#ellen tsukiko kaiza
Text
Untitled (2022-11-16)
“I’m so sorry,” she says with a slanted, rueful grin. She is genuine but unhesitating, righteous and thus ultimately remorseless. With a swift, almost slicing hand movement, she summons an invisible force to strike at your knees and you crumple to the ground. You look up in time to see her make another gesture, fingers curling into a loose fist, before everything goes dark.
When you wake up you are on the front porch of your neighbor’s house and six days have passed.
—
“I am a daughter of Izanagi, unfortunately.” She rolls her eyes, exasperated, at herself or her statement, it’s hard to tell. “I mean, if you believe the myths, everyone with Japanese heritage is a child of Izanagi, but I do mean mine literally.”
You’re not sure what expression is on your face, only that it makes her crinkle her own in response.
“It’s not that impressive. Sure, there’s the whole, you know, access to divine powers that seems cool, but it also comes with the stipulation that should dear old dad ever give in to his millennia long ennui I’ll probably have to be the one to take him out. And trust me,” she grumbles, “killing gods is extremely tedious.”
—
You’re more concerned about the loss of time than any possible injuries—you’re eager to go home and check your journal—but your neighbors are kind and well-connected enough to have a doctor make a house call on short notice. You tried putting them at ease, assurances that you feel fine and just want to go home. You even put a hint of teenage whining into your tone, annoying enough to send you on your way, but they are insistent and for all that your parents are barely around they did raise you to be somewhat polite.
And any further protests might raise the question of where your parents are anyway which is a topic you’d much rather not bring up more than you’d like to not continue imposing on your neighbors.
Mysterious strange doctor it is.
Except… when she arrives: her expression is flat, she’s older, and it’s not an exact match, but--
“You!”
—maybe she’s not so much a stranger after all.
—
“It’s going to suck at first,” she says, reaching a hand out to help you off the ground.
You’re panting, trying to catch your breath after what should have been an absolutely brutal spar.. The gouges in the earth around you tell a story of extreme force and speed that you would have assumed only construction or industrial machinery capable of. But, no, that was you.
All of her hits landed, of course, which is why you’re the one on the ground, but they were no less powerful. And yet… you felt the blows—you know you did—they hurt during the spar and still do. But they are aches and bruises instead of broken bones or fully liquified flesh which is what should happen to human bodies under force like that.
“It’s going to take time to get used to everything,” she continues as you finally take the offered hand and let her pull you to your feet. “You’re still you, but… more. You’ll have to be careful and you’ll have to practice. And then—”
“Let me guess: it gets better?” you interrupt, because that’s what all the adults say. Not that she’s an adult—she can’t be more than a year or two older than you, even if she’s been patronizing this whole time.
She doesn’t laugh. She doesn’t even seem annoyed that you interrupted.
If anything, she seems sad.
—
The doctor puts her bag down before holding both hands in front of her, nonthreatening. Her expression still doesn’t change, as if rushing to make a house call in the middle of the night and then immediately having to deal with an accusatory teenager were absolutely normal and even boring.
“You!” you say, because you don’t know what else to say. “You’re—you!” You’d feel embarrassed any other time, stuttering and incomprehensible, but once you’ve recognized the similarities you can’t unsee them.
“Is something the matter?” your neighbor says, looking between you and the doctor. You’re not sure who he’s asking. After a moment’s assessment, he moves to stand in the middle, his back to you, protective of you even though he was the one to call her and surely must trust her.
“I’m Doctor Ellen Kaiza,” she says, looking you in the eyes. “I was called here to check on a patient. If you are uncomfortable in leaving your care to me, I understand and I can leave. If you would like for me to examine you, I can do so. It’s your choice if you would like company, but if you don’t I am bound by doctor patient confidentiality and will enforce it.” Her tone, like her expression, does not change at all.
She does not know you. You do not know her.
You have never met her before.
—
There’s a burning warehouse and sirens of every types flashing and sounding through the night. The both of you are watching this safely from a few rooftops away, thankfully upwind of the smoke, after her hurried flight snatched you from the fiery jaws of death. Or the fiery jaws of your own mistakes.
“So, what have we learned?” she asks, after setting you down on your feet.
“Don’t start fires when you’re in a possible meth lab?”
You can feel her glaring at the side of your head, but you’d much rather watch the spectacle you had a hand in creating.
The silence kicks you, unimpressed.
“Don’t take cover behind pressurized vats of flammable chemicals?”
The silence is impatient and practically shoves you over, demanding your lunch money.
“… don’t provoke the highly armed and extremely paranoid criminals when we’re on a recon mission,” you sigh, thoroughly chastised.
She turns away to watch the fire department try to put out the flames while the survivors are split between the police and the EMTs. The silence gives you an awkward clap on the shoulder.
“How badly did I mess this up?” you ask in a desperately casual voice, because you work best with clear and constructive feedback and if she’s going to yell at you, you’d rather get it over now while you’re still in an adrenaline high.
She hums considering. “We’ll have to wait until the fire goes out and hope the pissing match between the cops and fire department delays them long enough for us to get in, get the relic, and get out.”
This time you turn to her, blinking in shock. The moisture in your eyes is only because you’ve been staring at the burning warehouse for too long.
