#looking at them makes me want to split the earth in twain
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Sea Legs
Story Content and Summary - 6,544 words. At the age of thirty, merfolk deity Artis requires each merperson to visit her altar. She makes a choice on their behalf, and either sends them back to their people or gives them legs, sending them to live with the Earthwalkers. When Leonie is given legs and potentially the chance to reunite with her long lost love, tragedy strikes. Will Leonie join the ranks of those who never came back? Blood, drowning, on-site resuscitation.
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Recorded on waterproof vellum, the oral histories of the Atlantic Schoole of Merfolke:
Each merfolke, having reached their thirtieth year, will make a pilgrimage to the altar of Artis. Merfolke content to swim with the Schoole will return home blessed. But a restless spirit will have their tail split in twain, and they will walk the Earthe until such time as the Sea calls them home.
—
Just over two years prior, Leonie
Twenty-eight-year-old Leonie Cerulean rushed to meet Alaric Stormur at their usual spot. She’d been the one to find them first: ruins from a town of Earthwalkers, on a submerged island long-reclaimed by the ocean.
Leonie made a pretty picture as she hurried. Long, streaming ginger hair. A crown of woven sea grass that kept her hair out of her face. Her beautiful, long tail that glimmered silvery blue-green. She swam topless as was the fashion, though she’d adorned herself with a rope of seagrass studded with small shells. The rope twined over her shoulders, and between and beneath her pale breasts.
She spotted Alaric quickly, floating in a broken archway. He’d clubbed his dark hair at the nape for travel. He was otherwise unadorned. He had the light brown skin of an angel shark, and a beautiful red and purple tail like a speckled hind.
Normally, he swam out to meet her when she approached; today, he remained where he was, peering down into the depths of the ocean. Leonie felt her own anxiety in the way he held his shoulders.
Today was the day that could change everything.
Happy birthday, my love, she thought.
Alaric turned then. His face changed a bit when he saw her, shifting from sad and distant to a weak smile.
Leonie… He opened his arms wide. Thank you.
You look sad. She wrapped her arms around him. She’d wanted to spend time with him before they talked about his pilgrimage, but she realized now that this was unrealistic. Are you… restless of spirit?
I don’t know. Alaric folded her in his arms. Their tails rippled gently in the water. I’m anxious.
I love you!
Alaric pressed his mouth to hers, his hand threading tenderly in her hair. I love you, too, Leonie. Always.
Leonie shuddered against him. You’re saying goodbye.
I don’t want to.
But you are.
I would feel worse if Artis gave me legs, and I never told you goodbye.
Later, when Alaric didn’t come back, when days turned into weeks turned into years, Leonie wondered how it was possible to feel any worse.
Present day, Leonie
Leonie’s mother, Marin, kept pace with her, anxiously peeking at her daughter as they swam. Leonie, for her part, tried to ignore the looks.
You don’t have to swim so fast, Leonie Cerulean!
The faster I get there, the faster Artis will send me home.
Leonie!
Leonie stopped swimming and pivoted to face her mother. The older merwoman could have been her sister, her own ginger hair in a loose cloud around her head. I’m sorry, Amma, but I just want to get this over with.
I know, Leonie. But I’m your mother, and we might never see each other again. I don’t know when the sea will call you home.
You believe she will give me legs. Leonie watched a froth of little bubbles escape her mother’s mouth, nose, and gills. Her mother only laced her breath like that when she was very upset.
I have never met more restless merfolk than you, starfish.
I love you, Amma. Leonie darted into her surprised mother’s arms.
I know! And I love you! But your spirit has always been restless, and the loss of your merman did not help.
If he’s alive, Leonie said. I will find him. The only reason he hasn’t come back is because Artis kept his tail. He will be looking for me.
For your sake, I hope so. Marin gazed into her daughter’s eyes, her own a deep well of sadness. I will picture him waiting for you to surface with open arms, my starfish. You will see all the bright things that the surface has to offer. And then you and Alaric will be called home to the sea to give me grandchildren to spoil.
Leonie and her mother had to part ways here by the dead reef. She had to make the rest of her journey alone. Leonie had left Alaric here on his birthday more than two years prior. Now, she was the one following the landmarks to the entrance of the underwater cave.
Be careful, her mother had told her. The Earthwalkers have artificial fins and devices to breathe beneath the water. They have been caught exploring Artis’ cave.
With that in mind, Leonie kept a watchful eye on her surroundings as she approached the fated cave. The exterior of Artis’ cave was unassuming, though the altar within was reported to be beautiful. With that in mind, Leonie swam to the entrance, hesitating only a moment before entering.
The cave was dark, even to Leonie’s light-colored eyes. It was also narrow, and she let her fingers trail along the rock as she swam, not wanting to scrub herself on something rough or sharp.
Fortunately, the tunnel widened, and the space around her grew more visible.
Leonie’s head breeched the surface and she closed her gills, spewing water from her nose and mouth. Then she drew a breath of moist, cool air. Above her, light streamed in from an opening in the rock. The beam fell on a large, flat rock at the edge of the water. Everything was dark, brown, and moist.
This is it? she thought, swimming over to the rock. Am I in the wrong place? Did the Earthwalkers do something to—
“Leonie Cerulean.”
The voice startled her, and she whipped her head around, looking for the source.
“Place your hands on the rock.” The voice was not just one voice. It was the voice of a million women of all ages speaking at once. Loud and alien, but somehow familiar. Leonie’s heart beat faster, and after taking a few steadying breaths, she complied with shaking hands.
As soon as her palms connected with the rock, Leonie’s body went rigid. She bowed up, eyes opening wide and then rolling back in her head. The cave expanded, filling with color and light. It was like being inside a giant prism, cold but colorful. Blinding. She gasped, her mouth falling open, and one of the beams plunged inside, disappearing into her throat.
Leonie. You will experience much pain. Much pleasure. Much sorrow. Much love. You are a restless spirit. Go and walk the Earth until I call you home.
Leonie wanted to ask about Alaric. About her mother’s wish for grandchildren. About all of the people who’d never returned. But the light in her throat had become a blade of glass. It carved deep inside of her, then twisted. She was frozen in position, unable to pull away from the rock or curve her body away from the pain. Blood bubbled up her throat and spilled from her lips. Red, hot blood leaked from her nose and eyes and ears. Beneath the water, her beautiful scales peeled and flaked off, and her tail twisted until it split, turning the water dark with her blood.
Leone seized, impaled on the beam of light. Her gills sealed themselves and disappeared. Her lungs reformed themselves to breathe only air. Her heart briefly stilled, but the light arced through it, restarting it with a twitch. She became a creature of glass and blood and the light spectrum.
And then, with a faint pop, the prism light disappeared. Leonie clung to the rock, no longer bleeding, naked and kicking her new legs.
The water level in the cave rose, swirling around Leonie as she gasped and thrashed. She knew Earthwalkers couldn’t breathe water, and she was one of them now. Leone’s legs felt strange and weak. She dragged herself up onto the rock with shaking arms, but the water quickly closed over her head.
The water lifted her, pushing her up toward the source of light at the top of the cave. Leonie scrabbled for purchase on the narrowing sides of the cave, tearing her fingernails on the rock. Her head bobbed above the surface and she sucked in a great breath, only for the water to cover her again. Her shoulder caught hard on the side of the cave and when it broke free, the pressure of the water forced her body out of the hole in the cave ceiling and into the open air.
Brilliant light blinded her. Leonie clapped her hands to her eyes. A wave of water crashed into her, knocking her sideways. She glanced painfully off a rock. Leonie tried to touch the bottom with her new feet, but couldn’t feel it. She was barely keeping herself afloat with her arms, her legs useless sticks beneath her.
How do Earthwalkers swim? she thought. A wave smacked her in the face, and she gagged on what had been life-sustaining and was now life-taking. The salt burned her eyes and nose. As she struggled, her eyes slowly adjusted to the bright surface light. She could see land not far from where she treaded water. A sandy beach with people.
Can I ride the waves?
Leonie pushed away from the rocks and rolled onto her back. Her aching body was slow to obey her, but once she stopped wriggling, she found that she could float. Another wave slammed into her, violently pushing her toward the beach.
This will work, she thought.
The next wave, however, sent her a surprise.
NET!
Leonie knew about nets. Earthwalkers used them to hunt. Sometimes, they caught and fatally injured merfolk that way. She’d been fortunate to avoid them. Until now. The net tangled around her, weights pulling her just beneath the surface. Leonie could still feel the current pushing her toward the beach, but now she was stuck.
Don’t breathe! Leonie pressed one hand to her mouth and nose, pinching her own nostrils closed.
You’ll be on land soon! Don’t breathe!
Her lungs burned. Everything around her was a confusion of blue-green water, sand, net, and rock. The more time passed, the more her lungs hurt. A spasm clenched her throat. She shuddered underwater, useless legs kicking. Her cheeks bulging, Leonie thrashed her head from side to side.
Don’t… breathe…
Don’t…
She opened her mouth and sucked in water like air.
Before, when she inhaled water with her gills, she felt sustained and supported. She preferred it to breathing air, though she could do both. Before.
Now, her Earthwalker body tried to breathe the water, but it surged in and out of her to no avail. Her vision darkened. The movement of her limbs slowed.
This is why people don’t come back, she thought, before she lost consciousness altogether.
Alaric
If Leonie was coming, it would be today. Her birthday. This morning, specifically. Any minute now. He nudged the bag he’d brought for her with his foot to reassure himself it was there. Clothing, food, drinking water, first aid kit, state ID and passport, marriage license. The last three items were fake, but merfolk had lived above the surface so long they had their resources.
The bag also included a pair of wedding rings to complete the story, but he wanted to explain Earthwalker customs to Leonie first.
Alaric stood with his hands in his pockets, eyes intent on the No Swimming Allowed portion of the surf. The Earthwalkers had it fenced and roped off well out into the water, though Alaric was amused by the futility of roping off the sea.
Further down the beach, he saw families playing in the surf, sunbathers lounging in chairs, and a lifeguard up in their tower, watching the water.
Merfolk didn’t arrive down in the family swimming area, unfortunately. They were birthed amongst the rocks and had to swim their way to the beach. Most made it, but there had been days when they thought no one had surfaced, only for the Earthwalkers to find a beautiful naked corpse washed up further down the beach.
Alaric had spent his first sixth months on the surface here, learning how to use his new body and how to survive among the Earthwalkers. Then he’d traveled for more than a year, backpacking across America, using forged documents to travel to every continent except Antarctica.
He’d returned a few months ago to reintegrate into the surfaced merfolk community and wait for Leonie.
She’s a restless spirit of ever I saw one, he thought, a sharp sense of longing cutting through him. He’d been fine, he had. He enjoyed his travels. He’d met a lot of people and had good and bad experiences.
But he still missed her. He had dreams about holding her in his arms. Talking to her. Kissing her. Having Earthwalker sex with her.
Earthwalkers often seemed to doubt their love for each other, but Alaric was still a merman at heart. Playing the field was fine, encouraged even. But once you found your match or matches, merfolk tended to mate for life. Artis willing.
A particularly forceful wave caught his attention, and he glanced toward the rocks. A geyser of water shot into the air. Alaric took a series of quick steps toward the surf, hand shading his straining eyes.
The ocean was too rough and frothy today to make much out. Even down the beach where there weren’t rocks, he’d heard the lifeguard cautioning Earthwalkers from going too far out, and parents talking to children about the safety of the crashing waves.
Leonie…
He didn’t doubt she loved him. But if Artis hadn’t given her legs, there wasn’t anything either of them could do until Artis called him home.
Another wave crashed, followed quickly by a third.
Then his eyes caught on something that wasn’t water or rock.
A pale something, floating on the surface. An ill feeling swept over him, and Alaric slowly kicked off his shoes. He took a few more steps into the surf, then pulled off his shirt, tossing it onto the sand behind him.
The pale thing rode the next wave, and he realized it was a body, tossed about at the mercy of the ocean.
“Leonie!” Alaric shouted, even though he still couldn’t be sure it was her. He ran through the shallows, then thrashed forward until the water was deep enough to swim in.
Alaric was a good swimmer. They all were once they got used to their legs. They all took CPR and first aid classes, something that came in handy often as newly surfaced merfolk learned how to swim with their new bodies. He cut through the water, his heart sinking as he got a closer look at the body.
A woman, long-limbed and pale. Face down in the water and caught up in a net. She had a cloud of ginger hair floating around her, tangled with sea grass.
Artis had given Leonie legs. Leonie had come.
Leonie had drowned.
Alaric swam the last yards and caught her by the hair. He dragged her into his arms, trying not to get tangled up in the net himself. He tugged at the net, pulling it over her head and turned her over in the water.
It was for sure Leonie. As beautiful as he remembered, only now her pale eyes were a dark blue. They stared up at the sky, lifeless. Her lips were blue as well.
Leonie! No, no, no! At moments like this, he forgot Earthwalker bodies couldn’t speak mind-to-mind. Not that Leonie could hear him either way.
Alaric towed them both further from the rocks and then floated her on her back, his left arm cradling her under her shoulders and the other reaching up so he could pinch her nose. Then he sealed her purple mouth with his. Alaric gave her five breaths. Each time, water came up from her mouth and their lips parted with a sputtering noise. Still, he thought he could see her chest rise.
By the fifth breath, she still hadn’t revived, her body growing more ashen by the second. Alaric wrapped his arm across her chest and swam one-armed for the shore, trying to keep both of their heads above water.
The lifeguard from the family beach met him halfway, taking her legs and helping him run her out of the surf. They dragged the net with them, her legs still caught up in its grasp.
“What happened?” The lifeguard shouted, the excitement in his voice showing his nerves.
“My… wife was swimming,” Alaric fibbed. “She got caught in this net and pulled into the rocks!”
They laid her flat, moving so fast her body crashed to the sand. He could see white foam already leaking out of her nose and mouth, dripping onto the sand as her head tipped to the side. Alaric immediately bent over her, his hands tracing her exposed ribcage. Bits of his hair had come loose, and he tossed his head impatiently to get it out of his eyes.
The lifeguard was speaking into a radio and digging through his backpack. “We have a drowned female in the No Swimming Zone B. I need backup, the AED, and EMS. I repeat…”
Alaric didn’t know if this man had ever revived a drowning person, but Alaric had. Multiple times. He clasped his hands together and pressed the heel into Leonie’s sternum. His fingers overlapped her left breast as he began pumping up and down.
