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uniquevocashark · 3 years

Text

A Good Servant

Part 2

16+ please. Content warnings:

Casual mentions of death, body modification, mention of whipping (not in a sexy way in the bad way), mention of tongue removal, mention of murder, mention of strangling, infliction of grievous bodily harm, improper firearm use

There are many servant passages in the castle, mostly forgotten, and you use them to ensure that your staff behaves as desired. They help you find and smooth any kinks that arise, like Rachel's inability to not have an affair and Daniela's nightly harassment of Louise.

And to keep an eye on the Lady's pet, of course.

She's too far out from your sphere of influence in the household for any actions you take to be beneficial in the long run. Lady Dimitrescu will only listen to you so long as you don't run contrary to what she wills; the wellbeing of her pet is something she considers seriously to be a personal affair and completely out of your hands. To accept that she doesn't know best would feel like a diminishing of herself.

Yet, at the same time, being the cause of another pets death would greatly grieve her. If you can stop that, then you can consider your time well spent.

"Bertrand." You call as you enter the kitchen.

This time around, they are a thickly built muscled human, displaying traditionally masculine traits and being perceived as such. You know them as your sibling, even as their face is changed over the years.

Their voice this time is booming and filled with a deep timbre. But while you both talk big and about nothing, you watch their hands.

"Alex," you sign discretely, "I've run into a hurdle."

"A breach somewhere?" They sign back.

"No, I'm taking care of that. It's about her pet."

"What about it?"

"It's malnourished. Lady Dimitrescu isn't feeding it enough."

They bend their fingers in a way to convey a calm down gesture, "Don't sign so angrily. Its obvious." A pause, "I will ensure something smooth and energy dense is made."

"Apologies," you say out loud, folding your hands in front of you and matching the severity of their tone, "But it seems Miss Daniela has an upset stomach."

"Well see what can be done, ma'am," They said, crossing their arms, "But preparations have already been made."

"Then remake them." You say, signing a loving farewell and exit the kitchen. You steel yourself and walk over to the Heisenberh retainer.

...

By four in the evening, the meeting is still dragging along, half the Heisenbergs are gone and Mihaela is still passed out on her bed. You've been cleaning for the past 30 minutes around her, packing her things, preparing new sheets, so on and so forth.

When Mihaela finally wakes up, while you're busy dusting the candelabra around the room, she still has that wild shaken look on her face.

"You, you have to change her mind." Mihaela begs.

"I can't." You say firmly, not looking away from your cleaning.

"Can't you try?"

You put down your duster, "Would you prefer to watch me get lashed, Mihaela?"

She squeaks. You find that most staff are too timid to risk others, terrified of being perceived as a monster, but you can see she still wants to push it. You clear your throat and continue, "In my absence, you answer to the Dimitrescu family. If a Heisenberg comes to you, tell me immediately, otherwise I cannot protect you."

"Right." She mumbled.

You picked up half her things and she hastened to pick up the rest. "It is imperative that you wake early enough to dress the Lady and that you remain on call for her at all times during the day."

"Okay."

You held the door open for her as she waddled into the hallway. "You'll be in close proximity with her pet," she paled and you rolled your eyes, "do not speak to her and do not touch her unless Lady Dimitrescu says so. That includes eye contact."

"Right."

"And remember not to stare at her pet either. She took the last maids tongue for that."

"Okay."

"You'll be picking every outfit for the Lady and her pet in the morning. Pay close attention to the colour, it would not do to have either of them wearing peach in summer or grey in winter."

"I'll remember that." Mihaela huffed, struggling to keep up as you strode down the hallways.

You pause before the next junction. When she catches up shes red faced and sweating, and you can see that she's shed a few tears along the way.

"Don't fret over it," You say, "You'll make yourself slip up." When she looks sick, you smile and take care to keep the amusement from your voice. "Let's get you settled into your new room."

...

You abandon Mihaela to her dread. She'd sort herself out before long or die in the process.

When you get to the kitchen, you find your staff milling about quietly. You take the extra time to whip them back into shape until the kitchen is buzzing with moving hands and feet. More energy towards a better, emotionally frugal existence rather than wasting it indulging in panic.

When that's done you take a tray from Catherine, stopping her shaking hands from making a mess of the hors d'oeuvres and sending her to work on the dishes instead. You take a glance at the food offered; lots of bacon, small samples of fruit and what looks to be the jelly Miss Bela made from the leftovers of her last meal.

You checked the clock. Fifteen past five.

You walk steadily into the dining room and then down the table to her side, where you deposit the small plates. The stares of the others follow you, but you've never let a Heisenberg or a Moreau distract you. By the way they stare, you wonder if they've never seen a blonde before.

They're dug in like fleas, none moving but to recentre themselves. An intimidation technique, though without the stalwart grace that Lady Dimitrescu holds.

She doesn't even spare you a glance, her entire focus on the tone of her voice and the way she tilts her head to watch all her guests. She moves smoothly, her pearls never clicking together, her hair barely moving as she turns to the head Moreau.

You could watch her talk all day and never run out of things to admire.

Instead of pursuing that, though, you move to stand with your staff members, whose curling shoulders are disgraceful. Its second nature for you to stand tall, proud but reserved; the posture of a learned being rather than some common miscreant. As if on cue, your staff follow your lead and you almost frown. They're usually so composed, the ones you let serve guests.

When Lady Dimitrescu calls your name, you walk over smoothly. You lean towards her when she gestures and almost startle when her lips brush your ear. She smiles, a just there curve of her lips, and you relax just a bit. Her pet, though, is no where to be seen.

"Your other skills are needed," she murmurs, quiet enough that the others can't hear, and you note steel in her voice, "The smell of the room is different and my pet is missing. Find out why."

When you lean away, you keep your expression neutral, "Of course, Madame."

You bow respectfully and turn to leave, when you hear a Heisenberg call out to you.

Each Heisenberg has this odd smugness to their voice, you find. Despite their familial history, you find that there mutations seem to have exacerbated their material indulgence rather than birthing a smarter breed of human. It's unforgivable but you tolerate them for your Lady.

"Do you know what happened to my last retainer?"

"As I recall," you say without stopping, "they went for a trip to a natural aquarium."

"Do you know where?"

"I'm afraid not." You lie pleasantly and leave. Killing the last Heisenberg retainer had been a personal vendetta, one that not even the Lady knew of with any great detail. And it would remain so.

...

You check the kitchen first. Her pet was a social being, even if no one would talk to her, and would often come to your side to watch your staff work. You did have to admire that she kept herself apart, at the very least.

When you don't find her, you walk calmly to your room and grab your gun. You reload it and then attach the silencer to it before walking to her secret room. You'd found it one day while exploring the hidden passages, looking for a quicker way to the servants quarters.

It was barely a closet but it had small memorabilia from her home life which must bring her comfort. Lady Dimitrescu was not surprised when you told her, her curled hair shining as she took long drags from her cigarette.

You would have done something about it, had she not forbidden you from acting.

It was empty when you got there but you noticed that one of her pictures was rumpled and the air had a faint whiff of cologne.

You followed it.

Half an hour later, you were pleasantly warmed up and found her pet in a subterranean level. Ruined only by the fact that she was held at knife point. The Moreau staff member looked at you, cutting her throat slightly, and you fired a bullet into his hand. His knife hits the floor and he shrieks, which is a sound you're very sick of, and you fire another bullet into his kneecaps.

"The Madame is looking for you." You say to her pet when he's stopped screaming.

She steps away as you haul him over your shoulder, putting the gun away into your apron pocket. The man kicks and you squeeze his knees.

You give the pet a once over, trying hard to maintain a neutral face, "Quite the predicament you're in, isn't it?"

She dips her head and stands perfectly still, "Yes," she whispers, "you cannot tell her—"

You shut her up with a dismissive gesture, "Don't be a fool."

"I'm not trying to be. What am I suppose to do?" She asks doefully, her lip wobbling.

"Be silent, if you can manage it." You sigh, covering how you're rolling your eyes at the melodramatic display and grab her by the back of the collar.

You drag her down the corridor, making sure to avoid the well used hallways. For her part, she keeps her eyes wide and scared, letting herself be dragged and curling her shoulders in. You wait until you're in the ballroom before you speak.

"What did he ask?"

"I'm not sure, it was in a weird language." She's crying now but it only makes you angry.

You walk the entire length of the massive area, "Could you repeat one of the words?"

"I can't." She sobs and you wish she would stop. "It was gibberish."

"Try to understand," you say, "I will safeguard this castle, if you can't help me then I suppose I wouldn't mind watching the Lady punish you."

She stares, "What?"

"It seems that I may have to omit some things. I would need to lie a bit, of course, but only if you're dishonest with me now."

"Why would you—?"

"Because," you say waiting for her to stand so you can descend the steps, "you're a walking information leak. I will stopper you, even if I must goad the Lady into doing it."

She stumbles beside you, hiding her expression before looking at you with a strange gleam in her eyes. "You care about this place?"

Its presented too innocently for you to think it isnt loaded and you wonder who she has been talking to, "She breaks things when she's angry," you say instead of answering, watching her jolted reaction, "It's why you are so important. Pets don't break quite as quickly as vases."

She averts her eyes. You can understand why the Lady picked her, really, but you wish she hadn't. If this pet doesn't survive after today, you may advise that she pick another who is a great deal more stupid than this one. Or just not keep cattle as a pet and get a dog instead.

You're almost certain she was talking with the man before the knife was pulled. You can't trust her, even if the Lady seems to.

You banish the thought when Miss Daniela appears before you. Her face is stony and she looks upset when she sees your passive expression.

"Mother doesn't like when people touch her property. You know that."

You'd completely forgotten. You release Lady Dimitrescu's pet. "Apologies," you say blankly, "I was unsure if she would be able to follow after what happened."

"What happened?" Daniela repeats, with the same mechanical blankness.

You take a second to build up an appropriate level of hesitance in your voice and she waits patiently for it, "This Moreau staff member tried to— force himself upon her," you pause, "was that enough?"

"A tad under done," Daniela critiqued then cleared her throat, "I am sure Mother would excuse handling of her property after such a traumatic event."

"Thank you for your leniency."

The pet watches both of you with wide eyes but without the usual shake she effects. You find yourself in the odd position of wanting to throttle her, "What shall I do with this?" You poke a finger into the man's bullet wound and hear him scream.

Her face lights up and she checks his face. "I shall take him. Oh, and Mother wants her pet by her side."

"And where is she currently?"

"The foyer. One of the Moreau cousins are waiting for this man."

You nod, "He doesn't appear to speak English. And, remember, Miss Daniela, no biting."

"Yes, alright. Let's go."

You herd the pet after Daniela, who continues her unsure meekness by drawing closer to you. You find it ironic. Despire sharing a race with the woman, you know she has more in common with Daniela than she ever could with you.

Thats by design, of course.

By years of education and careful association. But that's worth dust when you enter the foyer and see Lady Dimitrescu's thunderous expression.

And then it hits you. You forgot to talk to Rachel.