She rolls her eyes, “You didn’t fuck up that badly. Relics are divine, they’re extremely difficult to destroy. Ideally, we would have gotten it without any collateral damage, but this isn’t too bad.”
This time the silence is on your side, an elbow nudging her in the ribs even as she looks away from your crying face.
“Don’t worry, we’ll make a hero out of you yet.”
—
“So you’ve met Tetsuki,” the doctor says in your neighbor’s guest bedroom where she’s set up a makeshift exam room. You had to reassure your neighbor twice that you were completely fine with the doctor despite your less than stellar initial reaction, and three times that you would prefer to see her by yourself.
You nod, awkwardly shuffling back and forth on your feet.
“Sit down,” she says, stethoscope already in her ears. “You can ask questions while I examine you.”
“Deal,” you agree quickly, because you’re pretty sure you’re not going to be able to out negotiate her.
On her instructions you take in a deep breath, hold it, and exhale after she reminds you about human limitations.
“So you know her, then. You… I mean, you look...”
The doctor nods, still blank faced. “By blood, she’s a… distant cousin. A niece of sorts. By ichor, hm… Her divine father and my divine mother were said to have created humanity.” Finally the doctor makes an expression: she rolls her eyes and the similarity between her and her niece are even more obvious. “But every pantheon claims to have created humanity, and I highly doubt that’s true.”
As fascinating as lore is, you have a more important question to ask.
“I’m missing six days,” you admit finally because a normal human would assume head trauma, but a divine scion would know better. “Do you know where she is?”
—
“I’m so sorry,” she says with a slanted, rueful grin.
You check behind you to make sure that she isn’t talking to someone else, but it’s only the two of you in the skatepark. It’s too cold for even the most dedicated skaters, but the emptiness and silence of your house almost physically shoved you out the door.
“Sorry for what?” you ask because you do not know her, you’ve never met her before.
She is genuine but unhesitating, righteous and thus ultimately remorseless. With a swift, almost slicing hand movement, she summons an invisible force to strike at your knees and you crumple to the ground. You look up in time to see her make another gesture, fingers curling into a loose fist.
Before everything goes dark, you hear her say, “For making a Hero out of you.”
~
A/N: Whaaaaaaat is this? Not at all what I wanted to write, but for some godforsaken (lol) reason this flowed so easily?
Anyway, I’ve been making a lot of Scion: Hero (the White Wolf RPG game in which players are half blood children of gods) character sheets for an outside project and reading a lot of Batfam fic (Tim Drake-centric, because he is my blorbo) and I guess my brain shook this out.
So an AU all around in which both of my Kaiza OCs and Tim Drake are divine scions. Tetsuki is a daughter of Izanagi (Japanese father god of the sky) while Ellen is a daughter of Izanami (Japanese mother god of death/the underworld) which makes their mortal relationship all the more hilarious what with their divine parents being legendary exes lol. I like the idea of Tim being a scion of Loki because within the RPG that gives him access to Illusion abilities including “Stolen Face” for those good trickster alternate identities.
Anyway, this doesn’t HAVE to be Tim Drake. Just as the kind and well-connected neighbors don’t have to be the Batfam. ;D
#jacksgreyson#writing#original fiction#fanfiction#japanese mythology#scion#tetsuki kaiza#ellen tsukiko kaiza#dc universe#tim drake
10 notes
·
View notes
Note
Could Should Actually + A softer world 31 or Things you Said 22?
A/N: Are you the same anon who mix and matches other ask box events? Because let me just say, I enjoy the puzzle.
Anyway I went with the things you said 22, but I may also do the a softer world 31 later.
Here’s some Counterclockwise!
~
22) things you said after it was over
it could have gone like this:
"Imagine the glory," Joy exclaims in a breathy sort of voice as if in awe of the very idea. She slings an arm around Leanne's shoulders, drawing her close, comfortable and warm. The couch they're on could easily fit four, but the two of them are squished up against one arm so that the boys and even Alvin in his massive wolf form could fit, too.
"We wouldn't be able to tell anyone," Leanne argues even as she leans in, matching Joy's volume.
"The riches?" Joy tries again, grinning, more playful than earnest.
"Exactly how would we profit off this plan?" Leanne asks in return.
Thwarted, Joy goes for a different tactic. "Imagine... the drama," she says, leaning even closer, conspiratorially.
Leanne hums, considering. When the lack of disagreement becomes more and more apparent, time stretching wider, Joy's grin does the same. She swings her other arm around Leanne, squeezing, jostling, trying to bodily contain the happiness of the moment before nuzzling their faces together. Not quite a kiss, Joy's bared teeth pressed to the skin of Leanne's cheek, but not so far off.
Shrieking with laughter, Leanne doesn't push her away. "That's not fair! You know my weakness!"
"Of course," Joy says, words trapped between them, "I don't need to be fair, I just need you to say yes."
And Leanne, settling into her hold, can do nothing but nod and say yes.
...
Over two decades later, a fifteen year old Leanne follows the rest of her classmates through the art gallery, tired eyes glancing over the displays but not really taking them in. Yesterday was rough--school, training, a newly hatched cluster of giant sea serpents by the docks while trying not to lose too much face in front of her teammates--and she had been grateful for upcoming the field trip though now she regrets not being able to appreciate the art.
