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yelena-bellova · 4 years

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Don’t Be Afraid: Poe Dameron x Solo!Reader - Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Four: Rebellions Are Built On Hope

Series Masterlist

Plot: With First Order troops ambushing the party, Y/n, Finn and Poe must find a way out, but not without getting the list.

Warnings: blood, injuries, talk of death

Word Count: 7.7k

A/N: SO this is two days overdue. While I’ve liked keeping a schedule for posting chapters, it’s just not working for me any longer. Life has gotten a bit busier and to be honest, I write much better when I’m not on a deadline. The last thing I want is for this series to suffer because I feel that I don’t have enough time to make it the best it can be. I’ll try to update every week but if it takes longer because I feel it needs more work, then it needs more work. Anyway, this one is long and I’m posting from my mobile so I can’t add a ‘keep reading’ so many apologies to the scrollers lol. I hope you enjoy it!!

————

Blaster smoke and the scent of saltwater filled the air. Furniture was overturned to create barriers for guests who had also snuck in weapons. Shattered glass littered the floor. You’d never have guessed that minutes prior the room had been the pinnacle of elegance.

Poe grabbed my hand while Finn shielded me protectively as we crouched and moved through the room. It took work to avoid being caught in the crossfire that showed no signs of ceasing, even with losses on both sides. With each death, including Hasadar Shu’s, I had to fight the now familiar overwhelming sensation in my body.

“We need to find Sura and Charth,” I gritted out as I focused on taking deep breaths.

“We need to find a couple of blasters.” Finn remarked.

“Both,” Poe replied, “Both would be good.”  With every step we took, I felt the lightsaber make contact with my other leg. Even Poe and Finn didn’t have weaponry, we were still protected.

“Look!” Finn exclaimed and took the lead. We followed him and I spotted Sura, ducked behind a waterfall with a blaster in hand. We cautiously made our way to her as we dodged startled guests and blaster fire.

“Where’s Charth?” Poe panted after we’d safely made it to her.

As she inhaled to answer, a shot was fired just above her heads. We ducked just as the rocks it hit crumbled around us.

“He went for the ship,” Sura answered, “What happened?”  “They must have found out about the auction,” Poe nodded towards Sura’s stolen Stromtrooper blaster, “Don’t suppose you have another one of those?”  “Go get your own. I did.” Sura grinned.

“Hold on,” I put a hand to Poe’s chest to stop him, “I’ve got my lightsaber, I can protect us.”  “Too risky,” Poe shook his head, “They’ll recognize you immediately and then we’re in real trouble.”

He was right. The story of my stand on Crait was galaxy wide now and I had no doubt that Ren had the entire First Order searching for me. I was as good as dead if I brought my saber out now.

“Cover him,” I begrudgingly told Sura who proceeded to step out from behind our shelter. She fired at the trooper closest to us and once he was down, Finn jumped out and grabbed the weapon. He ran and hid behind a column a few feet away, going us an affirmative nod.   “We can’t leave yet,” Poe stated, “We’ve got to get the list.”  “The list is lost,” Sura replied quickly, “We’ve got to get out of here alive.”

“Negative,” I countered, “There’s got to-“ 

Before I could finish, the lights cut out and we were cast into total darkness. I felt Poe shift me so I was pressed firmly against the rock of the waterfall with him acting as a human shield.

“Okay, what now?” I asked, watching small lights on the floor turn on. They weren’t enough to see any attackers so they were essentially useless.

“At least that damn ocean holo is off,” Sura remarked, which while true was of very little comfort.

As I was trying to make out any shapes out in the dark that I could, I caught a white light on the move near us. I caught the sight of Nifera Shu bolting up the staircase, her shell dress and the glowing of the eel around her neck lit her path.

“Sura, grab Finn and Charth and go find the ship,” I instructed, “Poe, you’re with me.”  “What? Where are you two going?” she asked.  “To get the list.”

I took Poe’s hand and carefully maneuvered us through the dark, doing my best to avoid bumping into anyone. Once I’d pulled us to the staircase, the floor lights came in handy as we were able to climb the steps fast. Once we got to the second story, there truly was zero light. Since no troopers had made it up yet, I unholstered my saber and ignited it so we could see ahead. There was a faint voice coming from nearby, we followed it to find Nifera on one of the balconies.

“Nifera!” Poe shouted, I deactivated my saber and clipped it back onto my thigh holster.

The frightened woman spun around and faced us, comlink in hand. “They killed my husband,” she breathed, barely audible, “They murdered Hasadar in front of me. In front of everyone.”

“I know,” I said sympathetically, as Poe and I raised our arms to show we meant no harm, “Because of the list.”  “Because of the Collective,” Poe stated. I came to the same conclusion only seconds after he had. The eel that rested on Nifera’s neck looked eerily similar to the snake we’d seen on the holo.

“Because of me,” she whined, her voice breaking with emotion.  “And I’m sorry, Nifera, but if I had to take a guess, they’re coming for you next.” I presumed just before something on the ground floor collapsed. Whatever had fallen was strong enough to shake the second story. Nifera clutched onto the railing while Poe and I hit each wall shoulder-first. I would have been fine had it not been my injured shoulder. I cried out upon impact and Poe rushed to my side, not that he could help the deep ache or the possibility that I’d popped a stitch.

“I’ve got to get out of here,” Nifera panicked, she tried to use her comlink again.

“They’ve blocked your signal,” Poe guessed as we watched her failed attempt at trying to escape.

“No,” she said anxiously, “I dropped it when they shot. I-I think it’s broken.”

“What about the list?” I asked with almost as much anxiety in my voice as in hers.

“Here,” she answered as she patted her eel’s head. She pressed its jaw open and I spotted a datachip sitting on its tongue.

“We can get you out of here,” Poe said as he took a cautious step towards her, “We’ve got a ship.”  “The Resistance?” she asked, her eyes flicking between the two of us, That is you you’re with, Lorell? Sola?”  We nodded in response.

“And what will it cost me?”

Poe jutted his chin out toward the eel, she caught our drift immediately. She didn’t look thrilled at the prospect, but at the sound of footsteps behind us, the mood shifted to urgent. Nifera’s eyes widened as she saw something over our shoulders, they were coming for her and by association, they were coming for us too.

“You’re running out of time,” I urged, “Trust me when I say coming with us is a more attractive choice than how the First Order will treat you. Do we have a deal?”  “Deal,” she nodded.

“Great,” Poe replied as the two of us moved to the edge of the balcony. We looked over the railing and saw there was a large pool, seeing that we were tailed by the First Order we didn’t have any other option for escape.  

“How deep is that water?” Poe inquired.

“I-I have no idea.” Nifera answered shakily.

Poe climbed over the railing and helped us both over, “Let’s find out.” I gripped his hand tightly and spared him a wary look, he didn’t look any more confidant than I felt.

There was no time to think, we jumped.

In seconds, we were engulfed in the freezing cold water but I lost my grip on Poe. The first thing I did was look for him and Nifera, I couldn’t spot them because of how dark it was. I felt around the general area but couldn’t feel either of them. How far could they possibly sunk when we were right next to each other? Panic grew in my body as I waved my arms wildly around me, unsuccessful in finding them. I blindly swam towards the top, if I was going to have to search for them I’d need more oxygen to do so. When I hit the surface, I drew a deep breath and frantically looked around for Poe. Not half a second later, he emerged with a loud gasp and Nifera next to him.

From behind me, a pair of hands pulled me out of the pool and onto the grass. I looked up to see Sura shaking her head at me. “You’re insane,” she chuckled, “And that’s me saying that.”  “I jumped into a pool, you jumped into a gladiatorial ring,” I panted as she pulled me to my feet. I reached through the slit of my dress and felt relieved as I felt my lightsaber still secured.

Finn pulled Poe out while Sura and I helped Nifera, it took two people thanks to the heavy shell dress. It was a wonder she hadn’t been dragged under.   “Your necklace!” Poe cried, looking at Nifera’s bare neck. She dipped her arm into the pool and the eel slithered its way up her arm and rested again on her neck. The datachip was safe.

“Cute trick,” Sura commented.

“A better trick would be to tell me we have a way out of here,” Poe said, still trying to catch his breath. Finn and I helped him onto his feet, “Where’s Charth?”

“Headed back to us, no luck on the ship,” Sura reported, “It’s locked down tight, the whole landing dock surrounded by stormtroopers.”

“Sola,” Nifera said, grabbing my wrist, “I thought you and your husband were going to get me out of here.”

“We are,” I affirmed, taking hold of her arm “We’re just going to have to get creative with how.”

“Well, I suggest we do it quick,” Sura said firmly, “I figure we only have a few minutes before we’ve got our own contingent of troopers to deal with.”

That was true, the First Order would have noticed by now that Nifera was nowhere to be found. They would begin searching the grounds of the house soon.

“What about Wedge?” Finn suggested.  “Go on,” Poe said with a nod of his head.  “He’s here, right?” Finn continued, “And he’s got a ship. We get to him, we got a ship, too.”  “Brilliant,” Poe said with a smile, “Now all we need to know is where he is.”

“I’ll hail Connix back on Ryloth,” Suralinda said, pulling her comlink out of her dress pocket, “Maybe she can pinpoint Wedge’s position.”

“What’s going on?” Nifera asked, distrust spreading across her face, “Who is Wedge? And who are you...really?”  Finn stepped forward and placed a hand on her arm, “We’re with the Resistance, ma’am. And we’re here to help.”  “Lorell and Sola said as much on the balcony, and you with your starbird pin.” Nifera recalled, stroking her eel, “But if you think I’m one of you, you’re mistaken. The Collective doesn’t support any government.”

“We’re a far cry from a government,” I said, “We’re more like…”

Where I couldn’t find the correct words to describe us, Poe could. “A rag-tag group of heroes.” 

“Heroes?” Nifera echoed with a raised eyebrow, “I suppose that remains to be seen.”

Sura turned back to us, “Okay, I’ve got coordinates on Wedge’s team, but we need to hurry. They’re on the move.”

“What about Charth?” I asked.

“He’ll meet us on the way.”

Nifera’s eyes bounced between me and Poe, the two people she felt comfortable talking to in the group. “Where are we heading?”  “Corellian Engineering Corporation.” Poe answered, “Do you know the direction?”

“I do.” Nifera nodded.

“Lead the way,” I said, she guided our group away from her home. Poe, Sura and I brought up the rear of the group, Sura placed a hand on each of our arms and slowed our pace.  

“Something wrong?” Poe asked.

“I didn’t want to say more in front of Nifera, but there’s trouble on Ryloth,” Sura said quietly.

Fear struck through me like lightning, every worst case scenario to the situation filling my mind. “What’s wrong? Is everyone okay? Leia?”  “Connix didn’t go into detail, but she said they are evacuating.” Sura explained, “I’m sorry I don’t have more information.”  I tried to steel my nerves, there was no time to delve too deep into my worry. Even so, I couldn’t stop the thoughts of my mother or Rey being struck down from seeping into my mind.

“We’ve got to get back,” Poe said, his voice was hardened to hide his own anxiety.

“And we will,“ Sura said confidently, “We’re trying. We need a ship for that. So we stick to the plan, get off this planet, and go rescue our people.”  I shook my head and kept my gaze locked ahead, “It’s never that easy. Not for us at least.”

————

We hurried through the darkened Coronet City, taking back roads and sneaking between buildings while praying we didn’t run into any First Order officers. Poe and I in our shared knowledge of what was transpiring on Ryloth had unknowingly quickened our pace and ended up at the front of our group with Nifera. I was ready to curse whoever had designed the high heels I was wearing but then again, I don’t think they had been designed for running.   “That’s it up ahead,” Nifera said, pointing to a series of buildings and a very large hanger.

I gripped Poe’s hand tighter as we approached, “I don’t see our friends.”  “Wait,” Poe squinted and leaned forward, “I see ‘em. Up ahead to the right.”  I looked to where he was pointing, spotting the figure in the distance waving wildly at us. I couldn’t tell who it was but it was highly doubtful the First Order would be so enthusiastic about our arrival. We picked up the pace until we could clearly make out that it was our team. Wedge came forward and hugged Poe tightly.

“We sure are glad to see you,” Poe said over Wedge’s shoulder, “Thought we’d lost our ride for a while there.”  "What happened?” Wedge asked as he released Poe to embrace me.

“First Order ambushed the party,” I said, holding onto my family friend, “The port was shut down so we lost Charth’s ship.”

“It’s a small thing,” the Twi’lek reassured from behind us, “We got what we came for.”

“This list?” Norra Wexley asked from beside her husband.

Poe motioned for Nifera to come forward, “This is Nifera Shu. She has the list. We get her off the planet, she gives us the list.”

“Do you know there’s a water serpent on your neck?” Teza Nasz asked, gesturing to the eel.

“Yes,” Nifera confirmed with a polite smile.

“Okay,” Nasz replied, lifting her hands, “Just checking.”  “Everyone accounted for,” Norra spoke up, “Time to get the hell off this planet.”  I nodded in agreement, “How are we doing that?”

“Stormtroopers ahead,” Snap reported.

“How many?” Poe asked.

“Sixty,” Snap answered, “Maybe more. They’re guarding the entrance to the shipyard.”

“As if we were expected?” Poe guessed.  “Our luck was bound to run out,” Wedge said unhappily. “Yama,” he nodded for a young girl who came to stand next to Teza Nasz, “Is there another way around?” 

The apparent First Order officer turned ally thought for a second before pointing back to a sky tower, “We can go through the building. But the halls are narrow and there’s a lift and a checkpoint.”

“So our best bet is entering here,” Wedge said as he turned to Poe and I, “Only we need a way to get past the troopers?”

“Create a distraction,” Norra suggested, “Wedge and I can lead them off while the rest of you get through.”  “No guarantee they follow you,” Snap objected, the worry was plain as day on his face. He didn’t want to subject his mother and Wedge to that potential fate.

“We’ll make it worth their while,” Norra stated confidently, “We’ll go in the way Yama said. We’ll make a lot of noise, make them think we’re bringing in the prisoners that way.”

“Mom…” Snap protested.

“We only need to split them. If we can get even half of them to follow us-”

“That’s still two against thirty.”  “Snap,” Poe broke the argument between mother and son, “It’s not a bad idea.”  “Then I’ll go,” Snap suggested in desperation, though he seemed to already know it was a lost cause to fight.  I sunk my teeth into my bottom lip and prepared myself for Poe’s immediate objection, but even that couldn’t stop me. “No, I’ll stay with them.”

Poe’s head whipped around to me, “What? No, Y/n-“  “You just said it’s a good idea,” I spoke over him, “And I’m not leaving them to fend for themselves. You guys have more than enough reinforcements to get the ships, I’m of more use here. Better three against sixty than two. There’s no argument to be made here, Dameron.”  Poe sighed as I threw his words back at him. He rubbed his hands over his face in frustration and moaned in frustration into them. He knew I was right just as Snap knew Norra had been. I wasn’t about to let two older pilots fight alone while we went with an oversupply of people to gather ships. As Snap was finally giving into Wedge and Norra’s decision to stay and sharing an emotional moment with the two, Poe silently nodded his head in agreement toward me. I tenderly placed a hand on his arm, he in turn pulled me roughly into his body with an arm around my back and crashed my lips to his. I grasped onto his still soaking wet tuxedo jacket to steady myself. It wasn’t a goodbye kiss, but it was one that had it been our last time together, it would have been appropriate. But I had too much faith in us to believe that a few Stormtroopers was what was going to separate us.

As we reluctantly broke apart, Poe kept his lips hovering over mine. “Stay alive, Solo.” he whispered huskily.  I took a shaky breath, it had been one hell of a kiss. “You too, flyboy.”

“Go,” Poe let go of me and looked to Wedge, “We’ll make our move when we see the troopers split. See you on the other side.”

————

It hadn’t been difficult to get the troopers to start shooting at us. The entire battalion was laying down fire and as much as I didn’t want to admit it, things were going to become dire within a few minutes. Wedge only had one back up blaster, Norra had none and all I had was my lightsaber. Once they were out, I was our sole defender.

“How long do you think we can hold?” Wedge asked after narrowly dodged a shot.

“Long as we need to,” Norra responded as she leaned out from behind our makeshift shelter to fire a few shots.

“What happens after that? I can’t promise I can take out all of them by myself.” I asked, the two legendary pilots shared a knowing look that I was not a part of.

“Guess this is what I get for wanting to be a hero,” Wedge laughed.

“Since when have you wanted to be a hero?” Nora chuckled.  I peeked out from our structure to deflect a few hits, a couple bounced off my saber and back at the troopers. “You’ve always been a hero in my book, Wedge.”  He smiled down at me when the two of us ducked again, “You’re more of a hero than I’ll ever be, Solo. Han and Luke would be proud of you.”  Would they? Would my father be proud of me for being caught in a fight with sixty stormtroopers on the home planet he’d hated? I highly doubted it but I took Wedge’s compliment regardless.

“There!” Norra said from her position, Wedge and I peered over the barricade to see the rest of our team. They had collected the prisoners and were running them through the hanger. It looked like they were splitting up, I could see Karé, Teza Nasz and Charth taking those who were injured and extremely weak to an Imperial shuttle while Finn, Nifera and Snap led the rest of the group headed for a large blockade runner. However, we were visibly missing two people.

“Where’s Poe?” Wedge asked, voicing my thoughts before I could, “And Suralinda?”

“I don’t see them,” my voice wavered with concern.

“They can take care of themselves,” Nora assured us, “Keep shooting. We’re almost out but we’re not there yet.”  If there was one thing I could admire about Snap’s mother, she didn’t give up. She was one of those women who you could tell would fight until she physically couldn’t and even then, she’d find a way to keep going. She reminded me so much of Mom.