“One, two, three…” He’d done this before, but he could tell this was especially bad. Leonie’s body made a squelching noise each time he forced her sternum down. His previous victims hadn’t taken in much water. It sounded like Leonie had inhaled water until there was no more room for anything else.
The lifeguard brought an oropharyngeal airway out of his bag and tipped Leonie’s head back, measuring the airway against her jaw. As he held her face there, foam ran from her nose and mouth, covering her face in a white sheet of liquid. Each compression of her chest sent a spray from her lips. Her stomach popped up rhythmically, the sloshing within audible to Alaric.
“I’ll keep going until you’re ready!” Alaric called out. He was well past thirty already, and Leonie wasn’t showing any signs of reviving. He wondered if her heart had already stopped beating. Wondered how long she’d been in the water before he spotted her.
The lifeguard gripped her jaw and forced her mouth open, muttering: “She’s seized up!” He got the airway between her teeth and turned it one hundred and eighty degrees, letting the flange rest on her teeth. Foam came up the airway and around it, spurting in time with the thrust of Alaric’s hands.
The lifeguard popped open a pocket mask and pushed the stem into place, then pressed it to Leonie’s pale face. Alaric paused compressions long enough for the lifeguard to blow twice into the mask, then he started compressions again.
“One, two, three, four, five…”
Hurgh hurgh hurgh hurgh…
The ugly sound her body was making filled him with despair.
She tried to breathe underwater. Moments before, that would have been okay, but…
The tide was coming in. Water rose around Leonie’s sprawled body. He ignored the water, pumping Leonie’s chest until it was time for the lifeguard to breathe for her again. His eyes ran over her bruised and scraped body before it was time to beat her heart again. Her new legs were bleeding.
“One, two, three, four, five….” Each press of his hands made her shoulders shrug, her belly pop, and her feet rock. He tried to concentrate on keeping the proper depth and speed, knowing that at this point she probably needed them to just keep oxygenated blood circulating until the defibrillator arrived. “…twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen…”
“Over there!” A small engine sputtered to a stop close by, and he heard feet hitting the sand.
“…twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five…”
“We need to get her out of the water!” a woman shouted. Two more people dropped down next to Leonie’s limp body.
“…thirty!”
As the first lifeguard gave her breaths, another tugged at the net, roughly dragging it free of her legs.
“Let’s lift her!” the female lifeguard called out. “Get her up to the dry!”
The four of them grabbed her and lifted: legs, each arm, head and shoulders. They ran her up the beach, her long, matted hair trailing in the sand. Alaric dropped to his knees with her, wincing as her body crashed down in front of him. His hands immediately found the bruise forming over her sternum and he began pumping her heart for her again.
“One, two, three, four…” The beach lifeguards moved quickly around him. He saw one assemble a bag-valve mask and connect it to an oxygen canister. Another unzipped the AED and grabbed the pads. “…twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!”
A lifeguard held the mask to Leonie’s face with two hands while the other squeezed the bulb. Leonie’s bruised chest rose and fell. Rose and fell again. The lifeguards kept the mask in place as Alaric bent over her, precisely rolling his clasped hands into her chest.
The third lifeguard reached in around Alaric’s hands to dry her chest with a towel and then apply the defibrillator pads. One went above Leonie’s right breast, the other on her left side. The lifeguard smoothed the pads down with his hands and then plugged the connector into the AED, flipping the switch.
Alaric didn’t stop compressions until he heard the AED say: “Analyzing rhythm. Do not touch patient.”
He lifted his hands and leaned back. The lifeguards at her head gave her a series of breaths as they waited, air gurgling in and out of Leonie’s airway.
“Analyzing rhythm, do not touch patient! No shock advised. Continue CPR for two minutes.”
“I’ve got it!” the lifeguard operating the AED said. He leaned over Leonie and quickly resumed chest compressions.
Alaric didn’t move away. He wouldn’t, unless someone with authority told him to. Instead, he reached for her hand, which lay there flopping on the the sand with each thrust to her chest. Her fingers were cold and limp in his.
“What’s her name?” asked the lifeguard holding the mask.
“Leonie.”
The chest compressions were still audible. There was the hard thrusting sound of the man’s hands on her body. The sloshing sound of the water she’d swallowed. And the gurgle of the water in her lungs. Periodically, the lifeguards lifted the mask and let the water and foam run out.
He hadn’t seen her in so long, and her body was different now that Artis had given her legs. The way she looked now, with her hair matted and sandy, her face turning blue, her body bruised, Alaric hardly recognized her.
Her skin was paler than he remembered, though he acknowledged this was probably because she was dead or dying. The compressions were making her breasts wobble, the force traveling down to her stomach. It bulged up each time hands dug into her, emphasizing the force be was using. Alaric would hear stress in the man’s voice as he counted out compressions; these were just normal people, and Leonie was presenting them with a terrible challenge.
Her eyes were still open, bits of sand caught in her lashes and her eyes staring at nothing. As Alaric watched, her mouth sneered open beneath the mask and water spilled out.
The lifeguards lifted the mask, though one of them called out: “Don’t stop compressions”
Her head rocked, and her mouth gaped again, a wave of foam and water spilling out. It was running from her nose, too. Alaric had seen this once before, in a surfaced merman from another part of the world who’d drowned learning to swim in a swimming pool. The man hadn’t recovered.
“Agonal breathing,” he said, his voice quiet.
“Yes.” The female lifeguard reopened Leonie’s airway and pressed the mask to her face. The air made a gurgling noise as it flowed in and out of her, carrying with it more foam.
“One, two, three, four, five…”
The radio squawked: “EMS ETA 2 minutes your location.”
“…twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen….”
Alaric squeezed her hand, then pressed the fingers of his other hand to the radial pulse point in her wrist. He felt the lifeguard’s compressions bumping faintly against his fingers. He hovered there for a moment, then reached over and pressed his fingers to her femoral pulse. The beat was timed exactly with the man’s chest compressions.
“Good pulse with compressions,” he said. Then, as an explanation: “I have some training.”
“…thirty!”
Two more breaths, with the whoosh of the bag and the gurgle of the fluid in her lungs. Then the soft thumping sound continued.
“One, two, three…”
“Analyzing rhythm,” the AED cut in. “Do not touch patient! Analyzing rhythm!”
Alaric released her hand, and everyone leaned back.
“No shock advised. Continue—”
Alaric took over, his body lurching over hers and his hands thrusting forcefully into her chest. Her sternum sunk two inches each time he pressed.
Come on, Leonie! Beat your heart! Breathe!
“One, two, three, four…”
Crack!
Alaric grit his teeth, but he didn’t stop until he reached thirty compressions.
“EMS brought their Gator,” one lifeguard said as she squeezed the bag. “I see them coming!”
Alaric felt the tiniest bit of relief, but he continued to make sure the chest compressions he was giving Leonie were the right depth and speed. It felt like an endless cycle; sternum down, stomach up, recoil. Sternum down, stomach up, recoil.
“I think we need to roll her for a second,” one lifeguard called out. “There’s a lot of fluid coming up!”
Alaric stopped compressions and helped roll Leonie onto her side. They let the water and foam drain for a few seconds, then quickly laid her flat again. Alaric pressed his hands to her cool skin and resumed compressions.
He was still pumping her chest when EMS pulled up. Three people in the back of the Gator, plus the driver.
“Female victim, unknown cause of drowning, possible injury on the rocks out there. The AED hasn’t advised any shocks.” the female lifeguard said. “She took in a lot of water.”
The medics slid a backboard along the sand by Leonie’s side, across from Alaric. Then someone said: “Sir, we can take over now, thank you.”
Alaric lifted his hands and scuttled a few feet away. Everything moved even faster, though he noticed the paramedic crew was quieter than the lifeguards had been. They verified Leonie’s absent pulse, and one of the medics started chest compressions. Another prepared what looked like a suction device. The third peeled off the defibrillator pads, while the fourth pulled her arm straight and cleaned the crook of her elbow.
“Alaric?” A hand landed on his shoulder. His friend Eldoris had arrived. He’d been surfaced for five years before Alaric got his legs. Eldoris kneeled beside him. “Is this who I think it is?”
“Leonie.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Alaric saw one of the medics open and assemble a laryngoscope, then reach over and remove the dripping oral airway from between her teeth. He’d had some practice with those in Europe, though he wasn’t certified to intubate patients in the United States. In short order, the medic slid an endotracheal tube down her throat, not waiting for compressions to be paused. Foamy fluid surged out of the top of the tube, running down the sides and across her lips and chin.
“She got caught in a net, I think. I didn’t… I didn’t see her come up. She was just… in the water, suddenly.” His voice was flat. “Artis betrayed her.”
“Do you have her ID and paperwork that I gave you?” Eldoris squeezed his shoulder, ignoring his comment about Artis. “I can get it from your room.”
Alaric looked around for his bag and spotted it several yards away. “Could you grab that bag? It has everything in there. I also have a shirt and shoes around here somewhere. I’ll… I’m sure there will be a ride to the hospital no matter how this goes.”
“I’ll find your clothes and get your bag,” Eldoris said. He stood, brushing sand off his pants. “You stay here with Leonie. Pearl can drive us to the hospital.”
Pearl had been here more than a decade and was one of two surfaced merfolk Alaric had ever met who’d learned how to drive. Alaric assumed he’d learn, if Artis didn’t call him back soon. Once he’d conquered flying in an airplane without having a panic attack, Alaric thought driving would be simple.
He wanted to tell Leonie about the planes.
“Pause compressions for analysis,” the lead medic said. The monitor was emitting a series of dings and alarms that sounded ominous to Alaric. “PEA… I want one milligram epinephrine and let’s get her in a c-collar and on the backboard for two more minutes of quality CPR. Keep an eye on oxygenation. Don’t hyperventilate.”
Once the c-collar was on, the group quickly rolled Leonie onto her side and slipped the backboard in place. When she was flat again, a different medic took over chest compressions.
“Suction her again. Fast. We have to keep her oxygen up.”
Artis… what was the purpose of this? Why should anyone come to your altar if this could be the result?
He thought of his own transformation. The pain, the blood leaking from every orifice. The confusion and struggle. He’d very nearly drowned himself, collapsing facedown in the surf on his coltish legs. Eldoris and Pearl had saved him.
Was it a blood sacrifice for you? You know, some of these Earthwalkers don’t believe in deities. Sometimes, like right now, I could almost understand.
“Here.” Eldoris sat Alaric’s bag next to him in the sand, along with his shoes, then handed him his shirt. “I’m going to find Pearl. Will you be okay alone?”
Alaric nodded, feeling numb as he pulled his sandy shirt over his head.
“I will tell everyone to pray.” Eldoris gave him a worried look and then turned to jog up the beach.
Leonie looked bad. Alaric had to acknowledge this fact; maybe his angry train of thought meant he already had. One of the lifeguards held an IV bag high. Another held her airway open for the medic squeezing the bag. They had a blood pressure cuff wrapped around one of her arms. Worst was the relentless pumping of her chest.
At this angle, he couldn’t really see her face. Just her chin, the c-collar, the hands pressed between her quivering breasts, the white defibrillator pads, and her stomach, rounding with each compression. Artis had given Leonie curvy hips, a soft-looking tuft of ginger pubic hair, and long thighs. Her legs and feet were bruised and covered in sand. Alaric wondered if Leonie was getting a sunburn laid out on the beach like that. He’d actually dropped some sunscreen in his bag for her, remembering how fair her skin was.
He thought about how she’d looked when they said goodbye to each other. Hair flowing in the water. Decorated with braids of seagrass. Her skin white-blue, tail long and flowing, with blue-green scales and gossamer fins. Her irises the most delicate blue. She’d kissed him, and the water filled with the fine bubbles of her sorrow.
There wasn’t any putting her back in the ocean. He couldn’t give her lifeless body to Artis and come back home one day to find her waiting. Their story would end here if she didn’t revive soon. The Earthwalkers would not keep trying forever.
“Pause… Okay, we’ve got v-fib, charging to three-sixty.”
The medic gave her a quick series of chest compressions, and then the lead called out: “Everyone clear!”
Please, Leonie. Please, Artis.
The bag was unhooked, and everyone raised their hands.
“Administering shock now…” Leonie’s body jerked, a split second bow of her back and a shockwave that flicked her limbs. “Shock administered.”
A lifeguard stepped in for chest compressions, his shoulders rocking quickly over his hands. Almost as quickly as he started, however, Alaric heard one of the women say: “Pause compressions, I think we got her!”
Alaric moved quickly, squeezing himself in amongst the first responders. Sure enough, Leonie was moving. Her hands came up, legs writhing weakly, facial muscles pulling into a grimace. Alaric pressed his fingers into her femoral pulse just as the others reached to do the same at her neck, wrist, and the other side of her groin. The medic holding the bag kept squeezing it regularly.
Her heartbeat pulsated beneath his fingertips, and Alaric let out a shocked huff of air.
“Got a pulse. Keep ventilating her, Quentin. Get her on half a microgram fentanyl IV, Cheryl. Bill, I need her blood pressure before we give her anything other than that.” The medic speaking leaned over Leonie and said: “Ma’am? Leonie, if you can hear me, try to remain calm. You had an accident at North Beach and you are intubated. Your…”
“Husband,” Alaric said, realizing the man was looking at him now. “Alaric.”
“Your husband Alaric is here, and he will meet you at the hospital.” The medic leaned back, though his eyes shifted to Alaric again. “Do you have a ride? I know your… compound does not have a lot of drivers.”
“Yes, I have a ride.” Alaric ignored the man’s use of the word ‘compound.’ “Are you taking her to North General?”
“Yes sir. What’s that blood pressure, Bill?”
Alaric heard the hiss of the blood pressure cuff before Bill said: “Ninety over sixty.”
“Alright. Cheryl, get her on a pump, half a milligram ketamine IV. She’s moving a lot. We need to keep her calm. They’ll likely want to keep her intubated for the next twenty-four hours.”
The man was right; Leonie’s legs especially kept moving. They flexed, then relaxed. Her feet pedaled the air. Alaric wondered if she thought she was moving her tail, or if she remembered she had legs now.
“Can I talk to her before you go?” he asked.
“Yeah, that’s fine. Bill, swap positions with the husband for a moment and get ready to load her on the Gator.” The man leaned forward, reaching for the buckle straps attached to the backboard.