She finds a seat and takes it, her legs almost buckling in relief, and stares blindly forward.
"Do you like it?" someone asks next to her. Leanne, surprised but too exhausted to startle, turns to the voice. An older woman, maybe in her forties, brown hair tied back into a bun, sharp clothes. Maybe a staff member of the art gallery? They didn't have a tour guide, did they?
"I'm sorry," Leanne says, reflexively.
A sad sort of smile graces the woman's face, she shakes her head slightly. "Do you like it?" she repeats, gesturing to the painting on the wall in front of them. The one that Leanne had stared at but hadn't really seen. A little ashamed, she focuses.
It's a closeup of two hands, different skin tones and shapes, their fingers intertwined. There are matching rings, softly glinting in the light. Everything about the painting is soft, dreamy, more memory and imagination than photorealism.
Not the most amazing picture, Leanne thinks, but she can certainly see why it would be compelling. "Yes," she answers, finally, simply, though she doesn't know why it matters.
The woman's small smile twitches into something bigger, but no less sad.
Not that it was up for argument, but it's obvious that Leanne's not a very good hero: she doesn't know how to make things better. So she fidgets awkwardly instead.
Now the woman's smile turns into something amused. "I'm glad you like it. It's my favorite," she says before getting to her feet. She reaches a hand toward Leanne, as if to pat her on the shoulder, but pulls back.
"Take care of yourself, Leanne," she says, before walking away, disappearing into the labyrinth of the art gallery.
And because Leanne is not a very good hero, it takes her a few hours to realize that they never exchanged introductions. How did she know her name?
---
it should have gone like this:
"She's a liability," Tetsuki says, scowling at the doctor.
They are in the observation room of the testing chambers, a wide near-indestructible room where Doctor Kaiza's clients can use their meta-human abilities without fear of collateral damage.
Or where would-be vigilantes can train without the public catching on. Not that Henry particularly needs it. He is, despite all the media speculation, entirely baseline human. Most of Starling's tricks are gadgets and whatever he learned from his mentor Firefly.
But it's good to see what his potential teammates are capable of, and so here he is:
Caleb he knows the best, as much raised in the lifestyle as Henry had been. More so, maybe, practically born into it. Zenith, son of Apex.
Tetsuki he's met before, Doctor Kaiza's... niece? Maybe? The actual connection is vague. But he's seen some of the reports of her prior activities and her abilities. Electric manipulation, martial arts training, and a fierce protectiveness for all that she isn't the nicest of people.
Hari he only knows by word of mouth, the lone lion shapeshifter amongst a pack of wolves. Goldenheart, recommended by former hero Silverfang.
Right now, Hari is in lion form, a huge shape easily loping around in the testing chambers, big playful circles around the other figure below. At least, Henry is pretty sure it's playful. Although, considering the nervous posture of Goldenheart's chosen playmate, perhaps she doesn't understand the same.
Leanne Peridot. A civilian as of two weeks ago. Where and how Doctor Kaiza found her is a mystery. Why the doctor thought she'd make a good addition to the team is an even bigger mystery.
No martial arts training, no particular talent with any weapons, practically baseline human. The only thing that makes her stand out is that strange pocket watch and the one minute of time stopping it gives her, but if she can't do anything with that one minute then it's all just a waste. She's back to being a normal civilian out on the field.
"Tetsuki's right," Henry says, watching as Goldenheart bats a huge paw gently at Leanne, watches the green-haired girl fall to the ground, unable to brace herself against even an expected, friendly push. "She's a liability."
He doesn't say it to be mean, he says it to save lives. If she's just another civilian they have to keep an eye out for on the field, then they may as well tie a weight to themselves. They need teammates who can keep up, who can be trusted to handle themselves and more.
"Then help her," Doctor Kaiza says, "Train her. Give her the tools she needs to survive. The tools all of you had since you were children." Her voice is dispassionate, but her words give her away. "She is behind, yes, but the rest of you have a head start. She has the potential, help her access it."
"Why?" Caleb asks and while Tetsuki lights up in triumph, the doctor turns to him with a look of disappointment on her face. Henry also turns to look at him, confused. For all that Caleb is practically a living tank, he's usually the more diplomatic of them.
"I mean," he continues, "Why her? Why do you care? We're a functional enough team wth just the four of us. We don't need a fifth."
"Certainly not a fifth we need to bring up to our level," Tetsuki adds snidely.
The doctor turns back to the observation window, where Leanne has gotten back to her feet and begun to hesitantly run her hands through Hari's fur. The sound doesn't exactly travel, but from the satisfied closed eyes, Henry thinks perhaps there might be purring.
"Heroism," Doctor Kaiza says, followed by a silence long and drawn out. "It's not about being good at fighting," she says, "it's about saving people.
"And sometimes even the best need help."
...
When Leanne disappears, Henry investigates. Of course he does. That's his teammate. For all that she had a rocky beginning, Leanne proved herself as a hero and Henry isn't disloyal.
Tetsuki, ever the pessimist, thinks she ran. Finally giving in to Bastian, the absolute bastard, and his constant attempts to sway her to his cause. Whatever that cause may be. He's pretty sure Tetsuki only thinks that because two of Bastian's lieutenants are former classmates of hers, supervillains brewing right under her nose.