“Solo,” Norra said as she spared a quick glance at me, “Why are you bleeding?”  “What?” I asked confusedly before realization hit and I looked down to my shoulder. My deep crimson blood had mixed with the water still on my body, probably making the wound look worse than it was. I quickly pulled aside the material of my dress to see that I had indeed popped a stitch. Between hitting the wall back at the Shu’s and the action of using my saber had done it. I was in no danger of major blood loss, even if I had been it wouldn’t matter. My sole focus was on the fight at hand. “It’s fine, keep going.”

Wedge came out from behind the shelter to fire only for his blaster to fail. As he was reaching for his backup, a shot came from a trooper that hit him. He yelled out in pain and clutched his arm as he fell to the ground.

“Wedge!” Norra cried, crawling over to where her husband lay. In true badass fashion, she aimed and took out the trooper who had laid Wedge out before coming to his side.

I’d be damned if I was going to let Wedge’s injury go unpunished. I could see out of the corner of my eye that Norra was handing Wedge his backup blaster. After being assured that he was okay for now, she rejoined me while keeping one eye on her husband. We’d taken down fifteen troopers at best, if we were going to make it out alive, something spectacular needed to happen soon. I peeked over to the hanger to see that our group was nowhere to be found and a few troopers were breaking off to investigate. They’d never make it in time to stop them nor have enough firepower to ground the ships.

“Antilles,” I commanded as I could see his shots slowing down, “Don’t you dare fall asleep on us.”  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied before turning to his wife, “But Norra, if I can’t stay on my feet, I want you to…I want you to-”

 “Don’t even say it,” Norra gritted out, “We’re in this together. You stay, I stay. We make a run for it together or we don’t go at all.”

“But-“

“Done talking.”  “I love you,” Wedge smiled.  “Good,” Norra said firmly, “Now stay alive.”  The whole exchange sounded very familiar. It reminded me of a conversation Poe and I would have. Somehow that lit another fire under me to protect Wedge and Norra and make sure they came out of this together.

“Keep going,” I ordered as I carefully poked the top of my head over the edge of the barricade. The troopers were separated into four groups standing a few feet away from each other. I crouched behind our shelter again and deactivated my lightsaber, setting it next to Wedge and paying close attention to the shots fly over my head. There was a timing to them, one shot roughly every three seconds. If I timed it just right, I might be able to knock out at least one group of troopers. It was risky but the entire night had been a series of risks, what was one more?  I counted one, two, three seconds before springing to my full height and stretching my hands out toward our attackers. I used the force to send half the troopers flying back to hit a nearby building. I quickly dropped back behind the hideout just as a blast flew past my head, I felt like all the energy had just been drained from my body. In all the times I’d used that move, I’d never used it on that many people at once. I’d need to wait a minute before trying it again.

Suddenly, the wall of the hanger to our left exploded and sent a thick cloud of grey dust into the air.

The three of us coughed violently, I struggled to see through the dust and find what had caused the explosion. Heavy fire came from where the blast had occurred and it became apparent that it was coming from a starfighter rather than a regular blaster. I had an educated guess as to who was behind the controls…

“Poe better cut it out or he’s going to bring this building down on us, too,” Norra observed as she came to Wedge’s side once more. He was laughing from the shock we’d been given. The stormtrooper’s shots had ceased as Poe took each one of them down. “Do you think you can walk?”  Wedge nodded, still chuckling as the two of us helped him to his feet, “I did not see that coming.”

“Most people don’t see Poe Dameron coming,” I remarked as I grabbed my lightsaber and we hurried across to the hanger. My boyfriend hovered around to give us cover, I spotted Snap at the ramp of the blockade runner motioning for us to hurry.

“You guys go,” I yelled over the engine of Poe’s starfighter, “I’m going to help out on the shuttle.”  Snap gave a nod and helped Wedge and Norra onto the ship. I sprinted across the hanger to the shuttle that was just getting ready to take off, Teza Nasz was helping the last prisoner on. We filed in and I shut the door behind us, I holstered my lightsaber back under my dress and attempted to catch my breath.

“Jedi?” Nasz jutted her chin to my concealed weapon.

“Not quite yet,” I breathed with a small smile.

She simply hummed in reply and led us into the main part of the shuttle. Judging by the crowd it looked like we’d gotten quite a few, if not all of the prisoners. If we made it out of the hanger, we could call the mission a success.

I began getting everyone comfortable, the group we had must have been tortured and starved. There were cuts and bruises littered all over their skin, some of them were practically skeletons.

“Excuse me,” a voice croaked from behind me, it was the man Teza Nasz had helped on as I’d boarded. He had cuts littering his arms, blood dried underneath his nose and was dangerously thin. I made my way over to him and crouched down so he wouldn’t have to strain his voice, “Where are we going, miss?”  He was so frail, I couldn’t imagine what the First Order had done to him. All because he’d dared to stand for what was right. It made my blood boil. I carefully took his hand, his trembling fingers wrapped around mine, and I looked into his eyes. “Somewhere safe.”  ————

Once we’d made it off of the planet and after I’d gotten the survivors situated as best I could, I came to sit beside Nifera. She seemed steady in spite of her world having been turned upside down. Staying collected in the face of adversity was an admirable quality, one of the many skills I lacked.

“I’ve never associated with the Resistance until tonight,” she said, her eyes never leaving a small window, “But what you did tonight was…admirable. Even if you won the prize of the evening in a most unsavory fashion.”  “Well, we’ll actually do some good with that list. I doubt any of your other guests would treat these people with the kindness they deserve.” I commented as I pressed a gauze pad to my wound to stop the bleeding, “But thank you. I’m sorry about Hasadar, truly…I hope you can find peace somehow.”

She ducked her head, raising a hand to stroke her sleeping eel. “Tell me, Sola, or whatever your name really is…Have you ever lost someone? Not a soldier or pilot whose name you barely knew, someone close to your heart.”  I squeezed my hands together in my lap, “I lost my father one week ago, three days later I lost my uncle. And my br-“ I caught myself and bit down harshly on my tongue to stop the words from escaping my lips, “Yes, I have.”  "Then you must know,” Nifera turned to me, a tear staining her heavily powdered cheek, “There is no true peace after losing someone you love. You can try to move on, you can sink into a deep denial, but there will always be a hole in your life that only they can fill.”

“I suppose you’re right,” I conceded, there was definite truth to what she said. I’d never recover fully from my father’s death and while I knew my uncle was at peace, I was still devastated by his loss. “But then I’ve never had much peace to begin with so I don’t think it matters if I go through the rest of my life without it.”

“Based on tonight? No, I very much doubt that you live a serene life.” Nifera’s expression radiated a judgmental type of disapproval. I had to remind myself that while polite, she was in no way an ally.

”I never have and I doubt that will change anytime soon,” I stated unflinchingly, “But if I can help people, then the chaos I create is worth something.”

Karé emerged from the cockpit and interrupted our conversation, “Nifera, Poe wants to speak to you.” She handed her comlink to Nifera and gave us privacy to take the call. I however had no intention of leaving.

“Hello, Lorell,” she replied, smirking at me as she used his alias name.

“It’s Poe. Poe Dameron.”

“I know,” she smiled.

“We need somewhere safe to set down for a while. Not long. Just a meeting point to regroup, disseminate the list. A day at most.”

I watched the cogs turn in Nifera’s head as we awaited her answer, “And you think I can help you?”  “I think the Collective can help us.”  “And why would we do that?”  “Because we just helped their benefactor escape certain death.”

I nodded along with Poe’s answer, Nifera eyed me as she thought over her answer.

“Very well, Poe Dameron,” she laughed, “I’ll help you. After you make a generous donation to our cause.”

I rolled my eyes, the Collective had already taken half of our money during the auction. If we gave more, our funds would be almost non-existent. This solidified my earlier conclusion that Nifera was not our ally, if anything she was a business woman.

“Yeah, about that...didn’t you already take half our credits?”

“And now I aim to take the other half,” Nifera answered plainly.

There was a long pause over the comm, Poe was thinking it over. Finally, his tense reply came, “Take the money, lady.”  Nifera rose from her seat and I followed her, she headed into cockpit where Karé was piloting once again. She relayed a set of coordinates to her and Karé punched them into the ship, our course was set.

“I’ve given your pilot coordinates to a safe house. She will transmit them to yourself and your other friends. I will let them know to expect us.”

“Thank you.”

“A pleasure doing business,” she said before handing the comm back to Karé. I stayed in the cockpit with my friend as she continued speaking to Poe. I no longer had any interest in interacting with Nifera.

“Did she give you the coordinates?”

“Yeah,” she responded as she hit a few buttons, “Sending out to Resistance channels now.”

“Copy. Is Y/n with you?”

Without taking her eyes off of the stars ahead, Karé stretched her arm out to me and I took the comm from her.

“She’s here,” I answered, “Unharmed and still very wet.”  “There’s worse things to be. Karé said she got a transmission from the Falcon, First Order found them and they had to evacuate Ryloth. Leia’s okay though.”

 I sighed, the weight of fearing the worst for my mother dropped immediately, “Any casualties?”  “A couple, one of the Phantom Squad pilots and Charth’s sister.”  “He’ll be devastated,” I mumbled, “It’s going to sound insensitive but I’m so glad that Mom’s okay.”  “I know. Me too. We’re about to make the jump, I’ll see you wherever we’re landing.”

“See you there. And hey,” I paused, smiling softly at the comm as if it was Poe in the flesh, “We did it.”

“Yeah, we did.”   I handed the comm back to Karé and settled into the seat behind her. While Nifera wasn’t my favorite person in the galaxy, I trusted that she was leading us somewhere safe.

“Ready?” Karé asked.

I nodded, “Punch it.”  ————

Poe and I corralled the last group of prisoners to the doorway of The Collective’s hideout. The door was marked with a picture of the same type of eel that had rested on Nifera’s neck. Finn stood watch from an alleyway nearby, I shot him a nod and he did the same. We were clear to enter, no one had followed us. I was surprised we hadn’t been picked out by now, mysterious hooded figures typically stood out in a crowd.

I opened the door and we ushered each person in, after everyone was accounted for, Finn joined us and the three of us entered.

The first part of the building was an abandoned storage room, where the Collective stood atop various boxes keeping watch over everyone who entered. We went through the room to a small door to the side where Zay stood, bringing the prisoners into our final destination.

“Is that everyone?” Zay asked.  “Should be,” Poe answered as we entered the next room. As Zay had shut the door, I caught Collective members sliding crates in front of it to conceal the entryway. We were safe.

Inside the large room, there were tables with food and drinks laid out on them, many of the starved prisoners sat and ate quickly. There was also a staircase that led down to the main room where many reunions and conversations were taking place.

Mom came up the stairs to approach the last prisoner we’d led in, it was her old friend, Ransolm Casterfo. She gently embraced him, the man was trembling as she did.

“I thought you were dead,” she whispered.

“But you came for me anyway, my friend.”   “I hoped,” she replied, “Come meet everyone.”  Rose led him down the stairs and began to introduce him to people as Mom turned to Poe and I.

“General,” we both acknowledged with a nod of our heads.  “Commanders,” she replied with a twinkle in her eye, “Well done.”

Mom and General Rieekan had turned the room into a makeshift command center. There was equipment set up and a large holomap of the galaxy against one wall. Nobody seemed to be skipping a beat, they were working just as hard as they had when we’d had a full setup on D’Qar.

“Did Nifera give you the list?” I asked.

“Already disseminated,” Mom reported, “Yendor and Orrimaarko are making assignments now. We’ll find them all. Warn those who are in the First Order’s sights, rescue those in danger, and recruit who we can.”

 “Good,” I said, my mind was already trying to figure out what we’d do tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that. And-

“One step at a time,” Mom broke my thoughts with a hand to my arm, “We’re not taking on the entire First Order tomorrow. We can’t. But we can take one step, and that earns us another day to take another step.”

“We can’t do it alone,” Poe stated, he was in a similar state of mind as I was.

“And we won’t. We’ll find people, we’ll inspire them. Show them they aren’t alone, show them what’s worth fighting for. And we’ll prepare and rebuild. This,” Mom spread a hand and gestured to the room, “is a beginning.”

I nodded with a hint of a smile, looking around at our group. We’d doubled in size today and Mom was right, this was a start. All around us were old friends and new allies, working together and actively doing exactly what Poe’s speech in the Ryloth hanger had inspired them to do…Be better.

I broke away from them to climb the staircase and land on the top step. I wasn’t used to commanding attention, but I felt the unusual desire to do so.

“We can’t stay here,” I said, my voice carrying over both rooms. They fell silent in seconds and everyone had turned to face me. ”As much of a frightening thought as it is, there’s nowhere in the galaxy where the Resistance is safe from the First Order.”  Breathe, I told myself, you can do this. The worried expressions that rested on everyone’s faces stirred up my anxiety.

“But right now, we’re going to revel in this win. After our losses, we still rose from the ashes and lived to fight another day. And look around,” I gestured around me, “This is what we accomplished in a day that the First Order never intended for us to see. So celebrate, we deserve it.” 

Applause broke out across the room, I let it ring for a few seconds before holding up my hands to call for silence.

“But this isn’t the end of the fight,” I said, “This is just the beginning.”

“What do we do next? Where do we go?”

I turned to see the voice belonged to Pacer Agyo, the headstrong pilot who’d challenged Teza Nasz.

“We go where there’s injustice, we go where the oppressed are being beaten down. We go where we are desperately needed, where hope is needed. You want to know what we do next? We do what we do best…We resist.” my voice rose with the passion I was pouring into my words, “We fight. And when the time’s right, we’ll make the First Order pay for each and every one of their sins. There’s a future ahead of us where the First Order is extinct and we’ll be the ones to have ended them.”  Cheers erupted across both of the rooms and I allowed myself a moment to savor the moment. The mistake I’d made aboard the Raddus was permanent, but it seemed forgiveness could be too. I’d accomplished what I’d set out to do; make amends. As I descended the staircase, people surrounded me and gave me nods of approval, hugs and pats on my back.

Mom was beaming from where she stood, watching me take charge of the room. Poe came forward to press a kiss to my cheek, I wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him to my side. Professionalism didn’t matter right now, there were hugs and kisses being freely given between everyone. It was another day that we’d survived and that was something I’d celebrate freely.

I could see Wedge, whose arm was in a sling, and Norra making their way across the room with their eyes locked on Poe. “I’ll find you in a few minutes,” I said quietly before breaking off on my own. I had people to speak to as well.

I spotted Rey in a corner, kneeled down and in conversation with Bee. When she saw me approaching, she rose and turned her attention to me. Bee excused himself and left the two of us alone.

“I like the outfit,” she quipped, her eyes scanning up and down my barely dry dress.

“I like yours better,” I said, tugging on the sleeve of her dark Jedi robes, or at least what was starting to look like a set. “Much more suited for battle than a ballgown.”  Rey laughed and wrapped her arms around me, there was so much relief in our being reunited. I didn’t like being separated from her, there was something about having her at my side that calmed me. It was the same feeling I got when Poe and Finn were with me.

“Okay,” I said, pulling away from her, “I can’t be expected to wait any longer. I need to know what my uncle said about me.”

Rey’s face changed from joyful to serious instantaneously, “Yes, you do. I doubt there’s a place we could go to discuss it privately so here will have to do.”

I didn’t particularly care if the room was just us or a hundred more people. My uncle had something to tell me and I was desperate to know what it was.

“When I was with Luke, he talked about you quite a lot. How when he met you as a child, he’d had a vision about your future.”  “Yeah, my mother told me. I don’t know the details of it, just that he had one.”

“Well,” she went on, “He said he knew you wanted answers. About the Force and about your parents. And he said that when you’re ready, those answers lay on Ahch-To.”  My body stiffened and my ears quit registering the noise around me. The prospect of having the questions I’d asked my entire life answered was almost too much to process. I’d accepted the fact that I’d never know about my birth parents long ago. Now I was being told that information about them existed somehow and was mine for the taking.

“I-I can’t…I mean…how?” I sputtered, trying to wrap my head around the idea.

“Don’t ask me,” Rey shook her head, “I asked and he wouldn’t tell me. He just said to come to the island when you’re ready and all will be revealed.”

I raked a hand through my messy head of hair, a grin spreading across my face at my uncle’s cryptic invitation. Was it possible? If he said so, it had to be. I could finally know the truth about myself and my family. It was the greatest gift I’d ever been given.

“Are you alright?” Rey asked worriedly.  I let out a gleeful laugh and threw my arms around her neck, “I’m fantastic.”

Rey hugged me back and we stood there for a moment, two souls who were struggling to understand themselves celebrating that one of us was getting answers. It was a bond we shared that no one else could come close to understanding.

As much as I wanted to stay there reveling in the news, I also wanted to find Poe and Finn. “C’mon,” I said as I grabbed Rey’s hand, “We’ve got a lot to celebrate.”  The two of us maneuvered through the room to find Finn and Poe standing on the stairs talking. “I don’t think you can stop me,” Finn replied to whatever my boyfriend had asked before we’d arrived.

“Where are we going?” Rey asked, they turned to face us.

“I didn’t want to ask,” Finn said with a large grin.  “You didn’t have to,” Rey smiled as they bumped shoulders.

Poe and I shared an intimate look conveying many emotions at once. Relief that we had succeeded in our mission, hope for the Resistance’s future, and unfailing love for each other. I climbed the steps to meet him and walked into the arm waiting to wrap around my waist. 

“So if our clothes were lost on Charth’s ship,” he pointed his finger to the bodice of my dress, “Does that mean you’re gonna be wearing this from now on?”  “Depends,” I said, playing with one of the flaps of his tuxedo jacket, “Are you going to keep wearing this getup?”

Poe tapped a finger to his lips before slyly looking to me, “I think that can be arranged.”