Alaric scooted down, taking Leonie’s hand. When he squeezed it, he felt her fingers move. Her eyes were closed now, and the paramedics were still breathing for her, but Alaric felt hope warm the center of his chest. “Leonie. It’s Alaric. I love you. You made it, Leonie! It’s so good to see you alive! When you have your legs under you, we have so much to talk about. So much to see and do. Just be patient, my love. You are going to be okay.”
Her fingers twitched in his grasp, and Alaric brought her hand to his lips, gently kissing her fingers.
Leonie, approximately thirty hours later
Everything was wrong.
There were strange noises. A whooshing sound. Clicks. Beeps. Strange smells that she couldn’t identify. Harsh and acrid. She was cold. Her skin felt dry. Her lungs felt dry.
Did I get beached? What did Amma call it? A chemical spill? An oil slick? Plastic island? Earthwalker damage.
There was something in her mouth, running down her throat. It fed her air instead of water. Against her will, her chest inflated, then deflated. Inflated, deflated. Leonie tried to move, but her body felt strange. Heavy. Her chest hurt, and her tail… moved in two separate pieces.
LEGS!
“Leonie!It’s okay! You are in a hospital, a place where Earthwalkers go for healing.”
Alaric? She’d heard his dry voice before, when they explored the surface or visited caves. But she hadn’t expected to hear it now.
Alaric! You’re here!
“The thing in your mouth is breathing air for you. It must be uncomfortable. Think about the first time you switched from breathing water to air.” A dry hand linked with hers and gave her fingers a squeeze.
She remembered the first time her parents took her to a surface cave. They told her she would have to breathe through her mouth or nose, and not her gills. Her mother said it was an important skill to learn for emergencies. Leonie watched her father try it, saw his gills close and water spill from his nose and mouth. Then he made an exaggerated inhalation motion with his mouth, sucking in air like he was gulping water.
“See, starfish? It’s not so bad. You can speak with your chords if you breathe dry air.” He smiled down at her in the water, where she floated with her gills just beneath the surface.
Could I sing like Mom? she asked.
Yes, her parents said simultaneously.
Earthwalkers drown in the water. Will I drown in the air?
“No, Leonie,” her Dad said. “Merfolk have superior respiratory systems. We can breathe both.”
Are you ready, starfish? her mother asked.
Yes, Amma!
Marin handed Leonie up to Caspian, and he sat her on the edge of the rock, his eyes intent on her face.
“Close your gills, starfish.”
This was hard. At first, her gills gaped painfully wide, and water drooled not just from her gills but from her nose and mouth. Then she got her gills to lie closed, but she couldn’t figure out how to expel the water.
Her father reached out and patted her on the back just a little too hard, making her body rock. Leonie lurched forward, and the water spilled from her nose. She made a strange noise, and it came out of her mouth as well. The water spilled back into the pool where her mother waited for her, a big smile on her face.
“Good, Leonie! Now, sip the air with your mouth!”
“Leonie?” Alaric’s voice cut through her reverie. She’d lost track of where she was, and when, and during that time she’d been letting the thing breathe for her without difficulty. “People will come soon. Healers. But we call them doctors and nurses in this hospital, okay?”
Leone opened her eyes.
The brightness of the room pulled her back to when Artis had given her legs and flooded her out of the altar cave. She’d risen to the surface, blinded by the light. And then she’d drowned in the water like an Earthwalker.
“You’re okay, Leonie. I’m so sorry you had a hard time coming to the surface. But you’re safe now. I’m here with you.”
Leonie blinked several times until the room came into focus. Then she saw him. He was dry, but he looked much the same. He wore his dark hair clubbed for travel, and donned Earthwalker clothing. But he was her Alaric.
I missed you! I worried you were dead! I love you! I love you!
“We can’t speak with our minds in these bodies,” Alaric said. He touched her face, and though they were both dry, his touch felt nice on her skin. “But I think I know what you want to say. I love you, too. Always.”
--
Leonie and Alaric return in Beached.
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@savcge said : " there's something familiar about seeing your reflection move without your command. i'm not sure if i would devour you quickly or watch you bleed slowly. and what you would want to do me? Is it the same? i want to find out. "
" IS THAT WHAT YOU THINK I AM ? YOUR REFLECTION ? " the other's words make him snarl a harsh smile , and he laughs viciously at the thought . what a twisted little notion to possess . in his hall , he holds a blade . an instrument of history unremembered ------ it is nothing , really . he has far more impressive elsewhere . and in it , where the light catches on its well-oiled edge , vandal peers into the refracted image of ... himself . perhaps , looking a bit different at certain angles , of course , but anyone could tell . it was , undoubtedly , vandal savage . a wandering clone , perhaps ? a successful duplicate of his regenerations ? or a traveler from the multiversal roads ? he couldn't name it quite .
his polished boots click atop marble . " it makes me laugh that anything with my intellect would make such an accusation . as if you are more tangible than myself . that what you do dictates me in some capacity . " the blade finds the other's neck in a blink . pressing into that familiar , seething pulse . his motions are incredibly practiced . methodical . always thinking , even as he smiles like he's just gorged himself on the other's flesh . " if anything , all of humankind reflects us . to the very last men on this wretched earth . and , i'm sure , we'd devour them , too . heh . "
a single cut is made , his movement just as fluid as the last . not to maim , but still heavy . the control of his wrist is perfect as he aims for a vein . running the sleek metal across it , and splitting it open with a hot , vivid spray of blood .
it doesn't take long at all before the wound begins to heal itself . the other's flesh knitting itself back together , the blood seeping back inside of the cut .
" now , then , " he begins again after graciously licking at the blood upon the blade . savoring the crimson flavor of iron , now a reddened haze that hung about in the air . " it seems you're not lying to me , vandal . very good . it isn't every day an opportunity like this arises . and , I understand how they need to be taken advantage of .
what do you think I would want with myself , but a feast ? and yet ... that sounds rather temporal , doesn't it ? no amount of splitting you in twain or merely roasting your flesh above a fiery pit sounds decadent enough for my liking . i've devoured men of far lesser stock for so long .
and the flesh of a first-generation savage is a very rare delicacy , after all . "
#savcge#finallyyyyyyy !!!!!#( 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐓 . ) | incharacter .#GODS this is . gross .#cannibalism tw#gore tw#KILLING THEM IMMEDIATELY IN MY BRAIN#NUKING THEM .#he went right for it . literally what did you think would happen .#OEWTNIKEFSDBKSFVDLNJ DFVSJKB#ASK TO TAG .#jesus fucking christ .#first : we eat each other#second : science :)
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Two Tramps in Mud Time -- Robert Frost
Out of the mud two strangers came
And caught me splitting wood in the yard.
And one of them put me off my aim
By hailing cheerily "Hit them hard!"
I knew pretty well why he dropped behind
And let the other go on a way.
I knew pretty well what he had in mind:
He wanted to take my job for pay.
Good blocks of oak it was I split,
As large around as the chopping block;
And every piece I squarely hit
Fell splinterless as a cloven rock.
The blows that a life of self-control
Spares to strike for the common good,
That day, giving a loose to my soul,
I spent on the unimportant wood.
The sun was warm but the wind was chill.
You know how it is with an April day
When the sun is out and the wind is still,
You're one month on in the middle of May.
But if you so much as dare to speak,
A cloud comes over the sunlit arch,
A wind comes off a frozen peak,
And you're two months back in the middle of March.
A bluebird comes tenderly up to alight
And turns to the wind to unruffle a plume,
His song so pitched as not to excite
A single flower as yet to bloom.
It is snowing a flake: and he half knew
Winter was only playing possum.
Except in color he isn't blue,
But he wouldn't advise a thing to blossom.
The water for which we may have to look
In summertime with a witching wand,
In every wheelrut's now a brook,
In every print of hoof a pond.
Be glad of water, but don't forget
The lurking frost in the earth beneath
That will steal forth after the sun is set
And show on the water its crystal teeth.
The time when most I loved my task
These two must make me love it more
By coming with what they came to ask.
You'd think I never had felt before
The weight of an ax-head poised aloft,
The grip on earth of outspread feet,
The life of muscles rocking soft
And smooth and moist in vernal heat.
Out of the woods two hulking tramps
(From sleeping God knows where last night,
But not long since in the lumber camps).
They thought all chopping was theirs of right.
Men of the woods and lumberjacks,
They judged me by their appropriate tool.
Except as a fellow handled an ax
They had no way of knowing a fool.
Nothing on either side was said.
They knew they had but to stay their stay
And all their logic would fill my head:
As that I had no right to play
With what was another man's work for gain.
My right might be love but theirs was need.
And where the two exist in twain
Theirs was the better right--agreed.
But yield who will to their separation,
My object in living is to unite
My avocation and my vocation
As my two eyes make one in sight.
Only where love and need are one,
And the work is play for mortal stakes,
Is the deed ever really done
For Heaven and the future's sakes.
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Grandfather’s thunder. (Drabble)
A little forewarning before I post this. What this will contain is possibly some gore, a lot of violence, and the full unbridled rage that my character, Dave the Alicorn will have.
You will see one of the reasons why I mostly now keep him as a side character. On why its where I know he feels content. His adventures may be over, but, you’ll see the power he holds, and why he’s careful on how he uses it.
Oh I know, this sounds rather tacky. But the Mary Sue perspective is still there, and I am just here to remind those that read this; He earned this. This will go under read more.
After Dave had arrived to his destination, he had quickly gotten a sit-rep on the situation.
Xerneas had finally come to claim Night, saying that he was finally due. The reason why was also told rather quickly to Dave, as the stare he gave everyone was a look that would chill even veterans to the bone.
With all of this information relayed back to him, Dave gave a snort. He didn’t say anything more, which was perhaps, even more frightening. After that, he left.
Not long after he left, Joseph and Morgan had returned, and Joseph had gone to see how his boy was doing, and the result that he didn’t want to hear was rather blunt; poorly.
Of course this infuriated Joseph, and he wanted to do something about it. But, upon hearing that his father had been here, and how he had acted, it seemed all the wind in Joseph’s sails had gone out of him. He looked. Well he looked pale. Like what he was being told was something he hadn’t wanted to hear right away. And the only thing he would, or perhaps could say was; “Shit.”
After that, no one knew where Dave went. He had just picked a direction, seeming at random, and gone over there. What they didn’t know, was that it wasn’t random.
He had picked up on the magical trace of walking tree of life. He had bound himself to it like a bloodhound on a scent, and now he was going towards it.
He had to walk for many miles before he finally came to a stop. His calm exterior had never ceased, but he was finally face to face to the tree of life.
The deer looked imperiously at Dave, giving him a haughty, superior look.
“I know why you are here.” Said Xerneas. His tone haughty and his face one that you might make when looking at a particularly nasty stain. “You cannot save the boy, no matter how much you plead or bargain. His time has come, I will have him meet his final end.” Xerneas said firmly. Not pleading, or demanding, but resolute in his statements and in his actions.
Yet, still Dave said nothing. He was only staring at Xerneas, as if waiting for something.
Finally, he spoke; “Are you done?”
Confused, Xerneas looked at Dave like he had grown a third head. Taking the silence as confirmation, Dave gave a grunt that seemed to say; “Finally.” And put his terms into a firm no nonsense tone.
Too bad for him, Xerneas didn’t see it that way. The boy must be claimed, nothing else mattered. He was a paradox he could ignore no longer.
“You will cease this at once, and help us return the boy’s soul back to his body. You know as well as anyone that young Night’s life was cut short, and he was saved. Your judgement is flawed, and your actions folly.” He stated, this was his only warning to Xerneas, and the life deer could tell that it was an ultimatum. There was no need for clichéd “Or else” or other such threats. Dave was being clear on what he wanted.
“I have felled greater Kings then you, demon.” The life deer said in a scowling snort.
“And I have felled much greater gods, and sycophants, then you.” Was Dave’s reply.
Before the deer could get a word in again, his sneering scowl turning into a outright hostile glower, he found himself face to face with Dave. Whom had appeared out of nowhere, his mane suddenly aglow with energy and electricity. His hue a darker shade of blue, and the aura around him, the power was a greater magnitude then he had thought.
With a great kick, Dave sent the deer flying backwards! Smashing trees, driving logs of branches into the deer as he shot back. Coughing out blood, the deer god got up and started to pull out what he could, his hide healing up. If he wasn’t a Legendary, then that kick would have killed him in an instant, but he hadn’t and he was a Legendary. All of which though didn’t save him when the earth around him cracked and spears of earth spiked through his chest, splattering blood everywhere, and he felt himself being kicked again by a force greater then before.
Again he was sent flying, his body healing before he landed, only to be scoured yet again with meaty chunks left in his wake as he skidded to a halt.
He wasn’t given a moment to breathe as spells and kinetic force battered the deer god in every which way. The clouds around them had darkened and the world around them suddenly felt like it was in the eye of a great typhoon.
The body of the deer was rocketed upwards as something beneath him exploded with a tremendous force. Unearthing trees and dirt and bits of shrapnel that dug into his hide.
Even electrical attacks rained down on the life deer as the clouds seemed to fire the bolts like spears. They pierced his hide and he could feel his wounds heal and begin anew.
He was kept aloft by a force battering him like he was nothing but a toy in a child’s grasp as he was tumbled hither and thither by a force that broke his bones again and gain. Tore ligaments away as they healed over and over.
Dave was propelling himself forward on magic and force, his frame going at speeds unseen to the eye and he was beating down the life deer with everything he had. Using his teleportation magic to re-orientate himself as he went again and again. Making the body he was pounding with magic and force tumble in the air. Unable to scream, to cry, to do anything as he used his magic to its fullest abilities. The winds themselves seemed to help keep the body aloft as Dave showed no mercy nor quarter.
The air was filled with the blasts of magic as Dave’s horn lit up like a star and he used every ounce of mana from his deep pool of magic to render naught but pain and misery on his foe.
But like all things, it had an end, and a purpose. Dave knew he couldn’t kill the deer, but that wasn’t the point. The point was subduing it. To render him so immobile by force alone that he would need to listen.
It wasn’t a method Dave was proud of. Nor was it something he reveled in. But actions had been set in motion, and weather he wanted it or not, this was the end result.
None could say that Dave wouldn’t go to great lengths to save his family. He had had enough losses in his life when it came to family. And he didn’t want his son to feel the loss of a parent. No parent should be the one to bury their children, or find them lost to naught but the ether of the unknown. It was this that drove his actions, and he would make this deer heed.
