide for Gregory to run into. “I’m super proud of you, Evan—can your big brother please have a hug?”
Hopefully William would either let him go willingly, or his grip was loose enough for Gregory to break free. If not, Mike was running out of ideas…
Gregory was stuck between a rock and a hard place. William had allowed him to approach, no longer afraid of Michael's wrath as Gregory gently pulled from his hands. The boy was shaky, holding his trembling arms out as he trusted the cunning fox. It was his only chance, after all.
“Look at that,” William said, choosing now to lean his chin into his empty palm. “It makes me happy to see you two get along. Especially after all that nasty business so long ago...”
It put a bad taste in William's mouth to even mention it. Even if hearing that made Gregory hesitate, he still reached out for Michael's hug.
Michael moved fast—the fastest he’d moved since being bonded to Foxy. Hoping Gregory would forgive him for the physical and mental jerking around, Mike grabbed one of the boy’s outstretched hands and practically threw him towards the Fazerblaster.
“Grab the gun and run to the nearest elevator—I’ll meet you there!” Michael hissed, then before anyone could react he used his leverage from crouching to launch at William. He slammed into the rabbit with a sickening crack, getting in a few good scratches as his hook and sharp nails connected with William’s shoulders while Mike pushed him backwards, crushing the rest of the foam wall in the process. His goal was to keep William down as long as possible so Gregory could get to the elevator, upon which Michael would ditch his father and rush to Gregory’s aid.
Fuck the last Checkpoint—Michael would physically pry those elevators doors open if he had to in order to keep the kid safe.
Gregory didn't look back—he couldn't for fear of freezing up again in his tracks. That man petrified him. He sounded like Michael; even had similar mannerisms. But knowing what he’d done creeped Gregory out to the point of being unable to act or fight.
The horrified shout of Michael tossing his brother hard, sending the boy stumbling to pick up the blaster gave William barely any time to react. He reached out for Evan, only to be thrown into the ground with the crunching sound of metal singing his descent.
“Evan! Wait—HRRK!” William struggled to say as he attempted to pry the hook from his chest. Right now, they were in a death lock. With William's legs poised against his son, pulled in close by the hook imbedded inside him, they could easily do damage to one another. One kick could pry apart the joint in Michael's hip or crack his casing.
“Michael—you really lied to me,” William murmured in disbelief. Michael was trying to pry the family apart just as soon as they’d gotten it on track. But the manipulative Afton patriarch knew exactly what would disturb his son. “The apple doesn't fall from the tree, huh?”
Michael froze. Yet again, he’d been compared to his father, the man he hated more than anything in the universe. The fact that William was the one saying this made it all the more skin-crawling.
Mike had come to terms with being cursed with the face of a murderer. Honestly, after the initial horror of the Ennard incident wore off, there was a minuscule part of Michael’s mind that was thankful for his rotting face—if only because now he’d no longer be compared to William Afton.
But to compare his personality… that was too much.
For a moment, Mike didn’t know what to do—he wanted to scream, to rip his father’s face off, and to run away at the same time. Then he heard the faint sound of Gregory’s tiny shoes pattering away, and his mind was made up.
“Fuck. You.” Michael snarled, angling his hook so it would do as much damage as possible. Then, with a sharp tug, he ripped a hole right through the outer casing of Bonnie’s suit, the screeching metal echoing through the arena. “I'm NOTHING like you!”
William had no clue whether to laugh or shout from the simulated pain. He kicked Michael as he tore a jagged line through his protective outer shell. As his foot made contact with what would've been his son's guts, Will made an awful sound before moving to clutch the cavity in his own chest. The tear had made William's left arm incapable of movement, locked now between the ground and his angry child.
“I did this for you—” he attempted, messing with Michael's head between the assault and the words he knew stung the worst. “—bringing back Evan, Lizzie. Hell, I'd bring your mother back for you, if I could! But you were always ungrateful. Every opportunity I gave to you, you squandered!”
“Ungrateful?!” Michael’s voice was pitched high with fury, his heavy weight keeping William pinned for now. “What did I even have to be ungrateful for?! You might've thought you were giving me ‘opportunities’ in your deluded mind, but you gave me nothing!” He snarled again, bearing down on the rabbit’s pinned arm and hearing another satisfying crack.
“Nothing I actually needed, at least—but you wouldn’t know that, would you? How could you, when you barely talked to me after Evan died?” Michael’s eyes were hard and cold, the hatred leaching out in waves. “You were a horrible father, William... and I'll never forgive you for all you’ve done.”
William let out a worried yelp as his arm was bent unnaturally, attention now captivated on his son. In a way, Will could see the irony. He inhaled upon seeing the twisted metal limb snapping in Michael's hands, the joint broken but unsevered at the elbow.
“Now what?” he asked slowly. “Do you want me to apologize? You'll never forgive me... I'm not sorry for trying to immortalize my loved ones.” In his mind, William hadn't done anything wrong, but the shame he could feel from Michael's glare burned worse than the external limb damage. “So do it. Kill me. I'll just keep coming back again and again until I can make all of this right.”
How could he? When he'd already messed everything up this badly?
There was no fixing it. The least he could've done was grieved and moved on with the remainder of his family. But William couldn't even do that.
“I... have to make it right. What kind of father am I...?” William stopped. He couldn't finish the thought, or perhaps he answered his own question. Beneath Michael, the tension of Bonnie's limbs softened, Instead of holding the cavity in his chest he allowed his hand to fall to the side, leaving himself open and defenseless.
Michael raised his hook high at the sight of his father lying prone beneath him. This was it—this was the moment he’d been waiting for all these years. He could finally get revenge on all the agony and torment this creature put his family through. The sharp, golden tip of the hook reflected the neon lights of the Fazer Blast arena as Mike prepared to strike—
“Oh Miiiiiiichael~”
The fox startled, whirling around. Shit—he’d completely forgotten about Vanny. Of course she’d be spurred into action at the notion of her savior in danger. He barely caught sight of her at the other end of the room through the fog… but clutched in her arms was Gregory. She held him with his back flush against her, one arm wrapped firmly around his torso while the other was cinched around his neck—not tight enough to choke, but the threat was there.
“Don’t you want to help your little friend, Michael?” Vanny asked, her tone sickly sweet with false sincerity. She wouldn’t hurt him, not unless William commanded her to, but she could at least hold him captive until her savior was free.
Michael only had a second to make a decision: rip his father’s mechanical guts out, or get Gregory to safety. Of course, his answer was obvious.
There wasn’t time for any more poignant words. Michael simply pushed himself off William’s body and rushed Vanny, ripping her arm away from Gregory’s throat faster then she could blink. She let out a yell of pain and let go of the boy’s torso as Michael unintentionally twisted her wrist a bit too far in his panic, everyone in the vicinity wincing at the cracking sound. He’d definitely dislocated something, if not broken it entirely.
“Sorry, Vanessa,” Michael murmured, knowing that despite it all, she was still just William’s pawn with no free will of her own. He hoisted Gregory into his arms and rushed to the elevator, wary of his hook as they ran.
William had given up the chase before it began. When Vanessa went to run after the pair, he called her back to him.
“Forget them! Help me!” he commanded, pushing himself off the ground with his good hand. William spoke in a tired manner, watching as his family slipped through his fingers again. “It looks like we'll have to go with plan B, Vanny dear...”
Gregory's grasp on Mike's coat kept him from falling. He was sure Michael's gait would be fast even if he'd been given two working legs and not a peg. Really he couldn't complain, as Michael turned out to have been fibbing to his father, lying about luring Gregory to Fazer Blast for part of this convoluted scheme. When Vanny took Gregory's weapon and held him at the neck, Gregory had surpassed a level of stress and fear that left him unable to speak. He merely clung tightly to Michael and was unwilling to raise his head from the other man's shoulder in their whole escape. Even at the piercing sound of metal being forced open in the lift, he wouldn't look up.
To Gregory’s benefit, he had a strong grip. He remained latched onto Mike as the fox shoved his hook into the joint between the elevator doors, using both arms to pull the doors apart enough to slip inside. As soon as Michael released his hold, the heavy metal slammed shut and he frantically slapped the button to take them up and out of this hellhole.
Michael didn’t think he’d look at laser tag the same way for a very long time. He only allowed himself a sigh of relief when he felt the elevator move. Slowly, carefully, all too aware of the incredible trauma Gregory must be going through, Mike shifted him into a proper hug. He held the boy firmly, though nothing close to constricting—he could escape the embrace with a simple twist, which Michael kept a lookout for as he murmured comforting words in Gregory’s ear.
“It’s alright; you’re safe now—we’re both safe. He can’t hurt you anymore… I’m sorry I scared you earlier, but I promise I’m on your side.” Michael’s voice caught slightly as the gravity of what could’ve happened to the innocent boy began to hit him. “I-I promise, Gregory… He’s never getting his hands on you ever again.”
Gregory wouldn't realize it just then, but a fear of needles had imbedded itself into him now. Whatever was inside that hypodermic couldn't have been good. The more Gregory tried to push its shimmering glow from his mind the more he would hyperventilate. He completely soaked Michael's shoulder with his tears, sobbing outwardly as he held on like Mike would suddenly turn to mist and leave him all alone.
“He—He was gonna stab me!” Gregory sobbed. That was all he could say before devolving into a shivering husk, curled into Michael's arms for comfort as he allowed himself to slowly be soothed. Even when they reached the top level, the kid was still sniffling back tears.
“But he didn't,” Michael soothed, rocking him ever-so-gently. He was already trying to step out of the elevator before the doors opened, ready to get the hell out of this attraction.
Tonight was rough, no doubt about it. But what happened back there rivaled Monty Golf in traumatic experience.
To their ironic luck, they'd managed to take the “winner's elevator,” which deposited them in a lounge overlooking the entire arena. Michael resisted the urge to peer through the glass and see what happened to William and Vanny—knowing their tenacity, they were probably up and about already. What Michael did focus on, however, was the shining golden Fazblaster set up on a pedestal in the center of the room.
Well... it seemed like they'd acquired a gun after all; the mission hadn't been totally pointless, though the trauma they'd both received far outweighed whatever protection the new weapon could give. Michael carefully grasped the Fazblaster with Gregory balanced in the crook of his arm, then swiftly exited the room. Thinking they'd won, the arena was now happy to open its doors as they traveled down a hallway of flashing lights towards the exit. As they reached the final door leading to the lobby, Michael could hear someone banging on the other side—hard. He instantly tensed, mentally cursing their luck.
Great, just what they needed—another bloodthirsty animatronic to fight off. Just as he started to plan the best way to take down a rabid wolf or chicken with Gregory still in his arms, a familiar voice instantly blew all worries away.
“I hear someone approaching—Gregory? Michael? Is that you?!” Freddy's voice was frantic and strained, the clawing on the door only stopping when it finally opened to reveal the pair in question.
“No, no no no—” Gregory could only imagine William was behind the door before hearing Freddy's voice.
Everything was too much, all he wanted to do was hold onto Mike and just hope that he woke up in a cardboard box—that all of this was just a nightmare and he’d really made it outside before closing time. When the door opened, causing Charlie to snake around Freddy and quickly scope for danger, Gregory sobbed out loud again, rubbing the backs of his fists into his eyes as his tough kid façade dropped even farther.
“Da-aaa-d!” Gregory hiccupped, afraid of the consequences Freddy might have in store for doing something stupid and dangerous. When thinking about that and the deranged psyche of William Afton he was quaking against Michael's coat.
“Oh my goodness—what happened?!” Freddy exclaimed, his tone full of nothing but concern. He wasn't mad at Gregory in the slightest, but the boy was too emotional to know that yet. The bear reached his paws—er, claws out, the limbs having been successfully replaced by Monty's. They were shiny, free of blood, and so gentle as he took Gregory into his arms that it was hard to believe they'd been used to attack said child a few hours prior.
“Gregory, it is alright!” Freddy soothed as Michael handed the boy over without question. It only took a small effort to dislodge Gregory's grip, and though he might've slightly protested in fear of Freddy's wrath, Michael could tell the bear was absolutely beside himself with worry and wouldn't hurt the kid in anyway—physically or mentally. As soon as Gregory was safely in Freddy's arms the bear hugged him close, feeling the trembling hiccups and half-sobs the boy was still letting out as he clung to his metal dad for dear life.
“My dear boy, you are safe—whatever happened in there is a thing of the past,” Freddy continued, totally in comfort mode now. “I love you very much and I am here to protect you; you will be alright. Just relax and try to take some deep breaths. There you go—wonderful, superstar. Keep that up.”
Charlie quietly stood and overlooked the touching scene of Freddy comforting Gregory. Now she could really see what Michael was talking about. The resemblance to his late brother was shocking—especially when he had cried like that. She watched until his sobs fell into tired little hiccups.
It wasn't long before Gregory could look up from Freddy's chest plate while Michael began explaining what just transpired. He felt the need to interject Michael's retelling to emphasize portions of it, including when Vanny grabbed him after William almost pricked a needle beneath his skin.
Soon, exhausted by the end of Michael's dramatic story, Gregory's eyes were shut in rest. Not quite asleep; his heart was racing far too fast for that. But the bags forming under his eyes were starting to ache from keeping them open.
“You poor things...,” Freddy murmured, giving Michael a look of utmost sympathy as he rocked his son, the action seeming to make the boy's heartrate calm little by little. “I am sorry we were not there to help you.”
“Not your fault; we shouldn't have—” Michael paused, then gave a sharp shake of his head. “No, it wasn't anyone's fault we got stuck in there—except maybe whoever designed those stupid doors!” He glared at the entrance as if he could burn a hole through it with his vision, then seemed to visibly deflate. “...We shouldn't linger here; let's get back to the security office.”
“Yes, I think that is wise,” Freddy agreed, already making his way to the exit. “You both are in desperate need of a rest.”
Lo and behold, 4:30 had come and passed by the time they had left the Fazer Blast, luckily with no rabbits chasing them down. Charlie had thought of nudging Gregory to walk on his own, but the exhaustion on his tired face made Charlie think twice.
As they walked, she looked towards her taller friend and whispered. “You sure you're alright, Mike?”
Ghosts may not exactly need to sleep, but they could still get burned out. The only issue with them resting may mean Gregory was exposed to danger. Though it was hard to imagine forcing him to strive for escape when he was curled into the crook of Freddy's arm, reclined like a tuckered cherub. She couldn't imagine doing that to Michael either—not with the tired expression he wore that screamed of disappointment and a deep sadness.
“I'm fine,” he replied, terser than he'd meant it to sound. He couldn't afford to rest—Gregory needed him, and so did Charlie. Hell, even Freddy now fell under Michael's umbrella of “friends I'll protect until I die for good.”
William was still at large, and though he was damaged, he was still a huge threat. Whatever was in that needle was bad news, and Gregory couldn't be exposed to it again in any capacity. Michael just wished he'd had the forethought to as least give that a good punch and smash it to bits before getting off William earlier...
After a moment, Mike let out a sigh.
“Actually... no, I'm not fine,” he admitted, soft enough for only his old, dear friend to hear. “My psychotic father just tried to inject my brother's lookalike with some horrible shit right in front of my eyes, and I was barely able to stop him. He still thinks Gregory is Evan, and he's not going to stop until he has him again. I... I don't know what to do, Charlie. How can we end this?”
He looked at her then, eyes haunted far beyond the capabilities of an animatronic. He would still protect his friends until his soul dissolved into the ether—there was no question about that. But it did feel good to finally admit that he might not be the steadfast, unbreakable warrior he needed Gregory to think he was.
Charlie didn't have the answer, even if she wished she did. Gently, she held Michael back and allowed for Freddy and Gregory to walk from earshot.
“I don't know... We might need more time than one night can afford. We can think of a plan after you and Gregory get some rest. You can't look after anyone if you're not feeling well,” Charlie offered, keeping her tone calm and even as she tried to convince Mike he’d worked himself over tonight in trying to keep everyone safe. “We'll all be safe in the security hub. Promise.”
Michael Afton had changed so drastically since the incident when they were younger. He’d lost so many people around him, the thought of losing anyone else caused an anxiety unlike Charlie had ever seen. When he stressed over keeping the others safe, he did so with the full fear that something bad was going to happen. She couldn't blame him, or ask that he changed. But Charlie understood his plight secondhand witnessing Michael's nervous breakdown over the night.