A fake gagging sound came from Finn as he stuck his finger in his mouth, eliciting a hearty laugh from Rey. Poe rolled his eyes and kissed my forehead, not caring one bit if anyone had a problem with it.

“You don’t mind?” Rey asked, her eyes drifting to Poe, “Me coming wherever you guys are going?”

“I would be,” Poe bowed slightly to my friend, “Honored.”

Rey smiled, visibly excited to be included in our group. Finally I had three of the people that meant the most to me together.

“Wherever we go,” I grabbed Rey’s hand and squeezed, “You come too.”  When I’d met her, she was living in an AT-AT alone. No family, no friends, not even a droid for company. I never wanted her to feel like that again, she was a permanent part of the Resistance family now.

I caught my mother’s gaze as she watched us laughing and conversing. She looked pleased with what she saw, but also like she was having a nostalgic flashback.

“She knows,” Rey commented, catching the same look I had.

 “Know’s what?” Finn asked as he took another sip of his drink.

“That the Resistance is in good hands,” Poe answered contently, “That we won’t fail her.”

“Because of the Force?” Finn asked.

“No,” I replied as Mom shot me a wink before moving away, “I don’t think Leia needs the Force to tell her that.”

“Ah! Right!” Finn said happily, “She knows because she’s got us.”  I took a look at our group, admiring the fact that in the week that we’d all known each other how close we’d gotten. Four people who under any other circumstances should have never found each other. There was no other explanation for how we’d ended up with one another other than the Force.

Poe wrapped his free arm around Finn’s shoulder while Rey embraced me from my side. “That’s right,” he said, laying a gentle kiss to my cheek, “She’s got us.”  For the first time in a long time, everything felt alright. Tomorrow would bring a host of new problems to face but suddenly, rebuilding the Resistance didn’t seem so impossible. Not when I was surrounded by the people I loved most in the galaxy. I had my boyfriend next to me, my friends on each side of me, my mother at ease for once, and long awaited answers waiting for me whenever I wanted to come get them. Everything was coming together even in what seemed like the darkest of times. There was hope.

“Yeah,” I smiled as I looked between my friends and Poe, “We’re going to be fine. Now let’s go save the galaxy.”

————

A/N: We’re taking a trip to Ahch-To next chapter 😏 I’M SO EXCITED YOU HAVE NO IDEA. As always, thank you so much for reading and all the kind messages/comments that you guys have dropped. It really makes me happy to know that this series I started out of boredom in quarantine is being enjoyed 💕 Until next time!!

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Star Wars Permanent Taglist: @paintballkid711 @katrynec @caswinchester2000 @theliterarymess @softly-sad

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron x solo!reader #poe dameron series #star wars #star wars imagine #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction

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childrenoffairies · 4 years

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Bianca Ur Fullbuster

Bianca Ur Fullbuster: Gruvia Daughter

Aliases: Beloved (Juvia), Darling (Juvia), Sweet Girl (Gray), Angel Farts (Lorelle), Beautiful (Roman), Sweetheart (Roman), The Fairy Angel (General Public)

Magic: Take-Over, Angelic Soul

Personality: Cool, collected, confident. Bianca is all for making new friends and having a good conversation, but she will not take anyone's crap. Typically laid back, she's a great friend to have around, but she will come for you in the blink of an eye if you step out of line. Her confidence can sometimes be confused for arrogance, but she has a good heart and doesn't think she's better than everyone else at all. She's just well aware of the fact that she's a remarkable young lady, and you will either treat her as such or get out. And that's not just for her. If someone is picking on one of her friends she will come for them just as hard, if not harder, than she would if they were messing with her.

Physical Appearance: Just like Storm is the male version of Juvia, Bianca is a female version of Gray. She has black hair, dark blue eyes, pale skin, a tall and lean build, and a smile (or smirk) that could make anyone swoon (and she knows it, and will use it if she has to). Her hair falls just below shoulder on the rare occasion it's down. She's pretty flat chested, but she has enough confidence to make up for it. Being that her magic takes over magic, her entire appearance changes when she uses her magic. She has four angel forms. Shamsiel, her first and weakest form, has her with long, wavy hair, a short, one shoulder robe, and a single set of wings on her back. In her Messenger from her hair becomes short and spiky, she gets a short, loose robe, with torn sleeves and skirts, gladiator sandals, two sets of wings, one on her back, and one on her ankles. She will occasionally carry a longsword. In her Barakiel form she gets a long, flowing robe, long hair falling to her ankles, a blindfold, and two sets of wings on her back. She will occasionally carry a scythe with these forms as well. In her Raguel form, her strongest form, she gets a long flowing robe with long flowing sleeves, a high braid that comes far past her ankles, curling horns on her head, a long, thin tail, and three sets of wings, two on her back, and one on her ankles. She will occasionally carry a horn, harp, scimitar, or a combination of the three. Her forms have three levels: white (beginner, average), gold (powerful), and black (DEATH ANGELS, RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!). Depending on which level she's at her hair, eyes, and robes will take on that color.

Wardrobe: Because Bianca's magic causes her entire body and outfit to change she doesn't have to worry about her clothing getting in the way. And, being that she's the only girl in the family, Juvia loves buying cute and stylish clothing for her. Bianca takes advantage of both of these facts, almost always dressing for the nines: dresses, tube tops, skinny jeans, lace or sequin tank tops, high heels (when she gets older). Jewelry is also a very common thing for her. Almost all of her outfits are open back to show off her guild mark, and just her looks in general. She knows she looks good, and she wants to know that she knows she looks good. She also likes to style her hair in various updos, buns, or plaits, and adorn them in clips, barrettes, and ribbons. Her closet includes a wide variety of colors: blue, pink, purple, red, yellow, black, white, green, silver.

Guild Mark: White, middle of her upper back, between her shoulder blades.

Theme Songs: Confident (Demi Lovato), Angel with a Shotgun (The Cab), Ain't Your Momma (Jennifer Lopez)

#oc #originial character #fairy tail #fairy tail next generation #gruvia #gray fullbuster #juvia lockser #juvia x gray #gruvia baby #fanfiction #please excuse my crappy drawing skills

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blog-sliverofjade · 4 years

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Hearth Fires 6: Animals

Pairing: Remi Denier x OFC

Summary: Lorel Maddox just wants to live as a human, run her bakery in peace, and forget. Unfortunately, the alpha of the local leopard pack has very different ideas.

Remi Denier doesn’t know what to make of the female Changeling who wants nothing to do with him or the RainFire pack. He does know that he has a driving need to protect her. Even if it’s from herself.

While they’re embroiled in a battle of wills, there’s a war brewing on the horizon. The outside threat could not only destroy everything they hold dear, but tear apart the fragile new bonds of the Trinity Accord, plunging the world into bloodshed to rival the Territorial Wars of centuries past.

Word count: 1691

Content warning: Racist cop

Hearth Fires Masterlist

Beta read by the matchless pandabearer

The officers eased up when they realized that Lorel was in 100% human form, which was a short and plump one, at that; someone had told her once that in her pretty dresses she looked about as dangerous as a cupcake. Appearances certainly were deceiving, after all, since she could probably do significant damage to the woman currently carrying on outside. While the thought was definitely tempting, she knew she wasn’t fast enough to get past four cops before they could take her down. That was her cat’s risk assessment, not hers. She was still frozen in shock.

Looking like they’d stepped into The Twilight Zone , they lowered their weapons. She felt the same way, her brain trying to wrap itself around the presence of Enforcement in her bakery for anything other than coffee and donuts.

One stepped forward to ask her some questions and she answered truthfully. The absurdity of the situation and their authoritative tone had her operating mostly on autopilot while she focused on keeping her ocelot under control. The cat bared its teeth at the intruders, wanting to drive them off its territory.

It quickly became obvious that the snotty woman had reported that Lorel had threatened and stalked her down the street. Naturally, she was more than happy to disabuse them of that falsehood.

“Would you like to see the camera footage?” she offered.

Three of the quartet followed her, the other went to question the other party. She only used the small office off the kitchen to meet customers with large custom designs like wedding cakes. Usually, she placed orders from her organizer while having tea or a bite to eat at one of the tables on the sidewalk out front, although that would probably change soon with the weather.

The portable device was perfectly capable of displaying the CCTV feed, but the screen in the back was larger. She slipped behind the desk and tried not to feel claustrophobic with the black-clad officers filling the rest of the tiny space between her and the door. Their scents filled the room, making it hard for her to breathe.

Lorel closed the sketches she’d been working on to bring up the video. There was no sound, but it was plain from their body language that the blonde was the aggressor. She’d been too shocked at the time to note the other woman’s belligerent stance and excessive gesticulations. As for herself, she looked like someone had smacked her across the face with a fish. She had only moved to grip the counter once the vile words had sunk in, trying to keep from leaping over the counter. Thankfully she never actually lunged for her throat.

The trio relaxed as they watched, alternately annoyed, exasperated, disgusted, and resigned. Not that much of their emotions showed on their faces; it was their scents that gave them away. A part of her brain filed that realization away to freak out over later.

Once the video caught up to when the cops entered, she hit pause. They asked more questions, most of which washed over her without fully registering in her mind. She was still reeling emotionally, and her cat was too on edge over the strange predators. A couple of lips pursed, and she thought she caught an eye roll when she got to the part that had been the last straw and she kicked the blonde out. Their obvious distaste at the false report had her cat easing down a bit, giving her room to breathe.

“Thank you, miss.”

Now that she was no longer fighting the all-encompassing urge to attack, she noted the name on his uniform. Sugiyama. They’d introduced themselves once they realized she wasn’t even armed with so much as a spatula, but she’d been too off-balance to absorb the information at the time.

“Maddox. Lorel Maddox.” They responded automatically to the ritual of etiquette when she offered a handshake. She smiled, careful to not flash any more teeth than absolutely necessary. While they appeared genial now, she still didn’t want to give them an excuse to think that she was threatening them in the enclosed space. Her cat didn’t like being crowded in there at all and she was afraid of how it’d react if subjected to any more stress. “Would ya’ll like a copy of the video?”

“No, I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” Sugiyama, apparently the senior officer since he’d been doing most of the speaking, shook his head. “The sheriff will want to speak with you, though.”

Moving out of sheer habit, she escorted them to the front where she plied them with samples and coffee. Her hands shook as she went through the motions. She knew that not all such interactions between Changelings and Enforcement went so peacefully. Was that what she’d intended? She thought she was going to be sick.

Her cat wanted to hunt her down and rip her throat out.

Invisible bugs crawled across Remi’s skin. He flexed his foot a little harder on the pedal and the vehicle responded readily with a burst of speed that pressed him back against the seat. He could have set it to autopilot once he’d reached the highway, but the safety protocols would’ve kept him at the speed limit and he didn’t have time for that. The clock on the dash told him that he’d received Chloe’s call merely eleven minutes ago, yet it felt like hours.

They’d thus far managed to squeak by without any run-ins with Enforcement, and now he had to intervene on behalf of someone who wasn’t even a packmember yet. Local Enforcement was almost purely human, with the odd Psy here and there. Most of the Psy brass from the Council days had been cleaned out. Rainfire hadn’t had enough dominants, even if they’d been interested, to spare to the force since they were no longer barred from the ranks.

After the abuses of the Psy under Silence, the human-dominated city Enforcement distrusted anyone who wasn’t entirely human. The fall-out of this encounter could impact racial relations in the area for years to come and it all hinged on a stubborn, unpredictable ocelot.

He pulled to a stop in front of the hardware store in record time. Cop cars clogged up the parking spaces in front of the bakery and yarn shop across the street.

“Jack’s just started questioning her,” Chloe called with a grimace from the alcove of her doorway. The way she wrapped her rainbow-coloured shawl tightly around herself made it sound more nefarious than a simple interview.

He grunted and nodded in thanks. He’d met the human woman a few times at her husband’s hardware store, so she knew he wasn’t considered chatty even on his more gregarious days and wasn’t likely to take offense at his response. But he had to get verbal. Fast.

Keeping to an easy stride (running headlong was only something hot-headed dominant juveniles did, he reminded himself), he focused on the voices drifting out the open door. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so grateful for his acute hearing.

“I just want to know what the problem is.” Sheriff Shank somehow managed to sound both friendly and patronizing. The ears of Remi’s leopard went flat against its head and it curled its upper lip in a sneer.

“She used a slur so I asked her to leave.” Lorel was clearly becoming exasperated. No cat tolerated condescension for long. Unfortunately, there were cops forming a loose cordon in front to block his way and he was not in the mood to play at being non-threatening.

“And what slur was that?”

“Animal.”

Remi had to stop and make nice with the cops when all he wanted to do was burst in there and crack la crâne de cette bibette.

“Don’t you people use that word? Talk about yourselves as cats and dogs?” The derision in his voice had claws shoving at Remi’s fingertips. It took every ounce of willpower to keep them in as he made small talk with the guards, working his way around to getting their version of the story.

“Wolves, there are no dog Changelings.” The drinks and treats in their hands had his leopard snorting; she’d all but tried to throw him out on his ear when he’d dropped by and then turned on the Southern belle grace full force when Enforcement descended. He wondered if she knew that he was loathe to see her hurt or if she didn't recognize the lethal threat he posed.

“So, what’s the difference between ‘animal’ and a specific animal?”

“Context. She accused me of taking jobs from humans.” It was nice to hear that icy tone directed at someone else instead of at him.

“You specifically?”

“Well, no, she-”

“So you kicked her out for expressing an opinion? Did you know her husband lost his job to one of you? Ever since ya’ll moved in work’s been hard to come by.” That was a load of shit. Some people had their panties in a twist because the timber industry was banned from RainFire lands, while conveniently ignoring the benefits to local businesses

“That’s no reason to call Enforcement, I certainly didn’t threaten her!”

The officers- Sugiyama, Norton, and Carter- made it plain that nothing had happened and that the sheriff was “just finishing up” with Lorelei.

“Predatory Changelings like you can be pretty scary.” Shank drew “pretty” out into nearly four syllables. “You should just be glad she wasn’t carrying. This is a stand-your-ground state.” It was all he could do to keep his eyes from going cat at the subtle threat.

“You’re saying a woman can come into my shop, scream and insult me, then shoot me if I look at her funny and it’s legal?”

“Sure, if she’s scared for her life.”

“But I didn’t do anything, I only asked her to leave!” From the corner of his eye, he saw her throw her hands in the air.

“See, that’s the problem with you folks, you’re just too aggressive.”

“Oh, you think this is aggressive?”

And that was his cue to enter stage right.

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despressolattes · 4 years

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CONSEQUENCES | CHAPTER FOUR | LEGACIES/THE ORIGINALS

BOOK THREE IN THE SIDE CHARACTER/LILAH SERIES

book one masterlist » book two masterlist

this book’s masterlist

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─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"I'm sorry, who's Lorelle Julson?" Josh asked, drying one of the glasses behind the counter.

"Elijah's very first love," Rebekah said, in her normal dramatic tone that seemed to beautifully romanticize everything she said, her chin tilted up towards Josh while she talked. She looked back down at her drink, "Someone who disappeared on our family before we turned into vampires."

Lilah sat next to her, trying to collect herself.

"H-how is this... how is th-that even... how is that possible?" Lilah asked, starting her sentence over three times before getting it right. "How is she alive?"

Rebekah sighed, her eyes widening for a second as she huffed—the way she usually did. "Beats me," she said, bringing her drink to her lips. After a long sip, she placed it onto the counter, "But Kol and Davina are extending their stay for a bit to help Freya and I figure it out."

Without really thinking, Lilah asked, "If they find out how, does this mean we can bring back Elijah? And Klaus?"

"Who knows?" Rebekah said once again. "You guys ready to close up shop and come to the compound with me to meet her?"

The two that was in charge of the bar looked around, seeing the guests sitting down, talking and drinking.

"You two can go," Lilah said, trying to keep her composure at the revelation of her mother being alive. "I'll hold down the fort until closing and meet with you guys later."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Lilah walked to the door, locking it after she flipped the sign to say "CLOSED."

"Darn."

With a smirk on her face, able to recognize the voice, she turned around to see the mysterious blond standing behind her with a smile on his face.

"Should I be worried about what this mission you're on entails?" Lilah questioned with a smile, crossing her arms around her chest. "You seem to be everywhere I turn instead of looking for the troubled youth of New Orleans to take back to your little school.

"No," he laughed, shaking his head and taking a step closer to her. "It's summer vacation now, so Caroline said I don't have to look for anymore troubled youths for now."

"So, why are you still in New Orleans then?" she asked, starting to inch towards her car.

"Maybe I like your city," he shrugged as she unlocked her car. "I'm Roman, by the way."

"And he has a name," she said, impressed while nodded. "Roman. Fits you a lot better than Mystery Blond."

"Is that what you call me when you talk about me to your friends?"

She raised her eyebrows with a smirk at his comment, shaking her head.

"You remind me of someone with how slightly full of yourself you are," she said, his antics easily comparable to that of Damon and even Stefan Salvatore, and someone else, but she couldn't quite pinpoint where else he was familiar from.

"Is that a compliment?" he asked.

"You wish. I'd love to stay in chat, but I have a family emergency I have to get to," she told him, even if, to the rest of the world, it wasn't even her family that was having an emergency. "I'll see you around, I guess. Roman," she smiled, getting into her car.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Rebekah would be a vampire for a few more decades, until Damon and Elena were ready to go. It was Niklaus's parting gift to his baby sister. She wanted to start a family sometime and die a natural death of old age, but she wasn't quite ready for it yet, so it worked that she had to wait a bit for it. Not when her and Marcel were just gaining back their lost time together, enjoying the wonders of the world.

So when Lorelle Julson, now a vampire, showed up at their hotel doorstep in Norway, saying her stupid ring had brought her all over the world, Rebekah honestly couldn't believe her eyes. Lorelle went places that had any trace of Mikaelson, to Mystic Falls even, but the Bennett witch she had questioned only told her what she knew about the Mikaelsons: that Elijah and Klaus were dead.