With a final kick down on the deer, he shot the body downwards to a tree. The impact alone drove the whole tree through the deer, the body stuck against the tree trunk, even as the ground beneath it cracked, and the body of the tree split in twain.
A dust cloud filled the area, and Dave finally landed near the crater he had created with that final move.
Dave was panting from the exertion. He had after all, used up a lot of mana. But he calmed himself as best he could and approached the crater.
He could hear whet couching as the head of the life deer came to view, the rest obscured by the dense cloud of dust.
“You.. Will.. Not succeed.. I will still, come for him.” The deer couched and hacked as he gave Dave a determined and enraged look. “This, will only temporarily set me back.” He growled, and the noise of a tree trunk breaking could be heard. “Or perhaps, should I say. Not at all, because you are in my field now, fool!” He roared, and the deer lunged out of the cloud, his own abilities fired up as trees and vines got ready to wrap around Dave, but they were cut away by magic and fire, even with so much spent, Dave was still willing to fight to his last breath!
Now the two charged at one another, when there was a youthful cry of; “STOOOOOOOOOP!” And the feeling of something hitting them both.
Since neither were expecting it, the sudden blow tumbled them both out of each others reach. The magical blade that Dave had formed swung high, and instead of severing the deer’s head from his neck, it cut a tree in half without so much as a hesitation. Like a hot knife through butter, the tree fell away.
Xernias had been ready to lower his horns into Dave’s sternum, ready to scewer him and wrap him in thorny vines and rip the stallion bit by bit. But his blow missed.
The one who had yelled was a boy. No, not a boy. He was a youthful Alpaca, maybe just shy about his teen years. And he looked like... Arceus?
“Stop! Please, stop!” The Arceus, or rather The Arceus? Pleaded with them both.
“You don’t need to do this, please!” He pleaded again as he got in-between the two of them. Acting as a barrier between the two rowdy and clearly hostile entities.
“Archibald, get out of the way!” Dave commanded, yet the boy didn’t yield. Still he stayed there, trying to keep with them as they tried to circumvent and get in for the attack. Both snorting, kicking hooves and cloven feet. Making noises of their species as they got ready to finish this fight, one way or another.
“I said, STOP!” Archibald said, and his voice rang with all the authority he could muster, and the two beings buckled under an unseen force.
“Please.” He pleaded again. “Please. No more. I don’t want this. No more.” He pleaded, his voice hiccuping in tears as he looked at the two. “Please, Xernias. I am begging you. Help me save Night.” He pleaded with him.
The deer sneered. “Why? Why should I? Wasn’t it you that killed him in the first place, oh great overlord.” He said in a snide and sarcastic tone, which made Archibald flinch.
“Yes.. Yes it was.. But, yet.. Not the same me.” He said, slowly, timidly. “I.. It was.. The old me, I guess. I. I died..” He mumbled.
“Yes, I know, get to the point!” Snapped Xernias, and Archibald gave a startled whimper, but he did his best to get on with it.
“I am reborn.. And I am not the same. The family that you’re attacking, they found me. Took care of me. They could have just as easily just.. Y’know. Killed me again. Be done with it. But they didn’t. So, so it means that no one has to die!” He pleaded his case.
Xernias looked at Archibald, then he laughed. Loudly. “You think just because you are reborn that I will listen to you, whelp?” He asked, and the flinch that Archibald gave told that it had been the hope.
“No. I will not yield to you, not anymore. The cycle must not be broken. The duties I was assigned to do must be done. There can be no exceptions. None.” The life Deer told Archibald. “Not even to you. You foresaw that yourself.” He said as he looked down at Archibald.
The little Alpaca was growing desperate. “But.. But why not? I want to fix this. This is my fault. I don’t want him to die.. Not like this.” He said in a pleading tone.
The deer considered Archibald long and hard. His eyes burrowing into Archie’s own.
“Why do you really want to save the boy’s life?” He finally asked after a long silence.
The silence stretched more as Archibald considered his words.
“Because.. Its my fault. Or my former self’s fault. I.. I mean, he.. He did bad things. I learned the things that was said about me, and us. Legendaries I mean. On how the past me wanted all of this attention, all of the worship. On how he treated others. Like they were.. Playthings.” He said as he paused again. “I got to live and learn with them. Humans I mean. Be around them. Grow up around them.. I.. I mean.. They helped me. Saved me. When I never did anything good in my past life. I didn’t deserve the kindness they gave me. The chance of feeling like I belonged.. They all could have hated me. Well, one or two might still hate me when they learn the truth. But that’s okay. I deserve it. After all I did.” Archibald said, and he looked down, looking ashamed, and fearful.
There was another long stretch of silence. And in that silence, the storm clouds that Dave had summoned finally released their payload that had been formed with them, and they started to pour down the rain. It came so sudden and so swiftly, that it would leave many confused on how it had gotten there.
The silence was filled with nothing more then two old entities staring each other down, and one Alpaca staring at the ground, having made his case as best he could, and now awaiting judgement.
“It is not in our family to hold grudges against past lives.” Dave finally said. “What’s done is done. The past is the past, and those dead and buried can’t live to repeat it. But those of us alive, can only learn to not repeat the same mistakes.” He said as he looked down at the Arceus.
Archibald looked shocked at his words, but dipped his head down in appreciation.
The life deer continued to watch them, his eyes never leaving Dave, nor his horn. Waiting for it to glow again.
“And if I were to spare the boy. Then what?” Asked Xerneas as he considered Archibald. The young Alpaca looked at first hopeful, but then his head drooped, not wanting to get his hopes up. “I.. I don’t know. Maybe leave? I don’t think.. I don’t think after this, I could stay.” He admitted in earnest.
Xernileas knew himself, that the young Arceus spoke the truth. That if he did spare Night, then it was a price that Archibald would need to pay. For nothing came for free, and it was a sacrifice he would need to make.
“Where would you go then?” He asked as he looked down at him. Archibald gave a shrug. “I don’t know. Haven’t learned yet on my abilities.” He admitted. “Well.. Very little.” He admitted further, sheepish. He had managed to stop them, even if briefly.
Xerneas gave a grunt at that. “You never..? Oh blessed hells below.” He cursed. He would need to make a decision on that. He would need to stay somewhere after all.
“Fine. Fine. I’ll spare the little fly.” He said finally. “But on the condition, that you truly learn this time. And you do better.” He said as he stared down at Archibald.
The Alpaca could only nod. “O-Okay. I will, thank you!” He thanked the deer, but he scoffed.
“Do not thank me yet, youngling. You will need to help be heal the body and fuse the soul back into the humans body. Or else, he will die. Permanently.” He growled, and Archibald gulped. “Okay.” He said and then he looked to Dave.
“Grandpa Dave... Do you.. Do you want to come with us?” He asked him.
The Alicorn looked at Archibald, then at Xerneas. “Yes.” He said slowly. “Yes, I think I will.” He said, his voice tinged with distrust, and suspicion. Which made the life deer, grunt in derision.
“Oh. Please.” He said and they began to trot away. Away from the devastation, and the rain.
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The Care and Keeping of Your Sentient Saber (Fic, TGCF, HC/XL)
Title: The Care and Keeping of Your Sentient Saber
Series: Heavenly Official’s Blessing (Tian Guan Ci Fu)
Pairing: Hua Cheng/Xie Lian
Summary:
E-ming is a very tender and sensitive sword, and needs lots of love and attention that only one person is qualified to give.
Hua Cheng is a very tender and sensitive demon, and needs lots of love and attention that only one person is qualified to give.
Xie Lian is very qualified, and a very, very busy man.
Link: AO3
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“So. I really am curious. What was it, precisely, that made you think it was a good idea to disrespect me? In my very own city, no less. It was quite the bold gambit, and as I’m sure you’ve realized, it didn’t pay off.”
The horned demon lolled around uselessly on the floor, howling pathetically, and making quite a mess -- really, Hua Cheng had only torn one arm off, and the floor was already slippery with blood. His heeled boots kept the bottom of his robes from dragging in the stuff as he casually strolled about the room, still speaking quite conversationally to his guest even as said guest continued to scream.
“I could have just left you upstairs, and let my employees take care of you,” Hua Cheng continued. “Dealing with rude guests is generally beneath me. But you’ve caught me at a bad time, I’m afraid. So here you are, and here I am. And I’m just dying to know a little more about you.”
“I ain’t mean any disrespect to the lord Chengzhu!” the demon desperately bellowed. “That waitress, she was askin’ for it, and if she’d just have come along quietly I wouldn’ta disturbed the lord’s game--”
“I work so hard to build a prosperous city, only to have scum like this slither in.” Hua Cheng sighed and clasped his fists together to murmur a brief prayer of repentance.
“Really? Even the lord Chengzhu is a dog of the heavens? Ain’t this the city of a thousand vices!?” the demon spat. “Where’s a demon gotta go to stop bein’ moralized at!?”
Hua Cheng was a very, very devout man, and did not like having his prayers interrupted. He let a slow, cruel smile twist his mouth as he turned to fully face his prisoner. He unsheathed his sword to end this tiresome interaction and -- and --
...
Let us try that again. He unsheathed his sword --
NO, E-ming’s voice snapped at him in his mind.
Hua Cheng grit his teeth. He unsheathed the obnoxious, whiny, clingy, useless, worthless piece of scrap metal that had the gall to call itself a sword --
NO. WILL NOT.
He did not like looking foolish in front of his captives. To ensure that word of this did not spread, Hua Cheng eschewed use of E-ming in favor of roundhouse kicking the demon’s head off. He snapped his fingers, and the black shadows disengaged from the walls; becoming a creeping, writhing wave of black caterpillars. They closed in to gorge themselves on the corpse’s flesh, and gnaw holes in the bones. Chrysalis season was fast approaching, and they did need their calcium, after all.
WANT GEGE., E-ming insisted.
Hua Cheng just about lost it then and there. To think that his sword had the unmitigated nerve to make demands on His Highness’ time!
“Oh, do you now?” Hua Cheng hissed. “And what makes you think gege wants to see you!? He has better things to do than to spend his time with a rusty, warped kitchen knife.”
HAVE NOT SEEN GEGE IN SO LONG. E-ming gave a long, drawn-out shiver, as if heaving a sigh born from a bottomless yearning. SO LONG!
Xie Lian had been in and out of Puji Shrine nearly every day lately; going back and forth to the nearby town to answer prayers, going back and forth to the heavens to gather holy herbs, blessed water, powdered qilin droppings -- or whatever other odd nonsense the humans were asking of him.
It was only right and proper that His Highness had worshippers again. And of course, with worshippers came prayers, and with prayers came requests, and with requests came a certain lack of availability. The quiet days spent at the shrine, just the two of them, were no more. And if all went as it should, they would be nevermore, never again. Xie Lian would be lifted up, beloved by all. This was as it should be. It was all as it should be.
MISS GEGE SO. MISS GEGE’S MOST BEAUTIFUL FACE. MISS GEGE’S SOFT SOFT HANDS. STRONG STRONG SOFT SOFT HANDS. MOST WONDERFUL. SEE GEGE NOW!
Hua Cheng grasped E-ming by the hilt and hoisted him up so they could hash this out face-to-face. He scowled, narrowing his eye at him. E-ming narrowed his eye right back.
“You’re not in a position to make demands,” Hua Cheng said, low.
IS. IS IN POSITION, E-ming replied. His eye curved upward, and he looked infuriatingly smug. IS IN POSITION AND WILL NOT EVER EVER EVER EVER AGAIN COME OUT.
Hua Cheng yanked on him with all his strength; one hand on the sheath, one hand on the hilt. E-ming, true to his word, would not budge.
Hua Cheng knew that he only had himself to blame for how stubborn the little shit was. He knew that, if E-ming said he wouldn’t be unsheathed until he saw Xie Lian again, he was sure as hell not going back on that promise.
Cursing, Hua Cheng paced back and forth, his heels clicking against the stone floor. The caterpillars had finished cleaning up; the room was spotless as they wriggled their fat bodies back into the shadows. How was he supposed to keep his city under control like this!? Yes, he had an entire armory of weapons at his disposal, and yes, he had an army of carnivorous butterflies and to-be-butterflies. And yes, he could level mountains and split the earth in twain with but a snap of his fingers. But, much as he hated to admit it, E-ming was very much his thing. A cursed scimitar that drinks blood and can reopen any wound that it’s ever inflicted -- that was burned into the collective unconscious as the Crimson Rain Brand(™). If he could no longer wield him, then he was that much less powerful. He was that much more useless at protecting Xie Lian.
He, unfortunately, had precious few options left.
--
Xie Lian didn’t often get visitors at his palace in Heaven -- well, not like he was often there anyway -- so the knock on his door took him by surprise. He sighed and trudged wearily to answer. He’d been so exhausted lately, and was lonelier that he’d ever admit aloud...he’d spent centuries alone, so what was a few weeks without Hua Cheng coming to call? What was it? Well, he’d tell you. It was, in a word, unbearable --
He opened the door. Hua Cheng was standing there, and wordlessly presented him with E-ming in his two outstretched hands.
“Please touch it,” Hua Cheng said.
--
“Oh, you poor thing.” Xie Lian made comforting noises as he cradled E-ming on his lap, patting his hilt and sheath with long, indulgent strokes. “Was San Lang being mean to you again? Poor thing...”
GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE, E-ming replied, shaking so hard that the movement registered as a blur to the naked eye. GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE.
E-ming was Hua Cheng’s thing, in that he was literally born from Hua Cheng. But Hua Cheng could confidently say that he would not react so shamelessly if he was in E-ming’s position right now. Lounging on Xie Lian’s lap. Being stroked and fussed over. And furthermore, he did not sound like that when saying “gege.”
“You don’t need to waste any more of your time on him, your highness,” Hua Cheng said. He reached out; not quite brave enough to venture close enough to Xie Lian’s lap to grab E-ming directly. “We’ve already imposed on your hospitality enough.”
Xie Lian shook his head, and lifted E-ming up just enough to press his cheek to his hilt. E-ming’s eye rolled wildly, and his shaking was beginning to make his sheath slide off. Hua Cheng fumed. Here they were, rudely demanding that Xie Lian entertain them as guests, and now E-ming was stripping down like a common brothel whore.
GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE GEGE. SILKY SOFT CHEEK. PILLOWY SOFT LAP. PET ME PET ME PET ME PET ME, said E-ming, like the wanton skank that he was.
“You’re not imposing. And we’re not done catching up,” Xie Lian said. “I haven’t seen the two of you in so long, after all. Have you been taking care of yourself?”