He looked at her for a moment longer, the fierce anxiety in his brain telling him that nowhere was safe, they would always be in danger as long as they were in this cursed place, and there was no escape.
But there was nothing but sincerity in Charlie's words. Her expression might be static on the surface, but Michael could tell she was smiling at him underneath it all. Even if she couldn't truly guarantee their safety in the security hub, her words of reassurance were enough to keep Michael going.
“...Okay,” he relented with a nod. “Okay. We'll regroup and rest for the night, come up with a plan, and get this thing sorted before we know it.” His speaking aloud offered another level of personal reassurance that Michael couldn't afford to lose tonight. He cracked a small grin, nudging Charlie's shoulder in an expression of deepest camaraderie.
“Thanks, Charlie—for still looking out for me after all this time. You really are my best friend.” He chuckled as heartily as he dared in the open hallway. “You should've known you couldn't get rid of me that easily—we always said we'd stick together to the end, didn't we?”
Michael had been the only tether she had left to her human life. When things were much easier and life involved just going to school and eating pizza at their father's shared workspace afterwards, Charlie could remember a time where her first worry in the day was whether or not she could sleep in five more minutes before being officially late for first period bells...
For her and Michael's sakes, she wished that she could go back to it with him. But sadly, the only way left to move way forward with the things they knew now.
“Well yeah—you would’ve grown up to be a menace to society if I didn't talk you out of half the stuff you did,” Charlie replied as if it were her civic duty to hang out with him. Though, bashfully, she admitted “And I probably wouldn't have left the house much if it wasn't for you. So... Of course I'd stick around.”
Charlie had told Mike this before, but stood to remind him again: “Friendships like these are unconditional, you know? I'll always be there for you.”
“And I'll do just the same.” Michael patted Charlie on the shoulder as he walked past her through the security hub door. He looked around for the others, spotting Freddy sitting in one of the office chairs with Gregory now cradled in his lap, the exhausted boy still resting against his protector's metallic chest.
“Hey, Freddy? Charlie and I think it's best if we stay here for the rest of the night,” Michael said quietly as he approached the bear. He didn't think Gregory was asleep, but he couldn't be too sure with how still the boy was save for the rise and fall of his breathing. “This is probably the safest room in the Pizzaplex, and with all the damage I did, I doubt you-know-who is going to make any moves right now until he's recovered somewhat.”
“I fully agree,” Freddy replied with a nod, looking up at Michael briefly before refocusing his attention on Gregory. “My superstar is clearly exhausted, and I am certain that you need to rest, too. It will do us all some good to take a break.”
Charlie crawled on the floor across from where Freddy and Gregory sat. Quietly, she put her two cents into the conversation.
“I hope you put a hole in his face for me,” Charlie wished, alluding to the damage done to her own painted mask. It wasn't like she had much to pride herself on when it came to appearances, but ruining the minimalistic marionette's mask made Charlie feel more like a creepy doll than she ever did before.
She would save her rantings. She glanced over to Gregory, who loosely held onto Freddy's claws while he slept and looked as if he’d begun to finally relax.
“...Hey, Mike, turn the key on my back,” Charlie whispered, facing away from her pirate-themed friend. A little melody from the old music box couldn't hurt Gregory's chances of sleeping.
Michael did as instructed, winding up the key before settling down on the floor next to Charlie as the familiar melody began.
When he was younger, this little music box song had really freaked him out—especially after Charlie died and the Puppet seemed to move in weird ways out of the corner of Michael’s eye. Even when he got a little older and worked in a new restaurant with some of the same old cast, that song only served as a reminder of his impending danger—if it stopped, the Puppet would be after him, and she was not the animatronic to trifle with… especially with Michael having the unfortunate face of her murderer.
But now, as he sat next to his good friends, Mike found the song almost… soothing. Certainly not as much as Gregory though, whose grip on Freddy’s claws became lax as the tension in his shoulders finally started to release.
“Thank you both,” Freddy whispered, running a gentle claw through Gregory’s hair as he smiled down at the boy with all the love a proud father could give.
Sound asleep, the nightmare of tonight was over and thankfully Gregory would prove to be far too tired to dream of anything. The memory of anything fictitious made up inside his head would disappear upon waking.
“No problem.” Charlie curled on the floor, tucking her limbs in close to her body as she whispered. Freddy's further affectionate gestures prompted her to ask something she hadn't yet gotten to: “So… when did you adopt Gregory, anyway?”
It was asked in a somewhat serious tone. If Freddy wanted to keep Gregory, she had the feeling based on the kid’s apparent willingness to be adopted by a robot bear that not many people were really looking for him. Good thing he was already so loved at the Pizzaplex.
“Oh! Ah, well…” The question took Freddy by surprise, his eyes shifting away as he tried to think of an answer. His first instinct was to deny this claim—of course an animatronic couldn’t adopt a human child; that was ridiculous!
…But if there were any beings in the world that would understand and accept this strange predicament, it was the two sitting in front of him. Besides, Freddy knew that at least Michael heard Gregory refer to him as “dad” on multiple occasions.
“Well, I wanted to keep Gregory safe since we first met him tonight, though it was not long after I separated from Michael that I realized I could not let him go back to that foster home,” Freddy explained, speaking softly to avoid waking the boy in his arms. A slight frown crossed his face as he remembered what Gregory said about his living situation; Michael may have been in control of Freddy’s body at the time of Gregory’s confession, but the bear heard every word. “Despite the situation happening right now, objectively Gregory is safer with me than with humans that neglect him and will continue to do so. I decided that I would do my best to keep Gregory safe by my side, though I let him approach me emotionally on his own time.”
The soft smile was back now. “After we faced Monty, we stopped by the gift shop to get supplies and Gregory let the ‘dad’ moniker slip; I did not have the heart to correct him… Nor do I want to, I must admit. It… it is nice to feel so trusted.”
Sometimes the technological innovations at Fazbear Entertainment amazed the Puppet. Not only was there a robot sitting before them both that could analyze and feel complex emotions, but also had a better fraternal instinct than some human fathers she’d seen in her time.
Charlie had a feeling something was majorly wrong with Gregory's living situation. His concern involving this place never centered on the fear of where his parents might be, or if they were worried. In all the lost children she had seen, they never failed to mention that they missed their families and wanted to return to them. Though Gregory didn't seem to have anyone.
“He does need someone to look after him,” Charlie said, her head relaxed over her arms, using them as pillows and to be able to look up at her friends. “He's too sweet of a kid to be left behind.”
It made her think about her own situation. The day she was left out... Everyone had forgotten about her.
This isn't about you, Charlotte, she’d think to herself. As long as Charlie kept thinking of others, she wouldn't have to focus on the ugly truth of what happened that night.
“Agreed,” Michael said, gently patting Charlie’s back. Thankfully, he’d made sure his hook side was away from her when he sat down. He could tell she was thinking about something, probably slipping into the past just like he did. They had a lot to reminisce on, after all—both good and bad. Michael looked up at Freddy, meeting the bear’s gaze with an approving grin. “And I think you’re the perfect bear to take care of him. It’s clear he cares for you a lot already.”
“Your approval is both greatly reassuring and appreciated,” Freddy replied. He paused, then added in a soft, somber tone: “I am… sorry you did not get the parental affection you needed when you were younger, too. Based on how you are now, I am sure you were both wonderful children.” He gave the pair a little smile. “I wish I could have met you back then!”
“You would’ve been a few decades too early, Fredbear,” Michael said with a laugh, though it sounded a bit hollow. For as good as Freddy was at detecting subtle things, the robot could still be unintentionally blunt at times.
What would his and Charlie’s lives be like if William hadn’t been such a horrendous person? Or, the better question: would they have actually had lives to lead in the first place?
Unfortunately, without a way to go back and rewrite the past, the answer would forever be a mystery.
Charlie liked to think they’d only be dead on the inside if William managed to be a real father. Or had at least told his kids: 'It's alright to be sad because I'm sad, too'. Maybe then she would still be alive. She and Michael could be old people right now with their best years well spent and looking forward to retirement.
Charlie's fists had curled tightly, then released. What was the point in being angry over it? It was done.
So why couldn’t she just let go?
Charlie looked to Michael after his comforting touch. “My dad probably would’ve just adopted you, you know...”
Henry adored Michael. Maybe it was because he was William's son, or that he genuinely loved being his honorary uncle.
“If only…” Michael heaved a long, simulated sigh. Thank god one of their dads had been decent, at least. Henry did what he could for Mike over the years, despite the great toll Charlie’s death took on him. Michael didn’t want to be a burden to the only paternal figure that did seem to care, so as time went on he found himself lying more and more about how okay he was doing.
“Everything’s fine, Uncle Henry! I promise; I’m alright.”
The blatant fib still hung heavy in Michael’s chest. Surely Henry knew he wasn’t telling the truth—if it was that hard for a grown man to lose one child, he had to realize how Mike must have felt losing his sibling and his best friend. Especially since Evan’s death was—
“Are you alright, Michael?” Freddy asked, his head tilted in concern.
Mike looked down to find he’d been clenching his fist so tightly, there were now faint dents in his palm from his sharp claws. Michael simply nodded, trying to push the memories away. The last thing he needed right now was to think of Evan’s final birthday party—the start of it all. They wouldn’t be together in this room right now hiding from crazed animatronics if it wasn’t for Michael’s actions all those years ago…
Charlie perked up, looking over as she heard the metal in Foxy's hands pop back into place. Using her quick thinking, she told Freddy: “He's probably thinking about that time that Evan ate all those ice pops and threw up in Lizzie's toy chest.”
Charlie averted the sad thoughts to a better time. A time where she laughed so hard her sides felt as if they were going to split and her head would explode from their collective volume.
It wasn't Evan's fault by any means. After finishing every blue ice pop in a 100 pack box and running around in the hot summer air thanks to his brother’s encouragement, Evan began to feel nauseous. When Mike took Evan upstairs a bit too late to reach the bathroom, Charlie got to witness him evacuating his stomach into Elizabeth's toy chest, much to her dismay. A sticky blue coating that didn't wash off had stained the plastic chest, making it a horrible biohazard that remained untouched for a long while.
“It's okay, Mike. That story makes me feel sick, too,” Charlie pardoned, the sound of a smirk in her voice as she relaxed against the cool office tiles once more.
“Oh my god—the ice pops! Ohh—sorry!” Michael grimaced as his voice came out louder than he’d meant it to in his excitement. He hadn’t thought about the infamous ice pop incident of ‘81 in forever!
“That was a fiasco… I told Evan to eat as many as he wanted, but I didn’t realize he’d eat the whole box!” A snicker escaped before he could stop it, and he instinctively clapped a hand over his snout as if that would somehow help him keep his volume down. “He couldn’t look at anything blue for weeks! Remember when you got that new shirt, Charlie, and you wore it to play like two days afterwards? Evan took one look at it and immediately lost his lunch in the bushes!”
Freddy simply watched with a small smile as the pair reminisced. It was still hard for the animatronic to fully understand how ghosts worked, but times like these really proved that Charlie and Michael had once been living, breathing humans. They’d had full lives ahead of them… until those were brutally cut short.
Freddy realized that he still didn’t actually know how Charlie and Michael died, nor any of Michael’s siblings… but he certainly wasn’t going to ask. If they wanted to share such personal details, they’d do so in their own time.
Extending her arm, Charlie lightly smacked Michael’s peg leg while looking like she was struggling to hold in a laugh. She wheezed out a pathetic, “Nooo…,” while remembering the dreadful amount of times Evan had lost his lunch because of them.
“That kid had the stomach of a cocker spaniel,” Charlie compared, having to physically restrain her laughter by covering her broken face with one of her hands. “Oh—I felt so bad… That was literally the last time I wore that shirt.” She ended up retiring that new, blue Fazbear-themed shirt and just hung it on her wall to admire before drifting off to sleep.
“Speaking of getting sick,” Charlie begun to say, having a feeling that Michael already knew what story she’d remind him of next. “Working at Freddy’s over the summer, if a kid threw up you had to throw this pink… Sawdust stuff over it. We put a bunch of it into a bucket over the day manager's door and dumped it over his head—”
She forgot exactly why they’d done it. Probably to get fired, in all honesty. They loved visiting the diner as kids, but working there was another story.
“Uncle Henry was so mad!” Michael couldn’t contain his laughter anymore. “I think that’s one of the only times he actually lectured us… which was a good thing, because damn did he let us have it!”
Michael’s stability was becoming compromised as he cackled. It only took a playful shove from Charlie to send him sprawling on his back, arms and coat splayed out at his sides. The pair laughed for a little while longer until it slowly petered out, and Mike turned his head to look up at Charlie with a sigh.
“You know, we had some great times back then,” he said, and though his eyes were tinged with their usual deep-rooted sadness, for once the happiness of remembering a life long-past with friends seemed to win out. He lifted his head slightly to peer down his snout at Gregory, wondering if the boy had been woken up by their antics. He gave another huffing chuckle, pushing one of Charlie’s legs as he sunk back onto the floor. “God, imagine if we grew up in this place instead… we could get into so much trouble—it’d be amazing.”
Charlie let out a dreamy sigh. They would be two kids in a candy shop—literally. Not only would they have been relatively unsupervised, but once kids found out their fathers owned a mall with hourly concerts performing at them, they would never run out of friends. Though, Charlie was glad they grew up with their humble, leaky roof diner. Somehow she didn't think she could take the pressure of being a popular kid... Michael on the other hand she could see basking in the fair-weather love easily.
To keep them in good spirits, Charlie suggested: “We should take Gregory roller skating. People still roller skate, right?”
If she wasn't at Freddy's, Charlie was always trying to get the Aftons to go roller skating with her. Now that she reminded herself of that, Charlie was fairly certain that she wouldn't be scared of William so long as she remembered him as the uncoordinated skater in homemade jean shorts that held onto the banister or Henry the whole time.
For a rare moment, Michael also remembered his father as something other than the vicious, immortal murderer he was now. A snicker escaped the fox as he recalled their skating trips—man, did his dad suck at keeping himself upright.
“Yes, roller skating is still a pastime that people participate in,” Freddy replied. His smile was still prevalent, though his eyes held a touch of what could only be likened to regretful sadness. “We do not have a rink in the Pizzaplex, however, so therefore I would not be able to go with you. I cannot leave the building—without a recharge station, my systems would shut down within an hour. It is a safety precaution. Even the manual charging cord will not last forever.”
This was a line of thinking Freddy was shocked he hadn’t even considered. It was all well and good for him to take care of Gregory within the Pizzaplex, but… what if the boy wanted to leave?
No, it wasn’t a question of “what if”— it was a question of when? He was only twelve—not even a teenager yet. Freddy couldn’t expect the boy to completely cut off contact with the outside world just to stay with his adoptive robot father for the rest of his life.
Freddy’s gaze shifted to the fox lying on the floor. This issue begged another question: now that Michael was tied to a Pizzaplex animatronic, would he be stuck in this place just like Freddy?
Although, he hadn’t seemed to actually need to recharge like a normal animatronic, so… perhaps his ghostly nature might work in his favor this time.
This made the smile fall out of Charlie's voice.
“Oh...” Was all she could muster. She’d never been tethered to this franchise like the others. Charlie could go anywhere. It was apart of the Puppet's design, to follow Charlie and keep her safe when she needed it. So long as she wore her little green bracelet, Puppet went everywhere she did
(She still had that green bracelet—tied to the spine of her endoskeleton...)
“He doesn't know, does he?” Charlie managed to ask, watching Gregory's peaceful face as drool leaked from the corner of his lips. The kid was out cold.
Charlie refused this answer. Gregory needed his dad. And frankly, they needed Freddy as well.
“What if—and this might sound crazy... We build new bodies?” Charlie postulated, propping her head onto her hand. Despite the latest Fazbear designs being technological wonders, the design flaw of not being able to live outside the Pizzaplex posed too great of an issue for Puppet to accept.
Freddy frowned at this notion. “I… do not see how that is possible. I may be able to perform basic repairs and have an intimate understanding of my internal systems in this particular Glamrock Freddy model, but I do not have the technical prowess to build a new body from scratch.”