So she headed back to Mystic Falls for a bit, too, to the only place that seemed familiar to her, even though her home village was no longer a village. Then, she went to Norway. It was then she caught glimpse of a familiar voice and a familiar head of hair, and she followed her to her hotel room.

Rebekah had asked her a series of questions that only Lorelle Julson would know, being skeptical of the girl at first. She and Marcel decided to take the next flight back home with her, needing Freya and Davina's help to figure out what happened.

When Lilah had gotten to the compound, Lorelle was tucked away in one of the many bedrooms, fast asleep from their travels and from unpacking a heavy story to everyone else. From what Josh had told Lilah, her reunion with Kol and Rebekah was heavy and heartfelt, but Lorelle hadn't told anyone why she had fled from the Mikaelsons pre-vampirism in the first place.

"There's this spell that Davina found that could have been used to resurrect Lorelle," Freya informed them, all of them in the common area of the compound, standing or sitting. It was nighttime, but everyone was too shaken up to go to bed.

"My darling here spent a lot of time actually following the coven that we believe might've casted this spell before we even heard that Lorie was back," Kol said, calling Lorelle by the nickname she had been given by their family long ago. He wrapped an arm around Davina, and said, "But it's not just any resurrection spell."

Davina nodded, sighing as she sat up straight, ready to explain. "This spell had to be stronger. And I had been doing some digging for the past year maybe? I caught wind about this coven that worshipped the Mikaelsons in secret. I tracked them down, maybe to see if they could help with what Freya and Lilah had been doing..."

While Lilah couldn't practice magic, she was an active hand in Freya's research and attempts to find a way to bring back an Original once they were dead. They had absolutely nowhere to start, but grimoires and upon grimoires needed to be read and studied, they had to dissect any and every resurrection spell they could find. But in the two years since Elijah and Klaus's deaths, they had gotten nowhere.

Davina continued, " A resurrection spell of this strength, in order to bring someone of Lorelle's age back... it would require a lot of souls, a lot of sacrifices, a lot of powerful magic... but the coven is totally gone. Any traces of them are gone... I think they sacrificed themselves... their bodies and their magic... so that Lorelle could walk again."

"But why do that?" asked Lilah. "If they worshipped the Mikaelsons, shouldn't they have resurrected Elijah or Klaus? Not one of Elijah's past loves."

"That's one of the things I don't get," Davina said. "But it's not like there's any way to find out. Lorelle didn't even know about this coven, obviously. She died before it was ever created. Lorelle herself came from a lineage of witches, but never really tapped into her witch side until she was brought back, so what did this coven want with a witch that was practically human?"

"Maybe it's her bloodline," Josh suggested, everyone looking at him when he commented. He shrugged when he realized everyone was waiting for him to respond. "I mean—like... aren't there certain witches that are just stronger based on their lineage? Like that Bonnie girl in Mystic Falls that you guys talked about."

"Ah, Bonnie," Rebekah smiled. "Mystic Falls would've burned to the ground without her."

Josh continued, "Bonnie hadn't been practicing magic her whole life like most witches, but she was still one of the most powerful witches based on who her family was."

"I've never heard of any Julson witches," Davina shook her head.

"Because the bloodline would've ended with Lorelle," Rebekah stated. "She never had kids, and she was an only child. She would've been the only Julson remaining."

"But she's a vampire now, so if this coven was hoping it was her magical power that would somehow be of use, they're wrong," Kol added.

"Unless she's a like the Heretic coven," suggested Lilah. "If she became a vampire, how was she able to track people down the way she did, in an unknown world, without magic?"

Everyone in the room looked between one another. With the amount of supernatural beings that the family had seen, the ones that they had heard stories of from Mystic Falls, it hadn't occurred to any of them that perhaps the woman could've been a vampire-witch hybrid, like the Heretic coven. A coven that had originated within the Gemini coven and soon fell under the leadership of Stefan and Damon Salvatore's mother.

Silence befell the group of supernaturals, everyone knowing that the peace in New Orleans was about to be shaken to its core.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

chapter five

discussion board!! :)

· why do we think roman wouldn't tell lilah his name?

· even now, she only knows his first name... why is that?

· so i took parts of aftermath chapter twelve and incorporated it into this chapter, the parts where davina talks about the coven and the revelation of freya and lilah spending the past few years trying to find a way to bring back elijah and klaus. one thing i wanted to touch on in this book is how fate has a funny way of bringing people together. lilah's original life happened based on her interactions with hope, and she used to think that it was solely hope that brought her into being so close with her family. when, in reality, in a hope-less world, lilah still meets the mikaelsons, still meets josh, and is practically living the same life... just without the salvatore school, somewhere she never goes without hope. pieces and parts of lilah's life remains the same with or without her cousin, because there's things the universe had planned for her.

i think my favorite part of totally erasing Lilah's previous life from anything that has to do with hope gives her a bit of a fresh start? in aftermath, with the loss of her father and what the necromancer said to her, she was just constantly on a downward spiral, but here, she's sad over elijah's death, but she isn't mentally unstable? so... what happens once josie casts that spell that brings everyone's memories back... but lilah already has a new life?

#Legacies #cw legacies #legacies imagines #legacies fanfiction #elijah mikaelson #Elijah Mikaelson fanfiction #Kol mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #mikaelson #josh rosza #rebekah mikaelson #freya mikaelson #davina claire #hope mikaels #lilah mikaelson #roman sienna

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feelingsdusk-writes · 5 years

Text

Fides

Chapter 3

Stiles hasn’t slept a wink. His head is pounding a little bit and his eyes are tight and stinging. He’s been thinking about what to do and he still feels conflicted even after so many hours mulling over it. He turns in bed to glare at the glowing numbers of the clock in his nightstand. The alarm will go off in less than an hour and he resists the need to growl in frustration.

He just doesn’t understand. He’s a good kid. His room is clean and tidy, hell, the whole house is. He does the laundry, buys the groceries and cooks. He has either the best or one of the best grades of his whole year. What twelve-year-old does all that? What's more, what twelve-year-old with ADHD does that? And ok, he sometimes hacks to dig dirt and take revenge when people mess with him, but that’s just self-defense, because he’s never gone after anyone that hadn’t gone after him first. More importantly to the case at hand, he’s never been caught, not even when he acted all crazy when he was eight and his schoolmates behaved like it was the hunting season of the one-of-a-kind specimen named Stiles. Whatever he does, he always makes sure that there’s no way it could be traced back to him, that he has such an airtight alibi that it would be absurd to think it was him. Which means that his dad doesn’t know about that and he’s never been called to the school before yesterday. So why? Why is he so ready to not trust Stiles? If he hasn’t given him any real reason to distrust him, is it because he’s a cop and that general attitude is always seeping through the cracks until it taints his personal life too? He doesn’t understand and it’s exhausting, because letting all those assholes at school walk over him until nothing remains is not an option and he doesn’t know what else he can do to make things better with his dad.

(And, honestly, he’s starting, slowly, very slowly, to not give a damn.)

(Even though he doesn’t want to even contemplate that terrifying possibility because his dad is the only one he has left.)

One part of Stiles (the part that is brimming with resentment and anger about how things have been since his mom died) wants to just defy his dad with a cynical oops, sorry, I forgot to set the alarm. That part of him also wants to just send everything to hell and start giving his dad a real reason to distrust him, forcing the man to feel deeply the absence of everything that he has been overlooking or maybe taking for granted every single day ever since Stiles started taking care of almost everything around the house.

The other part of him (a colder, calmer and more practical one) knows how to pick his battles and also that this isn’t one that he can win. That part of him also realizes that if the general situation he lives in (with only those little sporadic fights against his dad) exhausts him, being in constant battle would be unbearable. Especially since he’s not on equal footing and his dad holds all the power. It would be like one man going against an imperium, and even though in movies that works, he’s more than mature enough to know who would win in his case.

Still, it rankles that there’s no way he can turn the whole situation in his favor unless he gets the twins to confess. Even if he aces the exam today, his dad is so convinced that he cheated that he’ll think that he busted his ass off studying and then left the textbook back on the kitchen table just for show. Or if he doesn’t think that, he’ll see his face this morning and think that he spent the whole night awake studying. He regrets so much not getting up to throw the textbook out of his room… except that wouldn’t have gone well either because it would have been like a declaration of war.

One thing is for sure, even if he can’t get the twins to confess, he’s going to make them regret it with every fiber of their beings.

Hah! Who is he kidding? He’s so pissed off that he’s going to do that either way.

Stiles sighs and reaches to turn off the alarm before it can even sound. He rubs his face frustrated and then heaves himself up with a grunt. As he does so, small dimly glowing dots start coming from inside the terrarium. A tiny part of him wonders about the magic they’ve used on the terrarium that makes it so that the glow they emit can’t be seen when they’re inside, but he dismisses the thought, too tired to care about that right now.

Odette barrels into his face and it takes him a moment to process that she’s hugging him. Ehaldun hovers behind her shyly, prompting a fond smile out of Stiles. He raises his hand and the kid first pries his sister from Stiles’ cheek and gives him a quick hug before making her sit with him on his palm.

“How are you?” he murmurs softly as he crosses his legs to sit more comfortably. “Did she hurt you?”

“Thankfully it was nothing but a scare, Stiles,” Eglantine interrupts before they can answer, gliding closer until she stands on his palm too. She keeps reaching to touch her children, as if to reassure herself. “We arrived before she could do more. But you need to be careful, she’s really dangerous.”

“I gathered that,” he nods frowning. Just what he needs today, more problems. Awesome.

“She’s a huntress,” Lorelle interjects as she comes near with Aelfdene in tow. Both elders look grim and wary. They keep exchanging covert looks that put Stiles instantly on edge.

“A huntress… of supernaturals, you mean,” he guesses instantly and the elders nod. And that’s bad news because if Stiles is really a spark, that means that he’s a supernatural too, and therefore that places him within their sights. “Is it some kind of sport for them? Or a crusade?”

“For some it’s both. We’re abominations to them,” the elder sighs, world-weary and just her tired expression makes her look way older than she already is.

“An abomination, wonderful,” Stiles sighs, sarcasm thick, and rubs his eyes tiredly with his free hand. Then it dawns on him. “Just some?“

“Most old families have a code of conduct they’re supposed to follow that forbids them to attack innocents.” Aelfdene snorts at Lorelle’s words and he’s echoed by many.

“Supposed?”

“What do you think happened to our home?” Beriadan snaps but Stiles doesn’t take it to heart, knowing it’s not directed at him. She isn’t even looking at him, her gaze lost as if she’s seeing things that aren’t there.

“Was it her?” he asks calmly instead.

“We don’t know,” Lorelle sighs again. Aelfdene's face is pinched, he obviously still doesn't want to rely on Stiles this much but knows that there's no other way. For the better or the worse, at this moment they depend on him to survive.

“It happened too fast,” a man to her left adds, pained, echoed by others that speak too softly for Stiles to understand.

“We were… and suddenly there was fire everywhere,” a girl chokes out as she embraces another girl. “When we tried to fly out…”

“Whoever they were, they sprayed something on us and it was like poison,” the other girl finishes.

“The ones of us that managed to fly further and hide survived,” Lorelle takes over. “We managed to regroup after we regained consciousness, even though we were incredibly sick. It took days before some of us felt good enough to sneak in to search for any other survivors. There was nothing left.”

“Could the hunters have taken anyone with them?” Stiles asks immediately and both Lorelle and Aelfdene shake his head. “Are you sure? You said you were unconscious for a while…”

“We have our ways, Stiles. None of them survived,” Aelfdene’s response is needlessly harsh, sharp and unequivocal. In the face of that, Stiles holds his tongue and nods.

“I’m sure that she didn’t see me but I’ll be careful,” he concedes simply as he lowers his hand onto his nightstand to let it’s occupants get off.

“But are you completely sure?” Eglantine prods gently.

Stiles gets it. He saved the kids and they’re grateful, so they don’t want anything bad to happen to him. But also, if that woman even remotely suspects that Stiles is involved, what stops her from simply breaking into the house when he’s at school to check it out? His address is on his record, and she probably has access to that. Moreover, the terrarium is not exactly inconspicuous. A normal person would see the ewok village and wouldn’t even think to associate it to fairies, but she is a huntress, not a normal person. And in the remote possibility that she didn’t immediately associate the terrarium as a fairy village, Stiles still has the box he stole from her in his closet.

There are four things that could get him caught: the traffic cameras, his fingerprints, the printer and the glittery box.

If that huntress has access to the traffic cameras or can get her hands on the feed from the shops that have cameras too, she won’t find anything. Stiles knows the blind spots of the town like the back of his hand and unless someone installed a new camera on the last twenty hours that he doesn’t know of, he’s safe. He’ll check it out just in case.

As for the fingerprints he may have left while sneaking around school, his hands were covered by his sleeves both when he snuck in and out and when he opened or closed the doors as he searched around. If he slipped up without noticing, there will be so many other fingerprints that his will be lost. Maybe this precaution seems too much, but in Stiles’ opinion it never hurts to be careful and in the slim chance that she checked for fingerprints, it would have been a problem if his fingerprints appeared on every door of the school. Even with his heart pounding with fear and adrenaline at that last moment, he had the presence of mind to cover his hands with his sleeves as he climbed out the window. The only time he forgot himself was when he checked the box, which is why he didn’t leave it behind.

And now the only doubt left is if he left some kind of trace when he hacked into the printer or not, because he didn’t use his backup phone for that. Yesterday he used a very simple code to hack into the printer, basically giving it orders to print indefinitely the last archive in its memory. He revises the code mentally and yes, no one will be able to link him to it. If they check who sent the order to print, it will show the owner of the last printed archive. And even if that hunter suspects foul play, because Stiles can see that the printer turning on just before the captive fairies disappeared is too much of a coincidence, no one knows that he has that kind of skill or even suspects. He started learning after he lost all his friends and he has never flaunted it. And when he uses it to get revenge it’s because he can’t do it any other way, which means that enough time has passed and people on the receiving end of it, whom also expect a more hands-on approach from him, don’t link it to back to Stiles.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Once I get rid of the box, we’re clear. But it never hurts to be careful, so you should strengthen your wards and maybe… place something on the doors and windows that alerts you if anyone other than me or my dad comes in? That way you can hide? Is that a thing?”

Lorelle and Aelfdene exchange a short glance, seemingly debating silently about something, before the first talks. Again Aelfdene's expression sours, clearly against sharing more information that could be used against them but letting Lorelle have her way. “We can place some magic to alert us if anyone enters the house but… we can’t be as selective as that. Besides, if she is the one that attacked us, she already knows how to circumvent it and it would only serve to confirm our presence to her if she came to investigate on a hunch.”

Stiles hums as he gathers a change of clothes. “And what about placing a sentry? You have those communication runes, right? Place people on guard to alert you of intruders and that will give you enough time to hide in case of an emergency. At least until we can think of a better solution.”

“We can do that,” Eglantine nods, echoed by Beriadan and some other guards, and then sighs. “It’s such a shame, though.”

“Eglantine!” Aelfwine admonishes.

“What! I’m only saying…”

“What? What is a shame?” Stiles asks, frowning.

“I swear, Eglantine! You have no shame! We can’t have him more involved…”

“This has nothing to do with shame! And he’s already involved, there’s no turning back!”

“She’s right, Aelfwine,” Beriadan interjects.

“He’s done more than enough and we’ve already put him in danger by moving into his home!”

“We know that, but leaving him defenseless would be doing him a disservice,” Beriadan answers calmly.

“Exactly! It is more than enough reason for him-”

“You only want-”

“Don’t insult me! All of us would benefit from-”

“Eglantine, Beriadan, Aelfwine, that’s enough,” Aelfdene cuts in sharply, Lorelle sighing exasperated beside him.

“Explanation, please?” Stiles demands crossing his arms and frowning.

“Spark magic is stronger in those kinds of wards,” Beriadan answers plainly, ignoring Aelfwine’s protests, “but you’re not trained and we don’t have that kind of knowledge.”

Stiles sits on the bed mulling over that. He gets why Aelfwine is protesting but he likes Eglantine and Beriadan’s direct approach more. So, the way he sees it, the situation is like the following. He doesn’t owe them anything but he’s letting them stay and he still risked himself to go looking for the kids, possibly placing himself on the radar of the hunters by doing so. This has made the fairies in general (especially Eglantine and her kids) warm up to him. Still, some of them fear that since they can’t offer him anything in exchange, he’ll change his mind and kick them out, which, admittedly, would be the sensible thing to do. Eglantine owes her kids’ life to him and she’s deeply grateful, which is why she wants him to be as prepared as he can just in case. Beriadan is more practical about the whole issue: if Stiles knows more magic, he can protect himself and the fairies (which she assumes he would do, because he has already showed the inclination to do so) better. Aelfwine, on the other hand, thinks that they should cut his involvement to keep Stiles safe. And Aelfdene is trying to shut them up because he fears that he’ll make them leave if they confirm that they can only give him information about the supernatural world and no real training.

While he appreciates Aelfwine’s concern, out of the four he likes Eglantine and Beriadan’s approach the best. Lorelle and Aelfdene, while he understands, he's not very happy with.

“Okay,” he starts after a moment, “let’s be clear: I hate when people lie to me. It pisses me off like you wouldn’t believe. So don’t lie to me or try to manipulate me, period. Apart from the moral part of it, which I don’t care about,” he makes a dismissive gesture with his hand, “want to know why in this case? Because I could have been trying to guess how my powers work ever since you told me what I was, instead of waiting for you to teach me the way more safely. And now that we need it, I don’t have even the foggiest clue on how to use them. Don’t get me wrong, I understand that you were looking for your people in extreme circumstances and you didn’t know me, but I think that by now I’ve proven that I’m at least a little bit trustworthy, haven’t I? When you chose to come here you said that my magic marked it as a safe place, right? So something in it must have told you that I wouldn’t harm you? In any case, trusting me or not, you have to decide if you’re going to work with me or not, because I’m not going to harm you, but I’m not going to get harmed because of you either, just because you knowingly kept things that I needed to know from me. Think about it.”