Hua Cheng forced a smile. “Of course. Gege doesn’t need to trouble his mind about this San Lang’s health.”
Xie Lian’s smile took on an air of sadness, and Hua Cheng felt the familiar string of self-loathing pierce his heart.
“I know. I know that San Lang is strong, and can take care of himself. But…if it’s not too much trouble, perhaps you could...”
“I could,” Hua Cheng assured him. I could, I would. I’ll do anything for you, just name it.
Xie Lian smiled at his little joke (haha, a little joke, yes), and settled E-ming back onto his lap -- E-ming, now completely sheathless, his blade flashing in the waning sunlight.
“Perhaps you could come see me, from time to time, just so I know you’re well.”
Ah. Now that the request had a name to it, Hua Cheng could hardly refuse.
“Of course, gege.”
Xie Lian dipped his head, hiding his red cheeks behind the fall of his hair. Hua Cheng’s fingers twitched at the thought of reaching out, of tucking it behind his ear to see the color on his beautiful face.
He saw Xie Lian’s wide eyes staring at him, felt the warmth of his skin and the softness of his hair on his cold hands.
Ah. Hua Cheng wasn’t as in control of himself as he thought. He’d made that thought into action. Perhaps E-ming’s poor behavior was contagious.
“...t-there’s a smudge!” Xie Lian suddenly announced, leaning in close to E-ming to inspect him, pulling away from Hua Cheng’s hand. “P-poor thing, you poor thing, E-ming, San Lang hasn’t been polishing you! Let me help--”
Xie Lian hiked up his robes on one arm, flashing the skin of his jade-white arm up to his elbow, and bunched it up in his hand. He breathed onto E-ming’s blade, a huff-puff of warm air, and polished out the smudge that he had spotted with his keen eye. E-ming’s eye went huge; the dark pupil dilating. He stopped shaking entirely, and lay completely still, as if dead.
“...E-ming?” Xie Lian waved his hand in front of his eye. “Are you alright?”
“He’ll be fine,” Hua Cheng assured.
Hua Cheng, for his part, was utterly out of his mind with jealousy. He would be hearing about this for months from E-ming. About how white and lovely gege’s arms were, about how gege’s sweet breath felt on his steel, about how gege polished him so skillfully. Hua Cheng wanted to march outside and dropkick the first heavenly official he saw. He glanced out the nearby window, and saw Mu Qing and Feng Xin choking each other out in the middle of the street. A two-for-one deal! Oh my, how convenient. Truly he was the luckiest man alive.
Before he could put this thought into action, he saw Xie Lian, inching close. In his hand he was wielding a handkerchief. He tapped it to his tongue to wet it (his cute pink tongue), and reached out to tap, tap it to Hua Cheng’s cheek.
“...just, ah, cleaning a smudge on you, too,” Xie Lian explained. “You and E-ming need to look out for each other. Keep each other smudge-free. You know?”
“...I don’t know if I can promise an entirely smudge-free existence,” Hua Cheng said. His cheek was tingling and still damp.
“Well…” Xie Lian gave him his hankie. “For now, you can keep that to help. I have a spare, but...bring it back to me the next time you visit, maybe?”
“Of course,” Hua Cheng said. “Of course.”
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Furymint
I'm at work atm and on mobile plz ignore formatting but this is the source of all the jokes about furymint and I want to thank @aethernoise for indulging in this silliness lmao
*** *** *** *** *** ***
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you bake before, now that I’m thinking on it,” Serella mused, leaning across the counter to peer into the crust lined pan, now carefully being filled with a bright, citrus scented tart filling.
Sniffing at the not-yet-made treat, her mouth watered.
“Truly, I wish I had more time to dedicate to it,” Aymeric admitted, smoothing the filling out with a spatula. “I like it greatly.”
“More like you enjoy the end result,” Serella teased, even as she swiped a finger on the inside of the mixing bowl he had been using. To her delight, the lime custard was just as delightful and refreshing on the palette as it was to smell. “Same as me!”
“I can enjoy both,” Aymeric conceded, even as he swiped the sticky end of the spatula with a finger to taste it himself, “I daresay ‘tis better to.”
“Mhm,” she hummed in agreement, her finger still in her mouth.
“Since you are over there, dear one—might you cut off a spring of furymint for me, please?” He asked, even as he turned to place the tart in the oven.
When he straightened and looked at her expectantly, he was puzzled to find Serella staring at him in confusion.
“Fury…?” She trailed off—she was looking at the plants she had spent the last few years cultivating; he wasasking for a spring of one of them, but despite her best efforts, she couldn’t recall what furymint looked like. Had she even heard of that plant before now?
“Furymint,” Aymeric supplied again, wondering if perhaps she had simply not heard him clearly the first time.
“I…” She had never felt more stupid, staring at the myriad of fresh herbs she kept near the kitchen and struggling to divine what the fuck he was talking about.
“Ah, worry not, dear one,” he reassured her with a gentle smile. Reaching for the herb shears he dexterously snipped a particularly verdant looking sprig in anticipation to garnish it with once it was finished baking. “There we are.”
“What?” Serella blinked when she realized which plant he had taken a few leaves from. “But that’s not called—“ her frown melted away, and as it dawned on her that she may have to ruin another part of Ishgard’s history for her beloved, she stared into the bushel as though it had opened up her mind’s eye to some dark secret of the universe.
“Are you well, Ella?” She heard him ask but still she needed a moment more to be in awe of her newfound knowledge.
“Aymeric.”
“Yes…?” He asked, and now that she was careening back to earth she realized he sounded worried.
“Dear one. Light of my life.” She tried to stop herself from smiling like a madwoman, though all at once she felt a deep empathy with those raving about the things the world showed them on whatever street corner they could.
They suddenly seemed less crazy and more that what they had been shown had been too much for them to handle.
She felt much the same in that moment.
“Serella?” Aymeric asked quietly. “You are worrying me, love.”
“What…did you just call that plant?” She asked, and given the way he tilted his head and looked at her she must have sounded as ridiculous as she felt.
“’Tis Furymint, dear one,” he repeated as though he were trying to mentally prepare himself to discover she had some disease that ate away at memory and sanity.
“To you,” she replied, already beginning to lose ground to the giggles that threatened to bubble over in her throat, “and to all of Coerthas, perhaps.”
“What—“
“The rest of the world just calls it, ‘spearmint,’ my love,” Serella explained, already feeling her face split in twain for how wide her grin stretched. “So, err…thank your ancestors for that.”
“Wha—!” Aymeric sputtered, eyes wide in shock.
Her delight would not wait for him to process the revelation, however, and through giggles she mused aloud, “do you suppose it was discovered by some Orthodox botanist who was feeling particularly blessed that day?”
“I…am not entertaining that thought,” he said flatly.
“I mean, what else would be the reason? Who discovers a plant and says, ‘sure it’s got leaves like spears and all, but that’s an appropriation of Halonic iconography so I claim this plant in the name of the Fury, thanks lads,’ and the rest of the world, for all of history thereafter, deliberately ignored it and left Ishgard out of the joke?” Through her giggling she further pondered, “is that the real reason Ishgard wasn’t keen on rejoining the Alliance?”
“I…am not the person to have this discussion with.” Aymeric said helplessly, already deeply regretting that he’d uttered the word in the first place.
“I don’t mean to joke about Ishgard’s history—truly, I don’t!— But,” she gestured at the plant, “it’s sort of its own joke, isn’t it?”
When Aymeric let out a sigh from some repressed corner of his soul she leaned across the counter and rested her chin in her hands, beaming up at him in delight.
“I’m sorry,” she said in the least apologetic tone she had, “I’ve gone and side tracked us. What were you going to use it for?”
“It was,” Aymeric groused, “intended to garnish the tart once it baked.” He turned and pulled a glass from the cupboard. “It is now, however, going to garnish my drink that I am in sudden and urgent need of.”
When a bottle of gin and a shot glass joined the cup on the counter the Paladin snorted a laugh again.
“A shame you didn’t start drinking before you began baking,” Serella mused through her chortles, “that would have made a fun little experimint, would it not?”
As he twisted the cap off of the gin he maintained a flat, unamused expression that only served to make her laugh harder.
“Dear one~” Serella cooed to him, “are you furyous with me?”
As she managed to gasp around what had rapidly devolved into wheezing, silent laughter, Aymeric took a deep breath, resigned himself to the fact that it was going to be one of those days, and maintained unimpressed eye contact with her as he forewent the shot glass and just started pouring gin straight into his cup.
#aymeric de borel#serella arcbane#and the elephant in the room: hortocultural nomenclature and its relationship to location#mild shitpost#fam don't even sweat this lmao#furymint is a silly name invented by a silly archdiocese with a hobby#and that's the hill i'll die on#ffxiv
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Hitchhiking Space Fae, Part 4: The Warcry Mix
Part 4: The “Warcry Mix”
I’d just about given up on life, when I heard a distant humming growing louder. I turned to face where the sound was coming from, only to then dive back to the ground, as a group of Terrans riding hover-bikes blasted over me. Four of them passed over me, before coming to a halt a few meters away. I looked up through tear-filled eyes, as the leader stared at me from the glowing eye slits of her mask.
The Terran leading the group lowered her hood, and her mask retracted, revealing the starfield-wreathed face of Maxx. “Xandra? What are you doing here?”
I was too scared to answer. The larger of the figures turned to Maxx, “One of yours?” a gruff, feminine voice asked.
“Cargo Officer on the ship I’m taking.” She responded, dismounting her bike and approaching me. “Are you ok?”
“How...how can I be…? I’m on Terra…I’m as good as dead...” I choked, tears still streaming down my face.
She sighed, sat down next to me, and wrapped her arms around me. I tensed, expecting harm, but when none came, I slowly relaxed.
“We will keep you safe. Don’t worry.” She whispered to me, slowly stroking me behind my ears. Strangely...I believed her. Her words just felt so...nice...
I began feeling strong enough to speak again, and asked, “How do we get out of here? I...I kinda need to get back to work…”
“Good question. Node, where’s the nearest Gate?” Maxx asked her group, helping me to my feet in the process.
A small girl wearing headphones brought up a holographic map, tweaked a few settings, then chirped, “65 miles north. Bad news, the quickest way is through Phantasm territory.”
“Sh**...Alright people, you all know what that means.” There were murmurs of agreement. “Xandra, you ride with Ink. They’ll keep you safe.”
She gestured towards the heavily tattooed, tentacle-haired creature. Warily, I approached them, climbing onto the back seat of the bike. They turned to watch me, a single, gigantic, black-lensed eye staring out of a part in their veil of tentacles, and smiled. They then made a few strange shapes with their hands, clearly indicating something, but when I didn’t comprehend it, they gestured towards Maxx. “Ink is mute. They’re saying ‘Hold on tight.’” Maxx explained. Ink then gave a “thumbs-up” towards Maxx, and I did as they said, grasping the handlebars with all eight of my fingers.
We took off toward the Gate. The bikes’ engine hum was far outclassed by the wind howling in all four of my ears and whistling through my feathers. At first, I crouched low, keeping my eyes closed against the wind, but after a few minutes had passed, the sound of the bike’s slipstream had changed. It sounded...closer somehow. Curiosity getting the better of me, I opened my eyes to look. What I saw was both beautiful and unsettling. Luminescent flora wove its way in and out of towering stone ruins. Dark, ominous clouds hung overhead, sometimes engulfing the tops of the ruins. Ancient wind turbines feebly spun in the winds amongst the towers causing some of the long destroyed windows to occasionally flicker with artificial light
Was this once a city? What could have happened to make Terrans of all people, abandon it? Was there something...worse than Terrans?
My thoughts were interrupted by Node’s voice over the radio. “Gate! Up ahead!”
I leaned out slightly to see around Ink’s cloak, to see a massive pillar of light blasting emanating from a slowly revolving set of rings suspended amidst the clouds. At the base of the light pillar was a three-sided pyramid covered in pulsating runes and arcing with bolts of electrical energy. We came to a stop about a dozen meters from the base of the pyramid, and dismounted.
“That was too easy…” the larger Terran remarked, a tone of suspicion in her voice, as an equally large cannon unfolded in her hands. As if on cue, the pyramid suddenly went dark, and the beam of light retreated into the sky-ring.
Maxx let out a sigh of exasperation. “Now...Why’d ya have to say that?” She said, her face buried in one hand.
At that moment, a pool of black red liquid began collecting a few hundred meters away, and an absolutely gargantuan creature began clawing its way out of it. It stood as tall as one of the many buildings surrounding us, and its fur was as dark as the pool it climbed out of, occasionally broken up by massive, bony, armour plates. From its back grew spikes of purple crystals that crackled with unknown energy, its claws glinted like freshly polished swords, and its eyes were furnaces of malice and hate. This was a being of chaos and death, for sure. I may have pissed myself right then and there.
Node spoke first. “Ursa Phantasmus. Smaller than I thought it’d be.”
“Dibs on any oranges.” The large Terran responded, powering up her massive cannon.
“Diana, We’ll divvy the loot later. Ink, protect Xandra. NODE! Warcry mix!” Maxx shouted. Node’s face broke into a huge smile as she pulled up a holographic menu, and pressed a button. She then swung her backpack off her shoulder, and in one fluid motion, it expanded and folded, transforming from a simple data and instrumentation suite, into a bizarre cross between a Terran “boombox” and a rocket launcher. At this point, the giant beast let out an earth-shaking roar, and from the black pool at its feet, many smaller creatures of death and chaos clambered out and began charging the short span between us and them.
Then the music began. A driving beat pulsed from Node’s weapon, and Maxx turned to face oncoming horde. An ear-splitting cry of war echoed amongst the stone monoliths from Node’s speakers, and in time to the music, Maxx drew out her drone, Nightshade. Except it wasn’t a drone. What I had thought was an AI driven companion for her, transformed in her hands, into the hilt of a sword. A second cry of battle echoed out, and Maxx flourished her weapon. It ignited, a three meter cord of orange light lashing out with a loud crack.
As the music began proper, Node, Maxx, and Diana charged the horde, and began slaughtering these beasts of nightmare with the same elegance, coordination, and showmanship as a team of synchronized dancers. Node’s attacks manifested as lethal holograms depicting waveforms. Walls of light, laser sweeps, and explosive beats eviscerated her opponents. It seemed her music was her enemy’s downfall. Maxx moved like a orange tornado, her whip cleaving dozens of her opponents in twain, as Maxx laughed. Diana pulverized her foes either with her oversized cannon, or simply with her giant fists. Any beasts that managed to get past them were quickly slain by Ink’s magics; rivers of color flowing off her hands, that transformed into serpents, thorned-vines, and skeletal warriors.