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescus daughters #lady dimitrescu x reader #resident evil 8 #A Good Servant #my writing #16+ my friends #specified age do not touch #does it flow 🤔 you tell me i dont write multichapter stuff its hard #no catholic jokes this time round sorry guys :(

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p-antomime · 2 years

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Have you heard that girls on top song what’s your opinion on it?

ohhh 'step back' right? hmm, tbh, it sucks, it's tragicomic.

starting from: they put a super problematic GUY to produce and compose the song, which in this case is Ryan Jhun. this mf is extremely problematic when we are talking about girlgroup songs, although he has already worked with LOONA, IZ*ONE and maybe others it hasn't come to my attention yet, starting from the point where he called female idols "boj-dol" which is basically the junction of "idol" + vagina.

it's pretty funny that SM had the COURAGE to take someone like him - who even said he didn't know what the word meant right after saying there were no excuses for what he had said/do - to write a song that apparently should have been about female empowerment.

and what hurts me the most is that Kwon BoA was REALLY hoping for a song that talked about and exalted women, not this "ughhh don't talk to my man, you're not on my level" shit.

also, winter's line after karina's rap where she goes "jjigeora, jjigeora, jjigeora, pose" particularly pisses me off and leaves me with a flea behind the ear 'cause it hasn't been even FUCKING ONE YEAR since SM hired a photographer for an aespa photoshoot who allegedly took invasive photos under winter's skirt and nothing was done about it.

honestly, there isn't much for me to feel other than a mixture of disgust, irritation and indignation. they brought together probably the most iconic female idols from the company's ggs to make this debut fiasco? they put Kim Taeyeon and Kim Hyoyeon through this? (and here I'm not underestimating the presence of the other idols)

sm promised "girls on top" and all it delivered was girls on top of the arena fighting over a guy. tsk, pathetic.

#[ 🍧 ] — kiki.answers

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magicclam · 4 years

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Let there be light! (above my bench)

Ever since I setup my shop, I’ve been wanting to put some lights above the workbench. It’s pretty dim in there and sometimes it’s hard to see inside radios or other equipment that I’m working on. These lights used to sit above the couch in our living room, but my wife never liked them, so she had me take em’ down and I transplanted them above my bench.

I started by putting some reinforcing studs up in the ceiling of the storage loft above the electrical side of my shop. These were necessary for securing the board that I’d planned to mount the lights on. Annoyingly, the 2x6 I had was about a 1/4 inch too wide to sit flush with the existing boards. I really wanted them flush so the light support would mount nicely.

So I bit the bullet and took the two pieces I cut over to my bandsaw and chopped off a 1/4 inch. Then they fit flush with the rest of the ceiling joists and the MDF board mounted the way I wanted.

Next I added a switch to control the lights. This is tied into the main power for the lights in our garage so that if I forget to turn them off, I can do so from the switch inside. I’ve had this cool art-deco switch for a long time. I think I got if from a flea market... back in the before times when you could do that sort of thing.

Lastly I cut the existing AC line and mounted a junction box on the stud where the wire is. Then I ran the wires out to the switch, back to the new lights, then tied them in to one existing light above my work table. Now I’ve got plenty of light over my workbench, and I’m pretty excited about it. :D

I also keep forgetting to post about this... but I have a Patreon account. If you want to help support my antique radio addiction, have a look here...

https://www.patreon.com/Magicclam

Stay tuned for more illuminating content!

#elecrical #switch #lights #home improvement #shop improvement #wiring #fun

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justawordwright · 4 years

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extract from Octokittens (And some theories on how they might have come about). or well, the best of the four short stories in completion really. rating T, mild horror, a little animal death (brief, not a long-term pet death). mechs typical violence.

The ship was a wreck. It was clear on the maps that that was the case, and it was why Hans and Albrecht were visiting it, they were scrap dealers after all. They’d fallen on hard times, and they’d heard that there was a valuable cargo on board, valuable enough to set themselves up for several lifetimes of luxury.

Neither of them thought to wonder exactly what had destroyed the ship in the first place. Nor why no one had successfully claimed the wreck for themselves in the time since the ship had been destroyed. It had been a long time since then, long enough no one could really remember exactly how long.

Anyway, they had set out from New Venus in their little trawler and after a couple of weeks, their target had crested over the bottom of their screens, vast and red and crumbling. A small cluster of other trawlers hovered at its side, each of them battered and solar-worn, but not quite as much as the ginormous ship they clung to like limpets. None of them looked particularly recent either, so Hans shrugged and steered their own ship in closer. They weren’t competition, and they’d serve a handy bonus if there was any hold space left on the way back. Hans thought he recognised a couple of builds that were currently in vogue due to having crossed into the vintage territory, and that always pushed the prices up for already expensive spare parts.

The boosters flipped to reverse, and the Jaunty Clipper came to a shuddering halt. Hans slowly shut the systems off and went to join his brother in the cargo hold. Albrecht was already suited up and checking his oxygen tank, so Hans chucked his own spacesuit on over his clothes before picking up one of the large maglev torches. Sealing his helmet, he flicked the switch to start the process of opening the cargo bay door. The fans whined, sucking the air out of the room until they just went silent, even as the blades still turned. Only when the blades stopped did the door judder upwards, metal folding in on itself, impossibly quiet, revealing the gaping hole in the wreck they had pulled up next to.

It alone dwarfed the Jaunty Clipper, yet it was tiny in comparison to the hull of the wreck it was set into. Flashing his light about, the beam disappearing into the dark, just barely catching a few beams and supports in the faint light, Hans wondered if this was what a flea felt like, trying to comprehend the extremity of its host.

“Ready?” Albrecht’s voice crackled over their intercom and Hans was about to reply in the affirmative when he noticed something floating in the space between them and the wreck. It was pink, and clearly not space debris or a broken bit of ship, though it was too far away to tell what it was exactly.

“Give me a second,” Hans answered, shooting a grappler chain out to retrieve the item. It came shooting back in with no inertia behind it, and Hans was surprised to have a small child’s doll drop into his hand. The fabric was a bit worn and faded and ratty, but he could still see a thin line of stitches picking out a smile, and two black buttons for eyes and some red wool for hair. He smiled and wondered who it had belonged to and if it’d make a nice present for his friend’s daughter. Carin always liked souvenirs of his trips.

Albrecht jumped past him, throwing himself out into the hole. “Come on, we don’t have time for kids toys. The oxygen tanks won't last all day, we need to get a move on.”

Hans rolled his eyes but never the less let go of the doll, watching it float away and followed his brother into the wreck.

He landed in a tall, narrow corridor with handholds spaced out evenly down the walls and ceiling. Albrecht was clung to one of them, fiddling with a gyroscope. “Let's try for the centre? Cargo bay should be somewhere near there,” said Albrecht.

Hans nodded and pushed off down the corridor. It was long and labyrinthine, with the occasional junction, and at each Albrecht checked the gyroscope before leading them down it or not. There weren’t any signs anywhere, at least not any that had survived the test of time. Hans noticed the occasional stripe of white paint against the major green in the few places where it hadn’t been consumed by bubbling rust, a single chipped or faded letter or stripe holding out by itself. He didn’t recognise the alphabet though, all harsh lines and corners. Here almost half a dozen letters survived, scattered across three lines, at least that was what Hans assumed, he wasn’t sure exactly what direction the text was supposed to be read in. Most of the letters were some form of an upright stick with a horizontal or diagonal branch off, but there was one that almost looked like an ‘R’ in Standard, with the stem removed. Another looked like a more jagged ‘s’ or ‘5’. He knew it had to mean something – and on a ship like this, it was probably some sort of area designation. If only he could read it. If only it wasn’t so damaged.

Slowly, he ran a gloved finger across the text, knocking chips of paint loose. They flocked around his hand, suspended in the ether and dancing slowly in the light of his torchlight.

Shaking his head, he pushed off after Albrecht again, who he’d let get ahead of him as he tried to puzzle out the script. His brother had already disappeared around a sequence of corners, and Han’s stomach rolled as he passed off shooting corridors, still with no sign of Albrecht. He was sure his brother wouldn’t leave the corridor they were on without warning him. He was sure.

Oh, how he wished there was a map of this place. That would make things so much easier.

There was a sharp popping noise from around the bend.

Hans floated onwards, his torch catching on a sheet of greying paper behind a panel of glass on the wall opposite him. There was a drawing on it. A drawing of the ship. Six silhouettes of the hull, with a layout of its snaking corridors set out inside each, and on one a small red circle with the words ‘you are here’ written in Standard above it. Apparently he was on Level Three, in Quadrant Two, Sector Six. It was a residential area, and directly above him, two floors up was the nav-deck, while the cargo bays were a floor down and maybe two corridors away.

That was useful to know. Hans batted away another one of those dolls and continued onwards.

Two more corners and he found his brother pounding on a closed door, fists silently clattering into the metal and nudging Albrecht away down into the corridor until he bounced back against the door to hit it again. Hans slid into place next to him as Albrecht stopped and rested against the metal.

“Bloody thing is sealed up tight,” Albrecht said over the comms, kicking at a pair of dolls floating around his feet. “Got the plasma cutter?”

Hans nodded and flicked the switch to begin charging it. “At least the cargo bay’s close. Should be a ladder down on the other side of this.”

Albrecht turned and squinted at him. “How’d you know that?”

“There was a map?”

“I didn’t see one.”

“It was just back there,” Hans said, gesturing vaguely back the way he’d come. “You must have just missed it.”

“I’m not sure I did, I was keeping an eye out for one. It-” Albrecht started to disagree, but the plasma cutter in Hans’ hands burst into life, bright, glowing purple energy spitting into a narrow cutting beam. Albrecht carefully pushed away from the door to let Hans centre himself.

“Whatever. Get this open, Hans.”

The plasma made short work of the metal, Hans quickly inscribing a deep rectangle into the door, shaping the edges of a panel he’d remove to create their entranceway. Clicking the cutter off, he braced himself against the roof of the corridor, and lashed out with his foot, expecting the metal to buckle and the panel to fall in.

The metal shifted under his foot but didn’t budge. There was something behind it. Blocking it.

“A hand?” Hans asked. “The crowbar?”

Albrecht drifted forwards, planting himself in place and stabbing the sharp end of the crowbar through the weakened metal. Then, with Hans’s help, levered the metal up, opening their entranceway.

From out of the black a dozen of the dolls came spiralling. The brothers looked at each other, and Hans drove his hand through the hole. He felt the dense resistance of what must be hundreds of the things, piled up and packed into the corridor. No matter how far he reached, there seemed to be no end to the things.

He pulled his hand out, shaking his head. “No way through.”

Albrecht pointed silently to his hand, the one that Hans had just pulled out of the pile of dolls. Hans looked down.

There was a thin scrap of red fabric twined around his fingers. That wasn’t a surprise, he’d clutched at a lot of the things as he searched for an end to the dolls.

The scattering of white across his palms though. Those were teeth, and they looked humanoid. Half a dozen of them, child-sized and a handful of stumpy cream cylinders that were possibly finger bones.

Hans snatched his hand away, watching them float slowly down the corridor.

Silence for an eternal moment, as the brothers stared each other down.

Albrecht blinked first. “Did your map give an alternate route?”

Hans nodded. There were a couple of corridors they could take, but it would be a complicated route to traverse with many junctions to traverse. He didn’t fancy getting lost. On the other hand, they’d just passed a stairway that would lead them up to the nav-deck and captain’s area. He explained this to Albrecht who sighed and nodded.

“We were going to look for the logs anyway. Lead on then.”

Albrecht followed as Hans showed him back towards their entrance point. He frowned as Hans pointed out the map, but didn’t argue, and together they located the service ladder that would take them up to the control decks. It was simple to follow the ladders up, only pausing to open hatches between the levels. The first time, Hans found the metal hatch shut and unmovable, and he panicked and feared it had been bolted shut, or worse was being held down by more of the dolls. It was a false alarm though, as no more had Hans than wished that the hatch was clear and open, then there was a pop and the thing burst open. Some tenacious rust giving away he decided as he floated through. Must have been.

They made it onto the control deck though. It was a vast thing, more empty space than panels and terminals, all dark red and grey. Hans didn’t spend much time looking at the regular contents of the room though, there were far more interesting things to consider. Like the giant pile of gold and gems spilling over one of the desks and burying the skeleton slumped in the seat. Or the massive dinosaur skeleton that was scattered across the floor. And of course, more of those dolls, hovering aimlessly in the ether.