“…I might, though.” Michael’s voice was quiet as his mind rapidly began processing Charlie’s suggestion. He sat up, legs stuck out in front of him and resting his arms in his lap as he slowly thought aloud. “My father taught me everything he was able to about animatronics, and what I didn’t pick up from him I learned on my own. I’ve had a hand in building and repairing countless robots—I bet if we found some blueprints to work off of as a basic guide, I could whip something up in no time. Especially with that huge warehouse of parts… We probably have everything we need right below our feet.”
“Well, I… I do not know,” Freddy said hesitantly. It sounded like a good idea on the surface, but could they really pull something like this off? Regardless of William’s virus-based threat, it would be quite a feat to create new bodies that weren’t latched onto the Pizzaplex’s admittedly flawed charging system.
“Come on, Freddy—we won’t know until we try it out,” Mike encouraged. The excitement at the prospect of a new mechanical project to put his technician skills to good use was getting to him. “It’d be a crude design at first, I’ll fully admit that, but it’d be a start. Worse case, it doesn’t work and we just scrap the whole idea. But Charlie has a point—that kid in your arms isn’t going to be happy to find out that you’re stuck. We have to at least try.”
Charlie knew Michael would be on board with the chance to create something worthwhile that left all of them hoping.
“I could easily move you from Foxy to a new body. Gregory said he was good with coding, right? He'll be able to switch Freddy over once we work out the more technical bugs!” Charlie mused aloud, working out the details in her mind.
Although… totally abandoning this place wasn't ideal; those other children still needed to be put at rest. As this thought crossed Puppet's mind, Charlie began to fret some.
“If we find those other kids—the ones on the missing posters—I could leave a Gift for them...,” she mentioned, looking down at her hands. “You know, before we leave and everything.”
“A Gift?” Freddy questioned, glad for the slight shift in topic. He wasn’t saying “no” to this crazy scheme, but he definitely needed time to think things over before fully committing to the idea of moving to a new body and leaving the only place he’d ever known. “What sort of Gift, Charlie?”
Michael grimaced—it hit him that while Freddy accepted their strange supernatural situation, there was still so much he didn’t understand. Then Michael remembered the whole reason he’d hopped in Foxy was because Freddy had been down for the count, so the bear didn’t actually know what Charlie had done to move him. He probably thought Michael simply hijacked his old friend’s body the same way he’d hijacked Freddy’s own.
“Charlie is… a special ghost,” Michael began, his speech a bit stilted. It might be best for Charlie to explain the details since there were aspects of her Gift even he didn’t understand, but he could at least get the conversation started. “She’s got… well, I like to call it magic, but I suppose ‘powers’ is the better term.” The fox’s head tilted towards the Puppet, his long mane brushing over her thin body as Michael silently prompted her to continue.
“Oh yeah...” Charlie, when she’d begun to bestow these 'Gifts,' hadn't realized the full ramifications of her actions. The precise correlation between a deeply traumatic death and fusing those souls to metal and circuit boards were still unknowns to her. She just knew she had to do something for those poor, terrified souls.
The day she watched in horror as that golden bunny took children one by one from the main party room was forever burned into her brain. The fact he tried to make it nice for them was sickening. The presentation of birthday cake and presents. Old, out of commission boxed arcade games fixed and powered on at the children's whim...
Every soul was innocent. In their words, it'd been their happiest day.
When William left, Charlie had doled out her Gifts. Presents that mattered most. She tied their souls to the animatronics they had been stuffed inside of. Angry, vindictive children that cornered anyone who even remotely resembled the security guard that took their lives.
This, Charlie attempted to explain to Freddy as delicately as possible, without touching on her own death. Sometimes she still wondered why her?
“I thought he cared about me—us... Why did he do that?” Charlie asked this pretty casually, as if this question was simple. “I know he missed Evan. I was only trying to cheer him up. How was I supposed to know he'd be mad at me...”
Whatever happened in alleyway where Charlie was found had triggered it all. Knowing her, it'd been a prank—ill-timed at a point where William felt most impulsive.
“I heard a story once that the more violent your death is, the scarier you are as a ghost... Do you guys think that's true?” Charlie remarked after her grim tale had come to an end.
“Well… maybe,” Michael replied softly. Hearing Charlie’s story of trying to give innocent, dead children new life spelled out so casually, as if she were discussing the latest weather report was jarring. She said so many things Michael didn’t know, so many facts he hadn’t been aware of until this moment… the whole situation was even more horrific, though Mike didn’t know how that was even possible.
Still, it wouldn’t do to dwell in the past—especially not with the utterly sympathetic but confused face Freddy was giving them.
“I don’t think that’s completely true, though.” Michael gave Charlie the faintest of grins, despite the underlying horror of his next words. “I mean, my death was pretty bad, too… and look how I turned out!” He nudged her again, maybe a bit too hard to match the strength he used to push the worst of the memories down.
There was a beat as Charlie glanced over Mike, recovering from the nudge before belting out with laughter. Her way of coping was strange, though she was sure that Michael could relate.
“You're right—that was pretty brutal and you just turned into a marshmallow.” Charlie giggled, quickly quieting herself as to not disturb Gregory. Thankfully the kid slept like a rock through their little therapy session. She was happy that her friends didn't see her choice to give the kids a second chance at life as barbaric or cruel. Even if one of those Gifted kids thought that way...
“Seriously—I think you turned out great, all things considering,” Charlie stressed. She knew how badly her friend tended to doubt himself, and hoped these encouraging words did something for him as she went back to a state of calm about their situation.
“Thanks; so did you,” Michael replied, the sincerity behind his eyes clear as day. After another moment of silence, Freddy chimed in.
“I think you both turned out to be wonderful souls,” the bear murmured softly, his grip on Gregory tightening as he thought about what could’ve become of this child had all of them not been there to protect him tonight. “Your compassion for others is unrivaled; you have shown more love and protectiveness towards Gregory—and even myself—than I have seen a lot of guardians show towards their children when visiting the Pizzaplex.”
He gave the pair on the floor a beaming smile, his face as kind as an animatronic bear’s could be. “I am honored to call you both my friends.”
Charlie hadn't thought of it in that light before. As Freddy praised their behavior, she considered his words. Not only were she and Michael lucky to have at least grown into fairly functioning adults, they were lucky now—Freddy had been a blessing in disguise. The apparent culmination of both hers and Mike's childhood fears turned out to be their only friend in this whole mall. Any mistrust of one another had left long ago.
“I think we're going to be okay, guys—as long as we stick together,” Charlie murmured, feeling rested and relaxed behind the secured doors of this central hub.
***
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Looking for more? Check out the Chapter Masterlist on Tumblr!
Or check out the entire Wires that Bind Us Series on ao3!
#fnaf#five nights at freddy's#fnaf sb#fnaf security breach#fnaf au#glamrock freddy#charlie emily#marionette fnaf#puppet fnaf#gregory#michael afton#fnaf vanny#william afton#fanfic#fanfiction#ao3#angelofrainfrogs#zeitghest#spend the night#the wires that bind us au
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Congregate
Lore pings: @yuushanoah-fr @cityofinoue @rasvimhia @griminal-rising
It's been a while since I've posted lore because of a whole lot of things but I'd like to start posting pieces again, sorry for the wait! I'll work on my lore bit by bit and see what I can post and hove this is enjoyable enough for now.
‘I knew something had to be wrong.’
‘Don’t say that.’ Said Balam. He didn’t look at Atlas who had spoken but instead buried his head deeper into his hands. ‘We’d best worry about what to do.’
‘It’s the middle of the night, there’s not a lot of people we can inform now.’ Kassa added softly. ‘Who do you want to ask for help?'
‘We have to ask help from someone.’ Balam pulled his hands away to lean his head on them, looking at the butterfly before them. Carmen had put it in a jar and brought it to the dining hall where they sat now. ‘Someone seems to be helping Arodan at the very least but we have no guarantee that we can trust them. If we follow this guide it might lead us into a trap.’
‘It’s the best lead we have.’ Atlas said and tapped the jar cautiously. ‘We have to do something. We can’t just go to sleep and see what we’ll do in the morning, our friends are in danger.’
‘We know Atlas.’ Caer groaned, rubbing her temples. ‘But we don’t have the manpower to just storm in and rescue them. It’s just us.’ She looked up from under heavy tired eyelids. ‘We’d get ourselves killed.’
‘He’s right though.’ Kassa said, flashing Atlas a weary smile. He didn’t return the gesture and they didn’t mind that. ‘We have to do something, no matter how small. Not a big gesture that might endanger us, but something, to let them know we’re coming.’
‘What do you propose we do?’ Carmen asked, tapping the table impatiently. ‘Do we just storm Odin’s office in the middle of the night?’
‘Right on darling.’ Kassa hummed. Carmen looked at them incredulously but could not get a word in before they started to explain what they had in mind. ‘I suggest we divide in groups. You and Atlas already wanted to go, no? What if Balam, Caer and I instead pay a visit to Odin?’ They folded their hands. ‘I suggest that you two scout out the area discreetly so we know where it is and what we should keep in mind.'
'No offense, but that sounds too dangerous and stupid on top of all of that.' Caer snapped. 'Let me scout it out, that's my job.'
'Oh, it is. But for once, they have to go. Not because I have some sickly curiosity to see what happens but because I have a feeling that's what we need.' Kassa argued, drawing a finger alongside the glass of the jar. 'Our mysterious ally sent magic, and knows much more magically inclined folk are coming. Shade, if you might.' Their hand lifted slowly to point at Carmen. 'She knows exactly what Shade looks like in the small nuances, you don't, Caer. If it's there, she'll know how to get out.'
'You have that much faith in me?' Carmen asked Kassa. They met her stare with an intrigued little smile. 'We barely trust you Kassa. Why trust us?'
'That's just how it is. I trust you guys to come to a solution.' They folded their hands with a satisfied finality. Their smile fell that moment. 'So, how does this plan sound?'
'It's a plan.' Atlas was first to speak again, then shot a few looks at Balam and Carmen. 'Kassa, what do you intend for me to do in this? Scout too, that I understand, but I don't have magical knowledge like Carmen does.'
'You have your weapons and your strength. Besides this, you are agile and quiet. If you get in trouble, you need to watch Carmen's back and she needs to watch yours.' Kassa lifted up then jar and studied the butterfly inside. It had taken to crawling around it frantically. 'I don't assume you'll get yourselves in danger but it's still good to be careful if we aren't certain of what we are up against.'
'Okay, good, we'll go with that plan because it's better than sitting around.' Carmen slammed her hand down on the table and got up. 'If you had a gut feeling, it'd better be a good one.'
'My gut feeling hasn't failed me yet. So let's see how this will play out.' They leant back, swinging and bouncing around just a little. 'I've missed making plans.'
'Savor it, I'm still on the fence whether I like the idea of you making plans for us or not.' Balam huffed, getting up in a similar manner to Carmen. 'How do we know we are not just going to find a closed door at Odin's office?'
'The man works too much. I have another hunch he won't be home tonight.' They turned to Balam then. 'Well, Balam?'
'I know he's like that, that doesn't mean a guarantee.' Balam grumbled. His brows nearly obscured his eyes with how intensely he currently allowed himself to frown. 'I suppose we can try.'
'Then we have ourselves a plan.' Kassa excitedly clasped their hands together and got up. 'I will stay here to wait for you all.'
'I'd rather have you come with us.' Balam grunted. Kassa didn't seem to mind him but they did back away discreetly. 'I'm not sure if you are going to choose now to fulfil another scheme and as such I want to be absolutely certain you don't do anything funny.'
'Actually… Let them come with us.' Carmen stepped in between Kassa and Balam, keeping her gaze locked on Kassa. 'We don't know if we're walking into a trap if we follow the butterfly, so we need some semblance of strategy on location. Besides, it's better than leaving you here.'
'I think I like that idea better.' They tilted their head in coy manner and spun on their heel. 'Fine. I will go with you, so let's head out already. We can't have Sachairi and Arodan waiting for us now, do we?'
'Are you sure you want them coming along with you?' Balam leant down and whispered this in Carmen's ear. She nodded, and after a moment where he fumbled with the lining of his shirt he reached out and hugged her. 'Be safe. I don't want you three to get lost too.'
'We'll find them Balam, I'm sure we can help them.' Carmen whispered in return. She pulled back and started to head over to Atlas who was already waiting by the door to the courtyard. Kassa was currently heading over to him already. 'Come back safely too, okay?'
'Of course.' Balam waved after her. 'Always.' The three disappeared through the door and he was left standing in the empty dining hall with Caer.
*
'Had a nice nap?'
'Not really.' Dmitri wrestled a coughing fit down, something Frey seemed to look upon with amusement. Whatever wounds he had must have reopened, at least, that could be the only explanation for the pain he felt. He felt his fingers along the chains locked around his wrists. 'There are better ways to treat your guests, you know?'
'Well, I would have, if you were an invited guest.' Frey hummed. He pulled a chair close and sat down, his gaze gliding over Dmitri. 'I don't think you're the worst person. Too bad you seem to have an affliction I don't particularly like to keep close.'
'That's my friend, don't mind him.' Dmitri managed to cheerfully respond before his gaze twisted into a vicious pinched facade. 'I'd rather have you not touch him.'
'Shade is nobody's friend. But it is sentient, you say?' Frey smiled and got up to stalk over to Dmitri. 'If I am not going to sleep tonight, won't you indulge me into how that works?'
'I would but I think I've had it with your behavior. Look, if you've caught my friend, then at least let him go. He did nothing wrong, I got us into this situation.' Dmitri's breath stocked when Frey reached him and took hold of his chin to pull him upwards. '... Do you do this with every prisoner?'
‘You are a special exception and not in a good way.’ Frey blankly stated, letting go of Dmitri. ‘We don’t have your friend. Lucky him. We have you though.’ Now that Dmitri actually got to survey Frey up close he could see he didn’t move easily, needing a cane to keep himself standing upright. Had he gotten hurt in the earlier skirmish? ‘What if I purged you of that Shade of yours?’
‘He is not Shade, he’s my friend.’ Dmitri immediately snapped, struggling against his restraints. ‘Okay, Yes, he’s shade infected, but he is not evil or a hazard.’ He stumbled back to steady himself against the wall. ‘You will not hurt him.’ He managed to crack a snide grin. ‘I can’t imagine what drives you to be the person you are.’
‘Many things, but I’m sure you’re not interested in that.’ Frey bent down once more and surveyed Dmitri’s wounds. ‘That is how it is, I get interested in people but they fail to pay attention to me.’
‘I… Honestly? Don’t care.’ Dmitri attempted to pull away further despite the wall behind him. One of Frey’s hands reached a wound a pushed against it and he barely stopped himself from biting said hand off. ‘You don’t seem like a nice person so why should people care?’
‘Oh, say it just a little bit more eloquently and you could be my father.’ Frey hissed. He pulled back unsteadily and stood there, leaning on his cane. ‘I didn’t ask for this either. As did my sister. But here we are.’
‘Then what’s stopping you from changing things? You’re a prince, spoiled for sure.’ Dmitri quirked an eyebrow and spat at Frey. ‘I don’t care how hurt you are, it does not justify what kind of atrocities you or your family have committed.’ He lunged forward and couldn’t reach him, the chain being pulled taut from its leverage point to the wall. ‘Take that from someone who thoroughly hates himself.’
Frey’s gaze slid alongside the length of Dmitri’s arm once more, to his face, and he finally breathed. It was strained, having forgotten to breathe entirely in the last twenty seconds of conversation. ‘Broken things. Broken things keep me from doing that.’ He didn’t look like he meant his statement, there was hesitance and shakiness to his way of speaking. There was a small twinkle in his eyes, a shimmer of doubt. ‘You are broken, so am I, and maybe if I wasn’t, I could have been different to you.’ He steadied himself on his chair and lifted his cane to tilt Dmitri’s head around. ‘And for what I did, that isn’t important. Eventually my sister has to carry my father’s empire and she will have become like him. Now there is something left of her I knew and saw but that might disappear soon. I’m left elsewhere, and I do not need nor deserve pity.’ He bit his lip. ‘Do you understand that?’