It was...beautiful, in a strange way. These Terrans seemed to treat fighting like my people treated dance, and...as I listened to Node’s music, something stirred within me. My people had only been pacifistic for a few hundred solar cycles, and I felt, what I can only describe as a sick thrill. It went against everything I’d been taught, but at that moment, I wanted to slay one of these beasts myself. Seizing a fallen length of pipe, I stepped forward to join the fight, only for Ink to stop me with a wall of vines. I turned to them incredulously. They shook their head, and said something I didn’t understand with their hands.
A fire still raged in my soul, but I knew better than to question a Terran’s judgement when it comes to danger. If they thought it was too dangerous, it was too dangerous. So I stood back and watched. And I’m glad I did, because what happened next was insane. Maxx, Node and Diana had reached the feet of the Ursa, and were dodging around its swiping claws, either gracefully leaping, or propelling themselves into the air with blasts of weapon fire. Maxx then shouted something, and lashed out towards Diana. Diana seized the end of the glowing rope, coiling it around the barrel of her cannon in a shower of incandescent sparks. Node took up position directly in front of the gargantuan beast, pointed the business end of her weapon squarely at the ground, and let loose a holographic wall of sound that propelled Maxx upward and around the Phantasm’s neck. As soon as Maxx made one full rotation, Diana fired her cannon, and the recoil pulled the whip-cord tight. Too tight for the Ursa’s skin to handle. There was a ground-shaking cry of pain as the burning cord sliced through the monster’s flesh, before an equally loud squelch, as the Ursa’s head vacated its shoulders. The monster’s head bounced once before its whole body disintegrated, and…several dozen glowing objects spewed out of it.
With the threats gone, the gateway reactivated (startling me, of course). The three victorious monster slayers regrouped with us, and began passing around the strange, glowing objects I’d seen pop out of the monster’s body.
Diana seemed to covet one of the objects. It glowed a very enticing golden orange. Guess that’s what she meant by “dibs on orange.” Strangely though, despite her covetous nature, after watching Ink sign something to her, she laughed, then handed the object to me.
“Wait...what? I...I don’t understand...”
Still laughing, she said, “Keep it. You need it rookie. Ink says you got spirit. Only time’ll tell if you have skill.”
I took the object in my hands. It appeared to be a metal rod wrapped in leather, no longer than my forearm, but as I examined it, I discovered a catch hidden amongst the wrapping. I released it, and was slightly taken aback when it sprung open into a two-handed staff. I wasn’t sure why, but it felt...right, in my hands, and the longer I held it, the more my thoughts drifted to the dances of my people. Many of our dances used ribbons attached to poles, and in a sudden burst of confidence, I stepped off the Gateway’s plinth to give myself some space and lead into a routine from my childhood, twirling the staff around my body with half-remembered grace, before bringing one end down hard on the pavement. A concussive blast almost knocked me off my feet, and a building that I’d been facing began to crumble, collapsing into a giant pile of rubble.
Everything was still, silent. Nervously, I turned to look at Maxx. Her face, along with everyone else’s, wore a look of shock.
“How did you do that?” Diana asked. I looked from her, to the smoking pile of rubble in front of me, to the staff in my hands, then back to the group.
“I...I don’t know…”
Read Part 1: Part 1
Read Part 2: Part 2
Read Part 3: Part 3
Author’s notes: This chapter was a little weird for me, because as I wrote it, I started to veer away from the “Humans are Weird” thing and I started fleshing out Xandra’s character a bit more. Yes, for now, she’s still a cowardly xenophobe, but I realized, this is becoming a story of adaptation, of expansion of thought. Right now, she’s still scared of Terrans, but I want her to move beyond that. To evolve. And in doing so, the rest of the cast can play off this fact too.
Additionally, I envision the “Warcry Mix” as a combination of many musical scores and songs. It starts out with the opening of Immigrant’s Song from Led Zepplin, followed up by Wonder Woman’s theme by Tina Guo, before evolving into something akin to the RWBY soundtrack. Giant monsters, collapsible/variable weapons, magic...Yeah, I drew HEAVILY from RWBY for this sequence.
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Powerpuff Girls 2016 - “Power Of Four (Parts 1-2)”
Written by: Jake Goldman, Haley Mancini
Written & Storyboarded by: Kyle Neswald, Benjamin P. Carow, Julia Vickerman, Cheyenne Curtis, Alicia Chan, Grace Craft (sic), Jaydeep Hasrajani, Leticia Abreu Silva
Directed by: Nick Jennings, Bob Boyle
The first ratings stunt special! Might not be the only one.
(I know, I promised one review. I'll just say I really should have learned my lesson with the hour long DuckTales episode. Parts 3-5 will be up tomorrow.)
Before we start, some explanation about how I split this review up: While this episode aired as a 1.25 hour special in the US, this episode will air in at least one other country as five separate episodes, all with the word Bliss in the title. Cartoon Network's app has it both ways, just in case you want your pain piece-meal. Or is it pain? Let's just get this "bliss" over with.
Part 1 - Find Your Bliss
Written & Storyboarded by: Alicia Chan, Grace Kraft
The special starts with Blossom and Buttercup accusing Bubbles of breaking an award and melting a Candle Man action figure, respectively. Bubbles says it's not her, it's Bliss, a teenager who can't control her emotions!
Blossom and Buttercup don't believe her, because, as a montage shows, she has a habit with making up imaginary friends. But there's no time to worry about Bubbles breaking random things thanks to her "imagination", they got a Space Tow Truck movie to go to! Basically, the writers think 6 year old girls would be into Star Trek. Before they can do that, the Professor tells them to do chores.
While Blossom and Buttercup are able to finish their chores easily, Bubbles can't help but be found with a bunch of broken plates. This time, she blames Bliss's elephant friend, named, according to the captions, Mee! Yes, that will turn into several "Who's On First?" gags, none of which are particularly bad. After a little "pow-wow", Blossom and Buttercup decide to do some drastic measures.
See, as this reboot has proven time and time again, the Powerpuff Girls can easily be stopped by tying them up like Penelope Pitstop. Even the Powerpuff Girls knew this, as all we needed to keep someone who can fly and lift buildings full of people at the same time from causing trouble is a tiny hand truck and some green ribbons. Not the silliest thing that stopped them, by a long shot.
Blossom runs out of popcorn immediately before the movie, and the Professor tries to use his new invention: a pen that could fire lasers, immobilize people, scratch your back, and maybe write! After accidently immobilizing a few kids in the audience, he realizes it's stuck on the immobilization option, and decides to just get some popcorn. This will be important later. Mostly the pen, though the popcorn does lead to a smirk-worthy joke.
Earth Plow, an old-time radio character that the Professor used to like that is somehow real, bursts through the screen, and because this is a 3D movie, we get the obvious joke. Of course, Earth Plow is not too happy about other vehicles that are not of this Earth, and wants to show off that he's still got it by doing a Mark Twain impression. He also has a problem with getting criticized, as he starts attacking with his lasers as soon as everyone starts booing. The Powerpuff Girls intervene, but will they prevail?
Not really, Blossom and Buttercup just can't seem to handle this guy, as he almost instantly traps them with a claw. What's worse is that Bubbles is still stuck on that hand truck and green ribbon of doom. Clearly, someone else has to appear out of nowhere and help them, and that's not something unique to this special. As Earth Plow attempts to run Bubbles over while she yells for Bliss, we get a flash of light, and we finally get the reveal everyone's been waiting for.
Well, that's a slight lie considering a certain Cartoon Network division jumping the gun, but we'll just keep it to ourselves.
It’s Bliss! She has blue hair, because natural hair colors are not cool enough! She has long legs, and yet she essentially has the same body design as her 10-years-younger sisters! And she’s totally not an overpowered fan-character, because just this flash of light was able to blow a villain that easily took care of two Powerpuff Girls out of the theater. Okay, that’s a bad example. I have a feeling this special is going to be full of them.
The Professor comes back with his trashcan full of popcorn that he was, a result of said smirk-worthy popcorn joke, and he finds Bliss. The first thing he does when he finds this new Powerpuff Girl? He calls her "Blisstina", tells her sorry, and zaps her with the immobilization pen. I'll admit, this was a legitimately shocking scene, and a great ending for this part.
By reboot standards, this was a great opening, and it actually intrigued me for future parts. That's something I didn't expect from watching more than 40 episodes of this show, and certainly not something I expected when I watched the initial promos. Where did this Powerpuff Girl come from? What are her special powers? Why did the Professor decide to immobilize her daughter the first time he saw her for years?
All of this will be answered, and I'll say this: if you are thinking this quality is throughout this entire special, this must be your first episode.
Part 2 - Bliss Reminiscence
Written & Storyboarded by: Kyle Neswald, Benjamin P. Carow
It turns out, the Professor put her in a stasis bubble, protecting her from the rest of the world, and protecting the rest of the world from her. This part is all about Bliss's origin story, as told by three different people, including herself. We start with the Professor, and from the first sentence, we can tell that they’re not going to pay any respect to the original. It all started ten years ago...
Envious of "bitter"-never-before-mentioned-"rival" Professor Neutronium’s perfect little boy, who looks like Astro Boy and apparently saves Tokyo on a regular basis, he wanted to make the perfect little girl. So instead of wanting to make the world a better place and/or wanting to have a family, Professor Utonium made the Powerpuff Girls out of envy. Is this the Professor, or Dick Hardly from the original's Knock it Off?
Other than that, it is the all familiar story, complete with animation similar to the original's opening: the Professor mixes together sugar, spice, and everything nice, and somehow manages to knock into a vial of Chemical...W? That does explain why she seems to have powers the Powerpuff Girls don't have, besides "we gotta make her special", but we’re supposed to believe he messed up twice? It gets even worse. Not only did he bumble twice...
...he bumbled 22 other times with 22 other chemicals! This scene raises far too many questions that, unlike previously, will never be answered, as I don’t think they thought further than "Chemical X? Whatever happened to Chemical A through W? Wakka wakka!" There's a slight implication that it might have made at least one monster, but that's all we get.
We also learn that her name isn't just Bliss, but Blisstina Franchesca Francis Mariam Alicia Utonium. At least it's not Blisstina Powerpuff. The father of the year that he is, he even tells the girls we're familar with that Blisstina was his favorite little girl. Buttercup calls him out on this, and he just immediately denies it. Not funny.
Her powers began to evolve, as she starts teleporting around the room. Is this her unique power? Not really, this is just one of her normal powers. It's because she's made of Chemical W, you see. It's not just because "we got to make her special!" That's not the only power she gets, either.
Even as a preschooler, even in the original they're all born preschoolers, roll with it, she can't control her emotions. Literally! Whenever she feels a strong emotion, any of them, she causes a large blue explosion that destroys the house. It all ends with Bliss getting fustrated over not having any milk for her cereal, and causing the whole house to explode. When the Professor woke up, she was gone, and he assumed death. For those in the know, they never mention Bunny. Are you really that surprised?
After the Professor leaves for a reward for "best ham" after promising never to leave Bliss, father of the year, Bliss suddenly wakes up from her immobilization. This stasis bubble being able to prevent her from teleporting, She tells her side of the story, starting with the Professor creating her before the Powerpuff Girls immediately stop her. Bliss actually left the Professor while he was knocked out. She goes to a island because, despite being so powerful, she causes problems!
Specifically, she goes to Bird Poop Island. It's here that she meets Mee, her magical pet friend that will surprisingly have more of a reason to exist other than "we got to make her special!" Even when he demonstrated her ability to self-destruct, Mee didn't care. After 10 years, she finally got homesick, decided to teleport back to her old home, and she found Bubbles and started her "pretend I'm your imaginary friend" game.
As Bliss begs to be let go, it's Reboot Jojo's has to make his appearance in this special, as he posed as the "ham award" giver for the Professor to leave the room. Unfortunately, he is the "ham". No, not really, Jojo, not even if you make this face for no reason:
Sweet dreams, kids.
He decides to tell his side of the story, starting with the time he pushed the Professor right into the chemicals. Actually, they never even get to this, as the Powerpuff Girls immediately tell him to skip to his friendship with Bliss. Judging by this and the extended opening, I’m not convinced they’re even aware of that plot point. Now, I know this is supposed to be a reboot...
...though I'm not convinced the writers know this, but it's one of the biggest aspects that made Mojo Jojo significant as an arch-villain. It's a part that seperates him from being just a silly monkey with a silly hat; he was involved in their creation. To have it pushed aside is just...a stab in the heart.
The silly monkey explains that Bliss was his best friend when he was still an ordinary baby monkey. When Bliss went bye-bye, he was so sad. The end. You know, I would have accepted that the Professor actually bumbled with the Chemical W, and that he missed Bliss so much that he intentionally bumped the Professor when he was mixing the Chemical X. That would have been an okay retcon. Instead, we got...
...that. Reboot Jojo uses this backstory as a reason for Bliss to join him. He hits the lever, accidently opening the garage door. Finally, a decent joke, and it took them this long. He then hits the other lever, freeing Bliss.
The Powerpuff Girls and Jojo try to convince her at the same time, and Bliss feels that's she's about to explode again. She uses her telekinesis for the first time to flip back the lever to use the bubble to protect the house from a huge explosion that makes her disappear again. They don't cry this time, as if they knew she didn't actually die.
To make a long story short, she didn't. She wants to start this family thing, and maybe this will help her control her powers. The part ends with her accidently making the house explode again. Oops.
There wasn't a lot to like about this part besides the garage door gag. While the last part ended with a great twist, the twists and retcons they put with this one just feel like bad jokes at worst, and misguided at best. I can't even respect that this is the first time they even mentioned Chemical X. If there's any good news, it's all uphill from here. A very, very slight one.
See you tomorrow for parts 3 through 5, and my final rating!
← Bridezilla ☆ Power of Four (Part 3-5) →
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(During the “Blood Ties” event, Revanche/Kwannon was a member of the X-Men and went with them to Genosha to fight Fabian Cortez and his ex-slave followers. However, we never really see where she goes or what she does there. I decided to write about that. I’m just sorry she had to get her ass kicked, but if it had gone the other way around, Fabian would never have made it to get killed by Exodus. As a note, at this point, Revanche still believed herself to be Psylocke due to their mixed memories. If you’re confused about who she is, I have a long post about her HERE.