His brother tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned around to look at the wall behind them. There was a cosmonaut’s suit resting at its base, the helmet glass cracked and distorting the image of the empty-eyed skull within. Above it…

Hans didn’t know many languages, but he could guess that each message read the same as the one he could. Two words, blood red and edged with scratches.

Don’t Wish.

“Wish I knew what that meant,” It took a moment to recognise his wording, his glove slapping over his visor above his mouth. “I didn’t mean it.”

Albrecht gave him a weary look as there was a pop and a red leather-bound book appeared between them. Hans jumped backwards, clattering against the wall as Albrecht went spinning into one the terminals clutching it viciously. Both of them stared down the book.

Hans broke the stalemate, activating his coms with a hiss of static. “I did the doll room. This is your turn.”

He could imagine Albrecht’s sigh as his brother hesitantly floated over to the book. When it did nothing after a gentle prodding, he cautiously picked it up and started thumbing through it with bulky gloved hands. Hans waited as Albrecht skimmed through it with a look of deep concentration.

Eventually he looked up again, understanding in his eyes. “It says the ship stumbled into an area of latent potential creation so that anything they wished for would manifest. Most of them couldn’t control their desires and were destroyed by their greed.

“We could use this. We could get rich on this. This is it, Hans! Anything we can think of, ours!”

“Anything?” Hans asked quietly.

Albrecht’s eyes flashed as his hands filled with nuggets of dark gold and the glistening white of flawlessly cut diamonds. They spilt out between his fingers, floating into the room. His brother grinned. “Anything. Just be certain about what you’re after. Don’t get distracted. That’s what happened to them.”

Hans nodded, absentmindedly catching one of the gems his brother had created in his hand. It really was perfect, no sign of any defects and, being as long his thumb and almost as wide, worth a small fortune on any planet. With a small bag of those, they’d be rolling in credits, even after paying off their debts.

Across the room, Albrecht was still creating whatever crossed his mind – rare books, wines, silks – and Hans watched as his brother's imagination crafted them a small fortune. He wasn’t looking forward to carting it all back to the ship, but he also supposed he should probably try out a couple of wishes himself. It was just a case of what to wish for. Albrecht seemed to have all the money-making things covered, and he didn’t want anything too bulky or hard to manoeuvre through the ship.

Would it be possible to create something alive Hans wondered? The Jaunty Clipper had had a vermin problem for a while, and it tended to get lonely out in space for months on end, with only his brother for company. He knew it didn’t need to be like that either, just the two of them – he remembered the days when they were kids, out on their mother’s tug as she rescued the scuppered ships. Those trips took weeks, and she was always busy, but there was always a warm bundle of fur to curl up with. They’d left the Sol system far behind them though, far enough that a proper Earth-cat had been out of the question for years. And none of the alien versions now available to them had ever really felt the same.

But now…

Hans fixed his mind on the idea of his new cat. Large and fluffy, like a Maine Coon. Dark grey fur, with golden eyes. A hunter, a cuddler.

And he wishes.

There was a pop, and the cat appeared.

And went limp.

He realised his mistake as Albrecht looked up, frustration flashing across his face. “You could wish for anything, and you wish for a cat. And you even forget there’s no atmosphere,” Albrecht sighed. “It’s a good thing I’ve got us both covered then. You can start getting this back to the ship for me then,” he gestured to the pile of goods he’d created. “It’s the least you could do.”

Hans stared his brother down as Albrecht ignored him and turned back to creating his gold. All he’d wanted was a companion. And he’d messed up and it’d died, and his brother hadn’t even cared. Screw his brother. Albrecht had never really cared for him, had always treated him like dead weight except for when he’s the packhorse. Screw him.

Hans decided that maybe he could still have his cat, only he was going to have one better adapted to space. He didn’t think too much about what that meant, but he knew that they’d be clever, and fast, and they’d survive. And he wishes they were real and he wishes his brother will regret spurning him.

A hundred eyes blink into existence.

His brother disappears under a pile of fur and tentacles.

The eyes look up at Hans, hunger unsatiated.

Hans starts running.

#the mechanisms #octokitten #my fic

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dustedmagazine · 4 years

Text

Dusted Mid-Year Exchange, Part 3: Writers’ Lists

Joe McPhee

We wrap up our mid-year feature with writers’ favorites from the first half of the year. If you missed them, check out Parts One and Two from earlier this week.

Tobias Carroll

SAULT — UNTITLED (Black Is) (Forever Living Originals)

Irreversible Entanglements — Who Sent You? (International Anthem)

Cold Beat — Mother (DFA Records)

African Head Charge — Drumming is a Language 1990 - 2011 (On-U Sound)

En Attendant Ana — Juliet (Trouble in Mind)

Positive No — Kyanite (self-released)

Helen Money — Atomic (Thrill Jockey)

Matt LaJoie — Everlasting Spring (Flower Room)

Xetas — The Cypher (12XU)

Alison Cotton — Zener_08 (Sensory Leakage)

Coriky — Coriky (Dischord)

Błoto — Erozje (Astigmatic Records)

Gerycz / Powers / Rolin — Beacon (Garden Portal)

75 Dollar Bill Little Big Band — Live at Tubby’s (self-released)

Slum of Legs — Slum of Legs (Splurge Recordings)

The Soft Pink Truth — Am I Free to Go? (self-released)

Tim Clarke

Activity — Unmask Whoever (Western Vinyl)

Alabaster DePlume — To Cy and Lee: Instrumentals Vol. 1 (International Anthem)

Drab City — Good Songs For Bad People (Bella Union)

Fake Laugh — Dining Alone (State 51 Conspiracy)

King Krule — Man Alive! (XL)

Owen Pallett — Island (Domino)

Andrew Forell

Irreversible Entanglements — Who Sent You? (International Anthem)

Wire — Mind Hive (Pinkflag)

Peel Machine Dream — Agitprop Alterna (Tough Love/Slumberland)

Rowland S Howard — Teenage Snuff Film (Fat Possum)

The Wants — Container (Council Records)

Shabaka And The Ancestors — We Are Sent Here By History (Impulse!)

Davey Harms — World War (Hausu Mountain)

Bohren & Der Club Of Gore — Patchouli Blue (Ipecac)

Ray Garraty

Rio Da Yung Og — City on My Back (#Boyz Entertainment)

Cash Kidd — No Socks (4746 Global)

The Jacka — Murder Weapon (The Artist Records)

Z-Ro — Quarantine: Social Distancing (1 Deep Entertainment)

Ka — Descendants of Cain (self-released)

Bandgang Lonnie Bands — The Scamily (TF Entertainment)

Jennifer Kelly

Six Organs of Admittance—Companion Rises (Drag City)

Gil Scott Heron and Makaya McCraven—We’re New Again (XL Recordings)

Obnox—Savage Raygun (Ever/Never)

Cable Ties—Far Enough (Merge)

Lewsberg—In this House (12XU)

James Elkington—Ever Roving Eye (Paradise of Bachelors)

Jehnny Beth —To Love Is To Live (Arts & Crafts)

Destroyer—Have We Met (Merge)

Decoy w/ Joe McPhee — AC/DC (otoROKU)

Chouk Bwa & The Ångströmers— Vodou Alé (Bongo Joe)

FACS—Void Moments (Trouble in Mind)

Elkhorn—The Storm Sessions (Beyond Beyond Is Beyond)

Arthur Krumins

Gil Scott-Heron, Makaya McCraven — We’re New Again (XL)

The Giving Shapes — Earth Leaps Up (Elsewhere)

Wut — Now (Self-released)

Ranil — Ranil y su Conjunto Tropical (Analog Africa)

Ash Brooks — Temple of Roses (Flower Room)

Chip Langer — Songs for Melissa (Xylem)

Keenan Ahrends Trio — Live at House on the Hills Session (Self-released)

Jeff Parker — Suite for Max Brown (International Anthem)

Julius Eastman — Feminine (Frozen Reeds)

White Poppy — Paradise Gardens (Not Not Fun)

Pharoah Sanders — Live in Paris 1975 (Transversales Disques)

Waterless Hills — The Great Mountain (Cardinal Fuzz)

Jim White and Marisa Anderson — The Quickening (Thrill Jockey)

Aoife Nessa Frances — Land of No Junction (Ba Da Bing)

Andrea Cortez — The Secret Song of Plants (Aural Canyon)

Patrick Masterson

Yves Tumor — Heaven to a Tortured Mind (Warp)

Squirrel Flower — I Was Born Swimming (Polyvinyl)

Black Taffy — Opal Wand (Leaving)

Mint Mile — Ambertron (Comedy Minus One)

Moodymann — Taken Away (KDJ)

Sarah Mary Chadwick — Please Daddy (Sinderlyn)

Andrea — Ritorno (Illian Tape)

Cable Ties — Far Enough (Merge)

Torres — Silver Tongue (Merge)

Russell Ellington Langston Butler — Emotional Bangers Only EP (self— released)

Tan Cologne — Cave Vaults on the Moon in New Mexico (Labrador)

Future — High Off Life (Epic)

Ian Mathers

Aidan Baker & Gareth Davis — Invisible Cities II (Karlrecords)

Anastasia Minster — Father (self released)

Helen Money — Atomic (Thrill Jockey)

Holy Fuck — Deleter (Last Gang)

Hum — Inlet (Polyvinyl)

Solar Woodroach — 7 Perversions on Pachabel's Canon (Nilamox)

Spanish Love Songs — Brave Faces Everyone (Pure Noise)

Stars Like Fleas — DWARS Session: Live on Radio VPRO (self released)

Well Yells — We Mirror the Dead (self released)

Yves Tumor — Heaven to a Tortured Mind (Warp)

Special mention to the incredible Charles Curtis Performances & Recordings 1998-2018 box we talked about here.

Bill Meyer

(The last entry is not a record, but a festival of recordings)

Owl — Mille Feuille (SOFA)

Paul Lytton / Nate Wooley — Known / Unknown (Fundacja Sluchaj)

Six Organs of Admittance — Companion Rises (Drag City)

Elkhorn — The Storm Sessions (Beyond Beyond is Beyond)

*Waterless Hills — The Great Mountain (Cardinal Fuzz / Feeding Tube)

Powers / Rolin Duo — s/t (Feeding Tube)

Tashi Dorji / Tyler Damon — To Catch A Bird (Trost)

James Elkington — Ever Roving Eye (Paradise of Bachelors)

Chicago Underground Quartet — Good Days (Astral Spirits)

Steve Beresford and John Butcher — Old Paradise Airs (Iluso)

Irreversible Entanglements (International Anthem)

Sandy Ewen — You Win (Gilgongo)

Various artists — AMPLIFY 2020:quarantine

Jonathan Shaw

Raspberry Bulbs — Before the Age of Mirrors (Relapse)

Mamaleek — Come and See (The Flenser)

Thou — Blessings of the Highest Order (Robotic Empire)

Sun City Girls — Live at Sky Church (2182 Recording Company)

Gil Scott Heron and Makaya McCraven — We’re New Again (XL Recordings)

Neutrals — Rent/Your House (Domestic Departure)

Derek Taylor

Twenty from 2020: Jazz and Improv (order entirely arbitrary)

Decoy w/ Joe McPhee — AC/DC (otoROKU)

Stephen Riley — Friday the 13th (Steeplechase)

Damon Smith — Whatever is Not Stone is Light (Balance Point Acoustics)

James Brandon Lewis & Chad Taylor — Live at Willisau (Intakt)

Jeremy Pelt — The Art of Intimacy, Vol. 1 (HighNote)

Peter Brötzmann/ Maâlem Moukhtar Gania/ Hamid Drake — The Catch of a Ghost (I Dischi Di Angelica)

Patty Waters — An Evening in Houston (Clean Feed)

Whit Dickey — Expanding Light (AUM Fidelity)

Brandon Seabrook — Exultations (Astral Spirits)

John Scofield — Swallow Tales (ECM)

Paul Desmond — The Complete 1975 Toronto Recordings (Mosaic)

Cecil Taylor & Tony Oxley — Birdland, Neuberg 2011 (Fundacja Sluchaj)

Kidd Jordan /Joel Futterman /Alvin Fielder — Spirits (Silkheart)

Sam Rivers — Ricochet (No Business)

Frank Lowe & Rashied Ali — Duo Exchange: Complete Sessions (Survival)

Dudu Pukwana — and the Spears (Matsuli Music)

Sun Ra — Heliocentric Worlds, Vols. 1 & 2 (Ezz-thetics)

Shirley Scott — One for Me (Arc/Strata-East)

Buddy Collette — The Complete 1961 Milano Sessions (Fresh Sound)

Lennie Tristano — The Duo Sessions (Dot Time)

#dusted magazine #midyear #lists #tobias carroll #tim clarke #andrew forell #jennifer kelly #patrick masterson #ian mathers #arthur krumins #bill meyer #jonathan shaw #derek taylor

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girlactionfigure · 4 years

Text

La Pulga Atomica Arrives!