‘Listen-‘ Dmitri took Frey’s cane and without warning pulled him towards him. The soldiers that had been watching pulled their weapons but only stopped because there was the risk they might stab Frey. He was far too close again and Frey smelled of a hazy miasmic perfume that dulled the senses like his voice did. ‘I see where you’re coming from if you’re laying it all out for me. But it is not an excuse. Saying you don’t want pity is the same as saying you don’t feel like changing your ways in your case.’ His tail angrily swished behind him. ‘If there truly was nothing left in your heart that could possibly redeem you then kill me, torture me, prove it then.’ He tossed him backwards, sending Frey crashing towards the ground. ‘Do your worst.’
Frey sat on the ground rubbing his cheek for a bit in a daze. His men didn’t even particularly know wether to help him or let him be, just judging the strange faraway look he had on his face. When he got so, he did so himself. Shakily at first, he rose. Once he was fully upright he could drop back to his more stately way of standing, brushing long strands of hair out of his face. ‘I think…’ He mused a moment longer, a smile coloring his face. ‘I know what to do with you.’ And turned his smile curiously, serpentine, towards Dmitri.
*
'You look like you've had better days.'
The stillness of his mind was disturbed. He remembered gold, golden fields, but it was far gone and now there was nothing but darkness. Arodan sat opposite of Raz in a fancy looking felt chair, like the last time they spoke. He didn't know what to say, beholding the pearlcatcher with guilt fueled horror. '... I...'
'What's wrong?'
‘Raz, I um…’
‘Speak up. Nothing's going to hurt you here.’ Raz assured him, holding up his hand in apologetic fashion. ‘I know… You maybe don’t want to see me. I can understand that. But I promise that despite my-‘
‘Sachairi. It’s Sachairi, Raz.’ Arodan bowed his head and kept his hands close to him. He didn’t dare meet Raz’s gaze and continued speaking fearfully. ‘He got caught. We ended up in conflict with Lux Laterna and he couldn’t win from Prince Frey’s bodyguard.’
Raz didn’t say anything. He stared at Arodan with a half open mouth, his eye darting wildly over him. There was a moment, a point of realization in which he rose from his chair and paced over to Arodan. ‘... What?’
‘He’s in trouble, Raz.’
‘I-I…’ Raz’s breaths caught in his throats, turning his gaze away. In rapid fashion his stare whipped back to Arodan and he reached to grab his collar and pull him up. ‘Where is he and are you responsible for this?’
‘Glasir. I don’t know where exactly but it might be in plague’s quarter.’ Arodan murmured. ‘And it is-‘
‘No, actually, I don’t care if it’s your fault.’ Raz let him go and pushed him back into his chair. ‘You better stay put because I’m coming. I’m so close, I’m not going to have anyone take any semblance of happiness from me right now.’
‘You’re going to get yourself caught or captured!’
‘I’d like to see them try and I’d like to see you try to stop me.’ Raz sneered, hugging his pearl close to him. ‘I have nothing to lose.’ He spun on his heel and walked off, the dream starting to collapse around them. Arodan sprinted from his chair to stop him, but fell into darkness before he could reach Raz’s flitting, vague form.
*
'Arodan?' He was shaken and heard the voice softly. 'Arodan?' This time around he woke, finding he was still in the dark attic. Mordred was sitting besides him with their hands having a firm hold on his shoulder. 'The panic has died down outside. I think my message should have reached your friends by now, so they know you're safe. Now would be a good moment to escape.'
'What about Dmitri?' Arodan sat up. Admittedly he felt well rested, maybe the nap had been necessary. His bruises weren't as sore as they had been before. 'I have to at least try to get him out.'
'I told you, there is nothing you can do for him now.' Mordred bluntly responded, pulling Arodan up. 'It's better if you leave. Please just go to safety.'
'How do you know so certainly there's nothing I can do for him? What if I stole a soldier's armor, steal the keys and get him out?' Arodan stumbled around the attic, ready to head down. Mordred followed him closely by holding on to his tail. 'There's… Another side to him, Sachairi, he matters immensely to my friends. I can't just let him die or get tortured.'
'Really? I understand, I really do, but you're just endangering yourself.' Mordred sat down on the loose attic panel so Arodan couldn't get out. 'It's a viable plan, sure, but also reckless. I can't just let you risk your life like that.''
'But... ' Arodan crept closer and held up a hand. 'It is viable, even you're saying so.'
'Goddamnit, why do I keep helping idiots like you, we don't even know each other.' Mordred spat. Eventually they backed against the wall and sat there with their arms folded. 'Yeah, it's a plan. But you might as well hand yourself over to Frey right there.'
'Maybe.' Arodan shuddered briefly and looked away. 'I can't say I didn't consider that either. Maybe that would be easier, maybe he'd just kill me.' He dragged a hand over his bad eye. 'This all feels like my fault. I need to do something right.'
'So what will you do?'
'I have to at least take a shot at getting him out. I will disguise myself as a soldier, try to steal the keys and leave with my friend.' He glanced up at Mordred. 'Will you help me? Is it really like you could be at a greater risk?'
‘No, probably not, but I haven’t figured my mistakes either and I do not want to die like that.’ Mordred nervously rubbed their hands together and closed their eyes for a moment. ‘Even with a full helmet on I don’t know if they’re just going to let you walk around.’ They shook their head. ‘But I guess I cannot stop you… And I won’t. But we’re doing things my way.’
‘Does it involve magic-‘
‘It involves magic.’ Mordred stumbled to get up and around him, moving over to a large wooden chest. In it was a full suit of armor, and more peculiarly a scroll lying among what seemed to be charms. Mordred picked up the scroll first. ‘This is an unorthodox solution, but we can try. Ever seen a dragon shift from one type into another?’
‘What manner of scroll is that?’ Arodan asked. He watched Mordred unfold the scroll and soon it was clear what that would transform him into. Bent claws, sleeker wings, he could imagine a wild claw clearly, but that wildclaw was not himself. ‘Is that uh… Do you really think this is going to help?’
‘Yes, because you’ll be taller and different in shape in this bipedal form of yours so they might need a little longer to recognize you.’ Mordred shifted on their legs so they sat right before Arodan with the scroll unfolded. Their vibrant red eyes focused on Arodan. ‘And as someone who used to be a tactician like my mother before me, you need to make use of every moment you have in a tense situation.’ They smiled weakly. ‘Are-'
'Hold on.' Arodan held up his hand. 'Mordred?'
'Yes?'
'Tell me something about yourself.'
'About… myself?' Mordred whispered incredulously. 'Why? Why do you want me to tell you about myself?' Arodan seemed clear enough in his tilted head, raised brow and annoyed glance. A measure of trust, that was what this was. Mordred rubbed the back of their neck gently and kept their ruby focus on the scroll. 'I don't remember much of the past. Blood, the ire of others. Some other life I must have done something wrong and lady luck turned her back on me. But you know, maybe that also mean I need to try again and I quite like this world. It's beautiful, it's flora, it's fauna, the butterflies here are wonderful. It's worth making an attempt for.'
'Alright. Sounds like an honest enough answer.' Arodan nodded his head but he still looked doubtfully upon Mordred. 'You appreciate life though? Nature? It's an odd interest for a plague dragon to have.'
'My eyes have always been red actually. That I do know.' They smoothed the scroll out. 'But I am not sure if I'm meant to be a plague dragon and when I look in the mirror I scare myself so usually I wear masks or illusions.' They raised their gaze expectantly. 'Is that alright?'
'You know, that works for me. I'll believe you that that scroll will change me into what it says it will and that you will help me.' Arodan looked off, his mind made up. 'It's worth a shot.'
'Then are you ready?'
‘... All I hope is that my friends will be okay with this.’ Arodan quietly responded. He stroked the crests behind his ears for what might have been the last time. He couldn’t help but swiftly pull two feathers out, gritting his teeth against the brief pain. This was a dire situation but he still worried about what the others might think and how much this might change him. Eventually he drew his finger over the gem on his forehead and his hand ended up folded into the other on his lap. ‘... I’m ready. I’m going to save my friend.’ Mordred gently handed the scroll to him and Arodan started to recite the words, their magic coursing through him and invoking the change. Maybe after all was said and done, he could change himself back, but for now he would make sure to give Frey the worst he could bring unto him if it meant a semblance of revenge for what his family did.
#my lore#fr#ch: Arodan#ch: atlas#ch: carmen#ch: Balam#ch: Kassa#ch: Caer#ch: Mordred#ch: Frey#ch: Dmitri#ch: Raz
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Hi folks :) ✋ All Kassa stores open now #jaipurdiaries🎀 #goals #anjunabeach #bangaloreblogger #greentheory #mahe (at KASSA) https://www.instagram.com/p/CHS-ZegJpaT/?igshid=zn6jt20b4usp
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Fanfic: Somebody to Share it With Ch. 4
Havarl, 1100 Hours
The lush jungle was awash with sounds of life, birds – or as close as his planet came – flew overhead as a very bruised and tired pathfinder made his way through the dense underbrush. It had been two days since they had landed on that planet, and three hours since they had activated the vault. In that time, Wes had lost track of how many bites, scratches, bruises, mauls, decapitation, infections, attacks and falls he had avoided on this planet. Jaal had been annoyingly at home on the planet, jumping deftly out of the way of whatever predator had decided they had lunch written all over them, laughing slightly as he did it. Vetra had been less at home but still adept, her jump-jet rarely idle and her trusted cyclone now accompanied by a small Asari shotgun she “picked up from some raider back in milky way” (whatever that meant). But Ryder… This planet had taken a clear toll on him. His armor was grimy and muddy, showing the result of many dives into the soft ground below; he limped slightly after his ankle was banged up by “whatever the hell you call those awful dinosaur things!” (creatures Jaal informed him were actually called “Rylkor”); and his jump jet was sparking from an unfortunate tumble in the Vault. Still, Ryder was walking through the jungle, towards the nav-point Vetra had given him.
“This better be worth it” he muttered under his breath, stepping over a particularly large rock only for his foot to get sucked into a knee-deep puddle of mud. The hardsuit kept him dry, but the sensation was still unpleasant.
A dual-toned voice crackled over the coms. “What was that pathfinder?”
“Oh, nothing, Vetra. Just saying how much I still love trudging through this swamp-hole of a planet.”
“Come-on, Ryder. Weren’t you the one who was saying you wanted adventure? Exploration? To see a whole new galaxy?”
“Yes, but I didn’t want an entire planet designed to kill me!”
Moments passed as Ryder continued to beat his way through the undergrowth, curses and exasperation abound. Eventually he came to a small clearing, the trees avoiding what looked like the remains of a remnant road. Vetra stood on one side, two weapons laid at her feet. On the other were what looked like three sim targets, their blue glow blending in with the soft bioluminescence of the foliage behind.
“Ryder, how nice of you to join me.” Turian mandibles flared in amusement as human eyebrows dived in consternation.
“Yeah, yeah. So what did you need, Vetra.”
“Well, after the past two days, I thought you could benefit a little bit from some training.”
A scoffing laugh sounded through the air over the hiss of Ryder removing his helmet, the damp, natural air flooding in to replace the sterile smell of the hardsuits filters.
“While I appreciate the thought, I do know how to handle a rifle.”
Vetra bent over, picking up one of the weapons at her feet. It was oddly geometric, glowing blue along the seams and seemed to hum as it moved through the air. There was what looked like a handle, in front of which was an oddly angled grip. The stock was split, as if it was designed for your shoulder to fit inside of it, and the barrel was split as well – the top sporting what looked like stubby vents, the bottom looking like a single piece of metal.
“No, Ryder, you have alliance training on how to handle a rifle. But, frankly, I’ve seen you use one. And while I’m all for learning by doing, there are a few things I could teach you that could keep your ass a bit more alive out here. Now, this…’ Vetra tossed it to Ryder as she spoke, before picking up her own usual weapon. ‘… is what the eggheads are calling a ‘Sweeper’. It’s an assault rifle based off remnant tech, highly experimental. But, for a few favors and a case of Angaran Ale, they let me get one.”
Wes looked down at the weapon, feeling it vibrate slightly in his hands as the weapon seemed to emit energy. His hands tingled as he pointed the rifle down-range, the metal quickly warming up in his hands. He brought his head down to where he would imagine the sights would be, and as he did so a set of holographic sights rose from the top of the weapon, a stark blue diamond with a dot in the center.
Behind him, Vetra was loading her own weapon, giving it a systems check as she spoke to Ryder.
“Now, from what I’ve seen of you so far, sink-changes are your biggest hang-up. Good news: this thing doesn’t have heat sinks. It operates off of an internal sink, like the old Kassa Breakers. You shoot, you wait, you shoot again. It shoots in three shot bursts with minimal recoil, so you’ll probably be able to put all three rounds on your target…”
“Vetra, why are you doing this?”
Wes’ question interrupted Vetra’s train of thought and she stopped, looking almost dumb-founded, at Ryder.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean why are you training me like this, getting me a special weapon? I know how to handle myself. I won’t pretend to be some super badass who can nail a fly at 40 yards with a pistol, but I can handle myself nonetheless. Do I look that incompetent? Am I that… bad?”
The pride was almost palpable in Ryder’s voice as he felt frustration which had been kept on a simmer for weeks now come to the surface, despite his best efforts. He stowed the rifle on his back and continued, pride turning to frustration, bleeding into anger. Vetra’s mandibles flared in confusion as she stowed her rifle on her back, her head tilting to one side as she listened to Ryder.
“Look, I’m not my dad, alright? I know this. It’s been made painfully obvious to me. In more ways than one. But, I do know how to handle myself, at least a bit. If I look that bad, or that incompetent, tell me. If I seem like I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t. But if there’s one thing in this job I might know something about, it’s what I learned with the alliance. And everybody loves to tell me I’m doing fine, but I know I’m not. I know I’m not who you, or Cora, or Jan, or anybody wanted. If I look bad, if I need to do something tell me. But just… don’t bullshit me.”
Silence fell between the two as Ryder’s sudden outburst floated away. Birds flew overhead and both of them could hear a Rylkor stomping around 40 yards away. Vetra spoke first, her voice softer, slightly concerned.
“I didn’t mean to hit a pressure point. Sorry…”
Ryder bowed his head, and closed his eyes as gloved hands massaged his temples. His voice was quieter, almost regretful.
“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have blown up at you like that. These past few days have been… stressful. And I guess I’ve just been more worried about… all that, than I thought. You didn’t deserve that.”
Again, heartbeats of silence.
“Bit of a hair trigger, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“For what it counts, I can’t tell you don’t know what you’re doing.”
Ryder looked up with one eye, an eyebrow shooting up in skeptical curiosity.
“Really. I can’t. We’re all a little lost out here, Lexi might even tell us we came out here to be lost. But none of us know what we’re doing. Out of all of us, though, you’re the one who seems to pretend like you know what you’re doing the best. So, really, I can’t tell.”
As both eyes opened, the pathfinder’s head came up, his face pulled to one side as he considered what his coworker, growing friend, told him, his eyes darting back and forth. Eventually he took a deep breath, his hands slapping the sides of his legs. Vetra continued.
“Look, Ryder. You’re right, you’re not your dad. And yes, we can all tell. But that doesn’t mean it looks like you don’t know what you’re doing. You have your own way of doing things, you are your own person. And, right now, that’s the person we’re all looking at to get us through this mess. Even if you don’t know what you’re doing, you’re putting on a pretty convincing act. But here’s the thing about an act – there’s always at least part of it that’s real. So, at least part of you knows what you’re doing.”
“Thanks? I think?”
“You know, that was meant to be a bit more reassuring. Words – these kinds of things, aren’t really my strong suit. I guess I’m trying to say you’re doing just fine, we all trust you, and you’re doing good stuff.”
Ryder laughed, wryly. “I certainly hope I am.”
“I know I am. Now, you want to relax by shooting some stuff?”
“You’re still pushing this training thing, aren’t you?”
“No, relaxation through shooting.”
“Vetra, when have you ever pushed anybody to relax.”
Vetra’s mandibles hugged her face as she opened her mouth, the Turian equivalent to sticking out her tongue. She reached over her back, her rifle deploying into her hand as she started talking, Ryder following her lead, the new rifle still feeling alien in his hands.