Caleb, more emotionally in tune, has been the contact for the Peridot family. Collaborating with them on their search, if she may have said anythign to them, left any hints or clues behind.
Unsurprisingly, Doctor Kaiza is calm.
Surprisingly, so is Hari.
"Why aren't you worried? What do you know?" Henry asks, finally, after all avenues of tracking have been exhausted. It would be more intimidating if he didn't have dark bags under his eyes, if Hari weren't capable of turning into a massive lion in the blink of an eye.
"I am worried," Hari says, "but it won't help her." Then the shapeshifter shrugs, "And I know the same as you."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Hm," Hari eyes drift away from his, "You remember the codename she came up with last year? Before you, Caleb, and Tetsuki shot it down."
Henry frowns. "What about it?" He remembers, of course. Leanne had wanted to be called Anachron. Thematically, it made sense, and it was witty enough. But it was a name that had already been used.
"Leanne isn't like us. She didn't grow up hearing stories about heroes, from heroes. The only context she had for names was us."
"So?"
Hari sighs, meets Henry's eyes, and says, "She was, is, Anachron. You shouldn't be looking for where she is. You should be looking for when."
---
but it actually went like this:
"They sent me through time and cursed me with immortality on top of that, so I'd appreciate it if you would bring me home, time witch." Bastian, the absolute bastard, says across the table from Leanne. A beautiful tea service is set up, delicate finger foods and porcelain, shining silverware gleaming against a rich tablecloth. It is a mockery; as Bastian sips from his teacup, Leanne struggles against the ties keeping her bound to the chair.
"I'm not a time witch," Leanne says, exasperated. At him and herself. Him because this is not the first, or second, or even third time this has happened. Herself because... well... this is not the first, second, or event third time this has happened. A part of her is glad her team is on the way to get her out of this. A far larger, more frustrated part of her hates that she needs her team to get her out of this yet again.
"Sorcerer, warlock, wizard, I don't care what terms you people use nowadays. Time magic, you use it, therefore you are a time witch." Bastian waves away her words, equally dismissive in his tone. He, it seems, is as bored of this conversation as she is.
"I don't use time magic," Leanne protests, because even if just sends them down the same patterns, she doesn't know what else to do but be honest.
"Not well, certainly," Bastian agrees, sort of, "but time witches were rare even in my kingdom. Here, you're apparently the only one, so you'll have to do."
Leanne, insulted and irritated, sighs.
"Is this a problem of payment? Because if its a reward you need, I can cover that. What do you want, money? Fame? Power?" Bastian lists out, resting his chin on one hand, a king in repose.
Leanne shakes her head.
"Something more than that, hm? Or a combination of the three?" Bastian meets her eyes and smirks, a sharp and hungry thing. "I'll make you my queen, time witch. Bring me home and the world could be yours."
Leanne just shakes her head again.
Annoyed, Bastian's face turns into a thunderous scowl. He stands, slamming his hand on the table, the tea set rattling with the force of it.
"You will not refuse me again, time witch," he says, low with rage and barely contained violence.
Having witnessed the scope of his abilities, it is a miracle Leanne's voice doesn't shake when she responds, "Then stop asking."
A reverberating boom sounds, the tea set once more rattling, and Leanne resist the urge to close her eyes in relief. Her team is here to rescue her, but she refuses to take her eyes off Bastian.
He bares his teeth, displeased at her, the situation, but quickly composes himself. "Until next time," he says, and almost laughs at his own play on words.
...
The restraints they've put on her are tight, though thankfully not painful, the chair is far from comfortable, she has a bit of a headache, and the interrogation room is a little cold: it's not the best set of circumstances she's ever found herself in, but they're certainly not the worst.
When the grumpy officer who brought her here returns, he finds her lightly dozing, trying to catch up on the years and years of sleep debt she's accrued. It's not likely to succeed but, again, she's been in worse places.
"Leanne Peridot?" the officer says. It's not really a question, they took her a picture, her fingerprints, and DNA. They should know who she is.
"Yep."
"Also known as Anachron?"
"Sure."
"Also known as the Time Witch?"
"Ye--no, actually," Leanne says, catching herself, "I do not claim that one."
Officer Grumpyface looks up at her, "You don't?"
"No," she says, "Nobody calls me that." Or, at least, not in a way that would make it into her official file.
Grumpyface shrugs, uncaring. "You've done quite a bit of unauthorized time traveling, haven't you?"
Leanne can feel her brow furrow, "Who has authority over time travel?"
Grumpyface looks behind him at the observation window before turning back to her. He doesn't say anything.
Instead, the door to the interrogation room opens, a man in a similar, if far fancier and impressive, uniform to Officer Grumpyface enters the room. Grumpyface stands up at attention, saluting the newcomer.
It's an older face than the one she remembers. No more false boyish sweetness, but a chiseled sort of handsomeness instead. There are a few age lines, some grey in his hair. But considering it's several centuries since they last spoke, Bastian, the absolute bastard, has barely changed.
She sighs, resigned. "Bastian."
"Hello, Time Witch."