The News on the Israeli StreetPalestinian terror in Judea and Samaria in the last 24 hours . . .

*Elements of the IDF, Shin Bet, Border Guards, and Israel Police captured 17 wanted Palestinian terrorists overnight.

*Palestinian terrorists using Molotovs attacked an IDF post at Negohot near Hevron.

*Palestinian terrorists using IEDs and Molotovs attacked a Border Police station in the vicinity of Abu Dis.

*Palestinian terrorists attacked an Israeli bus with Molotovs on the Benjamin Bypass Road, and another bus at the Adorim Junction near Hevron.

*Palestinian terrorists threw “rocks” and Molotovs at Israeli men, women, and children at Umm Safa, Beit El, the Tekoa Junction, Psagot, Hawara, Luban a Sharqiya, Beit Haggai, and Al Aruv among other places.

No one knows what’s going on . . .

Events have taken on a frantic air in the lead-up to the Wednesday midnight deadline that Benny Gantz of Kahol Levan has to form a government.

*Last night PM Netanyahu led a Likud campaign rally in which he railed again against the possibility of Gantz forming a minority government based on support of the Joint Arab List.

*Yesterday, Kahol Lavan said that it had reached agreement with Lieberman on a whole host of issues such as allowing transportation and opening supermarkets on Shabbat, creating new laws to enable easier conversions and marriages for Israeli-Russians, and, and . . .

*There was talk yesterday that what Lieberman really wants is for Gantz to not be able to form a government so that he can try to form one himself in the 21 day period after the Wednesday night deadline during which any Knesset member can seek 61 signatures to make a coalition.

*Some members of Kahol Lavan say that Gantz will inform Rivlin on Wednesday that he can form a government even though he doesn’t have the 61 votes to do so. They say that this will give Gantz an extra few days to try to form one in the aftermath of what many expect will be indictments against PM Netanyahu.

*Some members of Likud are accusing Gideon Sa’ar of Likud of wanting to lead a group of Likud members to join Kahol Lavan.

And on and on. Who knows what’s true and what’s not? All we know is that everyone appears to be desperate.

TODAY’S BLOG:

La Pulga Atomica Arrives!

Messi on the tarmac at Ben Gurion last night shaking the hand of Sylvan Adams, the Canadian-Israeli billionaire who organized the match.

If you thought that Israelis would be talking about nothing but the government today, you would be greatly mistaken.

La Pulga arrived at Ben Gurion yesterday, and he is all that anyone is talking about. As you may not know, La Pulga is “The Atomic Flea”, aka Lionel Messi, and he is perhaps the best soccer player in the world (there is the ongoing debate as to whether he or Ronaldo is at the top of the pyramid).

If you’re not a soccer fan, then you don’t know that Messi is from Argentina but plays for the Spanish team Barcelona. He plays forward and is the captain of both the Barcelona team and the Argentine National Team.

He arrived in Israel yesterday with the Argentine team to play a friendly match today against Uruguay–whose star Luis Suarez happens to be Messi’s teammate on Barcelona.

The pre-arrival was not without drama.

The Argentines had played another friendly in Riyadh (they defeated Brazil 1-0) two days ago and so were supposed to fly from Riyadh to Tel Aviv. However, when their plane entered Jordanian airspace they were told that they did not have permission to fly over Jordan.

The plane was then diverted to Amman until permission was granted and then flew on to Israel.

But of course that is not the half of it.

Once again, Messi and other members of the team have been the target of BDS denunciations and even death threats similar to those received last year when Argentina was scheduled to play a game in Israel prior to the World Cup. Those protests were led by Palestinian terrorist (aka Palestinian Sports Minister) Jibril Rajoub—who was subsequently banned from FIFA for a year for inciting violence against Messi:

A 2018 protest in Barcelona where the Argentinians were practicing. Note the Palestinian flag in the foreground, and the “bloodied” blue and white striped Argentinian jersey being held (beside the megaphone) in the background. What you cannot see is that jersey reads “Messi.”

In the 2018 case, the Argentines decided to cancel, and the game was not played.

Once again, BDS mounted a campaign in the last few months to stop Messi and the Argentines from coming to Israel. The Palestinian BDS group PACBI accused both the Argentinians and the Uruguayans of crossing the “Palestinian nonviolent picket line, allowing Israel to use the beautiful game to sports-wash its crimes against Palestinians.”

But without Jibril Rajoub leading the BDS denunciations, the campaign fell flat.

By the way this is not Messi’s first appearance in Israel. He was here back in 2013 when this photo was taken of him praying at the Kotel (Western Wall):

Messi praying at the Wall several years ago—that’s the Rabbi of the Wall beside him.

For sports crazy Israelis, the appearance of La Pulga Atomica is a welcome respite–even for only one night–from the missiles, terrorism, and endless threats that they face.

By the way, the 30,000 available tickets for the match tonight sold out in 5 minutes–some costing well into the hundreds of dollars.

#Lionel Messi #Israel

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near-new-york-blog · 5 years

Text

Near New York

Events

Are you planning to visit New York, New York soon? If so, it's best to prepare a detailed itinerary for your trip. By doing so, you can not only map out specific scheduled events of interest with all the necessary details, but optimize your experience as a whole. On October 5, 2019, in the outer borough of Queens, there will be a Queens Beer Festival 2019 organized by LIC Flea & Food, patrons can enjoy an awesome assortment of brews from various brewing companies beneath the Long Island City skyline. The following day Open Level Capoeira by Fit4Dance will take place in the outer borough of Brooklyn. Practitioners from ages five to 95 are welcome at these Sunday morning Capoeira sessions.

Joshua Just Attorney

For many years, there have been interesting real estate business trends in New York City. Based on the article shared at the Joshua Just Lawyer website, it is essential to understand the current trend if you are planning to live in or around the City. A few years ago, specifically in Manhattan, rent started to increase in the area, resulting in higher rents and co-op purchases for tenants. In Brooklyn, there is high pressure in the housing marketing due to the limited levels of inventory. Tenants who experience high rental prices in Manhattan will sometimes try to shift their housing to the outer borough of Brooklyn to lower the price point. Basically, the international capital has impacted the Manhattan housing market. In 2003, sales have continued to rise in Queens although this borough had its lowest inventory in five years.

Building Is Booming 24/7. So Is The Noise.

City Councilwoman Carlina Rivera introduced a bill on Wednesday that would allow construction no earlier than 6 a.m. and no later than 10 p.m. on weekdays. Work would be permitted on weekends from 8 a.m. to 6 p.m. Rivera said her bill was also meant to address construction’s effect on the displacement of average New Yorkers. “I want to make sure we don’t continue to rubber-stamp construction that leads to more empty luxury towers,” she told Mays. But construction officials told him the bill was misguided. “We are living in an era where everyone wants to blame the real estate and construction industries for the woes of society,” Carlo Scissura, president and chief executive of the New York Building Congress, said. “In reality, we are building everything in New York that people take for granted.” Read more here

These days, the massive expansion projects of many real estate properties are common. In every city there is a wide array of building constructions to meet the demands in the real estate industry. In New York City, there is also a huge increase in the number of construction projects. However, it has caused a major concern of a lot of residents since it creates noise and commotion around the clock. Many residents find it hard to read, sleep and do other tasks that need silence. No wonder some people have invested in sound-dampening windows. Others purchase noise-cancelling headphones. What can you say about this news?

Times Square in New York, New York

Many people talk about Times Square in New York, New York as one of their favorite tourist destinations in the city. Due to its immense popularity, it has become a primary part of everyone’s itinerary in visiting New York City. Interesting enough, it is a major commercial intersection, tourist destination, entertainment center and neighborhood in the Midtown Manhattan section of New York City. It is also situated at the junction of Broadway and Seventh Avenue. Times Square stretches from West 42nd to West 47th Streets. Brightly adorned with billboards and advertisements, the place is sometimes referred to as "The Crossroads of the World," "The Center of the Universe," "The Heart of The Great White Way," and "The Heart of the world". Lastly, it is also one of the world's busiest pedestrian areas and considered a major center in world's entertainment industry.

Link to map

Driving Direction

8 min (1.2 miles)

via W 38th St

Fastest route, despite the usual traffic

Times Square

Manhattan, NY 10036, United States

Head northwest on W 43rd St toward Broadway

141 ft

Turn left onto 7th Ave

Pass by the pharmacy (on the left)

0.3 mi

Turn left onto W 38th St

0.4 mi

Turn right at the 3rd cross street onto 5th Ave

Parts of this road may be closed at certain times or days

Pass by Hop Lun (on the right)

0.3 mi

Turn left onto E 32nd St

0.2 mi

Turn left at the 2nd cross street onto Park Ave

295 ft

Use the right lane to stay on Park Ave

Destination will be on the right

112 ft

Joshua Just Attorney

3 Park Avenue, 39th Fl

New York, New York

#Joshua Just Attorney #New York Attorney #New York City Attorney #New York City Lawyer #Manhattan Lawyer #Manhattan Attorney

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danbensen · 5 years

Photo

Undertaker by bensen-daniel

An attempt at an undertaker, a predator from the Sweet Blood Biome of Junction ( www.thekingdomsofevil.com/?pag… ). I made some gestures toward the scaled exoskeleton of the animal (and I'm rather pleased with how the joints turned out), but I'm still not satisfied with the arms, which should be able to "lock" while they store force, then "release" in a prey-smashing whip-crack (think pistol shrimp, mantis shrimp, or the hind legs of a flea). Also, it's described in the book in such a way that you might mistake it for a human when it stands on its hind legs, which I forgot until just now. Anyway, it looks nice.

More info about the book here: www.goodreads.com/book/show/41…

Only 20 days until the release date! I'm quite excited.102550100

#mystuff #junction #novel #aliens #mystery #romance #specevo #speculative evolution

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strainingfororiginality · 6 years

Text

Chapter 13.2 - Redemption

Home - Zayde Wolf

Home, never too far, never too close to come home

Never too lost, never too found to come home

Never too young, never too old to be known

No matter how far you go, you're never alone

We can believe in

We can believe in dreams

Can you hear them? Can you hear them?