“Alright, now right now you’re shooting with your body turned to the side of your target. While this provides you with a smaller presented target, it’s not nearly as quick to change targets. So…”
Pathfinder’s Quarters, 1945 Hours
The stars shot by the ship with technological ease, the blue aura around the window bathing the cabin in similar fashion. With their nose squarely pointed for Voeld, the crew had settled down for three days of FTL travel. Lexi was sitting in her lab running tests, Cora had set up a mini biotic training station in the cargo. Liam was watching movies with Drack, and Jaal was still pouring over historical records in his adopted Quarters. And ryder stood in his cabin, enjoying a cup of steaming black hazelnut coffee as he watched the universe slide by.
Vetra’s boots sounded from the down the corridor as she knocked on the door, entering the cabin timidly.
“Ryder?”
Ryder looked behind him, smiling at the Turian before gesturing her towards him, stepping to the side so that she had room to enjoy the view as well. In her hand was a similarly steaming cup of… something, Ryder didn’t know. It had a slightly off-putting dark green color, and appeared slightly thicker than water. The smell of it was.. not unlike that of scrambled eggs, and he could see the small rivulets of steam rising from the three-fingered mug. Vetra stepped astride of Ryder, looking forwards with him as they both, fairly simultaneously, took a drink of their respective “coffee”.
“Vetra, what can I do for you?”
“I was wondering if you could… well, if you’ve got the time… I was thinking we might need to…”
Ryder tilted his head at the Turian as she spoke with an uncharacteristic lack of confidence, the normal semi-swagger which had developed over years of self-sufficiency suddenly gone as she stared straight ahead. Her voice wasn’t panicked, but it wasn’t the normal semi-sarcastic totally sharp play of tones he had gotten used to, either.
“Are you… bored?”
Vetra’s sudden sigh was exasperated to put it mildly as her mandibles flared out as wide as Wes had seen them. Her voice now had a strong overtone of resentment, laughable reluctance to admit the fact that she was, in fact, bored.
“Gil said that, after that encounter with the Archon, and given the mission we’re on, we had to turn off coms, go ‘silent’ – as if there’s noise in space. “
At this point Wes couldn’t help but giggle a little bit under his breath as Vetra Nyx, the workaholic of the Tempest, didn’t know what to do with herself when she couldn’t work. A light swat on the arm met his laughter.
“…aaand I concluded all the work I could do for deals until we get back into contact. So, I’m done.”
“You didn’t bring a book or anything?”
A bitter sip from what looked like bitter Turian coffee.
“I did. I just would much rather talk to people. Liam and Drack are watching movies, spirits punish me if I interrupt them. Jaal is doing his whole ‘study all the milky way’ act. Lexi is, of course, running tests. Gil is… well, I don’t actually know where he is, don’t know if that’s comforting or concerning. And Kallo and Suvi are talking about the ship’s specs – interesting, but not what I’m after right now.”
“Well, glad to see I’m top of your ‘talking to’ list.”
“That’s not what I meant. We’ve got a crew of introverts. And, well, I like people.”
Wes gestured over towards the couch, Vetra’s longer legs taking her to her seat faster than him on long strides.
“Well, I happen to be a person. So, feel free to come in any time to talk.”
“Don’t you have pathfinder work, or something?”
Ryder laughed, sipping his coffee as his eyes darted subconsciously to his terminal, the new-email light flashing for the 11th day in a row, still unchecked.
“Yeah. But like you, I like people. I’ll get around to that later. There is one condition, though.”
Vetra’s head angled to her left as she sipped her drink again, cupping the mug as she finished. “What’s that?”
“You have to come with a story.”
“A story, huh?”
“Yup. If we’re gonna talk in-transit, I might as well get to know my new friend.”
Vetra’s playful laugh echoed through the cabin, a welcome respite from the monotonous drone of the HVAC system.
“You think we’re friends, do you?”
“I think at the very least I’d like to be.”
Vetra’s expression was almost… shocked. Like a flashbang had just gone off in her face. Instants later she shook her head, the expression becoming thoughtful as she examined the bulkheads above her, thinking. Eventually, after Ryder had downed half his cup of coffee, she spoke.
“A story, huh? Alright, Ryder, here you go. So, about 2 years ago – well, I guess a lot longer actually, but 2 years to us - I was running this load of Geth tech from the citadel to the Quarians. Not explicitly illegal, not explicitly legal either. So it was just me and my partner – Soln Vorchanus, an old friend of mine – in this tiny little spaceship, probably no bigger than our cargo hold. So we’re cruising through empty space, nothing on the scanners, quiet day, so Soln and I are eating some dinner in our pilot chairs.
When all of the sudden, out of nowhere, this ship comes out of nowhere, and I mean nowhere – didn’t have it on scanners, didn’t see it on radar, ladar, none of it. It actually looked a lot like the Tempest, strangely enough – same pointed bow, four engines, wings on the sides –much longer, though. Anyways, this dammed ship flies out of nowhere, and we get caught in their engine wash. So we start tumbling around, our galactic plane is nowhere to be found, and we’re starting to feel the force on our seats.
Now, we weren’t in planet, so gravity stayed the same, but Soln, it turns out, gets a little motion sick. I don’t know what you know about turian motion sickness, but it’s pretty different from Human motion sickness. Rather than throwing up, we pretty much just go delirious – manic, crazy, ecstatic, all of it. So, Soln stands up, and yells ‘I’ll protect you!’ and bolts into the cargo hold.
So while I’m busy stabilizing the ship and getting us back on track, I hear all this banging in the back, and next thing I know the door opens. And out steps soln, dressed head-to-toe in used geth parts, wielding a geth prime’s umbrella like a knife, yelling ‘I’ll get them! Just tell me where they are!’. Well, what else am I supposed to do but just break down laughing, and about 30 minutes later he realizes what happened and came back to his senses. We get the cargo to the Quarians, it’s all fine, whatever.
Fast forward six months to his wedding, and he’s opening all his gifts at the assembly, and up comes my box. Well he opens it, and what is in there?”
Wes had been laughing heartily through the whole story, Nyx’s natural speaking abilities bringing the scenes to life as she gestured around herself with narrative energy abound.
“Don’t tell me… was it…”
Vetra was laughing now, her coffee on a table, long forgotten.
“It was! A geth prime antenna, and in it a note that just said ‘Go get them!’. I think he still has it.”
Wes kept laughing, before calming down, sitting on the cough, red in the face from laughing, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.
“You know, Vetra, that’s good, that’s good. I like it. Alright, I’ve got one. So, I’m a young lieutenant on this patrol, right, first time out on my own…”
Pathfinder’s Quarters, 2655 Hours
“You didn’t!!!”
“Oh, you can bet your shoulder plates I did! Jumped right through the laundry chute, landed among some very confused room service.”
“Oh my god, Vetra, that’s a whole new level.”
“You’re one to talk, Mr. I-lost-a-shuttle-but-found-it-while-on-a-run.”
“Fair enough, fair enough.”
The laughter from the pathfinder’s stateroom filled the corridor with brilliant mirth. In crew birthing Cora had put in her earplugs to keep the sound out, and Lexi was shaking her head at her table as she made another incision on the specimen.
Vetra and Wes panted from the laughing, both clutching their abdomens as their laughter died out, empty coffee pots and caraffe’s strewn around them, the collateral damage of a night of story-telling. Vetra was the first to notice the time as her visor blipped the change of day.
“You know, Ryder, we should probably be getting to bed. I hope you can sleep after all that coffee.”
“Trust me, I’ve been addicted for long enough, I’ll be just fine. I hope you can after all that… whatever that is. Come to think of it, what is it anyways?”
“What, this?” Vetra held up the empty container she had grabbed from her quarters of the dark green liquid. “I suppose this would be the dextro equivalent to coffee, it’s called Nisean.”
“Is it caffeinated?”
“It wakes us up, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“I was. You gonna be able to sleep?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Like you said: Addicted for long enough. This stuff has gotten me through more long nights and close calls than I’d like to admit.”
Both stood up, Ryder walking Vetra to the door. They stopped their, standing an arm’s length away as they kept talking.
“Well, Ryder, thanks for talking. This was… nice. I suppose it makes sense to colonize a new galaxy with a starship full of introverts, it’s just not the easiest for those of us who aren’t.”
Ryder chuckled, a soft smile appearing on his face as he thought about his crew.
“Yeah, I guess they are a surprisingly introverted group. But hey, any time. Exchanging stories is great, feel free to drop by whenever you want.”
The turian equivalent of a wry smile spread onto Vetra’s face as her left mandible flared, her right staying on her face, her brow plates rising on the left side.
“Well, hopefully next time I’ll have some work I can do instead of just bumming around.”
“Ouch. Man, talk about a burn.”
Vetra’s eyes shot open as she thought through what she just said, Ryder’s faux-hurt face giving way to a laugh and a smile as Vetra shook her head at him.
“You know what I mean, Ryder. I’m a natural worker, it’s where I’m most comfortable.”
“Yeah, well, new galaxy, new habits. I’ll see you relax yet.”
“Some other time. Goodnight Ryder.”
“We’ll see ya later, Vetra.”
“Oh, and Ryder?”
“Yeah?”
Ryder turned around to see Vetra smiling at him, a genuine expression of comradeship that he hadn’t seen on a Turian face but had seen from his human friends 600 years away he could recognize quickly.
“I think friends sounds good. Lord knows we need them in this galaxy.”
A quick nod sent Vetra into the night. The door of the Pathfinder’s stateroom closed as Ryder heard crew quarters open to a series of moans as the lights automatically turned on, a rather vulgar protest from Liam sounding across the hallway as Ryder shook his head and laughed. He sat back down on the couch, truth be told he wasn’t so addicted to coffee that 6 cups in 9 hours couldn’t affect him. He looked around, surveying the damage, running through the night, the stories as he did so, laughing to himself at every punchline. His thoughts ran as he cleaned up the space.
Friends does sound good. 600 years is a long time without any.
Hey guys! I'm sorry to leave this story so long, apparently 4 weeks out from graduating college isn't quite the same as graduating, and I've still got a ways to go. So, life took over. Anyways, here's another story. Sort of a combination of fluff and filling in the gaps. To put a timeline to this one: after finding the Angaran, the Tempest goes to Havarl, activates their vault, and after that is where this story starts. Then, they head to Voeld to rescue the Moshae, which is where the second part of the story takes place. Anyways, as always, comments are much beloved, and Kudos are awesome too. Let me know what you think, but most of all, enjoy!!! Oh, and please reblog!!!
#fics#fanfiction#Mass Effect#mass effect andromeda#me: andromeda#Andromeda fanfic#vetra nyx#mass effect vetra#vetra x ryder#male ryder#ryder#vetra romance#rydra
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Have some late night Striker doodles because I figured out what this disgusting little man should look like
#my art#fr#fr gijinka#ch: Striker#ch: Sachairi#but like in the meme picture which is me redacting a very serious situation#ch: Kassa#in the last three pics#flight rising#Striker used to have horns but they’re filed down#he’s an imperial btw so it’s antlers I guess doesn’t hurt that much
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Disturbance
lore pings: @yuushanoah-fr @cityofinoue @rasvimhia
A bit of a brief chapter today. It's mostly dialogue heavy but I feel like it was needed between Kassa and Arodan at the moment.
'Dan.' Arodan had barely made his way up the stairs and he already was being spoken to again. This however wasn't Carmen's melodic voice or the booming timbre of Balam's, but the more nasal sound of Kassa. He slowly turned and found them standing behind him in a for their standards humble outfit. 'Do you have some time to spare?'
'I kind of was planning to get ready for bed.' Arodan started. He swallowed harshly before he continued. 'Is it urgent?'
'If I told you it wasn't you wouldn't come along.' Kassa said, their heavy eyelids barely hiding the red glow of their eyes in the dark. They spun on their heel and walked off. 'Follow me.'
He didn't intend to follow them but his curiosity acted faster than his reason. Arodan followed Kassa down the hall and soon he found them by their room, waiting by the open door. 'What's this about?'
'Broken things.' Kassa said, downcast. He could name a few things that would have gotten Kassa down but didn't intend to assume. All he intended was to be careful since he had not started trusting Kassa again. 'Don't stand there slack jawed. Come in.'
'... Fine.' Hopefully this is not a trap in some way, Arodan thought. He held his breath and entered. All the windows were open and Arodan only now noticed Kassa had taken a long cloth and hung it as a curtain in front of the door. Currently it was rolled up above it. The room was otherwise pretty devoid of personal baggage, save some fabrics. 'So-'
'Don't close the door behind you darling, but tug that curtain above your head alright?' Kassa interrupted Arodan, not meeting his eye. The came to sit cross legged by the pillows on the bed and pat in front of them. 'Give this room some air.'
'Right. Okay.' He pulled the cloth above him and it elegantly unwound to hang in front of the door. 'Aren't you wary of being overheard?'
'Well, what do you think I want to talk about?' Kassa sat upright and tilted their head. 'Are you expecting blackmail, a proposal for theft or arson, laundry scams? Hon, you know that is not the sort of person I am.'
'You know exactly why I'm wary of you.' Arodan grunted. He hesitantly sat on the foot of the bed in front of Kassa. 'Yeah, you have new gloves, what's different about the ones you wore first?'
'They're magical. Carmen took an old pair and magically imbued them with anti-Shade magic Sachi knew.' They waved their hands besides their head for emphasis, a bored yet annoyed look on their face. 'Look, Danny, these are also welded to my hands. I can't take them off, only Carmen, Sachi and Balam can by way of magical incantation.'
'And they will give me the same answer if I ask them?'
'I'm surprised you haven't asked already, but yes.'
That seemed that for the moment. No, he still did not trust Kassa on their word, but if it was true he at least had nothing to fear. 'Okay. What did you want to talk about?'
'How are you doing?'
'... How… How am I doing?' Arodan blinked a few times, then gestured at himself. 'You want to know how I'm doing? Why?'
'Because we are in a way still allies darling.' Kassa leant on their hand and looked at him in sideways glances. 'I've made a mistake. You're allowed to kill me for it. Is it not okay to ask about how your day was then?'
'I don't trust you, that doesn't mean I want you dead.' Arodan quickly responded. A hard look from Kassa brought him back to answering his question. 'I'm fine though. Saw town today, I met some people.'
'What did you see in town?'
'... Well… This city seems to be divided in neighborhoods who all have populations consisting of one specific flight each. Plague dragons stick to each other, as do water dragons. I've seen lightning dragons living in Water's quarter however, so it depends.' Arodan started, summing up the logical details first. Kassa was listening intently. 'This city was not built for dragons, but for two legged folk. There's people here that don't even know how to shift, did you know that?'
'I've heard of it.' Kassa responded quietly. Their eyes fluttered shut for just a moment. 'Are you going back?'
'Perhaps? I've met interesting people there and it would be rude not to at least stop by once more.' He looked over Kassa who sat hunched on their bed. '... Are you okay?'
'Well, that's a first to hear.' Kassa hummed, perking up. 'I could be doing better, but I could also be doing worse. It's a win-win really.' They waved their hand idly. 'Why ask?'
'... I don't know.' Arodan's gaze drifted off to elsewhere in the room so he didn't have to meet Kassa's eye. 'Back on the boat you said that after all of this, after all the Shade was purged from us, you intended to die. Did you mean that?'
'I keep a lot of secrets but yes, I meant that.'
'Why?'
Kassa shrugged, and then it seemed their turn to be too hesitant to look at Arodan. 'I mentioned I have a difficult relationship to the Shade. It's the one thing that gives me true power over those like me but it also might drive me mad someday. I don't intend to see the day that happens.' They said, rubbing their hands. 'You know, I came from a small town, from a very humble family. Living day after day is a blessing because that's just how it is in this world.'
'Then why not purge yourself from it?' Arodan asked. 'There's people out there that can, people trained in purging Shade.'
'Then you'd have to cut off my hands. Thing is, when I bartered with the being that gave me my Shade they stated there would always be some sort of repercussion. In my case that was that my Shade would be fully ingrained in my hands.' Kassa held up their hands and wiggled their fingers. 'It's odd. These gave me my talent for sewing and control, but it is the most awful thing about me.'
'Are you sure it isn't your secrecy?'
'Always sharp.' Kassa snickered and continued. 'I hate it, and I love it. Without my hands, no one will have me. What a dilemma huh?'
'And you intend to help us all still?' Arodan asked, tilting his head.