Stiles doesn’t push it anymore. If the situation was reversed, he knows it would take more time for him to trust them, but he’d be willing to give the benefit of doubt after what happened yesterday. He leaves them to chew on the bone he’s left them and starts getting prepared to leave for school. It’s very early still, but it’s not like he has anything else to do.

First he makes sure to hang all the clothes he used yesterday and then he looks at the box, thinking about how to destroy it. It’s cardboard, so he decides to wet it until he can just make a ball (making sure the glitter stays in the center of it) to throw to the trash. He sneaks into the kitchen silently to grab the cleaning bucket and then he leaves the box soaking hidden inside his closet while he takes a quick shower.

When he finishes, most of the fairies have gone back to the terrarium. Only the elders remain, and neither of them talk as he makes a ball with the soaked box and puts it inside a plastic bag to throw out hidden among other trash. He also throws the water from the bucket to the toilet and makes sure that there’s isn’t any glitter left on either of them.

“We can teach you the runes. The basics are the same for everyone, it’s the way of using or activating them that varies,” Lorelle says finally. Aelfdene remains stony at her side but he looks resigned about the whole thing, even though he obviously still doesn't like the situation one bit. “Of course there’s more to spark magic than just runes, but apart from stories about it that may or may not be truthful, sadly we have nothing more to give you. We can share general knowledge about the supernatural world too, but, again, it may be incomplete or off the mark without our knowledge.”

“Ok, I can work with that,” Stiles replies simply as he goes to pick up his bag. He waves goodbye to a wildly gesturing Odette, whom is peeking over the top of the crystal wall of the terrarium, copied more sedately by Ehaldun. When he receives some verbal goodbyes from the rest of the fairies, he answers to those too. “If you’re going to place those sentries, remember to wait until my dad leaves… or hide very well.”

“We will.”

He looks at the textbook still lying where it fell beside the bed and then sighs tiredly as he bends to pick it up. It’s going to be a long day.

(But at least he’s finally getting somewhere with the fairies.)

—

By the time he makes it to school, the cold and crispy morning air has taken care of the last vestiges of drowsiness that had remained stubbornly even after his cold shower. He has taken his Adderall, but it’s not magical, so he’s welcomed the cold weather on his way there.

It’s too early and still dark, so he locks his bike and prepares to eat the pop tarts that he prepared before leaving, not wanting to see his dad today. They’re cold by now, but he doesn’t really care. There are some cars in the parking lot, including the ones he assumes to be the huntress’ and the security guard’s. He debates for a moment as he munches a tart and then he decides to try the entrance door to see if it’s open, because the cold was nice when he was moving, but right now it’s a bit too much. He doesn’t think he’ll have a problem because he does have a legitimate reason to be here this early… Well, not so early, but he has enough indignation and anger about the whole situation to draw an excuse from, so he decides to risk it. With any luck, this will help cement the idea in the huntress’ mind that he has nothing to do with her disappeared hostages.

Stiles pushes on the door and it opens easily. He finishes the first pop tart as he crosses the hallway leisurely and when he takes the stairs he’s halfway through his second. As he climbs them, he wonders if Eglantine’s runes are still there. This morning he didn’t think of it, but should he try to erase them? They left three marks before they had to beat a hasty retreat. He’ll have to ask Eglantine later because if the hunters found a way to evade their wards, maybe they can see their runes too? In any case, he’s not going to do anything right now, because, one, he can’t see them himself and he only remembers vaguely where she put them on the door and the stairs, and two, he can’t risk getting caught doing it. If that huntress knows they’re there, she’ll be keeping an eye on them and Stiles is not going to fall into that trap. Besides, unless the huntress knows how to track the residual magic that Eglantine may have left on them, it’s not like they’re very incriminating. They actually help Stiles because she may think that only other fairies were involved in the rescue.

Just as he’s turning to leave the stairs a hand falls harshly on his shoulder, making him choke with a mouthful. “Well, well, what do we have here?” a woman’s voice says. “Did you forget something, mmm?“

And of course the very first thing that happens to him is that he crosses paths with the huntress. Still, he has more pressing things to care about right now, like not dying because he choked on a pop tart. Well, at least this answers the question, doesn’t it? She can somehow see the runes because, if he recalls well, there’s one on the door behind her and another one on the wall just beside him. Too much of a coincidence that she’s waiting right there. Stiles reminds himself that he hasn’t done anything that indicates that he was looking for the runes to erase them. In other words, she’s fishing and taking advantage of having surprised him to see if he spills anything.

“Oh, my god, you nearly killed me,” he lets out in a strained voice when he finally stops coughing his lungs out. His heart is still rabbiting in his chest and he tries to control his breathing. He throws at her a wary look, like he would to any stranger that grabbed him out of the blue, and he tries to escape her hold. She not only doesn’t let go but tightens her grip.

“Ah, ah, ah,“ she tuts, and her smile is really unsettling. “No escaping for you. Name?”

“You’re hurting me, let go,” he grumbles as he glares at her heatedly. Then he purposely raises his voice a few notches. “Ok, this is officially the worst day ever. First my dad grounds me and now this? This is the worst! But, hey, why not? Punish me for something I didn’t do too and join the club!”

“What?” the woman says, clearly surprised.

“Ms. Sterling, is everything okay?” A male voice reaches them. Score, Stiles thinks when he recognizes the night guard. “Another one?”

“So it seems,” she answers and then she starts pulling him in the direction of the principal’s office. “I’m going to get this one to the principal too.”

“Need any help?”

“I can manage, don’t worry.”

“Maybe just in case…”

If she’s not happy with the night guard dogging their steps, Stiles can’t tell from her expression, but she does stop trying to puncture his skin with her fingers, even if she keeps her hand on his shoulder to steer him in the direction of the principal’s office, so Stiles is thankful for his presence. Stiles just keeps the facade of a disgruntled child the whole way there and ignores the conversation the two adults maintain.

She knocks on the door firmly but doesn’t wait for the principal to bid them in. She pushes Stiles into the room, just as the security guard leaves with a wave.

“I have another one for you, Emily,” she says.

“Stiles?” Mr. Andrews exclaims before the principal can get a word in.

Stiles takes stock of the room quickly. The twins are there, along with whom he thinks are their parents, Mr. Andrews and Mrs. Callahan, the principal. He doesn’t know what’s happening, but hell if he’s not going to take advantage of this.

“You know him then?”

“He’s one of my students,” he replies sighing.

“I caught him sneaking in-”

“I wasn’t sneaking in,” Stiles interrupts with an angry face. “You told me to be here to retake that exam and here I am. But for the record, I didn’t cheat and it’s really stupid to think that I would when I always have good grades. This is unfair and the only reason I’m here now is because my dad will ground me for forever if I’m not. And I can prove that I wasn’t the one cheating and it will be even more unfair if you don’t let me do it. And just so you know…“

“You can,” Mr. Andrews says sounding more interested than Stiles expected.

“I can?” Stiles blinks for a second. “I mean, yeah, I can.”

“Prove it, then. There’s not going to be a better time than this, now that we’re all here.” When the twins and their parents start to protest, he raises his hand, successfully silencing them. “If they didn’t cheat, they shouldn’t be worried. They did get a 98% after all. So Stiles, do go on.”

Okay, this is going way better than Stiles expected and it’s a little confusing, but he’s not going to let this opportunity pass, so he shakes it off quickly and barrels on. “Ask me anything and I’ll answer.”

“That just proves that you studied for today, Stiles.”

“I know, but I bet you anything you want that if you ask any of them,” he answers triumphantly, savoring how pale the twins are becoming by the minute, “they won’t have the answers.”

“And if they do?”

“I know they won’t, or not enough to get a 98% anyway.”

It turns out that Stiles is right and they don’t. With Mr. Andrews grilling them and the added pressure of their parents and the principal’s presence, the twins break halfway through. Everyone knows that Mr. Andrews always grades the exams two or three days after they take them, so they snuck into school to rewrite their exams because they had done pretty badly. When they were doing it, they had the idea of copying Stiles’ exam to make it seem like Stiles was the one that had cheated. And it worked, but then they caught wind of Mr. Andrews letting him retake the exam because they heard their parents talking about it. Not knowing what else to do, they decided to sneak in yesterday night again to try to steal the new exam from the teachers' room, because even though only Stiles had to retake the exam, they were worried that he’d do so well that it would make Mr. Andrews suspicious and he’d make them take it again too, and there was no way they could cram everything in just one afternoon to get a similar grade a second time. Stiles nearly cackles when he hears it, but it turns out they got caught because the printer suddenly turned on. Of course, Mr. Andrews grew suspicious after Ms. Sterling and the night guard caught them trying to steal the second exam, which is why he let Stiles try to prove his innocence.

Karma. The name is Karma. Very nice to meet you.

What’s even better is that the twins don’t even get to spread rumors about Stiles cheating because they’re getting suspended for the rest of the week for doing exactly that and trying to incriminate Stiles and an entire week in addition to that for sneaking into the school to steal the exams, which is going to be on their record permanently.

Mr. Andrews apologizes as he guides him out of the office and promises to call his dad, which at this point, to be honest, he doesn’t care much about, because this is nothing but a bittersweet victory and it doesn’t make everything okay again. An apology isn’t going to erase how deeply his dad’s refusal to even listen to him or to let him prove his innocence hurts. This is just the best outcome he can get out of this all around shitty situation because at least his father will now have proof that he didn’t cheat and Stiles won’t get punished for something he didn’t do.

“I’ll take him,” Sterling offers when Mr. Andrews talks about getting him at least a cocoa from the kitchens to make up for having to wait nearly an hour until class starts, and no. Just no.

“You should try to sleep for a bit, Kaitlyn, you were awake all night, after all…”

“Kate, please,“ she smiles and why is Stiles so creeped out by it? Mr. Andrews seems to like it quite fine.

“Kate. Charlie, then, please.”

It’s like that tale about the spider and the fly, and Mr. Andrews is falling so hard for the act that Stiles is nauseated. He wonders if it would be too obvious to just let himself fall to the ground and then crawl the hell out of here before she devours him too… But of course it would be and he has watched way too many cartoons.

“Charlie,” she lilts as she smiles coyly, taking the man’s hand to shake it. “And I don’t mind taking him because I could use one now too.“ And then she winks, of all things. “Besides, I don’t have class until fifth period and I can take a nap after I take him to the cafeteria.”

“If you’re sure you don’t mind…”

Farewell Charlie Andrews…

“I don’t.”

“Here, then,” he nods as he passes her the keys to open the kitchen’s door.

… may you rest in peace.

“Come on, Stiles,” she says as she passes her arm over his shoulders. Just for a second, Stiles feels like a little mouse cornered by a snake and he shudders. He’s pretty sure her smile acquires a shark edge to it in response and has to stomp on the urge to tell her what exactly his father does for a living and yes, he does carry a gun and knows how to use it, so get your damn paws off me lest you lose them. “Let’s get you something warm,” she adds as she rubs his arm comfortingly.

She doesn’t talk again until they’re sitting facing each other at the nearest table with a mug full of cocoa each. Stiles doesn’t let that get him nervous or lure him into a false sense of security, even though if outwardly he makes it look like the latter.

Maturity wise, Stiles is pretty advanced for his age. It’s not only because of what happened with his dad, but because the better he got at hacking, the older the crowd he moved with got, so he learned fast about topics that a kid his age should have no business knowing about to pass off as a much older person on the net, or he wouldn’t have been taken seriously due to his age. If it wasn’t for that, he’s sure one Kaitlyn Sterling would have him for breakfast very easily and then ask for seconds. Even so, as things are now, he’s not sure if he’s going to get out of this conversation unscathed, and he can’t afford to make any mistake in this.

“Rough night?“ she asks commiserating, and when Stiles just shrugs and keeps looking at his mug fixedly, she reaches to touch his hand. “You have panda eyes.”

He has to throw her a bone or she’s going to continue digging until she gets a reaction out of him. Either he controls where this conversation goes or she’s going to eat him alive. This is nothing like interacting with his peers or even stupid teenagers, where he has to be careful with what his face is giving up but not overly so, because it’s how he twists his words that gets him what he wants. Not even the people he talks to on the net, whom are much older and experienced, are this difficult to manage either, because he doesn’t have to worry about what face he’s making when someone surprises him or nearly gets the upper hand. Sterling is using a tactic Stiles has used before, where she gets information whether he talks or not. So right here, right now, he has to have an almost impossibly tight control of his facial expression and his body language on top of what comes out of his mouth, to avoid giving up anything.

“My dad didn’t believe me when I told him I hadn’t cheated,” he mumbles before she can push more.

“So you couldn’t sleep.” When he just nods in answer, she continues unfazed by his closed off attitude. “I understand, you know? After all you didn’t cheat and he didn’t believe you.“

“Yeah. I tried to prove to him that I hadn’t cheated but he wouldn’t listen.” His fingers clench around the mug unconsciously and she pats his hand.

“That must have been so frustrating…” she nods, removing her hand from where it was still resting on top of his.

“It was. I haven’t done anything to them and they keep coming after me.”

Her expression turns completely serious. She’s good, so good at this, and if he didn’t already know that she’s basically a murderer, he’d be fooled. “I hope you aren’t thinking about getting into trouble to get revenge, though, Stiles. I know it’s tempting after what they’ve done but-”

“Why would I?” he interjects. “I never thought about that,” she raises both eyebrows skeptically but keeping her amicable expression, and he flushes before he can control it. Damn it. “Ok, maybe I did, but that was only if I couldn’t convince Mr. Andrews about letting me prove that I hadn’t cheated or making them repeat the exam too.”

“Seriously?” she asks, keeping the same skeptic yet friendly face.

“They’ve gotten suspended and grounded, and on top of that they won’t be able to spread rumors about me,” he shrugs. “It can’t get any better than that and I don’t want my dad to tell me off again. Or even worse, ground me.”

“I used to argue a lot with my mom too. It pissed me off so much! Sometimes I was so angry that I would climb out the window and disappear for the whole night. I was such a brat,“ she laughs self-deprecatingly as she explains what she used to do on those nights.

“Oh my god, my dad would kill me if I did that.” He feigns an earnest expression to cover an alarmed one. She suspects him all right and he doesn’t know why. Judging by the line of questioning she’s taken, maybe she’s just shooting in the dark because of this whole exam robbery thing. Because if she has heard about him before, she knows he likes to get back at the people that cross him and sneaking into school to get the twins caught wouldn’t be too far off. He has the feeling, though, that she doesn’t think that he rescued the fairies or her questions wouldn’t be this obvious… or amicable for that matter. Maybe she thinks that he saw someone else and she’s trying to get it out of him? Still, she wants to talk? Okay, they’re going to talk, but about her. “What did your mom do?”

“Ground me, of course,” she laughs and Stiles snickers before he can think of it. “What else? But she couldn’t take away the fun I’d had already,” she adds with a wink, making him smile back unconsciously again.

One thing is for sure, if it wasn’t because she doesn’t think him guilty and she’s going in with kid gloves, she’d have caught him very easily, and Stiles needs to brush up those skills pronto if these conversations with her are going to be a thing. And unless this particular conversation serves to prove to her that he has nothing to do with the fairies’ Houdini act, he’s pretty sure they are until she gets what she wants from him.

“I’d never dare, you know? My dad is the sheriff and all his deputies have known me since I was a baby. I’d be brought back home by the ears not even five minutes after leaving home. I wouldn’t be surprised if my dad had put in one of those pet microchips with the way he always knows where I am and what I’m doing.” She starts laughing and he scowls as he mumbles. “Not funny.”

“It kind of is, though.”

“No it’s not,” he pouts and she laughs harder.

“Well, kiddo, that just means that you have to be craftier about it, that’s all.”

“Are you seriously telling me to misbehave? What kind of teacher are you?”

“A fun one?” She joins Stiles when he snickers and then she yawns spectacularly. “And a dead one too. Sorry to cut this short, kiddo, but I’m going to hide in an AV room and sleep for a couple of hours at least. Do you mind if I leave you alone? I can…”

“That’s ok,” he cuts in. “I don’t mind, I’ll just read for a bit.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.”

“See you around then.”

“Sleep well.”

Somehow he’s dodged the bullet. Unbelievable. Now he’s not going to move at all from his seat for the next twenty minutes at this obvious trap. And unless Eglantine tells him that those marks can be used to track her, he’s going to forget they even exist.

—

He gets through the day trying to not fall asleep every minute and succeeding mostly, even though he loses the count on how many times he has to splash his face with cold water to help himself. He doesn’t see Sterling again but he can’t shake the feeling of being watched, so he mentally cheers when the last bell sounds and he can go home.

“I’m home!” he calls as he enters, feeling a little weird, because he hasn’t said that in a long time. Still, it’s a way to let the fairies know it’s him and he takes note mentally to work out a code with them so, in case something is wrong and they have to hide, he can let them know beforehand and without being suspicious. “Hi, Beriadan,” he greets her as he takes a look around. Another fairy pops out from behind a picture on the shelf near the door to the backyard and waves at him, which he responds in kind.

“Hello, Stiles. Rough day?” she asks with a wave as she glides near. “Any problems?”

“More like long,” he answers sheepish, rubbing the back of his head with a sigh. “A really long, long day. And nope, no problems so far but we’ll see how that goes. It’s too early to tell. Everything fine here? Anything suspicious?”