The lanky figure to her right she recognized immediately. This recognition stemmed from both EL’s memories as well as her own, though this woman shared far more features with Quintus now than she did with The Master. Dawn wasn’t sure how she felt about her, given their muddled past, but she knew now was not the time to hold any lingering grudges.

As she craned her head to the side and spied the being out of the corner of her eye, a goofy grin slowly creeping across the angel’s face in a poor attempt at half-apology, half-greeting.

Ozyrel. The Master. The Ancients. The Right Hand of God. Angel of Death herself.

"Hello there …" She wiggled her fingers at Dawn with a hesitant wave, followed by a nervous little chuckle all while nervously clearing her throat. “... heheh … hello again … I mean … um ....”

Dawn squinted and her nostrils began to curl up. That fucker ...

"He’s coming." Raphael cut off his sister mid-babble. “Reunions must wait.”

Dawn shuddered. She had never felt as tiny as she did in this moment as she looked around at her uncles and found that they towered above her. She locked onto the intense amber eyes of Gabriel again and she swallowed hard. "So … What now then?" Her time in Hell came flooding back to her and she remembered how Quinlan had used her gifts to defeat their serpentine jabberwocky. “I will be your weapon.”

It was a statement of fact, or at least she felt it was. It was obvious, wasn’t it? It was why she was made, after all. Wasn’t it? To be their weapon. To be their storm. Right?

But she could not have been more wrong. She was not their weapon, just as Sandalphon had never been. She was not something to be used and later discarded. In fact, she was born to replace something that they had each lost, and standing in the center of this powerful formation, she knew what it was and what she represented within it. Dawn gulped again.

"Not at all, my silly child ..."

Michael gripped her left hand first. Energy sparked across her vision and as he stepped into her, his spirit faded to vapor and particles of gold danced over her body. Just as he felt her hate earlier, she was overcome with his love. There was a tiny instance of resistance before she realized how this had to work. She had to forgive him. In all of his glory and all of his flaws, in all of his victories and all of his stumbles, in all of his hate and all of his love. She had to accept him. In fact, she had to accept them all. In every shade of gray they existed.

Her Left Hand. The grandfather. The Lion.

She accepted him. Her residual hate dissolved.

Dawn accepted love. In fact, she bathed in it.

"You misunderstand ..."

Ozryel gripped her right hand. Silver flooded across their skin and Ozryel stepped into her next.

Her Right Hand. The torturer. The Eagle.

She let go of her unrelenting anger towards this angel and her need for vengeance retreated.

Dawn gave forgiveness.

"You are not our weapon …"

Gabriel laid a palm on either side of her shoulders and he nodded to her once before he stepped within and her vision danced with amber streaks.

Her Shield. The pursuer. The Ox.

She released her fear of him. Her desire to run waned and then abated completely.

Dawn took courage and this made her smile.

"We are yours, Daughter of Days."

She could not see him, but she felt his touch as Raphael placed his hands onto her shoulders.

She struggled with this one the most and Raphael was infinitely patient as he squeezed her shoulders gently. "Now it’s time to forgive yourself." His forehead pressed against the back of her head and the tears welled up furiously in her eyes.

"I don’t deserve that. They died …" All of those souls. All of that pain. Their existence had been snuffed out because of her actions. She didn’t deserve to be forgiven. “Because of me … because of my actions.”

"Yes. You are ultimately at fault." Her head swung low and the first tear broke free from her eye and travelled down her cheek. “And no one can understand that pain as I do.” He did. He really did and she felt it. “The past cannot be changed, not even by someone such as you.” She had seen the destruction he caused that day. The souls that he had extinguished. “But you have to let it go.” She clenched her fists. “Atone for it by proving now that their deaths had purpose. Atone for it by ensuring he takes no more this day.”

Her Heart. The guardian. The man.

She set free her self-loathing. Her yearning for punishment.

Dawn welcomed the possibility of redemption.

This was the divine chariot and she was at its very center. Their powers swirled all around her, and she realized she had always been wrong. Dawn assumed she had been born alone with a tormenting insatiable ache that drove an unrelenting loneliness.

Such a terrible fate to be a Hayyoth without an other. EL shared this pain, he explained that they were utterly defective. He said they were broken in such a fundamental way, they could never be fully complete. But now, as the reality of her current situation dawned on her, a slow and steady smile crept over her thin lips.

In the end, EL was right, but just not in the way he had always assumed. She didn’t have an other.

She had four ...

and together, they made five.

He landed on his feet this time, cratering into the pavement below as his thighs tensed, taking the brunt of the impact as an impressive little shock wave emanated in rings around him. He was already moving the manhole cover when Raum landed less than gracefully several feet away, crumpling into a broken ball on the hard street. He whimpered lowly as he cracked himself back into composure.

"Keep her busy." Quinlan barked the command as he moved into the small hole, stepping down onto the ladder and reached to pull the cover closed to hide his escape path. “Buy me as much time as you can.”

Though he couldn’t see the beast, he could hear it clawing is way down the side of the building, barrelling down on them as fast as her seraphim speed could manage.

"Keep her busy?! Are you mad?!" Raum snapped his arm back into place, growling as he came back to his feet. “Wait! Where the bloody hell are you going?!”

"It is clear you are faster than I." Quinlan shrugged, offering an excuse veiled as compliment. “Meet me in the south junction of the 23rd street tube station.” As the dhampir pulled the manhole cover closed above him, he looked at the marid through the tiny sliver of opening left. “Buy me as much time as you can. Take her the long way around. That is …” Quinlan grinned with mischievous and manipulative intent. “If you can manage it, Duke.”

"Hey! I can mana--" Quinlan felt the impact of the dragon on the ground above and even heard a tiny curse from Raum as the marid fled on foot, leading the beast away from him. He waited on the ladder until he was certain she was in mad pursuit and then he jumped down into the belly of the tunnels and smiled gloriously, remembering Vasily’s incessant babbling of this very area.

"Thank you, Mr. Fet." He missed the big man and he was suddenly and irrevocably grateful for all this “useless” information of the New York underground. As he navigated through the tunnel system of the sewer, he quickly found his way into the subway just as the Ukrainian had instructed him.

Sandalphon came to mind and he shook his head as he wondered how fortuitous it had been to have met the man. Everything had always been for a reason. Every single thing. "Clever little prophet."

He followed the tube passage and jumped up to the platform of the familiar station. The very one that Dawn had fled from the train that fateful day and he had pursued her. He hopped over the fallen and lifeless shells of people litter about the ground and on the stairs. His heart thundered with anticipation and he smiled as he drew nearer to his intended destination.

Everything was for a reason. Everything. Dawn had been drawn to that man for an uncertain reason and he had helped to open Quinlan’s eyes to the control of this purgatory. He had told him about the mind fleas and to the conspiracy of this reality. But the dhampir’s absolute certainty slowly waned as he approached the junction of hallways and he heard ... nothing.

He had hoped to hear the ranting from afar but all was entirely quiet and as he rounded the final bend, his heart fell. No one stood. Not a thing moved. Fallen people littered the area and the bum, his obvious target, was slouched against the far wall, legs sprawled out before his limp figure. His head leaned to the side. His hands open and still in his lap.

Could Quinlan have been wrong? Apparently this man was just like all the rest of the mortal souls here. Damnation. This was not what he expected and a Latin curse escaped as he turned to flee back into the belly of tunnels, unsure what he might try next.

Free - Tommee Profitt, Svrcina

Known by the sin of our fathers

Let it all come out and burn like a fire

We'll shout a little bit louder

Cos the night still has a thousand nights

And when the truth is brought to light

You and I, you and I will be

Free, free, free

"I … doubted." It was a whisper, laden with sadness and such viceral anguish that Quinlan froze mid-retreat.

Quinlan spun and the man leaning against the wall twitched and spoke lowly. Oh gods. He had been right. This man was not like the others and the dhampir’s heart raced again with burgeoning hope. "Pardon?" He stepped towards him. “What did you doubt?”

"Forgive me." The beggar seemed to stare down into his open, dirty hands before struggling to his feet, using the wall behind him as leverage. Quinlan might have offered him assistance, but he did not imagine the man would accept it. In fact, he knew he would not. “For the first time, I had begun to doubt you ...”

"I do not require your forgiveness. Right now, there is far more serious--" He offered the statement, but as the man continued to speak out into the open space around them, interrupting the dhampir mid-sentence, it was quite obvious Quinlan wasn’t the intended recipient of his words.

"My faith … I am sorry. I faltered. Forgive me." The man reached for a headless mop handle and took several steps towards Quintus as he finally acknowledged his existence, leaning heavily on the makeshift staff. “Well? Shall we?”

Quinlan cocked his head to the right. "Shall … we?"

"Well ... She is coming." The man pointed down the corridor, in the direction from which Quinlan had entered. “I think we should go now. No?” He took several steps in that direction before the dhampir stammered.

"Wait … Wait." This was no place or time for small talk, though Quinlan didn’t imagine he would have even attempted had there been, but he still felt he was missing something and he hated to be in the dark. “Who … are you?”

The old man tilted his head just a smidge to the right, pushing the hood of his dirty jacket back. For the first time, the dhampir got a clean view of his overly bearded face, of his matted dark brown and gray hair, of his soot smeared skin, and of his … glossed eyes. He had entirely missed this detail before as the man’s eyes were so gray in color that the matching non-black tint of the pupil had been masked.

"That’s the wrong question."

Quinlan was not a fool and he actually knew the previous question had been wrong the moment it fled from his lips and his body flooded with bumps as he knew what the right question was even before the man asked for it. "Who … were you?"

"Yes … Good. Clever one, aren’t you?" The sigh that escaped the man’s lungs was long and tortured. “You see … “ He tapped his ear. “He wept into my ear that night … my last night on Earth ...” He pulled back his sleeves to show Quinlan the scars across his pale wrists. “He wept when he told me I would need to suffer here ... for thousands of years.” He pulled his sleeves back down, subduing the shame that accompanied these marks. “He asked that I come here ... knowing I would bear witness to all the punishments for my fallen children.” The man laughed and though his words were sad in nature, this laugh was rich in relief and gratitude. “He wept when he said he needed me to sacrifice myself.”

"Who?" Quinlan pushed, though the answer was quite obvious. “Who wept into your ear … ?” He very nearly called the man child, but even as the title brushed apprehensively across the dhampir’s mind, a shiver ran down his spine, stopping him. He knew this man was older than even himself. In fact, he felt like he had always known this man.

"My father. My maker. God." The blind man said simply. He was definitely blind, though he stared directly into Quinlan’s eyes and the dhampir swallowed hard. “God cried when he asked me to sacrifice. When he asked me to die … for this.”

"I do not understand." Quinlan prodded as he looked around. This was taking far too long. They didn’t have time for this. They didn’t have time for such crazy banter. And yet … he needed to know. “Why would he ask this of you? Why would he--”

"He said that I would need to be here ... at this time ... in this place ..." Fate. That tricky invisible hand. There should have been no wind in this place and yet the breeze plucked across the man’s face and his mangy hair danced in its chaotic embrace. He smiled, breathing another sigh as he reached out to touch Quinlan’s half human face and much to the dhampir surprise, he allowed him. His dirty fingertips, sticking out from the ends of the tattered gloves, glanced off of Quinlan’s largest cheek scar precisely. “That you would need my help here, son …”

Son.

There was something so profoundly true in that word and Quinlan found himself unable to shake the feeling that encompassed him now. "Your help …?" He whispered the question. “With what exactly?” Quinlan didn’t want to sound desperate, but he was. He knew he was trapped. He knew he was damned, and he still wasn’t entirely sure if this man wasn’t just mad. “What could you possibly do to help me?” This man was blind.