'Of course. I'll help you. Said you were a good egg, didn't I?'
'Good egg, huh?' Murmured Arodan, mostly to himself. 'Why do you think no one would have you without hands Kassa? Who are you really?'
'That's a good question. Who am I?'
'Stop being cryptic.'
'But I like being cryptic!' Kassa exclaimed, a big grin on their face. They threw their hands up in an unknowing fashion. 'Again, where I come from it was very much kill or be killed. That did not always mean people wanted to see blood, sometimes that meant stealing ideas, stealing possessions, whatever to further yourself. It's not a secure life to live but that's how it is in this world sometimes. I left that place because of that sentiment, I wanted more. So here we are.'
'How did Balam find you then?' Arodan dared to ask. Kassa responded first with a long sigh. They then stretched, like maybe a cat would which was odd to see at the very least.
'He did not find me. I found him by chance, when he was younger, more mischievous than he is now. Waldemar was king back then and he did not like-' Kassa raised their hands and curled their fingers to communicate quotation marks. '-my type. Fair enough, I was a con artist at that time with longer hair, different pronouns, but it is still hurtful thinking about it. What made me change was Balam.' Kassa lowered and folded their hands pensively. 'We used to play a lot of pranks back then, some involved stealing things. Balam made me return them but we laughed about it nonetheless. I don't know what it was about him but I didn't feel like leaving his side anymore at some point.'
'That's up to you.' Arodan stretched too but he could not mimic Kassa's particular movements. 'This once home of yours, was it a bad place?'
'No.' Kassa said, with no doubt to their answer. 'There are those that look out for you too even if they don't have a lot to spare because their sentiment is that an eye for an eye will not keep us happy, just breathing for another day. Plague folk are tough and introverted sometimes, that doesn't make all of them cruel.' Kassa smiled, red eyes glimmering with a fondness for a memory Arodan would not get to know about. 'There's those that embrace pack structures and that's what keeps us happy. It's what I ended up doing it seems, shame I near destroyed it.'
'You're still here. No one's dead or anything.' Arodan lay down idly, allowing himself to relax. 'I don't think I mind it anymore you nearly killed me on Paramo's bunker, but that is because we have bigger things to focus on.' He met their stare, fiercely so. 'That doesn't make you forgiven or that I'm not keeping my eye on you, but it just means we are back on neutral terms.'
'Just that one eye? I'm honored.' Kassa flatly responded. Arodan shot them a glare and Kassa only could grin looking at him. 'Neutral terms works for me darling. Does that mean I get to make you an apron now?'
'No, because I don't need one. Why did you make those for Dmitri and Balam anyway? Did you guys talk?'
'I talked for quite some time with Balam, very much like we are now. We talked things past, present and future, and even now we are somehow alike.' Kassa hummed. They averted their eyes then, towards the piles of fabrics. 'I'd rather keep that between him and me, but you know what? I'm glad we did. It felt like how things used to be. Then Marlowe was all "Oh, you sew?" and gave me his wife's old collection of fabrics and I made Balam an apron while we talked some more.' Kassa laughed softly to themselves, a blush deepening the red color of their skin. 'I wonder why I'm the way I am.'
'Again, I can't tell you that.' Arodan sat up and he found himself reaching for Kassa. His hand hovered on a distance when he remembered he probably shouldn't touch Kassa if his own Shade could perhaps act up and he would see something he wasn't supposed to see. 'I just know you need to be the best version of yourself, or something like that.'
'Thanks Dan.' Kassa said. Their eyes flitted to his hand for the briefest moment, then back to his face. They particularly were focusing on his eyepatch now. 'You know, Caer wouldn't even give this a second thought… But Stratus knows how to make artificial limbs and organs.'
'Wait, what?' Arodan blinked a few eyes in response and his hand flew up to his eyepatch. '... Does that actually work? It doesn't kill the wearer right?'
'As far as I know they have working examples.' Kassa stroked their chin and focused more deeply on Arodan's bad eye. 'Interested?'
'Well… I have adjusted to living with just one eye for a while, but it'd be nice to look people in the eye properly, or see more depth again.' He rubbed his eye, and it stung just slightly. 'How do I know this would be safe and could I even afford this?'
'Oh, they're dang expensive. But Balam's friends with Odin so you can always ask him.'
'But Odin didn't want to help us immediately.'
'He's a businessman, that's just the way it is. Back in the old days he had more time to drop everything to come help out but now he doesn't. These are volatile times we live in.' Kassa responded, more bluntly than before. 'Look, he might just ask you about your eye. I know this because-' Kassa pulled a letter from underneath their pillow. '-we have been invited to a gala of sorts in a week's time. The others know this too and I suspect that's when we get to hear what will be Odin's decision.'
'A gala? A week? Really?' Arodan said, baffled. He pinched his nose and took a deep breath so he wouldn't start speaking too loudly. 'All of us?'
'All of us.'
'I'm not a party person. Is it mandatory?' Arodan had a difficult look on his face as he said this, his brow locked in a deep frown that near made a crevasse in the middle of his head. Kassa nodded silently and defeated he slipped from the bed onto his feet. 'Okay, fine then. And I should expect to be questioned about my eye?'
'Yes, that's what I'm getting at. What color suit do you want?'
'Do dark blue or whatever you think suits me because I am not going to doubt your knowledge on fashion.' Arodan held up his hands and started to back out of the room. 'I should go though. It's getting late and I'm sure Atlas is waiting for me.'
'Yes, yes, go to your sweetheart.' Kassa waved at him and smiled. 'All I wanted to do is ask about what color suit you wanted, so that's enough for me.'
Arodan stopped in the doorway and glanced over his shoulder. 'Then why all the preamble?'
'Because I felt like it.' Kassa rolled around and gestured for Arodan to leave. 'Night Danny.'
Arodan stepped into the dark hallway and made sure the curtain covered the doorway neatly. On that note he took his leave, towards his and Atlas' room. Occasionally he heard snores, other times he heard stumbling around and he wondered who was up at this hour, who it could be. The sounds in the distance had to be patrons of the adjoining establishment sneaking through the courtyard. He arrived at his room with a wandering thought of what exactly he had spoken of with Kassa and what he felt about it. To be fair, he didn't know what to think.
The door quietly opened and Arodan slipped inside. Atlas already was asleep, wrapped in the blankets of the bed and Arodan didn't feel the particular drive to pull them from his grasp. He took the easy way and pulled a new one from the closet, laying it out next to Atlas.
'You okay?'
Arodan perked up, his hands on the lining of his shirt. He took it off before answering Atlas who was watching him with golden eyes from his moon illuminated spot on the bed. 'I am, it's just been a long day. We can talk about it tomorrow if you're tired.'
'Hm, sure.' Atlas murmured, wiggling himself deeper into his blankets. 'Come here though, I missed you today.'
'Yeah, I'm on my way.' Arodan said, a giggle escaping him. He set his bag down next to the bed, slipped out of his pants and crept close to Atlas who pulled him right into his blanket pile. Whatever it was he was thinking of, it fled him and soon he was fast asleep in a dreamless sleep.
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Considering Glasir is a warmer place than the Southern Icefield that means everyone gets redressed
#dragon share#fr#flight rising#my dragons#ch: Arodan#ch: Atlas#ch: Kassa#ch: Balam#ch: Sachairi/Dmitri
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I’ve made myself sad so some nondescript sketches to get rid of that
#flight rising#my art#fr#ch: Dmitri#ch: Balam#ch: Kassa#ch: Atlas#ch: Arodan#ch: Raz#ch: Sachairi#ch: Carmen
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Glasir
lore pings: @yuushanoah-fr @cityofinoue
[Lore directory]
The crew arrives in the city of Glasir and poses an offer to President Odin. All dragons are in bipedal forms.
‘Okay, move along, don’t you folks have anything better to do?’
Arodan watched Caer shoo away a few curious onlookers. She was grouchy but he felt safe by her side at the moment. At the moment a few too many people were staring at them curiously and he had half a mind to join her in scaring off the onlookers. He kept his eyes the window instead.
Glasir was a city he could have never even dreamed of. Towers rose into the heights and shimmered with glass and steel in the skyline. He had never seen cities being built in such a way and if he hadn’t recognized little tidbits like the city lights working on magic and style of building he would have been completely disoriented. This was a city in the image of the second age and Arodan barely could begin to wrap his head around how one would go about just studying the schematics for such a civilization.
‘Hey, you okay?’
Arodan turned to see Dmitri had silently sidled up to him. Caer took note of him too but kept quiet for the moment and instead stayed on guard for nosy onlookers, shuffling the other way. ‘I’m alright, just a little overwhelmed.’ He leant against the window and then immediately drew back once a heavy feeling of nausea washed over him. ‘This is the least dragon friendly city I have ever seen.’
‘Yeah, it’s… Something.’ Dima hummed nervously. He threw a glance over his shoulders. Balam’s form could vaguely be seen through the frosted glass of Odin’s office. Carmen and Atlas stood by the door attempting to listen in. ‘It feels familiar to me. I’ve seen cities like this before.’
‘Did you remember anything?’ Arodan looked up wide eyed at Dima. Even if the memories weren’t important to him he was still curious as to who Dima was. ‘Is it helpful for our situation perhaps?’
‘Not a lot, but I remembered a city in a desert across the ocean. It was situated somewhere by a river bank and… I don’t think they believed in the gods that reign here.’ Dima mumbled, and then promptly shrugged. ‘That’s about it.’
‘Wait, you say this city isn’t on this continent? Or is it located on the other side of the Sea of a Thousand Currents?’ Arodan’s brow furrowed and he found himself searching for Mimir in his bag. He was pretty certain he must have showed her a map sometime so maybe she could be of help. ‘Did you remember the name?’
‘It was…’ Dima tapped his foot impatiently on the floor trying to wrack his brain for any clues. ‘No… I can’t remember that. Just that it was an empire to the east of the Beacon of the radiant Eye.’
Arodan flipped open Mimir and she already had a map of the continent ready. Above the map she had spoken.
I’ve never met someone from across the sea before.
‘Mimir, you haven’t met a lot of people, you’re a book.’ Arodan whispered. It wrestled loose a hearty chuckle from Dima. ‘So this city you remember, did people walk around in a bipedal form on a daily basis?’
‘I think it actually took was the only form they had there. I don’t think a lot of people had a normal draconic shape or practiced magic.’ Dima watched Mimir note down the details with a sort of giddy wonder. ‘I… I lived there. That used to be my home.’ He turned his head sideways. ‘Have you been keeping notes on me?’
Arodan and me note down every odd little thing that happens!
‘No we don’t.’ Arodan said, lying and averting his gaze. Warmth rose to his face and he hoped dearly Dima didn’t press him any further on it. ‘It’s just a few-‘
‘Oh?’ His head whipped back to Dima, then to Mimir. She was in fact, flipping through her own pages so Dima could see the research they did when they still weren’t sure what was different about him. Dima himself looked at Arodan with a small smile and brows raised in downright sultry manner. ‘I have never had this much attention invested in me before.’
‘Save it, if it’s up to me I’m closing this investigation right now.’ Arodan grunted, his fluster deepening. ‘Mimir, stop that already.’ When she stopped she did on a half empty page. There, on a small black patch two dots and a curved line appeared in gold, looking like a smiling little face. Arodan slammed Mimir hair on that note and put her back into his bag. ‘Besides there’s no reason to continue, we figured out what’s your situation.’
‘Well, I mean… I do like the attention.’ Dima said and giggled. ‘Being around beautiful people is fun, I like being around other people.’ He looked around, fondly, and his eye fell on Kassa, Atlas and Carmen discussing what they might have heard from the office. ‘I think it’s just been a while.’
‘Considering you weren’t in control of your body for a while I can understand.’ Arodan responded. Dima’s arm touched his side and he didn’t know how comfortable he was with it. The earlier experience rang in his head. ‘You and Sachairi aren’t fighting over the body, right?’
‘It would be nicer to have my body back, but so far it’s going fine. We switch based on mood, when he needs time alone, I’m here.’ Dima fumbled with his hair for a bit. ‘It is a relief that I don’t have to pretend to be him anymore although… I’ve disappointed a lot of people, haven’t I?’
‘It’s just been a very difficult few weeks. I don’t think you turning up was any more special than what else has happened.’ Arodan said. Subconsciously he had reached to pat Dima on the back and when he did the imperial actively flinched. Arodan chose not to question it. ‘Why did you not try to explain who you were? It would have been easier.’
‘Yeah, I know, and this is going to sound really dumb-‘ Dima started, scratching the back of his head with a silly grin. ‘-But I just wanted to make them happy. I don’t think they would have lashed out in hindsight but whenever I ran into them I just wanted to be as quiet as possible, not give them reason to get angry with me.’ He gestured at the air and a nondescript noise escaped him. ‘Maybe I don’t have to worry about that anymore. I just have to worry about helping Sachairi find a way to reunite with Raz.’
‘You’re a huge imposing figure, why are you worried about anyone hurting you?’ Arodan gestured at Dima idly and now that he pointed out he felt even smaller actually. ‘What happened?’
‘I um…’
‘What are you boys up to?’ Kassa poked their head inbetween the two before rounding around Dima and opting to size him up. ‘You are Dmitri, no?’
‘Yes, did the lack of smokiness tip you off?’ Dima jested, his demeanor growing more radiant immediately. ‘Is something the matter?’
‘No, my curiosity has just gotten the better of me.’ They said, with a tilted head. They extended their hand towards Dima. ‘And we haven’t been formally introduced yet darling, you do have manners don’t you?’
‘Not that I remember. Maybe with time.’ Dima responded, shaking their hand. He was slow and careful in reaching out and didn’t hold on that long either. ‘But I’m Dmitri. It’s nice to meet you all.’
‘Well, it certainly is interesting to have you around.’ Atlas chimed in. Carmen was right behind him and soon Dmitri was surrounded by the three. Arodan found himself dropping out of the conversation and willingly stepped back until he ended up next to Caer who had wandered off earlier. The group got him to introduce himself and they barraged him with question. It could very well have been that they had just gotten bored with listening, but the sight was in a way endearing.
‘Well, at least they are happy.’ Caer said this quietly, her arms folded. ‘In all this worry it good to see them relaxed.’
‘I can agree. It’s… I’m really glad they’re happy.’ Arodan’s gaze first fell on Atlas, then gently slid from him to Carmen and Kassa. He felt warmer thinking of them, hollow so once everything that had happened hit him yet again. ‘What’s next?’
‘Judging by your tone of voice you’re staying with us and I couldn’t be more excited.’ Caer responded. Her tone of voice was flat but her posture was upright and proud. ‘What’s next preferably, is that we get help from the Stratus Corporation to take back Paramo. War is their forte so they might as well do what they’re good at.’
You’re not going to fight any Glasir natives, are you?’
‘Balam asked me not to and if he tells me no I am obligated to listen to him. Not because he’s my king but because I respect him.’ Caer hummed. That would explain why she didn’t say anything beyond shooing off some curious Stratus employees. ‘Maybe if one talks bad ‘bout any of you I will throw down but you know what, I don’t care what they say about me. We’re guests so I reckon we should behave.’
The door to Odin’s office open and his secretary emerged. They held their hands close to them as if they were about to be jumped. ‘Your presence is requested. Please come in.’ The group entered in varying degrees of hesitance but eventually settled at the far end of the spacious office. Balam stood by Odin’s desk, Odin himself sat behind it with his hands propped under his chin. Next to him stood a woman, who seemed to be a tundra judging by the shape of her horns. Shelves with books and files lined the walls and the entire room was only illuminated by a humongous arch shaped window behind Odin through which the city could be seen. Arodan took quickest notice out of everything that Balam looked nervous and tired. This couldn’t have gone well.
‘So, I will get to the point-‘ Odin said, jovially clasping his hands. ‘It is an honor to have you here and we are going to ask you to stay a little longer.’ Odin looked eerily calm. ‘I understand that you need help, but what you are requesting of me and my people is a very tall favor and I need to discuss this with a few of my advisors, most importantly my Vice President Syr.’ He gestured at the woman besides him who immediately stepped forward with an eager little bounce.