“Not that we noticed. We placed the sentries after your father left like you suggested, but we haven’t dared to place proximity runes on the perimeter. At this point, seeing what happened, doing that might actually give our presence away rather than help us.” Stiles hums in answer, frowning, but before he can get a word in, Beriadan continues speaking, obviously opting for the direct route. “How did the exam go?”

He clears his throat feeling pretty uncomfortable about the fact that probably every fairy listened to the delightful conversation he had with his dad yesterday. “I didn’t have to take it in the end. They caught the ones responsible before that.”

She looks at him for a moment, gaze penetrating. “You don’t seem too happy about that.”

“I am. It saved me the hassle of having to find a way to make them confess,” he shrugs flippantly and her lips twitch reluctantly. “Is Eglantine upstairs? I need to ask her something.”

“Yeah,” she replies simply, letting the matter go. Stiles sighs inwardly in relief and advances towards the stairs. “At the library, I think. She was trying to compile everything for your lesson.” When she sees the smile that stretches on his face, she rolls her eyes. Then when that same smile vanishes, she frowns. “Is everything okay?”

As he expected, there’s an apology brownie waiting for him on the kitchen counter. He can see it from where he stands and he has to stomp on the desire to throw it through the window. He manages to contain himself by very little. “Yeah. Everything’s cool.”

“Sure?”

“Yep,” he says, mustering a smile. “Talk to you later, Beriadan, I need to talk to Eglantine,” he adds as he climbs the stairs, ignoring the brownie altogether.

Stiles nods to the two guards outside the terrarium (Alvara and Fafnir, if he recalls well) as he enters his bedroom, letting his bag fall beside his desk chair. Just as he’s bending to untie his sneakers, Odette comes barreling out from the terrarium and into his face like this morning. Stiles can see already that this is going to become a thing and he can’t decide if he likes it or not. Ehaldun comes right behind her with a shy wave and then grabs his sister’s shirt to pull her away from him, obviously noticing his discomfort. Stiles sighs inwardly, battle already lost, before reaching to pull the kid near, so he can follow his sister’s steps too. The little boy’s flush shouldn’t be this cute, and Stiles has just found out that maybe he’s a sucker for little kids. He lets Odette babble about anything and everything as he opens his laptop and turns it on, only intervening to pull Ehaldun into the conversation when he notices he wants to say something but he’s too shy to interrupt.

“Is your mom available?” Stiles asks after he finishes the quick check of the security cameras but finds nothing new. Unless someone put a personal camera with no intranet or connection to the Internet, he’s safe. “I need to ask her something.”

“I’ll get mom!” Odette exclaims happily before she rushes into the terrarium.

Stiles catches a strange expression on Ehaldun’s face as she leaves before the kid can cover it. Ever since he met the two siblings, the boy hasn’t let his little sister out of his sight. In fact, this has been the first time he hasn’t trailed after her after she’s moved farther than an arm’s length of distance from him and also the first time he’s seen him alone. It doesn’t take a genius to know the cause of this behavior, after all that’s happened to them. First the attack on their colony and then the whole failed school trip debacle. It’s no wonder that he doesn’t want to let her out of his sight. Odette doesn’t seem so affected by what happened to the colony (as opposed to her encounter with the huntress, which left her shaken), so Stiles guesses that either she wasn’t present or she was too young to fully understand what was happening.

In any case, Ehaldun wasn’t so lucky.

“Wanna play a game?” Stiles asks because the kid looks deeply uncomfortable with the silence and it’s almost painful to watch.

“A game?” Ehaldun repeats softly, his voice almost inaudible. He looks interested, though, so Stiles counts that as a win.

“Here, this is fun,” he replies as he opens the Minesweeper and starts playing a round to show him how it works. “It’s a puzzle game. You see that board?” Ehaldun nods, flying to hover Stiles’ shoulder to watch what he does. “You have to clear it. Under each square there are either mines or a number. If there’s a number, like here,” he points to a two he’s just uncovered. “This means that there are two mines around that square. You have to avoid those mines. If you hit them, it’s game over.” Stiles continues playing and the kid finally relaxes enough to sit on Stiles’ shoulder and starts piping suggestions on where to click. It’s almost too adorable the way Ehaldun jumps, startled when they make a mistake and the mines go off. “Wanna try?” Stiles offers, trying not to snicker at his pout and determined look.

“Yes, please,” he replies, nodding eagerly.

“Can you move the mouse? If it’s too difficult I can set it up with the keyboard. Try first and we’ll see.”

“Okay.”

Stiles mentally pats his shoulder, satisfied. Admittedly, he doesn’t know the kid much, even though Odette has dragged him almost daily to watch Stiles do his homework or other things, but this is the most excited he’s seen Ehaldun since he’s known him. He normally sits back and just observes with a closed off expression, only answering to his sister when she badgers him.

“Keyboard, it is,” Stiles says when it’s obvious that with the mouse it’s too awkward. “Gimme a moment.”

“Sorry,” Ehaldun mumbles, face red in shame.

“What for?”

“I-I…”

“You don’t,” he replies simply to what he knows the kid is going to say. “Here you go. Use the cross here to command the selection up, down, right or left. To select the square you press the enter.”

“What’s that?” Odette cries happily, Eglantine coming more sedately behind here. “I wanna play too. Can I? Please? Please?”

When Ehaldun looks like he’s about to let his sister go at it in his place, Stiles intervenes. “Here, Odette,” he stops the boy as he speaks, making him a gesture to keep on playing. He opens a duplicate window with the same game and explains to her the rules quickly before letting her play with another part of the keyboard. Stiles tunes them out as he turns his attention to Eglantine. There’s a strange expression on her face but he dismisses it to get to the matter at hand. “Remember where you left those two runes at the door of the hall that connects the two buildings and the stairs?” She nods. “When I got to school this morning, that huntress was waiting right at that exact place.” She startles and he rushes to explain what happened, distractedly reaching to help Odette when she seems to get too frustrated. “It could be a coincidence, sure, because, strategically, that’s a place where I would hide to catch someone. You can control a bigger area there. But I think that it confirms that Sterling either can see those runes somehow or rune magic leaves some kind of sign and she knows what to look for. Now my question is: if she can see them, can she trace the user or can she just see them if they are on her way?”

“That’s impossible.”

“Well, obviously…”

“No, Stiles. I mean it, it’s impossible,” she interrupts vehemently. “There are two ways of doing runic magic: either you use some kind of ink to write the rune or your own innate magic. If I had used ink, sure, a smidgen of the caster’s energy always remains on it, because it mixes with that ink or whatever you used to write it no matter how much you try to avoid it and makes it impossible for the array to consume it. But I didn’t do that, I used the second method. It takes more energy to do it, but the moment you stop feeding the runes magic, they disappear.”

“Does that happen immediately?” he asks after a moment of consideration.

Eglantine frowns, crossing her arms contemplatively. She smiles warmly when Odette lets out a startled scream when the mines go off, followed by a happy giggle as she starts another round. Ehaldun smiles triumphantly when he clears the board and Stiles smiles back, making the kid flush. A couple of older kids come out, obviously drawn out by the noise they’re making. They settle for taking turns without Stiles’ intervention so he turns his attention back to Eglantine.

“I don’t know the exact time, but I think it takes a bit for the runes to consume the remaining energy once you stop feeding them. A couple of minutes or more depending on the array? In any case, whether it is traced with ink or magic, the array converts the magic, acting as a filter, essentially changing it’s nature and leaving it unrecognizable. We’ve tried tracking it before and it’s impossible.”

“And are you completely sure about that?” She nods and he hums in response. “Can we do an experiment? To see how long it takes for a communication rune to fade, I mean. Maybe Sterling saw them before they faded?”

Eglantine places the array on the table. After approximately the same amount of time that she kept them up at the school, she stops feeding them. It takes about twenty minutes to fade. They make more tests with various different arrays and it turns out that depending on the one used, it needs more or less energy to function.

Conclusion? It’s possible that the huntress found them before they faded. So, either, best case scenario, it’s pure coincidence that she’s was right there waiting for him (which means that, if she was the one to destroy the colony, she was lucky, she crossed paths with a fairy and then she followed them home) or, worst case scenario, she can see runic magic, or the signs left by it somehow. In any case, seeing that Sterling can’t track a magic that is long gone by now, it’s better that Stiles does his best to not raise her suspicions. The sooner she forgets about him, the better.

With that out of the way, since they’re already talking about runes, they work out a schedule for the lessons. Eglantine will start with the basics, since she’s the one that usually teaches that to the kids. When he masters that, either Beriadan or Aelfwine, depending on their availability, will take over to teach him the rest. The elders will impart their vast knowledge about the supernatural world in between those lessons. If any of them is otherwise occupied, other fairies will take over the lessons.

At dinner time, his dad calls to tell him he will be late and to apologize, in that order and very awkwardly.

Stiles does throw the brownie into the trash in the end.

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#fides #teen wolf fics #my writing #teen wolf

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ncfan-1 · 5 years

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ncfan listens to The Magnus Archives: S4 EP122, ‘Zombie’

Well, it turned out that I was wrong, and that the first episode of Season Four did not take place in medias res, though I still think the teaser with Martin they dropped on us took place before ‘Far Away.’ Anyways, we have another parallel for Jon, another warning about just how bad things can get if he doesn’t get a handle on himself, we have the messy and ambiguous question of just what is it that separates a human from a monster, and we get the news that unspecified Bad Shit went down in the Archives while Jon was in his supernatural coma.

Come hear my disorganized thoughts on The Magnus Archives!

- It would seem that Georgie did indeed recognize Oliver as an avatar of the End; I really do think this is a matter of like recognizing like. The fact that Basira didn’t press her further when Georgie replied to her “How do you automatically recognize an avatar of the End?” with “That’s really none of your business” is about the only moment we had with Basira that didn’t worry me on some level. That she didn’t follow up on this with demands for more information, badgering Georgie until she told her what she’d once told Jon, shows that she isn’t yet so deeply entangled with the Eye that she would feel compelled to follow that thread until she’d reached the source. But throughout the rest of the episode, Basira seems… I can’t tell what it is, if she just seems very disconnected from everything going on around her, or if she’s just on her guard with Jon, because she can’t yet tell if Jon still is Jon.

There’s apparently been a lot of bad stuff going on at the Archives in general while Jon was in a coma. Basira doesn’t seem to be doing so great herself.

- It’s unclear if Oliver brought the tape recorder Georgie found, or if it just materialized out of thin air. Given how increasingly overtly paranormal the tape recorders are, the latter explanation wouldn’t shock me.

- We’ll find out later that there’s something up with Melanie (same as there is with everyone, really), but that Basira intercepted Georgie’s attempts to make contact with Melanie, and seems to have refused Georgie access to her, suggests that there really is something seriously wrong with Melanie. Basira’s seemed protective of Melanie for a while, and I get the impression that she didn’t want to expose Melanie to anything that might… “destabilize” her. I worry that Melanie’s pre-existing pull towards the Slaughter might have intensified over the past six months: her anger feeding its hold over her, its hold over her feeding her anger, a vicious cycle that just goes on and on until she’s too constantly furiously angry and erratic to cope.

- …And they’ve found another tape recorder on the floor, possibly under the bed.

- Jon decides to let Georgie and Basira know he’s awake… by scaring the crap out of them. Or scaring the crap out of Basira and startling the crap out of Georgie, anyways. Oh, Jon.

- That Jon recovers so quickly from having been in a coma, “everything but brain dead” for six months really isn’t natural, and Georgie, at least, loathes the implications of it. So do I, to be honest. I knew Jon finding the impetus to wake up would come with a price, except the other shoe hasn’t dropped yet. Listen carefully in the episodes ahead, everyone.

- “Jon, is it still you?” That is the question of the century, isn’t it? Because Jon still sounds like himself, and you can make several different arguments for his lack of deep, emotional reactions to all the news he receives over the course of the episode. You can argue that he’s still very weak from having been in a coma for half a year and can’t dredge up emotions. You can argue that he gets hit with so much bad news at once that he just can’t process most of it, and the reason the only thing he really latches on to is what’s happening with Martin is because he actually has something resembling a concrete idea of the danger he’s in. You can argue that he just doesn’t want to run away with his emotions, since when he does that, bad things tend to happen.

But what gets me is his relative lack of reaction when Basira mentions Melanie being in a bad way. Unless I am very much mistaken, Jon freaked out when he first learned Melanie had been shot in India, and their only relationship back then was that of two people who occasionally met up to shout at each other. I’m worried that his knee-jerk protective reaction to the news that Peter Lukas is doing something with or to Martin was just due to the influence of the Beholding, making its avatar respond to a threat to another of its adherents.

And what else gets me is his apparent lack of concern for Basira herself. I do think there’s a chance that Basira is just refusing to drop her guard around Jon, since it’s at best highly unclear if he’s still himself and the monsters around these parts can seem very human, up until the moment when they open their mouth and let all their fangs show. But she spends the episode sounding very zoned out, very distant. To me, it sounds like the Beholding has definitely been having an effect on her, and Jon? Just doesn’t seem to care very much. And the worst part is, that can’t automatically be taken as a sign of Jon having changed, because Jon has always been the Asshole in Charge at the Magnus Institute. For as long as we’ve known him, he’s always been that guy who has a hard time understanding other people’s emotions and remembering why he should care about them. He was the guy who had no problem telling Naomi Herne to her face that she probably imagined everything that happened to her, the guy who had no problem constantly bad-mouthing Martin when he had to have known there was a chance Martin could listen to the tapes and hear him saying all this horrible shit, the guy who didn’t see anything wrong with stalking Tim, the guy who early on had no problem dismissing every last thing a statement-giver said as hallucinations or lies unless it was something related to his trauma. Jon’s always been a bit of a self-centered asshole, so him being a bit of a self-centered asshole now doesn’t necessarily indicate anything.

After finding out that Basira just happened to grab a statement on the way out the door of the Institute, after discovering that Jon’s first impulse upon waking up is to go ahead and feed the beast (I see that addiction is still running strong), and finding out that Jon no longer calls himself ‘Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute,’ but simply ‘The Archivist,’ all very reassuring signs (how long before Jon stops even sticking his name in before ‘The Archivist?’), we get into the statement.

- Lorell St. John provides us with another parallel and potential foil for Jonathan Sims. From the beginning, she is positioned as such, as a person who is disconnected from other people, has a hard time thinking about and visualizing their feelings, and is fond of animals. She’s someone who acts like other people don’t exist, or matter, which does sound a bit like Jon.

- There’s something St. John says about the difficulties of making sense of the world and the universe, saying that [paraphrased] “it’s all rubbish, people trying to think the universe into making sense,” feels like commentary on the Powers. Was it Jonny Sims who said that anyone who thinks they know what’s going on with the Powers is dead wrong?

- St. John is introduced by a friend (I entertained the possibility that Danielle was St. John’s girlfriend, but to be honest she sounds so disconnected that I can’t see her as being able to put in the work required to maintain a close relationship with anyone) to the concept of the “philosophical zombie.” The philosophical zombie is someone who appears outwardly human, but inside is empty; they have no inner life, they can’t feel anything, and any attempt to pretend otherwise is all just an act. It is, as Danielle says, just a thought experiment, but St. John becomes obsessed with the idea, and eventually becomes convinced that an increasingly large number of the people around her (by the time she gets to the Institute, it seems to have spread to everyone around her) is not a real person, but is in fact one of these zombies: an empty thing that apes humanity, but can only ever pretend to be a person.

Eventually, this delusion seems to have attracted the attention of one of the Powers, which sent an agent out to harass her. @centaurianthropology thinks it was the Spiral; myself, I’m torn between the Spiral and the Stranger. Visual and auditory hallucinations are definitely part of the Spiral’s purview, but to me, there’s the matter of St. John’s specific delusion, the thing that drew this agent to her. Her delusion was that the people around her weren’t actually people, but inhuman, uncanny things that pretended (in her opinion, badly) to be human. To me, that has the Stranger written all over it. I think what complicates it is that there is potential for the two Powers to bleed into each other when it comes to St. John’s delusion, so really, it could be either one. The fact that the agent doesn’t really do anything, just keeps repeating the same phrase over and over again, seems more indicative of the Spiral to me. I think an agent of the Stranger would have actually tried to do something to her.

(And personally, something about the agent, the changing colors of his shirt, I think, reminds me of the coffee billboard from ‘Fatigue,’ and that was definitely a Spiral statement.)

- The cruel experiments St. John carries out on her roommate whom she had become convinced is a zombie, slicing him with a knife and later killing his pet, which she feels no remorse for because she feels that he is not real, serves as a warning for Jon, of where he could end up if he doesn’t try to remain engaged with humanity, doesn’t keep reminding himself that other people do matter. I personally interpret it in a very particular way, based on my own experiences.

I am someone who does not have the easiest time interpreting my own emotions, let alone the emotions of others. I have thoughts, but I don’t automatically connect them with emotions. I have physical reactions, but I don’t automatically connect them with emotions. I have to work at figuring out and understanding what other people are feeling, and though I do try to figure it out, sometimes they’re just incomprehensible to me. As you might have gathered, I have issues with cognitive empathy.

St. John exhibits a lack of both empathy and sympathy with how she engages with the world, neither understanding people’s feelings nor caring about their feelings, and to me, the latter is a lot more inherently dangerous than the former. It’s one thing to not understand how other people feel, to have difficulty putting yourself in their shoes. It’s another thing to either be able to put yourself in someone else’s shoes with no difficulty, and decide that you just don’t care about their feelings, that their feelings don’t matter to you at all, for no other reason than because you can.

For Jon, there’s a lot more danger to not caring than not understanding. And I think he may be on the verge of falling down that rabbit hole now, and never coming out.