"To help you do what you do best, Fifth Invictus." Was Quinlan really shocked this man knew who he was? Yes and no. Quinlan waited with held breath. “Unconquerable. Invincible. To do what you were born to do.” The man grinned furiously. “Quintus Sertorius … sorry … Quintus … Densus …” Quinlan’s doubt of the man’s sanity melted away. “To do what you do better than anyone else ...”

"And what exactly is that?"

"To disrupt, Prince of the Pale. To dismantle. To destruct. There has never been a cage that could hold you, has there?" The man smiled and for the first time, Quinlan saw a brief glimpse of sanity. Quinlan saw the man behind the crazy and his skin crawled with bumps. “I’m here to help us break free from this cage.”

"And yet, you have still not answered my question." Quinlan tilted his head to the right and peered into the strange visage. “Who are you?”

"I have already said who I am." The man stiffened and stood tall, throwing his shoulders back as pride filled his posture. “I am the Prophet of the Lord.”

"Yes. So you have said." Quinlan tilted his head the other direction. “And which one would that be? History knows many.”

"Really? Certain of that, are you?" The old man chuckled. Old? Was he truly older than Quintus? Very old, in fact.

"Methuselah?" Quinlan offered and the man snorted, waving him off as he began to step towards the tunnels again. “Enoch?” The dhampir scurried after him and his frustration began to mount. “Please, I do not follow. Who are you? Why would God send you to me? What could a blind man possibly--”

"There is not a single answer to your question. I have been many, Prince. My soul has spanned lifetimes."

"How many?"

"I have been a prophet of the Lord hundreds of times. Perhaps more. What does it matter? I’ve lost count now. The years blur since my true beginning."

"Hundreds?" The question was but a rasp as its true gravity hit Quinlan fully.

"A prophet is a dangerous thing, or have you not gathered as much yet?" The prophet shuffled around the corner as Quinlan followed. “Surely you realize that The Great Spirit would not have made more than a handful of us. In fact, there have never been more than five ...” The man pinched his eyes shut with sadness. “At any single time … There is great power in five, don’t you see?”

Five. It was always five. Not four. There were not four brothers. There were five. Five invictii. Five prophets.

"Only five?" Quinlan’s mind swam with the possibility of the man’s statement. “But … there have been more than five prophets …”

The man stopped and faced Quinlan. "I … was the Patriarch of all prophets. I … led the Exodus of the Israelites out of Egypt. I … built an ark so massive that my children could persist after God’s childish wrath. I … brought peace to the five warring clans of the Iroquois nation. I have been burned at the stake more times than I care to remember. And where I am the alpha." Deganawida closed his eyes, taking in a deep and passionate breath, relief washing over him as he shed all need for disguise. “My child … your love … is the omega.”

"The … alpha … ?" Quinlan squinted at him. “You are … ” The Alpha prophet himself. Patriarch of all the prophets. The First? Which meant before even Lilith herself. And this simple fact left only one possibility. Quinlan was unsure if he should be surprised or impressed. He had met many who were more impressive, hadn’t he? “You are …” And yet, this caused him great pause. “Adam.”

"Was." The man stretched. “I was … at one point … at one time … in another life … very far from this one.”

"Was. So then what are you now?"

"Now?" That smile. Quinlan knew it though he was certain he had never met this man before. He knew what it was and what it expressed because he felt connected to him. The feeling of that connection coursed through his veins. “At this point in time? At this instance?” The man placed his hand on the dhampir’s shoulder and gripped it with a familiarity that rattled Quinlan to his very core. “I am to be your salvation, my son.”

There was a concerning vibration in the background, though he knew he had heard this before, he wasn’t able put his finger on what it was. Not yet at least. This should have been his first concern, as EL considered his memory unmatched.

He knelt on that rock and touched it inquisitively. He had left her right here. Dammit. He stood and squinted into the vast darkness, resisting the urge to scratch the back of his head, lest she might be watching him. Best not to give away his utter confusion. "Where’d you go, you slippery fuckers …"

While he knew Michael was here, he wasn’t sure if Raphael had been foolish enough to follow his brother in. "I know you’re here!" He called out. “Come on!” He waved his arms around, egging them on. “Aurora … where did you go? Aurora!?”

Something glinted in the distance and he casually strolled towards it, his footsteps echoing against nothing and everything all at once in the infinite and dark space. "Ah hah! There you are."

As he approached, his head craned to the left. Wait, that wasn’t Aurora. It was much larger than her and it glinted of bronze for a moment. Or perhaps it was silver? Or maybe even gold ...

"Gabriel?" EL snorted merrily. “Are you serious?!” Oh this was getting good. The brute would be the easiest path into the Nexus. He would take him right now in fact, but as he closed the distance, he thought he saw Michael instead, or perhaps it was Ozryel?

As he got closer and closer, he did see Dawn. Short and still. Standing and silent. Her eyes were closed and he stopped five feet from her, pausing as the uncertainty rattled him. Where was the Indigo Child? "You guys really should have stayed out. This isn’t Earth." He waved his hands around at the space in Dawn’s mind. “I’m in charge here.”

"Takes a big man to pick on such a tiny woman, doesn't it?" Gabriel voice echoed from somewhere, from everywhere, all at once, but her lips hadn’t moved. “Feel proud of yourself, Lucy?”

"Small woman? EL chuckled and his laugh was thick and rich with disgust. “You have no idea what she’s capable of. You always think size indicates strength. Haven’t I proved you wrong enough times, big brother?"

"That, my dear, sweet, lost, little sibling …" This was Ozryel’s voice. Her quip rattled through the darkness as she snickered. “Is actually exactly what we’re hoping for.”

"Enough." EL scowled at Dawn, cocking his head to the right and twitching like the bird of prey he was. “I’m done here.” He reached into her mind, feeling for anyone or anything. “I don’t have time for you right now.”

"But … all we have is time, you little shit." Michael laughed with unhindered amusement leaking in his voice. Everything began to hum louder.

Champion - Barns Courtney

I've been on a long road

With the devil right beside me

Rising with the morning sun

It's a hunger that drives me

Woah Lord, set my soul

Take my pain and turn it into gold

Cause all I know, all I know, all I know is...

Champion

I can take a beating, I'll rise again

Burning through the jungle until the end

I can live forever, I'll rise again

Keep rising up I'm

Champion

That sound. Fuck. He knew that sound. The darkness itself had started to vibrate with its rhythm and she hadn’t moved yet. Not even to open her eyes and EL laughed, masking his concern, as he always did.

"It’s not too late." This time it was her and though her lips moved, her voice came at him from all directions. “You can go back home, EL. I’ll allow it.” A smirk. She was making him the very same offer he had just made her. “Trust me, it’s a better deal than Heaven will offer.”

"I’ve been patient." His voice cracked with budding disappointment as he sighed all too dramatically. His form moved and he reshaped himself. His height stretched several feet and his tail slithered towards her, weaving its way around her ankles as the crown of his cobra physique flexed out around his face, curving up around his entire head. “I assure you, far more patient than I have ever been with anyone. You should be honored.”

"You’ve overstayed your welcome and we’re gonna have to ask you to leave now." There was a familiar vibration in those words. Her tone was more masculine than feminine and the vibrations only increased. It wasn’t just one voice. It was many.

"Oh Aurora, Aurora, Aurora ... who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?"

"My name …" That damn noise. It had been distant, but now it was clean and sharp and overly familiar. He remembered it. He had trouble recalling it before because he had only heard it once, at the very moment of his creation. This was the sound of the Living Creatures locking into the chariot. It was the vibration of the individual Hayyoths seeking alignment within the gears of the divine wheel itself. And then the noise hummed with absolute clarity. It began to spin all around them. Faster and then faster. Wind blew through EL’s hair. “Is Dawn.”

"Oh … " EL whispered as a confident grin stretched across her face and he fought the urge to take a step back when she looked upon him with matching rainbow eyes. “Fuck.”

It was too late. This discussion had delayed them far too long and Quinlan was not surprised when Persephone rounded the corner ahead of them. Though, he was surprised to see Raum’s feet in her claws as she drug him carelessly behind her.

"You seem to have forgotten something!" Upon seeing the dhampir, she chortled with glee. “Pity, I might have dropped a bit of him along the way though.” Quinlan hadn’t noticed that the body was lacking its head until she flung the limp Marid towards him with as much strength and speed as possible. He attempted a dodge, but the body hit him with such force, he continued with its trajectory into the brick wall behind them, connecting with the blind prophet as he went. “I’m afraid he wasn’t as fast as you assumed.” The next cackle echoed.

"And you are dumber than I imagined! Fleeing from me into the bowels of the Earth?!" She grunted a low and guttural chuckle. “Stupid thing. Did you forget this is my domain!” The walls shook and the brick that lined them cracked and fell as the ground around the tunnel heaved and swayed to her will. “There are no windows down here from which you might flee me. I have won.”

Damnation. Useless Djinn! Quinlan pushed the headless body from him and came to his feet, glimpsing that the prophet was now unconscious from the impact. He might have cursed, but her claws prevented it as she pinned him against the brick. Leaning down, she took in his smell with deep and eerie inhales. She tasted him from his aroma, drawing it out of the air itself and she licked her lips, showing pleasure from its flavor.

He struggled against her grip. "Stop fighting me. It’s pointless. Useless in fact. No one can help you. Just give in to me, Invictus." Persephone purred into his ear and she stroked the hair that was still upon his head with strange affection. “Surrender.”

He grunted like a child, tensing and thrashing. He bit down, flexing his muscles against her strength. This position. This feeling. Being subdued. Being dominated. It was unacceptable. Clenching his jaw, he felt panic set in and he struggled harder than he even had against Raphael when the angel had pinned him in a very similar way.

"No. No. No. I must go. Release me, Demon!" He chanted over and over and then something began to give. The wall behind started to soften. In fact, everything began to soften. If her eyes hadn’t grown large with burgeoning worry, he would have thought it was her doing, but Persephone pulled him back from the brick and flung him away, sending him skidding across the ground on his side.

"I am insulted! Why don’t you like it here, Invictus? I gave you a beautiful wife. A perfect little family, albeit just a little broken by design. I thought you might enjoy something you would have to fix. It would have made it feel more … like yours." Persephone ruffled her frills as she spoke. Her scaled dragon lips exposing the large teeth in graceful waves as she spoke. “I gave you a life that most would cherish.”

"It is not real." He was back on his feet, glancing at the still unconscious prophet. Useless! “They are not real. Dawn is real. Dawn is--”

"Aurora?! She is above you, lowly born bastard slave. You should be happy that she is free of this place and free of you."

"And that was your folly, Demon. There is no happiness without her."

"If you really cared for her, you’d let her go, wouldn’t you? Everything that you touch, turns to ash. Everyone that you love, eventually suffers for it." She paced before him. “I gave you a suitable replacement, didn’t I? A far more beautiful one.”

"I believe you and I have two very different definitions for that word." Quinlan shook his head as he laughed at her attempted manipulation. “And I will reject any soul you give me to replace her. You cannot … you will not … control my emotions.”

"Oh, you simple little thing. You think that was just any soul? Didn’t you recognize her? Didn’t she feel … familiar to you?"

"What treachery--"

"I plucked her from my garden especially for you. Out of all the ripe ones, I picked her … for you."

"You are mad. You implying I could have wanted that … thing?!" He knew this was harsh, but he wished to make a point of it.

"Do you still not recognize her, little lord? Think. Remember." The stench of her hot breath nauseated him. “Your precious, lost … tormented … tragic priestess.”