‘Yes! Please understand, but it is a lot to ask of us to send out our own forces and unite those of towns under our jurisdiction.’ She answered. She tapped her clipboard impatiently with her pen. ‘Besides, just rushing in guns blazing is a very archaic approach, don’t you think? It will only cause more casualties.’
‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’ Atlas spoke up, pacing forward. Arodan swore he could hear Caer muttering to herself that she didn’t know what a gun was. ‘So are you helping us or not?’
‘We’re saying we haven’t decided yet. Your people have the added advantage you are an allied nation but that doesn’t mean we can just send troops all willy-nilly.’ Syr answered, her eyebrows perking up. ‘By all means, we will make your stay here comfortable. You will be provided for while we figure out our answer.’
‘That’s spineless-!’
‘Look, listen-‘ Odin interrupted Atlas who was right in front of his desk now. He rose with a stately grace someone of his rank might have. ‘I did not invite you in and listened to you if I didn’t want to hear what you had to say. Balam’s father was a dear friend of mine, and Balam is now. But times have changed.’
Balam put a gentle hand on Atlas’ shoulder. ‘I got angry like you did but he is right. We need to think about this.’ Balam said. He looked up, met Odin’s eye and looked momentarily deeply disappointed. In that same moment Odin flinched just slightly. ‘We are taking up the offer to be staying, but I urge of you to consider our proposal.’
‘What are you providing beyond a place to sleep?’ Carmen stepped forward this time. ‘We do not just have wounds we need to tend to but we also have-‘
‘A body on board, we heard yes.’ Syr responded. ‘First of all, we are sorry for your loss.’ She bowed elegantly and continued once she righted herself again. ‘We can aid you with whatever funeral rites you require. Beyond this, and concerning yourselves you are free to explore the city, request guides and bodyguards, and have food be delivered to you.’ She hummed to herself and already her mind drifted off track. ‘Really, it’s the sort of relaxed vacation most here crave.’
‘Does this look like a vacation to you?’ Arodan muttered. He threw the most fleeting glance at Caer and he could see her hands were balled and shaking. She was utterly seething and he was wondering when her breaking point was. She shook, until Kassa silently moved to her side, and slid their hand into hers. They said nothing, but Caer stopped shaking. It seemed like a bizarre gesture, yet it made complete sense. Arodan’s gaze fell on Dmitri and it occurred to him he was glad Sachairi wasn’t there now.
‘I want a funeral pyre arranged.’ Carmen demanded, disregarding Syr’s other words. ‘And I want Heart roses, Myosotis and Alstroemerias with that. After I have cremated my brother you can show us whatever fancy services you have on offer, I don’t care about them right now.’
‘That can be arranged, do you want alcohol with that?’ Syr sarcastically blurted out as she was making a list on her clipboard. ‘We’ll get all of that, but please just have a little patience.’ This time it seemed Carmen’s turn to count to three before she was going to knock someone out. Her solution was to grasp Dima’s bicep and she held onto it for a while. Her hand soon slid into his and he indulged her. The situation was a mess to say the least, and everyone was quiet.
‘So… I’ll have someone guide you to where you will be staying then.’ Odin hummed anxiously. ‘It was a pleasure to see all of you again and… Let us catch up later. It’s good to have you around.’
‘It’s an honor to be here.’ Balam quietly said, bowing his head. He was first to start leaving the room, the same secretary waiting by the door. ‘We will discuss this again later. Let’s go everyone.’
The Stratus Corporation headquarters was a large sprawling building yet they left its marble halls in no time at all. They exited through the glass front onto the bustling street, faces still hot with anger. The secretary spoke gently and seemed intimidated by the group. ‘I um… Someone will arrive soon to help you navigate through the city.’ They bowed their head. ‘And we hope this was not an unpleasant experience.’
After a moment of quiet Balam flashed his best smile, stepped forward and bowed his head. ‘No, thank you for your hospitality. We know you are doing the best you can.’
‘We try sir. Still, we extend a gentle apology.’ They bowed their head in similar manner. It had in fact been difficult to discern what sort of dragon they had been because their horns had been filed down. Judging by the shape they must have been an imperial. They turned and a mirror, clad in green approached them. ‘There is your guide it seems.’ They ran up to Balam and started to scribble something on a piece of paper. ‘If you need anything, the staff of the inn knows my name. Just ask for Mor and they know who to notify.’
‘Thank you Mor.’ Balam whispered, pocketing the note. Mor backed away and momentarily met with the Mirror in green before they passed the group and disappeared into the building again. The guide said nothing but signed something, then gestured at the group to follow them.
The trip to the inn turned out quiet. No one knew what to say and instead each chose to focus on some other facet of the city to not think of themselves. Arodan himself couldn’t find anything in the bustling evening traffic within Glasir to focus on. Instead he stuck to Atlas’ side for a bit, as silent as the rest.
‘Dan, you okay?’
In the end Atlas was the first to speak. Arodan slowly looked up at him, nodded and bumped into his side. Atlas understood that as his cue it really was okay, and that it was even more so to take his hand. ‘Well, I guess this is in a way an escape.’
‘Not one I had envisioned but we’re going to make the best of it.’ Arodan whispered. His hand was tightly clasped around Atlas’. ‘We can stick together at the very least.’
‘And sticking together is the most important thing to do.’ Atlas added. He seemed lost in thought just momentarily before glazed eyes focused on Arodan again. ‘What did you and Dmitri talk about?’
‘I asked him if he remembered anything. If I’m gonna be teaching him magic then I want to know what sort of person I’m dealing with.’ Arodan answered. Dima walked on a short distance in front of them inbetween Kassa and Carmen. ‘He’s definitely more chipper than Sachairi is.’
‘Can't say I prefer it.’ Atlas jovially responded. ‘I mean, what if he gets more popular than I am?’
‘You’re plenty popular.’ Arodan responded, nudging his side. ‘And I know your joking but if it helps I think all he wants is to go home.’
‘Any idea where he comes from yet?’
‘The east, from across the sea he says.’ Arodan answered. A quaint and humble building came in sight that looked well maintained yet aged. ‘I’ve never met someone before that came from across the sea.’ He said, mimicking Mimir’s earlier statement.
‘Me neither, sounds like a far fetched tale.’ Atlas shook his head.
‘Well, it’s all we have to go on.’ Arodan murmured. ‘And you know, it’s something to do.’ He held his head high. ‘I like these people. I like you. So I’m going to keep on doing my best whether you like it or not.’
‘Well, I did start to love you because of your stubbornness so that excites me to say at the very least.’ Atlas squeezed his hand and pulled him forward, closer to the group. He seemed to have perked up significantly then and it rubbed off on the others just a little. Soon they were basking in the warmth of the inn and all seemed well.
#my lore#fr#flight rising#ch: Arodan#ch: Caer#ch: Dmitri#ch: Odin#ch: Syr#ch: Atlas#ch: Carmen#ch: Kassa#ch: Mor#ch: Mimir#lots of characters in here
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Morning light
Lore pings: @yuushanoah-fr @cityofinoue
It's been a rough night for the crew of Paramo city. A few POV shifts happen in this one, it rounds out back to Arodan though.
Carmen tended not to give much thought to Dreams she had. If she did she was never going to get up in the morning and she didn’t have time for that. She stayed in bed for five minutes more and that would be it. Through the small windows early pale morning light fell, dust dancing in the light. Carmen’s room on the ship was cluttered with all manner of objects she had taken from the ship’s hold. Books, clothing, furniture, trinkets, things she liked and things she knew Epoch would have liked.
‘Okay.’ She said through a strained breath. Slowly she got up and crept out of bed. She wore easier clothing now and if she didn’t think too much of things she was up and going within another five minutes. She met her face in the mirror, paused, and stopped to fluff her hair. ‘Let’s do this.’
*
Balam hadn’t slept a lot that night. He knew he had drifted off a few times but truly sleeping wouldn’t happen. Slow and heavy, he rose and listened to the ship’s creaking around him. In the hall he could hear someone pass and he wondered who it was. Balam rubbed his face and groaned quietly. He had yet to figure out what was next, beyond the problems that had already manifested on the boat. Where would they go now that they didn’t have home to come back to?
‘Balam?’
Carmen stuck her head through the door. When he last her stare she smiled. ‘Sorry, I’m late, am I not?’
‘Nah. I think we all need some extra sleep.’ She remained by the door. ‘Are you alright?’
‘Yeah. Little tired.’ He shook his head and his eye fell on his hands. He’d have to apologize to Sachairi later, or at least the person that he truly was. ‘I’ll come up when I’m ready.’
Carmen paused, her eyes drifting elsewhere. Without looking up she stepped in and closed the door behind her. ‘Hey. I’ll wait.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘It’s not as if I have anything better to do.’ She sat down at the end of Balam’s bed where his feet weren’t. He was just a little too big for the frame. ‘Maybe I will take over sailing the ship for a while. Caer fell asleep against the wheel this morning and there’s only so much the coffee supply can do.’
‘Do you know how to steer a ship?’ Balam slid out of bed around Carmen and paced to an overloaded closet in the corner. It was bolted to the floor like most furniture. ‘I can do that too.’
‘The sea’s been easy. Maybe it’ll get worse once we reach the coast but for now it’s calm.’ She kept her gaze on a plant in the corner which looked dried out. ‘Epoch taught me once, so I might be able to take over for a bit.’ She knew Epoch’s name made Balam worry over all sorts of things again but if they danced around to that would remain. Her eyes narrowed. ‘Balam?’
‘Yes?’
‘Help me out with something.’ She hopped up and towards the plant where she knelt down. Balam finished pulling a shirt over his head and came to bend down besides her. ‘Hold out your hand and make a block of ice.’
‘I… I see.’ Balam did as asked. In his hand ice started to form and shape. He focused and his eyes glowed a fierce blue as he extended his magic until he held a block of ice the size of his palm. ‘So what now?’
Carmen pulled his frigid hand closer by one of his fingers. She moved it to be above the pot and placed her hand on the block of ice. Her own magic flared and melted the block slowly. Water dripped into the pot and hydrated cracked soil. ‘That will be a welcome change. Maybe it’s too dry to be saved but we tried.’
‘Is this a metaphor of sorts you’re trying to show me?’
Carmen grinned. 'The point I am trying to make is that we work better as a group. Look at us.' She tilted Balam's hand down. 'We were at each other's throats over something as minor as Sachairi not being trustworthy. We should not fight each other despite our weariness.'
'I know that.' Balam quietly responded and he didn't dare to look at her, instead fixing his focus on the plant. 'I don't want us to fall apart as a group.'
'I know… I know we lost Paramo. And it will be a long time before we all will learn to deal with the effects of that.' Carmen added. She briefly squeezed Balam's hand to draw his attention back to her. 'But at least we still have each other. We can do this together.'
'I want to get it back. Not today, but once we figure out the way to do so.' He said this with a mild, simmering resolve. All the ice melted in his hands and he waved it over the pot so the remainder of the water dripped off his hand. 'But you are right. I will not do that alone.'
'We'll get back our home my liege.' Carmen said quietly. 'For Epoch, and for the city of Paramo.'
'... For Epoch.' Balam hummed in agreement.
*
'You know, you do have big enough hands to play drums perhaps.'
'I'd smash right through them Raz.' Sachairi said with a long, drawn out sigh. He drew Raz closer to him who murmured something nondescript. 'I don't think I'm made for making music.'
'People aren't made for specific purposes, Sachi.' Raz said and giggled. He looked out over the field wistfully and Sachairi loved that kind of look. The landscape before them was beautiful yes, snow coated and pristine. The sky was a vibrant blue and the sun illuminated countless snow hardy flowers that popped up from out of the snow. None of that compared to Raz. 'We're just people. I play the harp because I want to.'
'Well, you're good at it.' Sachairi hummed. He rested his chin on Raz's head and the skydancer responded by creeping deeper into the larger man's coat. 'That's your thing. My thing is brute force.'
'Okay, listen.' Raz held up a finger and tilted his head back. 'What if you made me a harp? Maybe subtle isn't your forte, but rough is. You can try carving something.'
'I don't think I can do that.'
'I think you can.'
'Yeah, but you can think I can do anything if I just set my mind to it.' Sachairi said, unhelpfully grinning. Raz turned and proceeded to knock him over. 'Look, Raz, I-'
'Look, Sachi-' Raz grabbed Sachairi's face and shook him a little, a narrowed stare meeting Sachairi's wide, confused gaze. 'There, you always say that. What I want to say, is that I understand what bothers you, but that upkeeping the attitude you have now isn't going to make you happier.' He smiled warily and pressed his forehead to Sachairi's. 'Try being more positive. Try it for me if you don't want to do it for you.'
'I know, I know.' He held up his hands and Raz gently took them. 'It's just… Difficult. This is new for me.' He glanced up and wordlessly questioned further before finding that wouldn't help. 'You know, having a home.'
'It's new for me too.' Raz whispered. He lay down and settled back into part of Sachairi's coat. 'It's new to be safe, it's new to be free.' He nuzzled Sachairi's neck lovingly. 'That is why we have to be the best versions of ourselves or try to be.' He grinned against the skin of Sachairi's neck. 'Whether you want it or not.'
'Ooh, stubborn, are we?' Sachairi grunted in response, his lips still curled into a firm smile. He heard Raz giggle and it was music to his ears and sugar to all of his other senses.
He was definitely dreaming.
As soon as he became aware of it and turned his head he could see him in the distance. Dmitri stood in the haze of snow and Sachairi remembered his time already was up. 'Raz, I… I have to tell you something.'
'What is it?' Raz raised his head and looked curious as to what had so suddenly soured Sachairi's mood. He couldn't tell him. He woke up, and realized there were too many things he wouldn't be able to tell Raz once he found him.
'Sachi.'
He blinked the sleep from his eyes and stretched the incoming soreness out of his back. Two, no three figures stood by the door to his cell. The open door, that was. His sight cleared and he first saw Balam, then Carmen, then Kassa. Kassa held the key. 'What-'
'No Sachi, I'm not going to push you around. Got my gloves on, you see.' Kassa said. They looked far more vulnerable without their glasses, but what Sachairi was more interested in were the black gloves they wore with wristbands clipped to them. 'Point is, I won't hurt you. I know it will be hard seeing me as a friend or even an ally after that, but at least see me as a fairly well behaved stranger.'
'You are right, I do not see you as a friend.' Sachi grunted. For once he successfully wrestled his anger into submission and held out his restraints. 'You're letting me out?'
'Under the condition you don't try to hurt anyone on this ship.' Balam sternly responded, stopping Kassa from stepping forward. 'Kassa agreed to precautions, for you I will not hesitate to use force.'
'Sheesh, sir, really?' Sachairi backed away cautiously. 'I promise I won't. I haven't even had the time to figure out myself, so I'd rather not waste my time figuring out right now what I think of others.'
'Very well. But I'm warning you nonetheless.' Balam let go of Kassa and they were quick to unlock Sachairi's restraints. Balam turned away and started to walk off. '... Welcome back, Sachairi.'
Sachairi didn't respond beyond the same sort of grunt he always used, but he was glad to be back.
*
Arodan woke up with a headache that felt like an axe to the head. Not a well swung one at that too. His vision still flitted in and out and he worried he was going to be fully blind due to the mistake he made. It wouldn't be a first. When his vision did finally return, he didn't recognise the room he was in as his own. It was far less messy and things were stored in crates labeled their particular category. The bed he was in felt decidedly more worn than his own. Everything clicked into place once his gaze drifted to the floor and he saw Atlas lying there, on a bedroll, burrowed in a thick blanket. 'Oh, Atlas.'
He sat upright and his head swam once more. He was not about to throw up on Atlas' sheet, that kind of person was not who he was going to be today. He stifled his nausea and slid out from under the covers, instead taking to sitting on the floor besides Atlas. He didn't know what to say to him and wanted to ask him why he brought him to his room. Words left him however and he felt more at ease than he had ever felt just sitting there. Despite the headache, despite the nausea, and despite the soreness, he felt calm.
'I can hear you, Dan.'
Then he wasn't. Arodan shook out of his calm state of mind and immediately crept back to the bed. 'I um...'
'Did you have a nightmare? You sound out of breath.' Atlas sleepily asked, hauling himself up. He sat there with his eyes closed and his teeth grinding together lightly. 'Watchu doing up already?'