- When the question of what separates a human from a monster is raised, we aren’t given an answer—and to be honest, I’m not sure there’s any answer that can neatly delineate humans and monsters in a way that completely separates the two from each other. We hear of many people in the real world whom we consider monsters, but in the universe of The Magnus Archives, are completely human in makeup. You have people deeply entangled with the Powers showing signs of caring for others, to a certain extent. The child Agnes Montague saved a boy she barely knew from becoming a spider egg sac. Gertrude may have treated the people around her as pawns, to be used and discarded at will, but she cared enough about the world in a general sense to want to keep it from being warped and mutilated by the ascension of any one of the Powers, including the one she was tied to. We see Distortion-Helen grappling with feelings she doesn’t recognize as guilt. There is no one overwhelming criteria that makes someone human, or a monster. In a world where humans are capable of doing horrific things and monsters are capable of feeling guilt, you can’t point to any one thing as being the thing that absolutely 100% of the time separates them.

And I don’t think we have any real answer for the question of at what point a human is no longer a human, and has become completely monstrous. Because that is a completely internal measure, and none of us have a hotline into anyone’s minds but our own. I think that Jon is still recognizably human right now, but that he’s less human than he was before he left to stop the Unknowing. And I think that, if Jon is no longer human by the end of the series, if he has become completely monstrous, we’ll all be at a complete loss to pinpoint the exact moment that it happened. After all, at what point was Jane Prentiss no longer Jane Prentiss? Was it when the worms had eaten her eyes and her tongue and she could only see because of the Filth’s influence, only speak because of its influence? Was it when she thrust her arm into the wasp’s nest and the worms first burrowed into her flesh? Was it when she fell under the sway of their song? Or was it when she was a grade schooler, listening to one of her classmates talk about how a blackhead is a hole in your face that you have to keep clean, or else it will spread and your whole head will rot?

A final note in all of this: Jon’s voice becomes considerably stronger over the course of reading the statement. At the beginning, he’s hoarse and weak, but by the end, he sounds as if he was never in a coma at all. Just something to chew on.

- As I mentioned up above, we have it from Basira that Bad Shit has been going down at the Archives. It seems that having Peter Lukas in charge has not been good for the Institute or the people working in it, though we don’t have any specifics as of yet. Apparently Martin’s been engaging in off-the-books work with him, and again, no specifics, though I can’t imagine it’s anything good. The ‘Martin is a secret Lukas’ theory might be gaining increasing amounts of traction this season, might even be confirmed. Melanie’s not doing well. Tim is confirmed dead and people think Daisy is dead as well, though I personally think Basira might know more than she’s letting on as regards to Daisy, and doesn’t trust Jon with the information.

And something happened to the change of clothes Jon keeps in the Institute that rendered them unwearable. It’s been an action-packed six months. I personally wonder about that. There’s a lot of people in the supernatural community who’d have a lot of reason to have a grudge against the Magnus Institute. Learning that Elias is in prison and the Archivist who replaced Gertrude is out of commission might have made them decide the Institute was too vulnerable a target to be ignored. I suppose we’ll find out next week.

#ncfan listens to The Magnus Archives

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allineednow · 7 years

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<p>'Like Going Back in Time': Puerto Ricans Place Survival Skills to Use</p>

SAN JUAN, P.R. -- A grandma turned into a school bathroom sink into a bath. Neighbors are piling into a garage for communal meals. A 79-year-old man made a bonfire out of fallen tree branches to cook.

Over a month after Hurricane Maria tore through Puerto Rico on a path of destruction that spared no area, race or class, residents of the island have found their own ingenuity stretched to the limit as they try to function without many amenities of the modern world.

It is not. Cellphone service ranges from spotty to nonexistent. Automobiles are damaged and roads blocked. For many, work and school still have not resumed, so the streets wander, play board games and sit around telling stories.

"It is like going back in time," said Kevin Jose Sanchez Gonzalez, 25, who has been living in darkness since Sept. 5, the day before a previous storm, Hurricane Irma, started to chip away at Puerto Rico's electrical grid.

Crammed into homes three or four families at a time, sleeping in shelters, and living on freeze-dried and canned food with no way of turning it into a meal, Puerto Ricans have been learning to make do in ways.

A House in a Tool Shed

As the sun set from the shantytown of La Perla in Old San Juan, 79, Ramón Marrero, slumped on the cot in his brother's tool shed, where he had lived since his home was claimed by Maria.

A light bulb illuminated the other contents of this bare space: two chairs piled with clothes, canned vegetables and fruit, and one gas burner.

Mr. Marrero, a community elder known to his neighbors as Don Ramón, draped a towel over his bare back to fend off the mosquitoes. Before, he had walked to charge his phone and mobile battery pack.

The only electricity he had seen since the storm came from an extension cord connected to a shared generator donated by Luis Fonsi, the Puerto Rican pop singer who filmed the video for the hit song "Despacito" in La Perla.

Mr. Marrero was reluctant to plug in the light bulb or his electric fan -- only one could be utilized at a time -- because he was afraid to overheat the device or take energy from his neighbours.

Residents of the barrio say they were left to clear garbage and other debris on their own because employees had failed to show up. Like Mr. Marrero, they were using fallen branches to fuel bonfires for cooking.

Lorel Cubano, the director of a local nonprofit, said most of this help the neighborhood had obtained was from private citizens and stars such as Mr. Fonsi. "The government has not arrived here," she said.

Fear from the Darkness

92, Georgia Lopez Ortiz, is among the several older residents of the Luis Lloréns Torres housing project who've been too scared to walk out since the streetlights were wiped out by Maria. The famously crime-ridden growth is the largest in the Caribbean, and is dominated by rival gangs. Residents say it's become more dangerous.

Ms. Ortiz's washing machine does not work, so she's been hand-washing clothes in a bucket. She can't cook, so every couple of days her daughters bring her food.

When aid groups see, she throws a rope and uses it to pull up bundles of water and dried goods.

Raquel Mercado, 69, lives in a cramped one-room apartment with her son. Her car has not worked since it was flooded during the storm, so she has not managed to get into a pharmacy or into a bank.

She's selling snacks to earn some money.

"What's there to do?" Ms. Mercado said. "We're stuck here."

Baseball, Wine and Long Guests

A baseball game blared from speakers connected to a projector screen in Maricarmen del Llano's living area. The adults drank red wine as they cleaned up from a dinner of fried chicken and mashed potatoes.

Even in the well-off areas of the island life isn't quite normal.

For the past month, seven extended family members, including a toddler, have been living with Ms. del Llano, a school psychologist; her husband, a veterinarian; and their two children, ages 7 and 9.

A generator is running off. Overnight, they use air-conditioning to run in every bedroom.

Tangie Sobrino, Ms. del Llano's cousin and the newborn's mother, is preparing to move back home with her husband, an attorney, and their two other young children. They were preparing to buy a generator that was $ 5,200.

"Our reality isn't the standard," Ms. Sobrino said, referring to the many Puerto Ricans for whom recovery was much further off.

From Good Life to Discomfort

The storm also revealed what had been carefully hidden cracks in Puerto Rican society's upper echelons, which has been imploding during a decade-long recession.

Inside her two-story home with a pool and a number of balconies, Maria Julia Martinez's stainless-steel refrigerator, espresso machine and toaster oven have been gathering dust. The family's flooring company had tanked in the last few years, because they did not have $ 2,000 to repair their generator and they weren't able to use the appliances.

They have a smaller generator which could support a couple of small appliances at one time, but to save gas money and prevent it from breaking down, the family runs the machine only at night. They use a barbecue and a propane camping stove to prepare meals.

When Ms. Martinez's husband cranked on the small generator one night last week, she ran off to do a couple of laundry loads on the efficiency cycle. Afterward, the whole family, including their pets, went to sleep on mattresses set up on the floor of their upstairs master bedroom. A unit in the area provided a respite from the rest of their home, which felt like a steamy and dark cave.

"This is living in hell," Ms. Martinez said. She acknowledged that on the island, her family was better off than people despite their discomfort. "I feel bad for feeling bad."

A New Level of Poverty

Inside the elementary school classroom which has become their home, her two adult daughters and Iris Perez sat in chairs, slapping at mosquitoes on their exposed legs and arms and staring blankly, as if it was too hot to talk.

Before the storm, they were living like almost half of Puerto Ricans. However, their ocean-side home swept away, and banished them.

This emergency shelter was better than the past; the household had the classroom to itself and here there were showers. Before, the women -- along with Ms. Perez's brother, son-in-law, and two young granddaughters -- had slept next to other families and bathed with cups of water, filled up in the bathroom sinks.

Hand-washed clothing hung on the ceiling from fluorescent lights. A bookshelf had turned into a medicine cabinet, with baby and deodorant shampoo. Filing cabinets were diaper.

Nashali Reyes, Ms. Perez's oldest daughter, was seven months pregnant, and worried about contracting the Zika virus. Her 2-year-old daughter Charyliz bobbed around the classroom with a blanket and bottle in her hands, seemingly unbothered by the insect bites on her face, which had become swollen and infected because she was allergic.

"It does not matter what we do," Ms. Reyes said, gesturing to a bottle of repellent. They had to keep the windows and doors open, they said, to maintain a temperature.

A message reminded them to keep their home clean. "Welcome," it said in Spanish, "God has blessed you."

Communal Living

Felix Cruz was holding court for his neighbors in a dining table in his garage. His home had been transformed into a motel and soup kitchen of sorts, including a couple of sofa beds where people crashed, because of large furniture and his two additional bedrooms.

Most of the residents of the neighborhood living on fixed incomes and are retired. They cook and eat communally with a gas stove that scraped clean of mould and eggs and has been hauled out of storage.

They have been cramming their meals into a small freezer in Mr. Cruz's backyard, opening it as little as possible to preserve the cold air.

The neighbors pooled cash to pay a generator which are eating two meals a day, usually meat and rice, and could support a couple of lovers is available.

They eat although doing dishes in the dark is a nuisance, to attempt to distract themselves.

"It was difficult before because food was expensive, electricity was expensive, and now it's even worse," Mr. Cruz said. He pointed to Alma Gonzalez, 67, one of the neighbors. "When she has money, she pays. I pay when I have money. That is life."

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the-four-lorel-show · 2 years

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D: asks r open! the first set of comic pannels will take a bit so in the meanwhile feel free 2 fill the ask box!

#mod talks #ooc post #four lorel show

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newstfionline · 7 years

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‘Like Going Back in Time’: Puerto Ricans Put Survival Skills to Use

By Caitlin Dickerson and Luis Ferré-Sadurní, NY Times, Oct. 24, 2017

SAN JUAN, P.R.--A grandmother turned a school bathroom sink into a bath. Neighbors are piling into a garage for communal meals prepared on an old gas stove. A 79-year-old man made a bonfire out of fallen tree branches to cook.

More than a month after Hurricane Maria tore through Puerto Rico on a path of destruction that spared no region, race or class, residents of the island have found their creativity stretched to the limit as they try to function without many amenities of the modern world.

It is not just water and electricity that are in scarce supply. Cellphone service ranges from spotty to nonexistent. Cars are damaged and roads blocked. For many, work and school still have not resumed, so they wander the streets, play board games and sit around telling stories by candlelight.

“It’s like going back in time,” said Kevin Jose Sanchez Gonzalez, 25, who has been living in darkness since Sept. 5, the day before a previous storm, Hurricane Irma, began to chip away at Puerto Rico’s electrical grid.

Crammed into homes three or four families at a time, living on canned and freeze-dried food without any means of turning it into a hot meal, and sleeping in shelters, Puerto Ricans have been learning to make do, sometimes in extreme ways.

As the sun set in the shantytown of La Perla in Old San Juan, Ramón Marrero, 79, slumped onto the unwashed cot inside his brother’s tool shed, where he had lived since Maria claimed his home.

A single light bulb illuminated the other contents of the bare, musty room: two plastic chairs piled with clothes, canned fruit and vegetables, and a single gas burner.

Mr. Marrero, a community elder known to his neighbors as Don Ramón, draped a towel over his bare back to fend off the mosquitoes. Earlier, he had walked to the post office to charge his cellphone and mobile battery pack.

Mr. Marrero was hesitant to plug in the light bulb or his electric fan--only one could be used at a time--because he was afraid to overheat the machine or take energy from his neighbors.

Residents of the barrio say they were left to clear garbage and other debris on their own after the storm because municipal workers had failed to show up. Like Mr. Marrero, they were using fallen branches to fuel bonfires for cooking.

Lorel Cubano, the director of a local nonprofit, said most of the aid the neighborhood had received was from private citizens and celebrities like Mr. Fonsi. “The government hasn’t arrived here,” she said.

Georgia Lopez Ortiz, 92, is one of many elderly residents of the Luis Lloréns Torres housing project who have been too scared to walk outside since Maria wiped out the streetlights. The notoriously crime-ridden development is the largest in the Caribbean, and is dominated by rival gangs. Residents say it has become even more dangerous in the dark.

Ms. Ortiz’s washing machine does not work, so she has been hand-washing clothes in a bucket. She cannot cook, so her daughters bring her food every few days.

When aid groups visit, she throws a rope through the security bars that enclose her patio, and uses it to pull up packages of water and dried goods.

Raquel Mercado, 69, lives in a cramped one-room apartment with her 37-year-old son. Her car has not worked since it was flooded during the storm, so she has not been able to get to a bank to withdraw cash or to a pharmacy to refill her prescriptions.

She is selling snacks out of her apartment to bring in some money.

“What else is there to do?” Ms. Mercado said. “We’re stuck here.”

A baseball game blared from speakers connected to a projector screen in Maricarmen del Llano’s living room. The adults drank red wine as they cleaned up from a dinner of fried chicken and mashed potatoes.

Even in the well-off parts of the island, though, life is not quite normal.

For the last month, seven extended family members, including a newborn, have been living with Ms. del Llano, a school psychologist; her husband, a veterinarian; and their two children, ages 7 and 9.

The whole house is running off a powerful generator. Overnight, they use the machine to run air-conditioning in each bedroom.

Tangie Sobrino, Ms. del Llano’s cousin and the newborn’s mother, is getting ready to move back home with her husband, a lawyer, and their two other young children. They were preparing to purchase a $5,200 generator.

“Our reality is not the norm,” Ms. Sobrino said, referring to the many Puerto Ricans for whom recovery was much further off.

The storm also revealed what had been carefully hidden cracks in the upper echelons of Puerto Rican society, which has been imploding during a decade-long recession.

Inside her two-story home with multiple balconies and a pool, Maria Julia Martinez’s stainless-steel refrigerator, espresso machine and toaster oven have been gathering dust. The family’s flooring business had tanked in recent years, and they could not use the appliances because they did not have $2,000 to fix their broken generator in the backyard.

They have a much smaller generator that could support a couple of small appliances at a time, but to save gas money and prevent it from breaking down, the family runs the machine only at night. They use a propane camping stove and a barbecue to prepare food.

When Ms. Martinez’s husband cranked on the small generator one night last week, she ran off to do a couple of laundry loads on the efficiency cycle. Afterward, the entire family, including their pets, went to sleep on mattresses set up on the floor of their upstairs master bedroom. A small air-conditioning unit in the room provided a respite from the rest of their home, which felt like a dark and steamy cave all day and night.

“This is living in hell,” Ms. Martinez said. She acknowledged that despite their discomfort, her family was still much better off than most people on the island. “I feel bad for feeling bad.”

Inside the elementary school classroom that has become their temporary home, Iris Perez and her two adult daughters sat in plastic chairs, slapping mosquitoes on their exposed arms and legs and staring blankly, as if it was too hot to speak.

Like nearly half of Puerto Ricans, they had been living in poverty before the storm. But Maria swept away their ocean-side home, and banished them to a new level of destitution.

This emergency shelter was better than the last; here there were showers and the family had the classroom to itself. Before, the women--along with Ms. Perez’s brother, son-in-law, and two young granddaughters--had slept next to other families and bathed with cups of water, filled up in the bathroom sinks.

Hand-washed clothing hung from fluorescent lights on the ceiling. A bookshelf had become a medicine cabinet, with deodorant and baby shampoo stacked in front of school books. Filing cabinets were diaper changing stations.

Nashali Reyes, Ms. Perez’s oldest daughter, was seven months pregnant, and worried about contracting the Zika virus. Her 2-year-old daughter Charyliz bobbed around the classroom with a blanket and bottle in her hands, seemingly unbothered by the bug bites on her face, which had become swollen and infected because she was allergic.

“It doesn’t matter what we do,” Ms. Reyes said, gesturing to a bottle of repellent. They had to keep the windows and doors open, they said, to maintain a livable, if extremely uncomfortable, temperature.

A message written on a whiteboard reminded them to keep their temporary home clean. “Welcome,” it said in Spanish, “May God bless you.”

Felix Cruz was holding court for his neighbors at a dining table in his garage. His home had been transformed into a motel and soup kitchen of sorts, because of his two extra bedrooms and large furniture, including a couple of sofa beds where people were crashing.

Most of the neighborhood’s residents are retired and living on fixed incomes. They cook and eat communally using a 40-year-old gas stove that has been dragged out of storage and scraped clean of cockroach eggs and mold.

They have been cramming their food into a small freezer in Mr. Cruz’s backyard, opening it as little as possible to preserve the cold air.

The neighbors pooled money to pay for gas to power a small generator that could support a couple of fans, and are eating two meals a day, usually rice and whatever meat is on sale.

They eat on fine china, even though doing dishes in the dark is a pain, to try to distract themselves from their discomfort.

“It was difficult before because food was expensive, electricity was expensive, and now it’s even worse,” Mr. Cruz said. He pointed to Alma Gonzalez, 67, one of the neighbors he said had become like family. “When she has money, she pays. When I have money, I pay. That’s life.”