~
A/N: Making Leanne miserable since... uh... I don’t know, it’s time travel. :D
For the Could/Should/Actually Fic Ask Box Event!
#jacksgreyson#anonymous#prompt response#writing#original fiction#could should actually fic#counterclockwise#leanne peridot#joy guerrero#tetsuki kaiza#ellen tsukiko kaiza#henry falcone#hari samson#caleb ives#bastian
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
Untitled (2018-02-22)
The doorbell chimes and Jane, closest to the front entrance, calls out, "I'll get it!"
She can hear Will's acknowledgement in response over the carols on the radio, the sound of her brothers arguing about the tree and Bran's amused laughter.
It's been years since all of them have been together like this; she is so glad they managed to make it work this time.
Jane opens the door, curling away from the gust of cold wind blowing in, instinctively, she draws her cardigan closer though it is only thin cotton and not much protection.
The woman at the door is equally poorly dressed for the weather--not even a scarf!--but unlike Jane, she hardly seems to mind. As if she were immune to the cold, aware but uncaring of the weather.
For a moment they stare at each other.
"Hello?" Jane asks, which seems to shake the woman out of her stupor.
"My apologies," the woman says, accent flat and abrupt. American, then, how unusual. "Is Will Stanton available?"
Jane blinks before flushing, embarrassed. Of course. This is Will's place, after all, of course someone ringing the doorbell would be looking for him at his own flat. And then, she flushes harder.
"Please, come in. Yes, he's--I'll just go get him, but please, come in. It's cold out. Sorry, I've been terribly rude, I should have invited you in sooner."
"Thank you," the woman murmurs, before stepping inside. Jane shuts the door, grateful to bask in the warmth. The woman does not do the same, as if outside and inside were indistinguishable.
"Jane?" says Will, heading their way before she can go fetch him, "Who's at the--ah," he cuts himself off upon seeing the woman.
Something about the air changes, and it has nothing to do with the temperature.
"Maybe you should head over to the others," Will says to Jane without taking his eyes off the woman, "Barney and Simon were one ornament away from a tussle and we both know Bran certainly isn't going to stop them."
Jane, confused and a little relieved, just nods and goes.
She looks back though; it almost looks like, instead of just one stranger and her childhood friend, there were two.
///
"My apologies for intruding on the festivities, Old One," the woman who is not just a woman says to Will. Then she stops Time.
He straightens reflexively, ready for an attack.
None come.
"It must be important," he responds. Everything about his life as an Old One is important.
The woman nods, "Important, yes, but not urgent." Then she seems to change, diminish almost, as she adds, sheepishly, "Unfortunately, I have a flight in three hours and have been busy at a conference up until now."
The Will who is not an Old One understands--academia is not known for excellent time management, either.
The woman reverts to her inhuman demeanor, "It was also harder to find you, earlier, without the other four Light ones."
Will can feel a glare form on his face, mouth tight, brows furrowing, "They're human."
"And yet," the woman says simply. After a beat, she shrugs. "A warning, though this is not what I am here for. For all that they are human, they... emanate Light. I do not know if you Old Ones still have enemies about, but they will be able to find your friends easily enough if you do not give them better protection." She reaches into her bag and pulls out a small book which she hands over to him. "A gift, for the holiday, and to foster amity between us."
He senses power, but nothing Dark, and so he takes it: a book of wards. Nothing like the Book of Gramarye, of course, but useful in its own way.
"The one who opened the door might be able to use it," the woman suggests as he tucks it away for now.
The idea of putting Jane--or any of his friends--in danger makes him brusque, "What is it that you are here for? You are not of the Dark, nor are you an Old One. What are you?"
This time it is the woman's turn to furrow her brows, "I was human once, too," she says, nearly offended. "I don't know if what I am has a name, but I have been called the Mountain Who Speaks."
A little bit of destiny rings in the title. Will nods and understands it as truth.
"You are far from your land, Mountain."
"That is what I am here for," says the Mountain Who Speaks, "Something will happen in my land years--decades, maybe even centuries--from now."
Important, but not urgent.
"And you come seeking an alliance," Will finishes.
"Yes," agrees the Mountain Who Speaks, "It will not be the grand battle that you had, for in my land there is no Light and Dark, but there will be trouble, and I would appreciate aid in keeping it contained."
The first part is confusing, but the last is what alarms him, "You foresee it spreading?"
The Mountain's expression becomes one of unimpressed skepticism, "I Speak," she says bluntly, "I don't See."
It is Will's turn to be sheepish. "Ah, of course." Even amongst Old Ones, Sight was not a common power.
After a moment of understanding, the Mountain says, finally, "I will let you return to your party. Again, my apologies for interrupting. This was merely a courtesy call. I will leave you to make your decision, but I hope to speak with you more in the future."
She unstops Time, the sounds of his friends--safe and happy and completely unaware of the otherworldly, supernatural alliance being brokered in the cramped entryway of Will's flat.
Will opens the door so she can leave, neither of them flinching at the cold air that hits them. "Safe travels," he says, not as an Old One but as regular Will Stanton.
"Merry Christmas," she says back, not as the Mountain Who Speaks, but as the human she once was.
Which reminds him: "What is your name?" he asks belatedly and with no small amount of embarrassment.