'Atlas, I'm pretty certain it's noon already.'
'Ah, fuck.' Atlas groaned, and pressed his head into his hands. 'Fudge, I mean, or… Ugh, whatever.'
'Are you… Are you alright, Atlas?' Arodan carefully crept closer again and leant around Atlas in an attempt to see if he was hurt. 'Did you sleep at all?'
'Yeah. I you know, wanted to keep watch but I fell asleep without me noticing.' Atlas dragged his hands down his face and rounded them around to smooth his hair back. 'Keeping watch in the night was never my strong suit.'
'I see.' Arodan bit his lip pensively and looked away. 'Atlas?' The other man looked at him with one half closed eye, the other hidden by his hand. 'I'm sorry if I kept you up because you were worried.'
'Yeah, I shouldn't have done that, that wasn't worth it.' Atlas grunted. He looked uneasy and exhausted, which wasn't a good expression on him. 'But I'm not angry with you anymore.' He looked over Arodan worried, ready to fuss over him. 'Just please… Never do that again. I don't like seeing the people I love in pain, Dan.'
'I will, I just… Forget to think of that sometimes.' Arodan scratched the back of his head, not knowing what else to do with his hands. 'I knew I was going to be difficult but I'm sorry I'm acting this way this early on.'
Atlas needed a moment to figure out what Arodan meant and then nodded along once he did. 'Look, it isn't that I mind you being difficult. I mind that trait being constant.' He reached out and dragged Arodan into a very awkwardly angled hug. 'I love you, but we need to be better, okay? I don't want to be someone you will think of badly once all is said and done.'
'I promise.' Arodan murmured this into Atlas' shoulder. 'I love you too, and I want to be around you. So I will try.'
'Can you keep that promise?'
'I don't usually make promises lightly.' Arodan retorted. 'Make of that what you will.' He drew back and took Atlas' hands. 'I want to learn more magic by your side, I'd like to see the world, I want to make something of myself. That is why I'm promising this to you.'
'Okay. Once more then.' Atlas whispered. His hands left Arodan's and cupped his jaw to draw him in for a kiss that lingered. He drew back and remained nose to nose. He smiled, basking in the moment, and then his brow furrowed which made his expression look a lot more mischievous. 'You really need to shave, this is getting out of control.'
'That makes me want to do it less.' Arodan bluntly responded without too much thought. Atlas responded by pulling a knife out from under the drawer by his bed. He looked deadpan and held it up and Arodan got the message. 'Oh my gods, we're not doing that with a knife!'
'What, that's how I used to do it.' Atlas said and shrugged. 'It never really hurt me too bad.'
Arodan understood more clearly now why Carmen had helped him to shave concerning Atlas apparently didn't possess foresight. Gently he took the knife from Atlas' hand. 'Fine, I'll use this. Do you have a mirror?' Somehow Arodan had started to love him more that morning and made sure to be as careful as possible in removing the beard he had grown. He left his hair as it was besides tying it into a braid. He liked having long hair as opposed to the short hair he once had in the past.
When both men had finished getting ready to head upstairs they did quietly so. Atlas tailed Arodan closely and whenever he met his eye he would smile knowingly. Arodan didn't have anything else to tell Atlas, so he didn't mind. He opened the hatch and stepped out into the morning sun that illuminated Atlas as soon as he got to bask in it too. It was a beautiful sight still. Atlas went ahead of him and disappeared in the direction of the bow of the ship.
'Hey librarian.'
Arodan turned and saw Caer behind him at the wheel. A half full container of coffee sat besides her and she looked as if she was about to fall asleep. 'Caer? Are you alright?'
'Peachy. Like lack of sleep will get to me.' She picked up the coffee and took a pensive sip. 'Carmen is gonna take over the wheel for me though, so I can pass out for a bit. Isn't she sweet?'
'Yeah… You look um-'
'I know.' She smiled, a little distant in her emotions. 'But you don't look too well either Dan. Take care of yourself, will you?'
'Of-Of course.' He stepped towards her and she took to putting away the coffee entirely. 'But please go sleep, you look like you're on death's door.'
'When you're at the point I'm at you'll never feel more alive.' Caer said, an attempt to joke around. 'Don't worry about me. I'm going to sleep, we're near land anyway.' She pointed towards the horizon and as she said, a coast could be seen, lined with rocky cliffs and swaths of pale grey clouds drifting over it. Arodan swore he could see more ashen lands to the west of it, where the skies grew darker. 'We're going to see an old ally of Waldemar's.' She got up and stretched. 'Hopefully he'll be courteous to Balam.'
'Who exactly is this person? Can we trust them?' Arodan narrowed his eyes in an odd misplaced attempt to see more. 'How do we know they're going to help us?'
'Well, we never know for sure. But it is president Odin of the Stratus Corporation.' She spat her words, looking appropriately disdainful. 'Some aid would be nice.' She shook her head. 'By the way, the others are on the bow. I'm sure your boyfriend already ran over there.'
'Right. I'll go over there then.' Arodan slowly backed away from Caer and decided he probably shouldn't ask her about her further thoughts on Stratus Corp. He made his way over to the bow slowly and saw five people. He wondered who the other's were before he saw them and instinctively backed away again. Kassa stood by Balam's side, looking over the taffrail. They seemed to be quietly discussing something and Kassa didn't notice Arodan. Sachairi stood more separate from the group and leant against a mast. He sidled over to Sachairi first. 'Hey.'
'Hey.' Sachairi glanced at Arodan. 'Seems like they let me out.' He took in a deep breath of ocean air and seemed to be enjoying himself. 'I'm sorry about last night. I didn't mean to uh...'
'Choke me? That isn't new.' Arodan rubbed his throat and felt a sting of pain in his head again. 'Can't say I forgive you yet but I'm not mad.'
'That's weird.'
'Yeah, it is.' Arodan nodded and gently reached out to pat Sachairi's shoulder before stopping himself. 'How are you handling it by the way?'
'It's weird. It makes sense, but it won't stick.' Sachairi said, closing his eyes. 'Like it can't be real.'
'Take your time thinking on it okay?' Arodan responded, moving over to where Balam and Kassa were. 'I know it can be a lot.'
'Well… I don't have anything better to do.' Sachairi said. He turned away from Arodan to focus on the ocean. 'So I might try to make something out of this.'
Arodan nodded and left him by the mast. Without another word he settled at Balam's other side. Kassa shared a sidelong glance with him and he could sense the magic from the wristbands they wore. He was safe then, and at this point he was okay with it all. As they stood now, he felt a comfortable familiarity. He hadn't seen Carmen join, but the next moment she was among them, having crept in between Balam and Arodan. Atlas joined Arodan's free side snugly. This time, their shared moment was far more uncertain.
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Inked Hands
Arodan finally pays a visit to Kassa after the siege.
Lore pings: @yuushanoah-fr @cityofinoue
'Ah, Danny, came to see me?'
Arodan inhaled sharply upon hearing Kassa's voice down the end of the hall. Atlas' hand on his back ushered him forward gently however and he proceeded, calling out down the hall. 'It's not for my personal enjoyment Kassa. Are you having fun over there?'
'I wouldn't know Dan, we could share our experiences on being locked up in cells.' Arodan arrived at their cell and he could see besides Kassa being locked within the cell that there also had been heavy looking restraints put on their hands that looked like they weren't coming off anytime soon. 'I'd admit, this is my first time I've been captured. Have any pointers?'
'Buckle up and bite the bullet.' Arodan grunted. He watched Kassa walk towards the bars and casually lean against them. 'So, are you planning to tell me what exactly your motives are and if you pose a danger to us or do you plan to stay here?'
'Ooh, look at you being all scary and authoritative, you and Atlas make the cutest duo.' Kassa chirped, tilting their head jovially. They didn't look as amused as they sounded however. 'What do you want me to start on, our general disagreement or something more specific like almost breaking your spine?'
'Let's start on how, Kassa.' He knew Atlas flinched behind him and discretely Arodan brushed over Atlas' hand to soothe him. He knew Atlas wanted to be around out of safety reasons but the both of them had half expected Kassa to be unabashedly blunt. 'How and why?'
'Well, I don't have any sad backstory to share with you all, but it went a little like...' Kassa held up one of their hands and turned it around. '... It was something as simple as a handshake. One handshake, and immediately that what threatened us was at my mercy.' They looked at Arodan intently now. 'I met with someone disillusioned with their life, Shade afflicted and troubled. Their particular talent was to pass on the Shade in a manageable form that suited its host.'
Atlas shot Arodan a worried look and this time Arodan found his hand closing around Atlas' on instinct. 'What does that mean? Is this person a danger to us on the long run?' Arodan shook his head. 'Are you a danger to us?'
'Well, if any of you tried to understand the things I do to protect you, you'd be blown away darling.' Kassa said, looking actively annoyed now. 'I mean you no harm. This skill, to repeat myself, only works on those already afflicted, like you, me, Sachi… My playing field isn't very big.'
'Then what is your goal?' Arodan asked. 'You threatened to hurt me and didn't stop Sachairi from killing Paramo soldiers yet you claim to care for this place?'
'I do care. I care for Paramo, with all my being.' Kassa said, with a sullen finality that shut Arodan up for a moment. 'This is my way of doing it. I have to protect us, by all means possible. The Shade is our biggest threat, and it has never brought us any good, so if I have to use it to destroy it, so be it. I will make sure I'll be as dead as the lot of them once all Shade is purged from the people I love.'
‘Then why keep it hidden if your goal sounds noble?’
‘Have you seen me?’ Kassa answered. They shook against their restraints as emphasis. ‘Ooh, yeah, I’ll just march up to the king and show him my icky inky hands and tell him it’s the Shade, anything the Shade clings to isn’t trustworthy, Danny.’
‘Fine.’ Arodan snapped. 'So, you don’t trust me, and you don’t trust Sachairi, is that right?’
‘I regret to say that yes, you’re right.’ Kassa’s gaze drifted off guiltily then. ‘But…’
‘But what?’
‘I’m highly cautious of you. More so of myself. But I don’t hate or dislike you in the very least Danny.’ They met his eye again with an uncertain glance. ‘In fact, I’m quite fond of you. You’re a good egg Dan.’
‘O… Okay?’ Arodan was taken aback by the sudden declaration and frankly confused. He looked back to see Atlas shared a similar look of befuddlement. ‘So what am I supposed to do with that? That doesn’t change that I’m still pretty mad.’
‘What I’m getting at is that if you value yourself to stay relatively unharmed that you keep your distance from Sachairi.’ Kassa responded. They continued before Arodan could get a word in. ‘You’re salvageable. He is not. That boy ain’t right, Dan.’
‘I don’t trust him. He attacked Paramo after all.’ Arodan pinched his nose, an annoyed grunt leaving him as if he had heard this a thousand times before. ‘But he also wasn’t in control of himself as far as I understand. Of course he needs to be held responsible for that, but he isn’t-‘
‘Arodan, you don’t understand.’ Kassa snapped. ‘I know Sachi. What awakened that evening in the crypt isn’t Sachi, even if Carmen is so adamant it's him and tells Balam to give him a chance.’
‘What do you mean?’ Atlas stepped forward and spoke this time. He looked visibly uneasy by being in Kassa’s presence and what they were telling him. ‘He acts like him-‘
'Ask yourself, what's changed?'
Atlas looked like he had a response ready then immediately seemed to sink into deep thought. He rubbed the back of his head, to the front, then his nose and suddenly it came to him. 'His voice.'
'Finally catching on?'
'Okay, fine, yeah, he has been talking weirdly lately.' Atlas looked and spoke in a hesitant manner. 'Aren't you his friend? I already don't like him very much, you don't need to tell me this to make me distrust him even more.'
'It's exactly because of that that I know something isn't right.' Kassa said. 'There's more to this, it's not just his voice. It's small mannerisms, quirks, most of all?' Kassa shook their restraints. 'His Shade has to be sentient, because it knows how it can hide in it's host. It is why I call him unsalvageable, and that is not something I say without thought.' They narrowed their eyes. 'You're neutralised but he never was.'
'Okay, then what do you propose we do, what even was your plan with him?' Arodan stepped forward until he was right at the bars. 'You were so goddamn lyrical about the Shade when I asked you, is this what you really think of it?'
'Short answer, yes.' Kassa stepped back in response to Arodan coming up to the bars. 'Long answer, it fascinates me, horrifies me, angers me. A person can have conflicting feelings on something as strange as this.' They held their head high as they spoke. 'What I planned with Sachi was to wake him and have him destroy Lux Laterna's forces, now that I had a means to aid him and to keep his focus. Then I could purge the Shade from him and he would be healed from his affliction.'
'And?'
'I thought after that things could be alright, that Paramo would be safe. Look at us now.' Kassa continued. 'We're stuck on a promoted piece of driftwood with someone- no something wearing the skin of a friend. So what I propose we do is that we find a way to contain Sachairi again and get reinforcements.'
'Kassa, that sounds impossible.' Atlas said, being the first to speak after a long pause on everyone's behalf. 'How do we know we can trust you?'
'Fair enough, maybe you can't. But I wasn't the one who once attacked the city we love in a frenzy.' Kassa shook their head and sat down on the floor of the cell. 'Any plans then Atlas? I don't hear you thinking.'
'Okay, listen… And this is about to sound very stupid-' Arodan said, waving his hands in mild frustration. He had had it with Kassa but oddly he wasn't as mad with them at that moment. 'But let me talk to him. Let me converse with the Shade in him.'
'That's going to kill you Dan, if Kassa is telling the truth.' Atlas said, quickly and with a distinct break in his voice. 'If we don't know if it's dangerous then I can't let you do that.'
'I'm gonna have to agree with Atlas darling, it sounds dangerous and stupid.' Kassa chimed in, leaning their head against the bars. 'What if he eats you?'
'Eats me- Okay, I'm done talking to you.' Arodan exclaimed. A harsh and drawn out breath left him loudly and he found himself pinching his nose yet again. 'I'm known to do stupid things. But I also know where my limit is okay, I'm not going to endanger myself.' He looked up at Atlas. 'I can't do that to you guys, I have to help out however I can.' He managed to smile a little, the movement feeling foreign to his jaw. 'So please, let me help.' A tense silence followed and Atlas worried the buttons on his coat. He exchanged frantic looks with Kassa who didn't seem too impressed by the declaration.
They had been first to speak. 'Then do it Danny. Just don't get yourself hurt.' Kassa focused elsewhere with a guilty stare. 'If you want to do it so bad, do it safely.'
'I don't agree with this.' Atlas whispered. He walked forward and pulled Arodan in for a hug. 'But go, try it. Too much has happened lately so figure out if we're not all in danger.'
The hug was tight enough to squeeze the air right out of Arodan and he had trouble hugging back this way. Yet, he tried and assuredly pat his back. 'Don't worry, it's nothing big. And you know I'll come back to you at the end of the day.'
'Hmhm.' Atlas managed to murmur only a few things and then pulled back, looking over Kassa. He stood in the small hall looking far too tired to be functioning. When he collected himself he turned around and walked off. 'I'm going to check on Balam, ask him what he really thinks about this.'
'Atlas?' Arodan called after Atlas. Atlas looked around briefly, and Arodan could see he was at least smiling. He knew better than to question Atlas further when he was feeling the way he did. Maybe he needed some space at that moment.
'Well, you two are starting out well.'
'Was that sarcasm?' Arodan threw a look over his shoulder at Kassa who still sat in the same place. 'Because I don't need your commentary.'
'No, it wasn't sarcasm. I just can see you two love each other despite the hard times.' Kassa met Arodan's eye and tilted their head. 'Danny?'
'Yes, what is it?' He wasn't quite ready for whatever new revelation he expected from Kassa. 'Spit it out.'
'Sorry. I'm sorry.' Kassa said, clearly and with a ring to it. The words seemed to call in yet another silence which became just a little too awkward for Arodan. He turned around without another word but found himself leaving.
'I'll be back later.' Arodan said. What he now intended to do was to set some things right.
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decided to unwind a little with some sketches
#my art#my sketches#ch: Arodan#ch: Atlas#ch: Balam#ch: Kassa#flight rising#fr#i have no idea what hands are oops
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Walk walk, fashion baby
Anyhow, decided to draw Kassa, they’re a rather vague strategist
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