"No." Quinlan blinked. She was lying. She had to be. No. NO. “NO.” Purgatorium was filled with the lost and most broken souls of Hell and he knew her words were truth. The familiarity hadn’t been fabricated. The unshakable sense of responsibility that had plagued him. The sense of shame, of betrayal. The sense that he had failed her … Oh gods … Persephone had indeed used this to control him.

"As you said, I cannot control your emotions. That was … all you." Her tongue pressed against the back of her fangs and she whistled the word through her teeth. “You used her up …”

"Stop." He didn’t wish to remember this.

The beast snickered. "Used her up and spit her out. As you do with everyone. Just as you would have done with my niece. Michael was right." She purred. “You are a piece of shit, just like all of them are. They will use us up and spit us out. All the same … all the same.”

Her niece? This was the first folly she had made and Quinlan heard it. Hers. Was there a crumb of affection there?

"Wait … is this really your plan?" He laughed. “To force my compliance through self-loathing?” He shook his head. “You are too late, beast. I already hate myself more than any creature can. There is nothing that you need to say to make it more true, but that will never dissuade me from my happiness.”

"Happiness?" She scoffed Did your priestess experience your … happiness?”

"Then that is why you failed." He laughed. She lunged again and he was too slow again. She squeezed his ribs and even through the pain of her strength, he laughed. “Do you not realize the folly? The fact that I did not love her was why she killed herself.”

"You cared for her once. You still do. I feel it." Persephone licked the side of his face and rolled the tongue in her mouth as she relished in his skin’s taste.

"Caring and loving are two different hearts." Quinlan tilted his head, carefully considering his next words and their ultimate intention. He was about to utter something quite incendiary and her reaction might be explosive. “You would know that … if you ever bothered to love.”

Bellowing a gargantuan laugh that echoed, she cackled at his attempt to infuriate. "That is rich coming from someone as repugnant as you. I’ve seen your mind. Your memories. I doubt that even what you feel for Child of Prophecy is real love."

But something had been plaguing him since he woke. It had itched at the back of his brooding mind and now was the time to call it out. If she wanted to chat, then he would comply. "You are full of shit." The language was overly vulgar on purpose to pique her attention and it worked beautifully.

"Excuse me?"

She gripped his neck tighter and he pulled at her claws, trying to relieve enough pressure for him to speak again. "You know it. Or else why would you send us to that museum … together? Of all the places to send us … "

"Me? I did no such thing." She lied. She was a terrible liar. “I was toying with you both!” The laugh was nearly genuine, but he smirked slightly as he picked up the hint of dishonesty lingering in the very back of her tone. “You know nothing.”

"Bullshit. The fliers in the lobby … the last day … " He could see it now. In her face. In her eyes. The tone of her words. He could see her agony. She was a prisoner herself, the same as he. His lips curled up and what Quinlan did next was entirely against his nature. He took a deep breath and surrendered to her. Every muscle relaxed and he whispered the word again. “Bullshit.” She could have ripped him apart at this moment, and instead, her claws loosened. This had been nothing more than a game to her and he wasn’t going to play it any longer. “You wanted us to find each other. You wanted us to love.”

"I wanted …" Persephone stuttered. “... I wanted her to see the repugnant thing I know to be.”

"Bullshit. You fear her. You would not have toyed with her heart as such." Quinlan stood tall before her and touched his neck as he stretched it, clearing his throat. “The museum. The exhibit. Beauty. Monstrosity. The battle between light and dark. Michael vs. Lucifer. You were painting our narrative for us to see. You were trying to awaken--”

"I wanted her to see you. I wanted you to reject her for who she really was. I wanted her to experience the pain I have. I wanted her to see who your true heart. What men really are ..."

"Bull … shit." She ruffled at the word and Quinlan smirked, shaking his head at her continued excuses and lies.

"You are right, Quintus." This came from the side as the prophet finally spoke. “She pushed you two together. She wanted to watch you fall in love again. She wanted to feel the love that I know she so desperately misses.”

"Shut up!" She spun, spitting at the man. “Enough!”

"And the reason is so very simple. It’s because …" The homeless man hummed. He was back to his feet finally, with that ridiculous mop handle in his hand again. “Persephone has always been a romantic at heart.”

"Don’t speak as if you know me, dirty peasant!" Her attention diverted to the raggedy man and she took several menacing steps towards him, threatening as she approached. “I will wipe your mind again and again and again. As many times as it takes.”

"Wipe it then. Again and again and again. Send your fleas in. It makes no difference because it will never stick. It never has and it never will."

"You are a continued annoyance I will no longer tolerate. Just a fly. Buzzing around my world."

"Do you not wonder why, Maiden?" Quinlan interrupted. “Do you not know what he is?! What makes him different?!”

"Nothing makes him different! He’s just a man." She hissed towards the beggar. “I’ve been in his mind and he’s just a man.” She spun again. “You’re … just a damned man, like all the rest here.”

"You are absolutely right, big sister." Sister. Persephone paused. Her shoulders and neck frill rattled as she shook in disagreement with that word. “I am just a man, but hardly like all the rest. And each time you take from my mind …” A breeze danced across the air. “Our Father will always give it back to me.”

Our … Father.

"No!" She charged him and Quinlan knew there was no time to react. She charged at the gray, frail man, but he stood his ground, not moving an inch as she came to a stop before she touched him. “Stop!”

"I am just a man, big sister." He reached up to touch her cheek and she shrieked at the motion, moving away just slightly enough from his reach that he could not touch her. “I am just a man. In fact, the only man who shares your father, sister.”

" … lies … You are lying." Her resistance to his words waned. “You … you … you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t have … damned yourself ...”

"I would have said the same of you, beautiful maiden."

" … lies … No. Enough! I will not be--"

"אויב איר טאָן ניט טראַכטן וועגן דעם, איר טאָן ניט טראַכטן וועגן דעם .רעהטאָרב רווי אָסלאַ מאַ, איך טאָן ניט גיין"

And as the enochian flowed freely from his lips, she came down to her knees before him, accepting the truth of his words and the truth of his soul. Quinlan had no idea what was uttered, but absolute relief followed her whispered word: "Adam? Why … why didn’t you say something?!"

It was perfect. This distraction was perfect. The dhampir grinned with sinister intent as he quietly dipped to retrieve his sword, approaching her from behind.

He would have swung the blade up and down through her unsuspecting neck, but Adam waved a hand towards him, halting the stealth attack. "Put the sword down, Quintus. There is no longer a need for it. The fight is done."

"Wait … what?!? Are you … mad?!" The dhampir stared at the blind man with budding frustration. “You cannot trust her! If you are not here to help me defeat her, then why are--”

"There is more than one way to defeat an opponent, General Densus." Adam reached out for her again and this time, she allowed him contact with her skin. “When I said I was sent here to help free us from this terrible cage … from this accursed place … from this endless punishment and torment ...” He gripped each side of her massive jaw and pulled the beast’s head down to his level and she allowed it, his touch seemed to soothe the burning fire within her. “From damnation.” Pressing his cheek against the scales of her face, he sighed deeply. “I was not referring to just you and I, Quintus. It’s time to go home, big sister.”

Quinlan’s brows knitted together and his forehead grooved with lines of intense expression as he watched the once great and giant dragon melt back into the frail, old woman she had begun as. Adam accepted her, his arms wrapping around her tiny frame and she wept into his raggedy coat as he rocked her back and forth.

"You should not be here." She cried. “What have you done to yourself? You should not--”

"You have been so very angry for so very long. But it’s not your fault. You’ve simply forgotten how not to be. It’s time to let the despair go. I was sent here to remind you ..."

"I … I am damned. I am alone. Forgotten." Her words refused him, but her body did not and he rocked her, cradling her head against his shoulder. “Forsaken.”

Adam grinned ever so slightly. "Damned? Perhaps, sister. Perhaps. But never alone and absolutely never forgotten. You have never been forsaken. Father has never torn his eyes from you … even in your time here." Adam pulled back and cupped her wrinkled cheeks in his tattered gloves, the very tips of his fingers poking through the torn leather ends and touching her white skin directly. “In fact, his trust in you was so fundamentally absolute that he chose to let you come here, just as he chose me. We are not forsaken. We are chosen.”

"I …" Surrender washed over her and she questioned the prophet with great apprehension. “Do you still hear him?” The blind man nodded simply.

"Such is my curse."

"Does he …" She swallowed hard. “Can he ... forgive me?”

"You have never needed his forgiveness." Adam pulled away from her completely now and she wiped the tears from her face. “Never then and never now. But your next choice will ultimately determine whatever redemption you wish to seek for yourself, big sister.”

"Redemption?" The word hung on her shriveled lips and she considered it carefully. “I am not worthy of such--”

"All things are worthy of redemption." Adam shook her slightly. “Everything that has ever been created is worthy of forgiveness ... and redemption. So what will it be, sister? Freedom or confinement? War or peace? Damnation or redemption?”

"I …" She looked down, shaking her head twice before she met the prophet’s gaze again, understanding what they were asking for. “I can’t help you. I don’t know the way out.”

"Of course not." Adam grinned. “Of course you don’t. You’re a prisoner, the same as me. We cannot break this cage, sister …” He flicked his head towards the silent figure who watched their interaction without interruption. “But he can.”

Quinlan looked shocked to be called out and he motioned to his own chest. "Me? How can I--"

"You cut your way into this place." Adam shrugged and pointed towards the sword in Quintus’ hand. “He says you can cut your way out. Do you remember where you tore through?”

"I do not understand. How can I do something she cannot?" He pointed at the old woman. “Is this not--”

"It’s the Power of Creation." Revelation danced across her hazel eyes as Persephone understood at once and she smiled, staring at his bone sword and then deep into his eyes. “You are an extension of Ozryel himself. Your soul reeks of his divinity.”

"Yes." Adam agreed. He turned to the reluctant dhampir, leaning heavily on his “staff” as he did. “I am told that you started a rebellion in Heaven, Prince of the Pale. And I am told that now … it’s Hell’s turn.”

"Very well then … I can try." The dhampir gripped the blade in his hand, the leather of his gloves squeaking as he shrugged. Just as he was an extension of Ozryel, his blade was an extension of him. In another time, in another place, he would resist fully accepting her as a new ally so quickly, but something felt remarkably right about the situation. He took several steps toward the tube exit, but neither moved to follow him. “Well? Are we going?”

"Quintus ..." Persephone cleared her throat with a tiny giggle and Adam sighed, shaking his head as he pointed the end of his mop handle towards the limp and headless body against the southern wall, expressing disappointment in the dhampir’s feigned ignorance. “Perhaps we should retrieve Raum’s head first?”

Quinlan hadn’t purposefully forgotten about the downed Djinn, or at least he would never admit that openly. The man had helped him, however pointless it had been and the dhampir groaned. "Fine. I suppose he may still be of some use."

House of the Rising Sun - The Animals

And don't forget what your name is

And know what the game is

From the North coast to the South coast

From country to country

Mind to mind

Generation to generation

From time to time

And to sniff across your mind

It wasn’t at all what she was expecting. It wasn’t order. It wasn’t beautifully aligned. It was absolute fucking chaos. They locked into place and as the divine wheel began to spin around her, everything hummed in beautiful harmony until EL came at them. He saw her eyes and there was no hesitation. She envied his quickness to act but it did not belay the fear that she saw thick in his eyes.

But then everyone tried to step forward all at once.

Well, not entirely everyone. She and Raphael watched as the other three struggled for control, attempting to block his first blow. As a result, Dawn took no action at all, and they went sliding across the ground.

It didn’t help that she could feel another fight taking place at the same time, but this one was not in her mind. This one was on Earth. Each of the Angels, including EL, was splitting their attention between the two.

EL pulled her to her feet and his forehead connected with hers. Everything echoed with viscous waves as the force of his strike drew sparks across all their sights.