#Puerto Rico #Puerto Rico recovery

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belindadelpesco · 7 years

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By the Artist's Hand II; a Four Woman Show

By the Artist’s Hand II; a Four Woman Show

On Saturday night, my friends and fellow artists Laura Wambsgans, Nancy Eckels, and Lorelle Millerand I hosted an exhibit here in Valencia. It was a lovely show, with beautiful art, good company, plentiful conversation and great sales. Thank you to everyone who attended, and for those who couldn’t make it, thanks for the long distance good wishes for a successful show. We’re looking forward…

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despressolattes · 4 years

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AFTERMATH | CHAPTER EIGHT | LEGACIES

BOOK ONE—SIDE CHARACTER

AFTERMATH MASTERLIST

< CHAPTER SIX < CHAPTER SEVEN

"Any updates on your end?" I asked into the phone, sitting in my bedroom after Rebekah whisked my mother away to talk to her.

Elena, Damon, and Bonnie were all sitting on my head, listening to the conversation while I had Alaric on speaker.

"Jeremy found Landon and Rafael, and I'm probably gonna need you back here," he replied. "There was a gargoyle attack."

"A what?!" all four of us said together, and I glared at the other three since Alaric wasn't supposed to know I brought them back to New Orleans with us.

"Who was that? The voices weren't British enough to be the Mikaelsons," Alaric said.

"Well, Ric, the only one who has a British accent and is still in this country is Blondie Bombshell," Damon said.

"Damon?" Alaric asked over the phone while Elena whacked her husband in the arm, giving him scolding eyes.

"Hey, buddy!" he said, not giving a crap.

"It looks like you're busy on your end, too... what's going on?" Alaric asked. "I thought when you said you needed to leave Stefanie here for a weekend away, you two meant a romantic one."

"Um..." I said, scratching the back of my head even though I knew Alaric couldn't see me. "My mom's alive?"

"What?"

"Well, she's not alive," Elena said. "She's a vampire."

"What?!"

I explained to Alaric that we weren't sure how this was possible, or where she had been all these years. He told me all of these creatures were showing up with the knife, so he sent Dorian away with it to keep it safe, and so the creatures could pop up far away from the Salvatore School.

"Maybe Lorelle is another monster," he replied.

"Wouldn't she have come to see me at the Salvatore School, then? If she was coming for the knife? She wouldn't have attacked Bonnie first, she wouldn't have known I was coming to see Bonnie."

"She attacked Bonnie?!" Alaric exclaimed, once again. I could already see the white hairs growing from how much I stressed that man out. He sighed, and said, "Look, have Freya and Bonnie do magical whatever to figure out whether that's really your mom or not, and make it back to the school. I might need help with protecting the students here if these creatures keep showing up."

"Alright," I said.

Before he could hang up, I added, "Oh, and Ric? Make sure your daughter doesn't try jumping Rafael to make him love her."

I didn't give him a chance to respond when I ended the call, but I did hear the start of what would probably be another "What?!"

We were up in Freya's study, both her and Bonnie performing spells and tests. I stood on the opposite side of Lorelle with Elena and Damon. I was leaning my head on Elena's shoulder, and her arms were around me. I never really thought I would become friends with them, not after my old flame with Stefan, but having a piece of him was nice. I didn't still love him or anything, but I wish I could have made my amends to his fixed memory.

"Blood matches," Bonnie said, looking between Lorelle and I.

"So, ancient vampire is the mother of the other ancient vampire," Damon said, his usual sarcasm.

Elena tried to scold him with her eyes again, and she walked towards my mother, her arms crossed. "I don't understand. If you were alive all this time, why didn't you come find your daughter? Why didn't you look for the Mikaelsons?"

"I don't remember how I got here," Lorelle replied. "I woke up maybe a year ago in a time that isn't my own. Things now are weird, carriages don't need horses, people live in houses all lined up in order, food falls out of rectangular boxes. I just knew I had to try to find my family. I had magic at first, so I kept trying a locator spell on this."

She pulled out a chain with a ring on it.

"To try to find Elijah... but it wouldn't let me anywhere specific, so I started asking around in places where the ring was bringing me. That's when I ran into my first vampire. I don't know who they were, or their name, but they asked me if I knew the Mikaelsons personally. I said I was the love of Elijah's life, and the next thing I knew they're biting their wrist and forcing me to drink their blood before snapping my neck. I woke up hungry and fed, and that's when I realized. I spent the last year finding leads trying to find any trace of my family, and it lead me to Mystic Falls, to Bonnie. I had heard stories of Elijah Mikaelson's daughter, Lilah, and that's how I knew my daughter, that's how I knew you, were still alive."

I looked down, trying not to be sad. "Well," I said. "Now that we know you're really my mom, I need to go back to the Salvatore School."

"You just got here, you're leaving already?" Marcel asked. "C'mon, Cous."

"There's some crazy things happening there, and I gotta get back if I'mma keep your sister safe," I said to him, referring to Hope. "I'll be back as soon as I can..."

"Honey, maybe I can go with you?" Lorelle asked, looking at me with hopeful eyes.

I looked at her, still untrusting.

"Actually, Lorie," Rebekah said, linking arms. "I think it's best you stay here with us, so we can figure out what's going on, how you're here... and maybe if we can figure out how to do this with Elijah and Nik."

I looked at the woman, realizing for the first time she could be the answer to the project we had been working on. How the heck to get Hope and my dad back.

When I left, I left Bonnie, Elena, and Damon there. They said they wanted to help out however they can, Elena and Damon on research while Bonnie and Freya performed spells and looked through grimoires. As I walked to my car, Lorelle chased after me.

"Lilah, please wait!"

I stopped, turning to look at her, annoyed.

"You're angry with me, and I can't seem to pinpoint why."

I glared at her, hating how much she looked like me.

"Maybe because you didn't tell my dad about me," I said. "Maybe because growing up without a mother was hard, and growing up and watching my dad die was harder. Because maybe I want to know you so bad, but I'm scared if I do, you'll die like dad, and I have to deal with losing a parent, the same one, again. And I had to lose dad a bunch of times, I don't know how many times I can become an orphan again."

"You look so much like him," she said, grabbing my face in hers. "My sweet Lilah Rae. I'm sorry for the pain."

"I need a hug," was the only thing I could say before I started to cry.

She pulled me into herself, her hug feeling as endearing and motherly as I had hoped it would. I started to sob into her shoulder, and she rubbed my back.

"My sweet, sweet babygirl," she said. "Mommy's home."

CHAPTER NINE >

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despressolattes · 4 years

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AFTERMATH | CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR | LEGACIES

I'm switching up the point of view. I find it easier now to write this in third person, now that a lot of the plot can center and progress without it being Lilah narrating. I also prefer third person, now, as I grow as a writer. I hope that's okay with you guys.

book masterlist » book one masterlist

< previous chapter

———

Previously on Aftermath...

"I still want to backtrack to the bed things, too," Landon said, raising his hand while he spoke."

"No," Rafael and Lilah said in unison.

"Europe was amazing," Josie said, the twins walking into Alaric's office.

"It was chaos around here."

"Yesterday I came into possession of another Malivore artifact. Now monsters that shouldn't exist have been coming after it."

"I'm not gonna be afraid of losing you anymore, Hope," Landon told her, sitting by the fire with her. "'Cause I'm gonna be the guy who always fights to find you again."

"What's all that?" Lizzie asked.

"I was thinking we could spell a barrier around the urn. So the next monster shows up,, we can trap it," Hope said.

———————

The Maxwell Bell could be heard ringing in Mystic Falls from where the Salvatore School stood. Lilah, never the girl to sleep, was shifting through grimoires while on the phone with Josh, who was also up late.

"Davina says your mom is loving Fiji," Josh said. "It's taking her a while to get accustomed to the Modern age, but she's learning."

Lilah sighed in relief. She had been avoiding the texts and calls from that side of the family, wanting to deal with Malivore before she dealt with Mommy dearest.

"I'm glad," she said honestly. She wished she could care a little more about her mother being back, but she grew accustomed to not having Lorelle in her life.

The Salvatore school, the twins, Alaric, and everyone else, they became the people she worried about the most, besides herself and Hope. She knew she would have to deal with Lorelle eventually, but the monsters that were holding their school in what felt like a constant seige was more important. That didn't mean it didn't stress her out at night, and it certainly didn't mean she didn't think about it all the time.

Maybe it was her falling back onto hold habits, like when she pushed aside the truth of who she was from the Mikaelsons for so long. She was always too scared at the concept of family that she kept it at arms length apart, even if all she had to do to touch it was step forward.

She also felt selfish. She knew Hope would kill to have Hailey back, but instead, it was Lilah who got her mother back, and parts of her wished she hadn't. It was a constant inner battle for her, knowing her own mother was out there, but all she cared about was everyone else.

Let's just say, she blames it on her savior complex.

"Okay, I gotta go," Josh said.

"Goodnight, Joshy."

—

Lilah was awake when Hope got up. She sat right up, smiling. Lilah shot her cousin a questionable look. Hope never looked that happy in the morning.

"You good?" Lilah asked.

"Did you not sleep?" Hope asked, staring at her, then she chuckled. "My cousin, always the night owl. Come on, let's get something to eat before classes."

Lilah's eyelashes fluttered as she blinked rapidly, unsure why Hope seemed to happy-go-lucky so early in the morning. She decided to embrace it, a moment of peace sounded great in their times of constant stress. She put the grimoire down, sliding out of bed.

—

"Morning, handsome," Hope said to Landon as she and Lilah approached them. She sat down next to Landon, letting her hands fall to his curls.

They were sitting in the student lounge, Landon sitting on a couch with a pastry in his hand while Rafael was on a one-seater with a cup of coffee sitting on the round coffee table in front of them.

Hope managed to curl her hair, putting it up into a half-up pony tail, leaving the front strands to fall nicely with the shape of her face.

Lilah fake gagged, and went to sit down on the arm of the one-seater Rafael was sitting on.

"Hey," Landon said, taking another bite of his breakfast.

Hope looked at Rafael, correcting herself as she said, "Handsomes."

Rafael sent her an awkward smile before looking up at Lilah. The older Mikaelson cousin just shrugged.

"Mmm, sweet, sweet cards," Hope smiled at Landon's breakfast, taking a bite of it herself.

"Somebody's in a really good mood," Rafael commented, squinting his eyes at her.

She shrugged, and said, "Hmm, just woke up on the right side of the bed, I guess."

"For the first time ever?" Landon half-joked.

Hope giggled, which caused Lilah's face to contort with even more confusion, her eyes widening.

"You're so funny. I love that about you," Hope told Landon, knocking her side into his with the giddiest smile on her face.

The twins walked in, and Lilah couldn't help but let her vampire hearing turn on just so she could distract herself from her odd-ball cousin.

"Remember what Mom said," Lizzie told Josie. "We are airy clouds flying high above a turbulent sea of drama."

"Two clouds who are not triggered by seeing ex-boyfriends," Josie added, their gaze turning to Rafael.

Wait, how long have I been stuck in my own world? When did Lizzie and Raf get together? wondered Lilah, not looking up so it didn't seem obvious she was eavesdropping.

"Who also do not make-out with ex-girlfriends," Lizzie added. She looked down at her bracelet and said, "Thanks to mom, I have a silver lining."

"Saltzman twins 2.0," Jo smiled, linking her arm with her twin's.

They walked inside, approaching the group of four,.

"Good morning, Rafael," Lizzie said, her best fake smile on her face.

"Hi," Rafael said awkwardly. "Uh, how was your-your trip?"

"Excellent," Josie answered for the both of them. "Thank you."

Rafael nodded, his eyes shifting around the room.

"And welcome back, Landon," Josie told the curly haired boy.

"Didn't you vote me out?" asked Landon.

Lilah and Rafael both cringed at his question, an audible wince.

That's all in the past," Lizzie told Landon. "Now, is everyone as excited as I am about tonight?"

"What's happening tonight?" Landon asked Hope.

She chuckled and said, "The school's annual talent show. All the factions compete."

"You know, the witch performance wouldn't be the same without you two," Lilah told the twins, wondering if the talent show was all they wanted to talk about, and if they would leave once she complimented Lizzie.

"Thank you," Josie said.

There was some musical chime, and Alaric's voice sounding through the campus via the intercom system.

"If I could have your attention. Last night we were able to capture a monster here on the grounds. We have everything under control, but given this potential danger, it is with a heavy heart that I must postpone the talent show."

Students could be heard groaning through the student lounge, and the twins looked at each other in distress.

"Hopefully, we will be able to reschedule this unique event... at a later date. A much, much later date."

"Kind of overkill, if you ask me," Hope said. "I told your dad that a unicorn barely counts as a monster."

"The monster is a magical pony?" laughed Lilah. "And Alaric is scared of it? Jesus Christ."

She linked her arm through Rafael's, pulling him up as she stood up, ignoring the look she was getting from the blonde twin. Lizzie was still one of Lilah's best friends, but at that moment, she wanted to extract herself and the wolf in Lizzie's sights out of the situation.

"Come on, I want to get breakfast before first period starts. Come with?" Lilah asked, leaving her arm linked with Rafael's.

He looked at her, then back to Lizzie, the excuse clicking in his head. He knew Lilah never ate breakfast. He grabbed his backpack from the floor, leaving Lilah.

"So, answer all my questions," Lilah said when they left the lounge. "And I got several."

"Ask away, Miss Invincible," Rafael said.

They entered the, thankfully vacant, kitchen, and she let go of his arm to go make herself a cup of coffee.

"Do you like your coffee with cream or sugar?"

"Cream."

She made him coffee and handed him a mug.

She drank it black, so she propped herself up onto the counter, sitting on it while Rafael stood in front of her, leaning against the kitchen island with his arms crossed.

His arms looked good in the school's longsleeve unform shirt when they were crossed like that.

"Rafael chuckled. "So, you said you had many questions. That was just one."

"Oh, yes," she said calming, folding her hands in her lap before the smile fell from her face and she exlaimed, "When the heck did something happened with you and Young Caroline?!"

"Me and who?" Rafael asked.

"Elizabeth Saltzman."

Rafael coughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. "I'm not... I'm not proud of it."

"...Well?" she asked, waiting for him to explain.

"It was right after the Honor Council voted Landon out, and I was mad, and Lizzie was just... like I said, I'm not proud of it."

"You're talking to a vampire who used to be a ripper. There's a lot I'm not proud of. Now just say it with your whole chest. What the heck happened?"

"We slept together, in the gym."

"You have slutty gym sex?"

"...Lan's been calling it sweaty gym sex but... sure?"

"Is that why I heard you were her escort for her and Josie's sweet sixteen?"

"I didn't want to disappoint her, but I told her how I felt... or uh, didn't feel."

"I totally knew she had feelings for you, but wow," Lilah said, blinking as she nodded in understanding. "Well, it's great to be in the loop. Let's get to class."

She pushed off of the counter, gulping down what was left of her drink. She linked her arm with Rafael's again, tugging him away from the kitchen.

The chime went off on the intercom again as Landon met up with Rafael and Lilah. Lilah let go of Rafael's arm, the three of them walking side-by-side towards class.

"Good news, friends. The talent show is going on as previously scheduled," Lizzie's voice called.

Rafael winced and Landon patted his back. Rafael threw his hand off, the foster brothers laughing.

"So... Lizzie's acting weird," Landon brought up.

"She's not the only one," Rafael pointed at Hope as they approached her, who was standing with her back was facing them.

"Babe!" Hope said, turning around to face them, the dazed smile still on her face. "we should do a talent."

"What?" Landon asked. Landon turned to his best friend and Lilah for back up, and Landon just laughed, patting his back.

"Uh, you and me?" Landon asked her, panicked.

"I never wanted to before 'cause Lilah refuses to do them with me, and I would have had to do it alone, but now I have you. And we make up our own faction! The tribrid, and you."

Her and Landon got closer to one another, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

"No, no, I'm sure Lilah will do it with you now," Landon said desperately, staring at Lilah who shook her head no rapidly.

"Yeah, all right, yeah. Team Other," Landon said, and Hope giggled, both of them kissing.

"Ew," whispered Lilah to Rafael, the both of them just watching the lovebirds in front of them awkwardly.

They both started backing up, walking in the other direction as they started to make out.

"So gross," Lilah whispered.

"You're telling me," laughed Rafael. "Now you know how the whole school felt when-" He stopped himself short, realizing what he was about to say.

"When Roman and I were together?" she asked, finishing his sentence for him.

"Sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"Don't be sorry, it's fine. It's the truth, too."

"Here's, let's change the subject. Why didn't you ever want to do the talent show with your cousin?" Rafael asked.

"Mm, subject still the same," laughed Lilah. "I always did them with Roman. He'd play guitar while I'd sing. It didn't really count much for the whole faction battle since he was a vampire and I'm... well... probably someone who got my own place on this Honor Council, but it was always fun. We enjoyed doing them together."

"I suck at this conversation thing, don't I?" Rafael chuckled.

"Not at all," Lilah said. "I enjoy talking to you."

She stopped in front of a classroom.

"Well, this is me," she said, smiling. "I'll see you after class?"

"Yeah, I'll swing by and we can walk to second together."

Lilah went to sit down at her seat, smiling as she could still see Rafael walking down the corridor.

"He's cute," the girl next to her said.

Evelyn Mathews, the only other girl at the Salvatore school who was a siphoner like the Saltzman twins, was sitting next to her. She had long brown hair with blonde highlights and a medium complexion. She said things that were a bit out of pocket at times, but always found a way to make Lilah laugh in class.

"Who? Rafael?" snorted Lilah.

"Uh, duh," responded Evelyn. "You always get the hot ones."

"Raf's just a friend," Lilah told her.

Evelyn raised her eyebrows in agreement, though the facial expression she was making showed her disbelief for the statement. Lilah shook her head at her, opening her notebook to a clean page and getting ready to learn—not that she needed to.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

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