The Mountain smiles, "I am Ellen Kaiza."
~
A/N: As I said, I've been reading a lot of Dark is Rising fic, and a lot of them are set at Christmas. So even though it's February, here's... this thing.
And I guess sort of a response to this anon's prompt for more of Doctor Ellen Kaiza's backstory? I mean, I'm not saying this is canon for her, but given Will Stanton is also a wise, magical immortal being it resonates pretty nicely.
This is after she's become immortal, and definitely after meeting Leanne, but still fairly early in her immortality. Within the lifetime of what a normal human Ellen Kaiza would live, basically.
I don't know where her title came from, but I quite like it. It's one of her earliest titles. I'm thinking she got it from the werewolf packs, maybe.
(... hrm, should I make a character tag for her? edit: okay, i made one for her “ellen tsukiko kaiza”)
Check out the Ask Box Would You Ever!
#jacksgreyson#anonymous#prompt response#ask box would you ever#writing#original fiction#fanfiction#dark is rising#jane drew#will stanton#ellen tsukiko kaiza
4 notes
·
View notes
Note
Would you ever write more of Doctor Kaiza's backstory or how she became so cold-hearted?
Hm… this is kind of a no and kind of a maybe, anon, because I suppose it depends on what you mean?
In the greater timeline of my original fiction universe roughly centered around Cadmium City (which I hope isn’t a real place, if so my bad?) Doctor Ellen Kaiza’s backstory is deliberately meant to be a mystery.
Actually, this kind of relates to this untitled ficlet in the sense that Zelia had three options for an apprentice. Ellen Kaiza had the temperament of a Grey Witch but her power levels couldn’t really compare to the other two candidates.
This is far in the past for the rest of the “current” Cadmium City ficlets–at least a few centuries–and knowing what happened to Ellen Kaiza during this time would be A) a lot of stuff seeing as how literal centuries, B) not as compelling as the “current” Cadmium City ficlets, and C) would detract from her air of experienced, all knowing wisdom and mystique.
I mean, don’t get me wrong anon, those ficlets were fun to write and did help me form a better understanding of both the character and the world as if formed around her, but I think at most that’s all I’d ever want to do with her as the main character: small snippets of her over the long stretch of time, her looking back on events from a stretch of decades or centuries.
That being said, while I don’t think I’ll ever devote an entire series to her as the main character, she is in many other series as said wise mystic and I think the passing of time between those other series is a good a way to get outside POVs of her immortal life. And most likely she will show up frequently in Counterclockwise given Leanne can travel through time and Kaiza is one of the few constants in her world.
So… maybe, anon? Is there something a little more specific you’d like to see of Ellen Kaiza–let me know, I’m always interested in exploring more of the original fiction world.
~
Check out the Ask Box Would You Ever!
1 note
·
View note
Note
I love all your works and while I did originally come by because of fanfiction, my favorite piece of your work is the one about Doctor Kaiza before she was Doctor Kaiza. I was the one who asked for 18, Counterclockwise and I don't think I ever told you but I loved that piece. It blew me away and satisfied my curiosity about Doctor Kaiza.
Aw, shucks, you’re spoiling me… (ノ*゜▽゜*)
Actually, thanks for prompting that ficlet, anon, it helped me learn more about Kaiza, too, especially her progression to the woman that she is “today” and how immortality changes people.
Here’s an unwritten headcanon ficlet (are they still headcanons if it’s for an original character?) for Doctor Ellen Tsukiko Kaiza because while she’s still mostly a mystery to me, there are some details about her background which I’ve been meaning to share. Enjoy!
~
Witches don’t like her.
That’s fine. She doesn’t much like witches either. The way they act as if their power actually means anything to her, like thunder in front of a mountain. She was immortal long before the resurgence of magic, ancient before they cobbled together laws and customs; children playing at adulthood.
Little Faye Peridot still hates and fears her for taking away her sister. She’s the oldest luminary on the Premier Witch Council.
Power is not what earns Kaiza’s respect and she’s lived so long, age means nothing to her.
///
Brian becomes her ward mostly by accident. It is one of her many regrets.
If she had been more proactive about it, more clear about her affection for him, more available and open, less cold and objective, would anything have changed?
Probably not. And even so, it’s too late.
If she’s learned one thing over the centuries it’s that the only thing as bad as immortality inflicted on mortals is the ability to time travel.
There be dragons, but at least dragons can be killed.
///
“Have mercy on me,” Nyx says, as elegantly out of place in Kaiza’s clinic as ever, “don’t you have any sympathy for a worried mother?”
It’d help Nyx’s case more if she didn’t sound like she were reading from a particularly bland phonebook.
“If ever I did,” Kaiza shoots back, “I’d have used it up on some other mother in far more need of it than you.”
The list is long, there were tears and threats and fruitless, desperate bargaining. Kaiza has done worse to less deserving mothers, has felt guilt for greater crimes.
“Suck it up, your daughter is going to school, not to war. She doesn’t need me playing guardian angel… And plus, mercy’s not really your thing, now is it?”
No, she doesn’t have any sympathy for Nyx, the best Devil’s Advocate on this plane and the next.
///
She is so old that werewolf pack boundaries build around her, not the other way around. The Delano Pack to the northeast, with the sprawling forests and rocky mountains, the Chand Pack to the southwest towards Cadmium City and the coast.