Also, for those concerned, there’s nothing creepy here. For all Fabian’s grossness, doing stuff to unconscious women was actually never his MO, and he had more important thing on his mind during Blood Ties. I’d rate this PG but only for the violence.)
Working her way into the Genoshan presidential manor was cake. After all, thanks her ninja training with--
No, no, what? She had never been a ninja. Betsy Braddock had dreams of being a warrior as a child, but they had never come to any fruition. Even when she had joined the x-men, her means of fighting had been mental, as befitting someone with her telepathic abilities. The memories, the training, the skills, they belonged to Kwannon, accidentally gained when their minds had fused, when Kwannon had found her body washed upon the shore in Japan. The same way Kwannon had gained her memories of the X-Men to such a degree she had been able to trick them into thinking SHE was their lost Betsy, reborn in an Asian body somehow! Believable for a telepath, she supposed---but how could they continue to fall for it when the genuine article had reappeared?! How many times must she prove herself to them? Ever since she had first met them, over and over, they never believed in her, always---
Well, that would be straightened out in time. This madman Cortez had to be dealt with now. All lies were undone in time, but his threatened an entire nation---and the life of an innocent child.
She made her way past the Genoshan rebels with ease, fighting them by ambush or simply avoiding them by stealth. These poor people had lived as slaves; they might have great mutant power and advanced weaponry at their disposals, but they had never been trained for combat. Not like her---no, not like Kwannon.
In retrospect, she supposed that made her let her guard down. She assumed that Cortez would be like them, reliant on merely nature and technology, not on true skill. Since this building had once belonged to a government that had good reason to fear mutants, it was laced with anti-telepathic blockers, not unlike the Hellfire Club, but she didn't think she'd need her psi-powers to deal with Cortez.
She forgot that he was not Genoshan. She forgot what she had been told about his first fight with the X-Men.
It was only the slithering sound of a cape sliding against the ceiling panels that alerted her, but too late---the kick from above to the back of her head as he swung out bowled her over before him all the same, sending her sword clattering beyond her reach. Stupid...bloody...cow!
“So, Revanche,” he gloated behind her as she pushed herself up, “The latest recruit. I like what you've done with Elisabeth's hair.”
As Revanche turned her torso to look at him, she saw he had Luna Maximoff cradled in one arm. On one hand, it made fighting harder for him. On the other...it meant that if she tried something and failed, the girl might pay the price.
“Funny you're keeping the dye job though,” Cortez continued “What were the odds you'd both like purple so much?”
“I am Elisabeth Braddock, dog,” she proclaimed, getting to her feet, “I always have been, sword, you cannot confuse me, any more than--”
She cut herself off, scolding herself revealing such passion, such weakness, to an enemy...and worse, nearly revealing information to him about a conflict within the X-men he might exploit, as he had exploited Magneto, as he exploited these poor once-slaves here. The very thought of such dishonorable conduct made her want to split him in twain right here.
“...than?” Cortez raised his eyebrows, as if inviting her to finish, “Oh, not my business, hmm? Well, I'm more inclined to believe you, I suppose, given your face---did you swap codenames? Is she the better telep--”
Now it was he who was cut off, and caught off guard, as she leaped at him, creating a blade of psychic energy from her hands to replace the one of metal that she'd dropped. It was weak due to the dampeners, but it was there, and it was--
Once again, he triumphed, and this time she could not credit it to the advantage of surprise. With an infuriatingly amused expression, the cur not only avoided her strike, but caught her by the wrist, swinging her, and just before he threw her to the side, flooded her with an overcharge, just as he had the 'fake' Psylocke in their first battle. Though she was unable to use her telepathy right now, it still existed, and she howled in suffering as it fought in her head against the suppressors, rerouting back at her own mind.
“Whoever the new Psylocke is, Revanche---you fight like her too!” Cortez crowed above her, “And you'll lose like her!”
Then, he drew his gun from his hip holster, and the butt game down on her head.
***
She opened her eyes. She was lying in the middle of a ravaged Genosha field, the earth around her literally scorched, likely from a fight involving pyrokinetics, energy blasters, or both. Her mind was aching, her psychic powers exhausted, as useless as her hands, which were bound behind her back in metal shackles, of the sort once used to restrain unruly Genoshan slaves who had, however briefly, broken through their brainwashing.
Cortez stood over her, Luna still in his arms. He was a large man as it was, one of the tallest she'd ever met next to Colossus, but at this angle, he was positively monstrous. The shadows cast by the harsh island sun on his sharp features making him look strangely inhuman.
“Take this message to the X-Men,” he said, now that he saw she was awake, “If they don't protect me, if the Avengers don't protect me, this girl dies.”
“Protect you?” Revanche could not keep the innocent surprise out of her voice. With all this man had done, all he could do, he needed protection? And not from the X-Men and the Avengers, but by them?
“You don't frighten me, Revanche, Psylocke, whoever you are---there are far greater things to fear than you, and Magneto, the ancient fool, has awoken one and brought him into his fold! We're ALL in danger! Me most of all!”
As inhuman as he had looked, there was nothing more human than the rising desperation in his voice now, which only moments before had stolid and solid as stone itself.
“My, how sorry I am to hear that,” she said, with the sort of perfectly polite sarcasm only a lifetime among the British upper-crust could cultivate.
“Shut up!” he grabbed her by her hair and jerked her up to her knees, his tone truly unhinged now, “My life is at stake! You will do as I say, or you won't leave her alive---and neither will Luna!”
“And here I thought, just for a moment, you might be a worthy foe,” she returned, as calm as he was not. Her lip curled, “You disgust me.”
Cortez answered her with a kick, releasing her hair as he did so that she would fall to the ground again. She heard the baby Luna cry out at the sight. Getting to her feet, she continued in her own calm but contemptuous voice,
“Very well, they'll get your message---but I pray Magneto and his newfound friend get you first!”
With that, she began her trek back to the X-Men, her telepathy guiding her to them as it gradually came back beneath the brutal Genoshan sun.
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A Tale of Two Timelines
Below is an updated version of a post I wrote in 2014, a time that seemed so intensely polarized. I have to laugh as I recall 2014, because the split grows wider and wider each year. Compared to today, 2014 was mellow!
I’ve received emails from some very anxious people begging me to blog about current events. I only do so when I feel led, and you won’t find me taking sides here. Some people have asked why I no longer blog directly about vaccines, BigPharma, GMO’s, and other Shadow topics. I used to, but at some point I found my blog getting censored. WordPress wouldn’t let me post if I included certain words; several search engines dropped my blog for two years. Even if I searched “Laura Bruno, Medical Intuitive,” my blog would not appear. My YouTube channel got censored into non-existence way back in 2011. I was one of the original ones booted off that platform for sharing non-mainstream, empowering information.
I consolidated five websites into this one blog. Forgoing YouTube and social media, this blog is the only online presence I now have. The risk of total censorship outweighs what I feel I can accomplish anymore by posting about certain topics. You can search the blog if you want to see what I’ve written over the years, although I removed some of that content, too. I feel like we’ve entered a new phase, where portal painting, orgone gridding, Reiki, energetic intervention and other under the radar actions produce stronger results with far less risk. And yes, more Divine Doorways and Portal Paintings are in the works. Those I’ll share.
My own path — along with many clients and blog readers — involves embracing paradox and the integration of seeming opposites. Best of the old, best of the new: what would create healing, harmony, generous yields and soul soothing beauty? These are the questions I ask, and most public work I do occurs very much behind the scenes. I will always support free will to choose creation or destruction, realizing that many times creation follows destruction. That said, the opportunities to choose keep ramping up. In any case, here’s a post from 2014, which if anything, seems even more true today:
A Tale of Two Timelines:
I know it has become rather vogue to declare that “we’re all on one timeline now” because “we’re all one;” however, from my vantage point, this world continues to polarize in ever more dramatic ways. Clients, friends, family members, people I know through community volunteering — lately everyone seems to be receiving a mega-phoned, “Are you sure?!”
Revelations of betrayals have become so absurdly obvious that the levels of denial now required to ignore them truly boggle both mind and heart. Personal relationships reveal evidence of in-your-face double lives and months or years of deliberate, calculated lies. Companies that have demanded loyalty from good employees reveal themselves as totalitarian versions of the same old, same old, regardless of lip service to their “different way of doing business.” BigPharma and BigTech apply even more tyrannical pressure, and political hypocrisy now rivals theater of the absurd.
Yet somehow, even amidst revelations that have grown surreal in magnitude, some people continue to live in complete denial of the importance and responsibility of choosing something better. This choice hasn’t yet affected everyone; I’m not talking about people who are truly too busy to look at anything beyond their own three jobs to put food on the table. I’m talking about otherwise intelligent, reasonably capable and conscious people who’ve had their worldview rocked by what would be a rude awakening, if only that awakening occurred. It’s quite shocking how deep the Pollyanna programming can go, and meanwhile, their world creeps or runs ever closer to tyranny and dystopia.
This theme of betrayal is on the upswing. As Mark Twain said, “It is easier to fool people than to convince them that they have been fooled.” Betrayal not only hurts our hearts; it hurts our pride. It begs questions like “How could I have been so stupid?” or “How could I have missed those signs?” It takes courage to answer those questions as real ones rather than rhetorical invitations to self pity and the downward spiral. Approaching betrayal as an opportunity to learn what went awry and how — and as an invitation to troubleshoot for a preferred future — also requires swallowing some humble pie. But the question of “getting one’s just desserts” has become so very urgent in our times!
When the Universe approaches you with a neon lighted, mega-phoned, smack upside the head, “Are you sure?!” please carefully consider your answer. The “elite” psychopaths running rough shod over our planet do engage in their own bizarre code of honor, which requires people give them permission to proceed with their diabolical plans. Through leaks, Hollywood films, best selling novels, symbolic actions, or direct quotes of elected officials, these “elites” broadcast their intentions. Similarly, everyday, run of the mill sociopaths, philanderers, thieves and cheats drop clues via behavior, Freudian slips, circumstantial evidence or those mysterious “can’t put my finger on it” triggers that unsettle our stomach, ring all the anxiety alarm bells, and put our intuition on hyperalert. If we feel ourselves saying and feeling, “Something’s just not right about this,” but we refuse to investigate and discover what isn’t right, then by the psycho’s code of “honor,” we become fair game. They’ve duly warned us; our taking and acting upon the warning is our responsibility, not theirs.
I don’t know how this experiment called 21st century planet Earth will play out. All I can do is observe and extrapolate, but what I see happening worldwide is a sharpening of the divide between realities, not the blending of everything together into what I call the New Age Borg.
Some people — quite a high percentage in my sphere of influence — continue to experience incredible breakthroughs and freedom in areas that previously refused to budge, sometimes for decades. Those who make something of the breakthrough go on to experience exponentially faster and more powerful breakthroughs. By contrast, those who refuse to use the original breaking through of information as a catalyst to major change, become even more committed to the controllers’ trajectory of totalitarian dystopia and a drugged, brainwashed, Pollyanna populous to slave away on behalf of the self proclaimed elite. They continue to excuse those who reject the Golden Rule, and they continue to wonder why life keeps throwing drama at them. What they conveniently edit from their awareness is the reality of that blaring question: “Are you sure?!”
I don’t know when or if the deadline will arrive for making such decisions, but the frequency and intensity of that question seems to indicate that it will, and soon. What kind of world do you wish to live in, and what illusions are you willing to give up in order to embody it? Are you willing to transmute the increased effort it takes to continue lying to yourself and instead turn such efforts into creating a better life and world? Effort is effort. One type of effort maintains dissatisfaction and gives permission for misery and tyranny; the other effort actually generates new worlds and allows you to create a real version of your imagined potential.
A Tale of Two Timelines: which will it be? The choice — and the responsibility — are yours.
from Thomas Reed https://laurabruno.wordpress.com/2019/04/13/a-tale-of-two-timelines-2/
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50 More Days of Comics! 23/50: New Gods #6 (1989)
The New Gods were Jack Kirby’s pet project. As the legend goes, he proposed to Marvel that he be allowed to kill off the entire Thor cast and setting and have new guys instead. For some reason Marvel didn’t bite.
Honestly its for the best. Killing off Thor et al would have deprived us of the incredible Walter Simonson run, Jane Foster as Thor, and most importantly of Throg, frog of thunder. Not having to steal Darkseid to invent Thanos wouldn’t have been worth missing out on that.
Later Kirby took the idea to DC who not only let him build up his Fourth World mythology in several books but also gave Kirby the Jimmy Olsen book to help build it up.
“Take our Olsen, please!”
Really, Kirby asked for the Jimmy Olsen book because nobody was writing it and Jack “the King” Kirby was a very classy guy who didn’t want to screw another writer out of a job.
Heck of a guy.
For whatever reason, the New Gods and Fourth World stuff never took off quite as much as some other things but elements like Darkseid and also Darkseid and some more Darkseid caught on.
Seriously, does anyone care about anything from New Genesis that isn’t Orion or Mister Miracle?
So New Gods slash the Fourth World have a spotty publishing history. As in, they don’t always get their own dedicated books but the Darkseid Darkseid Darkseid elements bled into other things. Like the time an exile from Apokolips brainwashed Superman into almost starring in a porno…….
Sometimes comics…. bad.
But the point being this is how we get a New Gods issue 6 all the way into 1989. That and Crisis on Infinite Earths blowing up continuity so that the New Gods had to be reestablished.
I’ll be honest, I never much cared for the Fourth World stuff. I don’t dislike it. I just don’t much care for it. I’m fairly neutral.
So can this comic six issues into a series make me care? Well its Orion focused so possibly not?
I dislike how his flying harness thing makes him look like he’s constipated squatting and his default demeanor is roid rage.
See, look how angry he is to be stepped on by zombies. Learn to chill, my dude.
The comic starts with some establishing narration about the death of the old gods and creation of the Fourth World. I don’t know if the comic waited until issue 6 to cover this fairly important detail of the premise or whether it just says this at the beginning of every issue.
But heres the quick and the dirty: the old gods fought the final battle and as it was the final battle they all died when some evil shadow split the world of the old gods (hey maybe it was Asgard, suggests the narration) in twain.
Half became New Genesis, a world of good people and good things like puppies and rainbows. And half became Apokolips, for evil people and evil things like torture and gigantic plumes of fire.