"Good lord! Who’s elbow is in my face?!!" Ozryel screamed.

"Oz, no one has elbows in here!" Michael sighed.

"If it’s not an elbow, then what the hell is it?!" She bellowed. “Oh god, Gabriel that better not be you!”

"Yeah, you’re gonna wish that was my elbow." Gabriel quipped back, snickering sinisterly.

"Oh my fucking god … that had better be your god damned elbow!" Ozryel was horrified and Gabriel was laughing.

"FOR FUCK’S SAKE! THERE ARE NO ELBOWS HERE! OR ANYTHING ELSE!!!" Michael wailed.

Another strike was imminent and she felt them all flood forward again.

"I’ve got this!" The three of them said all at once.

It was too much. There was too much. EL hadn’t let go of her since the last hit and he cocked his head back as he prepared for another blow and everything slowed to a stop as Dawn gasped for breath. She didn’t even know where she was anymore. She was inside of her mind … inside of her mind? Oh god … Everything reeled and she thought she might throw up, but of course, there was no body. Nor was there a stomach from which to eject stuff. There was just this. Just … her. Her and … them. The chaos of … them.

"I don’t know how to …" She wasn’t even entirely sure who she was talking to and when no one responded, she realized there was no one she could talk to. Everything had stopped. No, that wasn’t entirely right. She had stopped everything.

"Oh shit." She spun but nothing changed. She was alone. “Oh no. No, no, no, no.” She remembered the confluence and Ellie and Lilith. She remembered their training and she closed her eyes (even though she had no eyes) and she took a deep, long breath (even though she had no lungs) and her heart raced furiously (even though this was just her mind) and she focused. She focused on one person in particular.

"Very good." He responded as she released him, or rather, pulled him into her bubble. “You’re learning.” He smiled. She didn’t see his grin of course, but she felt it.

"I suck at this." She had barely begun to reinforce her lack of confidence and she felt him shake his head. “Are they always like this?!”

“Yes.” The answer was immediate and curt. She thought it was intended for humor, but his face was entirely serious.

“I can’t--”

"I have never heard Sandalphon utter those words." He stated it as plain as day. “Not in a million years.” That time span sounded facetious, but something assured her … it was likely not.

"I’m not Ellie." She retorted, stating the obvious but she somehow knew she would regret this doubt.

"Clearly you’re not." Raphael shrugged, squinting at her with friendly, yet manipulative eyes. “You’re much stronger than she has ever been. Than she could ever be.”

Shit.

She waved towards the other three angels in disgust. She knew it was childish to blame Raphael, but her embarrassment allowed the words to rush forth without much lingering thought. "You’re not saying anything. You were just standing there. Why don’t you just do it? I’ll let you. You can--"

"It’s not my place to command here." Raphael admitted without an ounce of arrogance. “I can’t feel them as you do. Besides …” A small and innocent snicker leaked out of his jovial words. “Right now, they are much more likely to surrender to you than me.”

"Yeah right." She dismissed his claim with a huffed breath. “I don’t buy that for one second.”

"I’ve caused them to doubt me. And rightly so." He admitted. “I’ve kept things from them. I’ll have to earn that trust back, but you … “ Oh god. That damn smile. “They want to trust you. I can feel that.”

"I just … Can you help me?" She looked at them and then she looked at him. “I don’t know if--”

"Does a sword command the person who wields it, Dawn?" She didn’t want to answer his question and really, she knew it didn’t matter if she did. He was right and she was just stalling. “Do you take orders from it … Or you do command it?”

"But … What happens if we do and I force him out?" She was terrified to hear the answer. “What happens if we succeed?”

"You know the answer to that." Raphael was full of bitter honesty. “He will be pushed back to Hell.”

"And what about Quintus?" She jumped on the question immediately. It plagued her more than any other. “He’s still there … I shouldn’t have left him there.”

"That’s a very good question. One I have no doubt Sandalphon has already considered. Whatever you might think of her now, you and I both know … there’s more left to whatever plan she set into motion." She felt the longing that raged in Raphael’s heart. “So I suggest … We give The Born as much time as he might require.” She felt his hands on her arms, turning her back around to face the fight. To face her other uncles. “How long do you think the two of us can keep our Light Bringer busy?”

"You mean the five of us." She corrected and she felt the archangel beam from behind.

"Yes. Five."

There is power in Five.

He pushed on the middle of her back gently, urging her to step toward. "Now … try again."

Ah hell.

Adam was less than spry in his stroll. He took up the rear and they had to slow down for him quite often. But it was now only a few more blocks to the point of Quinlan’s initial entry to purgatory and the dhampir slowed down, allowing Persephone and Raum to take the lead so that he might steal a private word with the prophet.

"You can hear him?" Quinlan asked lowly. “God speaks to you even now?”

"I can always hear him. Even when others do not. Even when he himself does not wish it. This is my gift. My curse."

"Hmmm." The dhampir nodded as he carefully considered his next line of questioning.

"Just ask. He already knows what you wish to know."

"Can he …" Quinlan resisted the emotion, but his voice quaked with the words. “Can he see her now?”

"He is always watching her. All of us, in fact."

"Did she make it through her gate?" Quinlan slowed his pace even more, putting more distance between them and the two in front. “Does she live again?”

"Yes."

A wave of relief flushed his body and he breathed out deeply

"But she battles the Morning Star now." The Prophet grinned with great pride. “One of my children fights against the greatest of snakes right now, for the existence all.” Adam’s smile only widened further, exposing the coffee stained enamel of his underlying yellow teeth. “Between the two of us …” He leaned in and whispered the next words as if they were a great secret. “I don’t think the the Light Bringer understands the wrath that he has unleashed.”

"No. He does not." Quinlan tried to meet his smile, both in pride and love, but his weariness shown through. “She is … defiant.”

"She’s with her uncles." Adam nodded. “She is with Raphael now. She has embraced them all.”

This sentence, this thought, was incredibly comforting and Quinlan pinched his eyes shut. "Good."

"But ..." Adam gripped his shoulder, squeezing it slightly. “It was not just her wrath I was speaking of … Your wrath is quite legendary, Prince.”

"My wrath …" Quinlan sighed, shutting his eyes in shame. “My anger drove me for much of my life. It was addictive, in a way. I fed off of it, and it fed from me. But now ..." Quinlan stared down at his gloves. "I am fueled by a new addiction, a better one, I feel."

"Do you really think she is an addiction, Quintus?"

"There is no better word to describe the visceral need I feel for her."

“You can just call it love.” Adam nearly laughed. “All things in creation are worthy of it. Even you, Quintus. In fact, most especially you.”

“I … I wished to prove myself worthy. I told Michael I would, but I … sent her on alone. I promised her I would not do so again. I promised–”

"You worry, but there is no need for that." Adam noted. “She will win, and that outcome, thanks to you diving head first into the belly of the pit itself, thanks to you following her beacon into the most terrifying of places, Invictus, is already in motion. Her victory is unstoppable. That has always been her fate ... but …”

Quinlan opened his pale eyes. "But?"

"But our fates … Our outcome … has never been certain, Prince of the Pale."

"Well?" Persephone interrupted, waving at a spot near in the middle of the road. “This is where he popped right in, swinging his big sword everywhere and cutting my little dolls in half like a barbarian.”

"Are you sure?" Raum looked around, his hand finding its way back to his neck as he stretched it again. Since they had pieced him back together, he hadn’t been able to leave his neck alone let alone stop glaring at Persephone when the situation would permit. He kept a cautious five foot distance directly behind her. “I don’t see anything.”

"No you don’t." Adam leaned on his mop handle. “But he does … don’t you, Quintus?”

Stepping forward, the space flooded him with memories. Yes. This was where it happened and yes, he did see something, but nothing like what he was expecting. He thought it might be a gate of some sort, as Dawn had described hers, but this was almost unperceivable.

The only thing he could see was a blurry spot hovering in the air about five feet high, barely the size of his fist. As he tilted his head from side to side, approaching it slowly, it flickered and undulated, weaving in the air as if it was a heat distortion dancing back and forth above an invisible fire.

As he approached it, he could hear something seeping from it. It was a faint whistling, as if the air was escaping from a tiny hole in a balloon. It was a pressure leak.

"Alright. Great. So what now?" The Djinn asked, but no one answered as they watched Quinlan reach into the spot and his hand faded from site. “Whoa …”

The dhampir pushed his fist in as far as he could and then he felt the edges of the rip fight against the full size of his arm. When he pulled his hand back out, he was relieved to see it was still in tact. But this hole was too tiny for his entire body though. "It’s too small." He voiced the concern out loud, not expecting an answer, yet Adam provided one nonetheless.

"He says to make it bigger then."

Hmmm. Taking a deep breath, Quinlan reached both sets of his fingers into the space and gripped the invisible edges of the hole from the inside. He was certain it would not budge, even as he put his full strength behind it. There was a grunt and he pulled his hands back out. "I cannot."

"It’s not about strength." There was a hand on his shoulder and he didn’t need to turn around to know it was Adam. “Remember what drives you. What motivates you. Find the beacon that calls to you, Quintus. You followed it here. Now follow it out.” It was not a coincidence that that was the very word Sandalphon had uttered to him in Heaven. He had no doubt that even now, God and her were working in concert and then he remembered the angel prophet’s words as clearly as if she was right before him, speaking them again.

"Love, you see, Quintus, is the one force that cannot be explained, that cannot be broken down to a chemical process. It is the beacon that, I am hoping, guides you back to her."

He reached into the void again and gripped its sides, the leather of his gloves squeaking as if they were rubbing against clean metal. Instead of forcing it this time, he felt it. He felt into it.

"And when we find love … no matter how wrong, how sad, or how terrible … we must cling to it, it gives us our strength, it holds us upright. It feeds on us and we feed on it."

He felt through it and then beyond it. He felt out and somehow, he heard her in the distance. She was calling him home and sparks arched through his fingers and then his hands and then his arms. He felt the divinity that was shaping this construct and he began to pull it apart and her beacon became louder. Quinlan smiled. "I am coming ..."

"Love is our grace."

The hole widened and he continued to pull, stretching it out all the way to the ground. As it became bigger, the light all around began to leak into the void and there was nothing but darkness beyond.

"Alright, great. You’ve made a hole. What do we do with that?" Raum noted sarcastically from behind. “What’s on the other side? Should we tether something and throw it in?”

"You are more than welcome to cautiously remain here, great Duke." Quinlan smirked as he drew his blade and stepped into the darkness without further delay.

Note from Author:

Oh good lord. Where do I even begin? Well, first I’d like to ask a few questions of my lovely readers who are left ... this chapter has been a very long time coming. I’m curious about a few things and I’d love to hear some answers to a few questions I had:

Who saw the reveal of Danny being Deganawida and/or Adam?

Who forgot about Deganawida completely? (I mean, he had to have gone somewhere, right?) I kept expecting someone to ask where the hell he was.

Speculation: Who blinded Adam?

Speculation: Who broke Persephone’s Heart?

Speculation: If there is power in FIVE, Quinlan, Raum, Persephone, and Adam make four. Any guesses on who will be their fifth?

This chapter has been a long time coming and it always takes me longer to write them lately than in the beginning. I don’t think I’m waning in motivation, but rather I’m not looking forward to it coming to an end. Three or Four parts left now (depends on how long winded I make the daring escape from Hell). I hope you are still enthralled and enjoying my long winded drabble.

Cheers my friends!

#the strain fanfic #quinlan fanfic #Mr. Quinlan fanfic #quintus sertorius fanfic #quintus densus #strainingfororiginality #an insatiable ache #chapter 13 #part 2

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