Her clinic and, by extension, the town of Belleview which also grew around her is not neutral territory. It’s her territory.
Or so the alphas of both packs say, shoulders back and nostrils flared. Ready to fight her, each other, anyone who so much as makes eye contact.
Peace between packs is more important than her growing irritation, but only just.
“You might as well just combine packs. Then there wouldn’t be anymore boundary issues,” she says, exasperated by all the useless back and forth. She may be needling them just a little: she almost wants a fight to break out just so she has a reason to smack them down.
Instead, both alphas respond with considering noises.
In three decades she will be reluctantly impressed by their chosen heir.
///
Every year, on the anniversary of her curse, she gets an envelope from Grey Investigations.
What a waste of paper, she thinks, as she throws it away. Jack should know better by now.
But Jack always was an optimistic idiot.
It’s what got them cursed in the first place.
~
Check out the Ask Box Author’s Cut event!
#jacksgreyson#writing#original fiction#anonymous#ode to 11010201#counterclockwise#prompt response#ask box author's cut#ellen tsukiko kaiza
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ode to 11010201 Redux (2017-06-28)
“The Premier Gemini Witch is coming to Belleview next week,” Doctor Kaiza said, apropos of nothing.
Zim, carefully organizing all of the potion ingredients in a chromatic gradient, shrugged and gave an uncertain and noncommittal, “Okay.”
Kaiza didn’t say anything further because clarification burned her lungs and withered her soul. Or so Zim theorized.
In her defense, it wasn’t as if he asked for an explanation.
That was a mistake.
—
The Premier Gemini Witch, capital letters practically audible, was tiny. A good foot and a half shorter than Zim–which, perhaps, wasn’t saying much since Zim was stringy and stretched out like the best kind of grilled cheese–which also put her eye level below Doctor Kaiza’s chin, even.
The Premier Gemini Witch was also surprisingly young.
“The youngest luminary on the council,” she agreed, so absent of tone that it was only fact, not brag.
The weirdest thing about all of it wasn’t that the Premier Gemini Witch had such a large presence despite her age and size, but that Kaiza was giving in to it and fawning over her.
Well, a cup of tea and a lack of paperwork or unimpressed eyebrows was practically fawning from the doctor.
Not even Nyx, a literal Devil’s Advocate, or Azrael–as in, yes, the actual Angel of Death–rated that kind of respect.
Zim seriously regretted not asking for more information.
—
The Premier Gemini Witch was one of twelve members of the Premier Witch Council. The council loosely ruled over the nation’s magical society: the luminaries weren’t a formal oligarchy, but they did have final say on large scale disputes and enforcement of the few laws that existed in their community. Less elected officials and more justices of the peace.
The luminaries were each the strongest of their kind, regardless of heritage or history or training. The Premier Taurus Witch was the strongest earth witch, an old woman over a century old and nearer to dryad than human. The Premier Sagittarius Witch was the only living being to have traveled beyond the planet’s atmosphere without billions of dollars, teams of scientists, tons of metal and rocket fuel, and a government agency.
The strangest thing about the Premier Gemini Witch was not that she had significant influence over the largest vampire clan in the nation–the two subspecies being notoriously at odds with each other–or that she had never undergone any kind of training before becoming a luminary. No, the strangest thing about the Premier Gemini Witch was that she was powerful enough to become a luminary despite only having access to half of her magic.
Traditionally, there were thirteen luminaries on the Premier Witch Council.
Traditionally, there were two Premier Gemini Witches.
—
The Premier Gemini Witch–“please, call me R”–would be staying in Belleview for one month.
If ever Zim had seen Doctor Kaiza nervous or flustered it was nothing compared to how she reacted to that news: bizarrely, coyly shy, like a teenage girl meeting her idol. Frankly? Zim was freaked the fuck out.
It wasn’t as if he bought into Kaiza’s emotionless, neutral reputation; he’d be a shitty sort-of student if he did–and her weird rivalry with Grey Investigations could only inspired by a level of pettiness born from the heart–but this was definitely a new side of the doctor that he had never seen before.
“But what is she here for?” Zim asked later, as he rearranged potion ingredients back to their original alphabetical organization under Kaiza’s displeased eye.
It was her turn to shrug, uncertain and noncommittal.
—
The Premier Gemini Witch was there to meet him.
The Premier Gemini Witch knew his mother.
The Premier Gemini Witch was his mother’s sister.
“I came to this town thinking I would reunite with my sister. Thinking that maybe the broken seal on our magic meant that she was willing to see me–willing to open communication, at least. But a year passed and nothing,” the Premier Gemini Witch–R, his aunt, his sister’s mother–said, voice curled around a heartbroken, resigned sigh.
His dad sometimes sounded like that, too, when he talked about Zim’s mom.
“And so I came to this town only to find that my sister has been dead for nearly a decade and I have a nephew whose magic I share but whose name I don’t even know.”
—
The Premier Gemini Witch–the second, missing Premier Gemini Witch–was Zim.
~
A/N: just a little redo of the Ot1 series, a different beginning and a different POV. Not as obviously adapted Teen Wolf fanfiction, maybe?