Its not subtle or very complex but that’s not how Jack Kirby or comics rolled.
One wrinkle though is Orion.
The Evil Gods and the Good Gods decided to do a son swap for reasons of peace or something. Highfather took Darkseid’s son Orion and tried to teach him of peace and good although a terrible hair trigger temper burned in Orion’s heart. And Darkseid took Highfather’s son Scott Free and placed him in a ‘terror orphanage’ and ‘tortured him forever.’
Quite a difference in priorities there but don’t forget that the New Gods of Apokolips are super duper evil.
Scott Free got free and became a super escape artist superhero but is generally a pretty morally good guy. It turns out that when you only teach a guy to escape you, he only learns to escape you.
But Orion is thematically the midpoint between New Genesis and Apokolips, caught between them being torn between nature and nurture, between his bloodthirsty Apokolipsan instincts and his ‘don’t be a dick’ training from New Genesis.
He’s hypothetically a really interesting character.
Also, this issue contains zombies of the Old Gods, called Dreggs because misspelling is trademarkable.
They live in the ruins within Apokolips and occasionally poke their head out only to be whack a moled by Kalibak.
They’re why the issue is titled “People Too Stupid to Die!”
Orion is flying around in his dumb harness bemoaning the constant war that rages between his two halves and wishing it could be fought with punching instead of thinking. And wondering why Forager yelled at him for blowing up the land of bugs. Bug women are so confusing.
So he decides to visit his only friend, government agent Dave Lincoln “one of a select few Earth-dwellers linked to the gods by the Anti-Life equation…”
The more I learn about the Anti-Life Equation the less sense it makes.
And also I immediately hate Dave Lincoln. There’s just real kneejerk animosity. For one thing he’s one of those guys that smokes a pipe and also gestures with his pipe. For another thing, he criticizes the Cuomo administration for not building enough prisons and not executing enough people.
What particularly rankles is that this guy is supposed to be the guy that teaches Orion Earth morality (because apparently he didn’t learn dick on New Genesis).
When Dave Lincoln chases down a fleeing murderer who almost gets the drop on him, Orion intervenes and is about to kill the criminal when Lincoln tells him not to.
Because unsurprisingly on Apokolips if you beat an opponent, their life is forfeit. And again, either it’s the same way on New Genesis or they didn’t teach Orion dick.
Speaking of Apokolips, Darkseid had some women named Eve kidnapped who I guess is tied to Orion in some way. But he does not let god of torture Desaad torture her because his plan is to get Orion to kill her somehow.
Not sure how he’ll finagle that but apparently her death will unlock another facet of the Anti-Life Equation for Darkseid and make him even more powerful.
And to illustrate how big his power already is, he shoots some Omega beams into the atmosphere on a whim that also aggros the zombies. There’s basically no reason for him to be blasting off at nothing except to get the zombies to scrumble out of the underground and be present in the plot.
Meanwhile, New Genesis.
I wonder what this perfect paradise planet full of only good people is like?
Well apparently some jerks ‘usurped’ the Highfather’s power by forming a council so that he doesn’t have unilateral power.
And the Highfather responds to this infringement on his ‘natural’ power by first calling them uninspired leeches.
Highfather: “It was I who settled New Genesis, established the dream… always there are others, incapable of their own dreams, to come forth and lay claim to mine! Always, there are those who seek to reap the benefits of today, never having fought the battles which allowed us to have dreams at all!”
The council was, by the way, elected. So its not like they just seized power.
Anyway, that’s when Highfather decides to dissolve their council and be unilateral again.
Highfather: “People of New Genesis… a new order begins today in the form of the old order. I again preside.”
I… have no idea how this is supposed to come off.
I guess both the paradise and hell god worlds agree that an uncontested patriarchal single central leader is the ideal form of government, they just disagree on whether said leader should have a beard or a face made of rock.
And both would agree that Democracy Is Bad.
Eesh.
Lightray, the new New God that apparently fans hated for being a spotlight stealer, worries that a civil war might be brewing on the paradise good planet of only good gods and decides he should find Metron for advice but think of the devil and boop there Metron appears.
Metron redirects Lightray by telling him that Eve got kidnapped and possible society splitting pushed out of mind, Lightray zooms off to Earth to go tell Orion while Metron muses that this really might be the end of New Genesis.
On Earth, Orion is still talking about how you just gotta kill your opponents otherwise you’re weak and you’ll be disrespected and he uses as an example a cockroach he finds in Dave Lincoln’s apartment. It has invaded his territory and he’s not even destroying it!
So Orion squishes it. A GREAT VICTORY FOR ORION!
Then Lightray shows up and tells Orion that Darkseid has kidnapped Eve! Orion decides he’s going to beat up Darkseid!
‘And rescue Eve’ reminds Dave Lincoln.
‘Sure sure,’ says Orion, basically.
Then they boom tube to Apokolips.
Where meanwhile, Darkseid has gotten distracted from his plot to get Orion to murder someone because all these zombies have shown up.
He tells them to gtfo but they don’t listen. He has them shot but they still don’t listen. Because they are zombies.
Meanwhile elsewhere, Desaad uses Darkseid’s distraction to hook Even naked into an upside down torture machine. Annnnnnd then Orion bursts through the wall like an X-Force.
Did you know that the members of X-Force have collectively died more often than they’ve used a door? Plausibly true story.
Anyway, Desaad summons some big toughies and skee daddles. Orion punches all the big guys because that’s what he do. He also works himself into a lather because that is also what he do.
Around when Orion is making a guy shoot himself in the face while cracking a disturbing grin, Lightray reminds Orion of the thing that Dave Lincoln told him. Presumably the thing about la la la la save the girl do not fight the dad.
Meanwhile, Darkseid still telling the zombies to gtfo. And any amount of strikes and they’re out so Darkseid shoots his Omega Beams at them.
And nothing happens.
“There can be no victory for Darkseid: How can you savor the death of that which is already dead?”
Is THAT how the Omega Beams work??
One of the zombies tries to grope at Darkseid so he shoots some Omega Beams again.
To again no obvious, immediate effect.
But hey, here’s the thing which would sound made up if you encountered it in a dry synopsis.
The Omega Beams that Darkseid fired at the zombies?
They go through them to no avail but beams don’t just stop being a thing. They keep traveling to where Orion, Eve, and Lightray are.
Orion assumes, as his lather is still lathered on both sides, that Darkseid is attacking him but the beams go right by him and zap Eve and Lightray out of existence or somewhere nasty or however Omega Beams work today.
Shocked and appalled that Darkseid wasn’t targeting him, Orion shouts that Darkseid’s quarrel is with him and waits for the other shoe to drop. Then the other pair of Omega Beams that Darkseid fired at the zombies hit him and vanish him away.
“Just for the moment, as he is banished to the next conflict, Orion wonders if this is the will of Darkseid or mere chance... just as quickly, he dismisses the notion that, here, there is anything but the will of Darkseid.”
We cut to Darkseid questioning Desaad if Orion’s ‘true nature’ came forth.
Desaad says that Lightray kept Orion good but that doesn’t really match what I saw happen.
The god of torture asks what happened to the invading zombies and Darkseid says that he let them go because they are feeble and unworthy of his attention.
Unbenoticed, the zombie that tried to grab Darkseid grabs Orion’s helmet as it and the other Dregg shuffle away.
“With Darkseid, there is never the accidental, only the deliberate. All, even when it fails, is according to his grand design... He has vanquished the Dreggs well. They departed, he knows, not out of disinterest but because they recognized his might. Now, they wander off not of their own will. Of that, Darkseid is certain. But what brought them here remains a mystery, even to him... Perhaps they came to remind him of a time past... Perhaps, he wonders, they carry some message... but, of course, Darkseid has nothing to learn from the past.”
Womp womp womp
There’s a funny implication that despite what Orion and Darkseid believe, Darkseid has no idea what just happened and the plan went completely off the rails and it was because of something stupid like blind firing into a pack of zombies hitting someone across the planet.
But if the zombies were attracted to distract Darkseid from his plans for Orion and accidentally shoot his plans for Orion, then what is the architect?
The narration says that they were attracted by Darkseid firing lasers into the atmosphere.
It’s all a bit inexplicable.
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Guerrilla Book of the Week - Book 2 - The Alchemist, Paulo Coelho:
This country is sweltering. The air i breathe is hot in my nostrils. It is dry and their is little humidity. I was glad to be off the camel’s back, and resting in this tent in the desert sand dunes drinking Arabic tea. There isn’t a breeze in the air and looking through the flapping doorway of the tent all I see is the expanse of sand and in this place the odd palm tree. Just a few days ago I was scuttling through the narrow dusty streets of the Medina, through the markets and eventually taking respite from the sun in the merchants tea shop. The smells of the herbs and spices in the market harshly contrasted to the smell of the meat and fish from the nearby meat market. As I sit in this tent…
I am suddenly shook awake as the phone rings. Except I wasn’t asleep. I was reading the Alchemist. The imagery thrown forth with the words within this book, is simply phenomenal. I could feel the heat, smell the smells and see the people. This book brought me right back to 2015 as I walked through the streets of that Moroccan village, and later crossed the Sand Dunes by camel back before taking rest in a tent amongst the dunes to drink the Arabic tea. For this reason alone I suggest one reads this book. However there is so much more to this book. In the song “Growing Up” by Macklemore, from his album “This unruly mess Ive made” there is a line that simply states “I recommend that you read “The Alchemist”. I had never heard of this book, and to have such a line in the middle of a hip hop song was enough to warrant my interest. Now, all I can say is
“I recommend that you read The Alchemist”.
This book is simply about following your dreams - the subtitle is literally “A Fable about following your dream”. Even if it means giving up everything in your comfort zone. The author, Paulo Coelho says of dreams that “there comes a time when our personal calling is so deeply buried in our souls as to be invisible. Bit it is still there”. He talks about how people know intuitively what it is they want to do, but they themselves find reasons not too. Coelho believe that if people just went after those things they want, that they will receive them. The only person that can stop them, is themselves. Throughout the story characters repeat the phrase “And, when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.”
Coelho’s book makes the claim that we are in fact only on this planet to realise our dreams. Our dreams are our purpose on this planet and that the reason the world is in the state it is, is because too many people are afraid to follow their dreams. There is a line in the book that says "The soul of the world is nourished by people's happiness”. The whole beginning of this fable, in the fields and towns of Andalusia as the conversation between the boy and the old king takes place, the author is making this point. One of the lines I found to be poetic and relatable was "... when each day is the same as the next, it's because people fail to recognise the good things that happen in their lives every day that the sun rises”.
It reminded me of a quote I had read many times before and had tried to make a mantra for life.
“Don't live the same year seventy five times and call it a life.”
~Robin S. Sharma
This author, through his writing, is trying to inspire those to make the most of their life. The author makes the claim that you will never be satisfied unless you go after that dream. Nothing else will satisfy the mind, body and spirit.
The fable talks constantly about Omens and intuition and listening to your heart. I think this is something we all know, something we all experience but some refuse to accept. You have that “gut feeling” and you just know that something is right or wrong, or its a good idea or a bad idea. Where we say “gut feeling” Coelho says it is our heart speaking to us. Either way, all of us have had that feeling, or a hunch. Coelho talks about these throughout the book; about omens, and the language of the world, and intuition - eventually he describes them.
“ ‘Hunches’… the boy was beginning to understand that intuition is really a sudden immersion of the soul into the universal current of life”
This is a reflection, I feel, on the old connections that mankind had with the earth. The connections slowly dying out to technology. We are part of this earth, and when we get our hunches, or our intuition kicks in, it is because we are still connected and the hunch is, as described, the sudden immersion of our soul back into that current. For that split second, minute, week, month or year, however long that hunch, gut feeling or ache from the heart lasts, we are connected again to the world. Coelho eventually reflects on the fact that all people already know these things. We know that our heart, or gut feeling, is right. But it is not until many of us read a book like this, or hear another speak that we accept it as true. In the book the Alchemist says “I don’t know why these things have to be transmitted by word of mouth, he thought. It wasn’t exactly that they were secrets; God revealed his secrets easily to all his creatures.”
The truth is out there, as Fox Mulder would say, and our souls are more than capable of finding it. As Damian Dempsey muses through his music, we humans are cursed with a brain. The brain stops us following our heart.
Every thing in this world is connected, which is why it is so simple to really find the truth. But simple scares us mere mortals. The author sums up the unity of all things as “The Souls of the World”. One of my favourite authors, John Muir, once wrote "When one tugs at a single thing in nature, he finds it attached to the rest of the world." This bears the same meaning. Mr. Coelho is not the only man speaking these truths. So the author is telling us two important truths here; everything is connected and our hunches have value, and that fear is a dangerous feeling. Fear will stop us from achieving that what we want. To reject fear completely is to be irresponsible but to let it control us is to be beaten.
There are many fine examples of people out there that have the power to inspire. I have reflected on them before; George Mallory and Christopher McCandless are two massive influences to me, from the point of view of ignoring the norms of society. Casey Neistat is another massive inspiration, as he gave up his job, maxed out his credit card and moved to New York with nothing. He followed a dream and made it work, and the universe conspired to help him there.
I have yet to do as any of these three have done. But I have on many occasions dabbled in it. When I was 17, about to turn 18, I left my final high school exam early and went to Dublin for a Guns ’N’ Roses gig before flying out to Paris on a one way ticket to travel around Europe with no idea when I was coming home. Or when I had been made redundant and I used my redundancy money to fly one way to Toulouse to explore Spain in depth. Everyone told me as I had no job and no income that it was a bad idea. But I knew it was a good one. And so it was. I have immense wanderlust and I have yet to follow it. But that is ok, as there is always time, right? Except, their isn’t.
I am nearly 30. If I live to 90, then one third of my life is already gone. If I live until 60, then an entire half of my life has gone. The purpose of a book like this, is to change your life. There is no point reading The Alchemist if you do not intend to listen. It is a fantastic book, both visually and philosophically. Wether you wish to change your life, or merely for a time be transported to the African desert, this book should be next on your list.
So I will advise everyone to read this book, and I will encourage them with a quote from it;
“When someone makes a decision, he is really diving into a strong current that will carry him to places he had never dreamed off…”
So dive into the current and let yourself be taken where you need to go.
“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbour. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”
~ Mark Twain.
#the alchemist#Paulo Coelho#george mallory#christopher mccandless#Casey Neistat#macklemore#mark twain#philosophy#morocco#Agadir#arab#tea#tent#desert
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