Will get back to Externality, no worries, this was written because I am on my phone and only have data not wi-fi.
5 notes
·
View notes
Note
18, Counterclockwise?
I don’t know how to make things right.So I’ll just keep pretendingthat nothing’s wrong.(you know that I’m no good)
—
Ellen meets her two years into her stint of immortality on, of all things, a dark and stormy night. She’s slumped against the back door of Ellen’s small clinic, bleeding out and soaked and unconscious.
Perturbed, Ellen rushes over and feels for a pulse. She is a doctor first and foremost–it defines her above and beyond the curse that will plague her forever (and it’ll be a few decades before she becomes the leader in meta-human physiology)–the cardinal rule guides her still.
A steady rhythm, if weak and beneath cold clammy skin, but not for long with that wound.
The woman startles at the touch, eyes blearily blinking open and taking in Ellen’s face.
“You’ll be okay,” Ellen reassures her, “I’m a doctor.”
“Kaiza,” the woman breathes out, “You cold hearted bitch,” before her eyes fall shut and she goes unconscious once more.
It’s not exactly the smoothest beginning.
Then again, Leanne would argue that this wasn’t the beginning at all.
///
Ellen adapts to her occasional visitor the way a cat might become accustomed to a coyote that hangs around the opposite side of the backyard fence. Which is to say, poorly.
Better than cats and dogs, but not by much.
Later, she will have more than her fill of cat and dog jokes–jaguars and wolves as cooperative as their domesticated counterparts–herding a group of overly dramatic young adults with more power than sense, but for now they have not been spoiled for her yet.
Much, much later she will do it again and wonder why she didn’t learn, but that is for another time.
Everything, it seems, about Leanne is for another time.
For now it is just her and her clinic and her strangely hostile, but helpful guest.
“You won’t want to open that without Nyx,” Leanne says, hand overtop hers, keeping the aged grimoire shut.
Ellen pauses, asks, “Who is Nyx?”
Leanne raises an eyebrow, almost disbelieving, “She’s a devil’s advocate. The best and one of the least cutthroat at that, though you shouldn’t say as such to her face.”
“And I should ask her for help?”
The expression on Leanne’s face would make that a resounding, “No, are you kidding? She’ll eat you alive. And then swindle your soul out from under you.” She looks frankly perplexed, as if this is something Ellen should already know. “You have to make a deal with her, trade something she might want.”
Ellen considers, looks around. She doesn’t have much–she hasn’t lived long enough for her immortality to benefit her; the reason why she even has the grimoire in the first place is because one of her atypical patients gave it to her as payment–unless this Nyx might need medical services?
Leanne laughs, amused by the very idea, before humming, pondering, “Nyx won’t, she’s a demon, but she did have a daughter… Or, she will have one?” Leanne laughs again, “Well, I’m sure you’ll find out eventually.”
///
By the time Leanne meets her for the first time, she no longer thinks of herself as Ellen. She is Kaiza: a doctor, an immortal, and a cold hearted bitch.
She is sitting across the table from a woman with familiar features wrought in an unfamiliar expression. Kaiza has seen Leanne with resignation on her face, but not mixed with fear and fierce yet futile protectiveness. Then again, Leanne never was a mother–never will be, from what she knows of her–and the woman in front of Kaiza is a mother to three.
A mother who has been told she will lose one of her children.
“Not again,” says Leanne’s mother, hands over her face, “I can’t do this again.”
Kaiza lets her come to terms in silence, there’s nothing she can say to make this situation better.
Outside the house she hears a car pulling up, the sound of young voices talking and the slamming of doors. “Mom!” shouts the highest voice, the youngest child. Not Leanne. “We totally owned the other team, eleven to three, and I made four of the goals…”
She drifts into silence at the presence of a stranger in their house. A few steps behind the child are her older siblings, all of them with the same leafy green hair as their mother. Leanne looks so young. So painfully unknowing.
Kaiza is going to ruin her, just as cold hearted as Leanne once accused her of being
“Victor,” says Leanne’s mother, “take Faye upstairs.”
“Wha–but, Mom!” says the little girl, pulling shrugging off her brother’s hand, “What about Leanne?”
“Upstairs!” she snaps, before gentling herself, “Now, please.”
The boy guides his youngest sister, cowed and silent, leaving Leanne standing by herself.
Ah. So that’s what she looks like when she’s afraid.
~
A/N: Some elusive Doctor Kaiza POV. She doesn’t actually have a story of her own, but she does appear in many other characters’ stories as the wise, enigmatic, and–admittedly–cold hearted doctor. [So enigmatic that I apparently don’t have a character tag for her? Whoops.]
Thanks for the prompt, anon! I do love Counterclockwise very much, even if the majority of it is still a gigantic mystery to me.
Number + Ship + (optional) AU –> my ask box
[If anyone else wants to do a softer world prompt that isn’t on the list, you can just send the page id number for the original comic instead.]
#jacksgreyson#anonymous#prompt response#a softer ask box#writing#original fiction#counterclockwise#leanne peridot#ellen tsukiko kaiza
4 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
us-china
US-China Friendship
sergeant-no-specs
specs
07mandis
Mandy.
pinxilla
pinx :D
idazatanic
kyo