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milkbaer · 3 years

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love to hate you | Part 2

„After a year they meet again and they’re not amused.”

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• Pairing: Prince Friedrich x Reader (Princess of Bavaria) • Word count: 3.8k • Warnings: my terrific writing ✨ none, just the usual

• A/N: Thank you all so much, so much for the all the responses and everything! I hadn’t expected so many readers, thank you! 🥺💖💖💖💖 I know I’ve said that part 2 could be uploaded within a week, but I wasn’t so happy with it and still I am not 100% satisfied. And I’ve learnt that I shouldn’t promise uploading dates :’) Thanks again to @netflixton on, you were right rewriting scenes does help, a lot! This part is longer than the first but maybe not as thrilling, yet I hope you enjoy it

• Small dictionary: Bärli – a cute nickname, kinda a cute way to say bear

Lake Starnberg, Bavaria, 1813

With closed eyes and a bright smile on your lips did you enjoy the warmth of the sun on your skin. Today’s weather was unusual sunny and warm, even for a day in the spring. But of course, you didn’t mind the variance. No one did, as long the weather was pleasant.

Splashing your feet in the cold, but refreshing, lake’s water and your arms spread behind you, supporting you, you bathed in the sun. Warm sunlight tickled your skin. The weather couldn’t be better, it almost felt like a farewell gift. As if the sun knew that this was your last day before your departure for grey, rainy England. You’ve heard about its infamous weather and expected weeks of grey- and dullness.

While you weren’t too keen on the English weather, your excitement for the voyage was undeniable, it was … it was … you couldn’t really put it into words. You were excited, yes, even more than that. Maybe you could compare your feelings to someone who made a big discovery, a positive one. But that didn’t catch it right either. It was just … you were so happy about your first real travel. Yes, you’ve travelled to Vienna, Tyrol, Frankfurt and … Prussia. But England was your first travel with a ship. Your first time overseas.

Filled with delight and excitement you flopped down in the soft green grass, surrounded by the first wildflowers of spring. Happily, you sighed and when the picture of your old governess appeared in your mind, you couldn’t even think about stifling your laugh. Oh, she would be furious if she saw you like that. She hated it, with great passion, to see you laying on grass, in the sun or water. It was unproper, grass stains, tans, and so many other reasons that didn’t make sense.

You hummed in delight.

Good that you were no longer in need of a governess.

London, England, 1813

Sitting under a pavilion in the queen’s garden, together with his aunt, Friedrich enjoyed his breakfast to the fullest. It was beyond incredible how good today’s meal tasted and how happy he felt. Almost overjoyed. The queen used to look up from her dish and latest Lady Whistledown, eying him with slight bewilderment, whenever she heard him hum happily with every bite he took. He still did that, humming in delight with every bite, but by now she was used to it.

Friedrich felt that this year would be going well. This year was a good year, maybe even one of his bests. He was doing well, his mother was more than well, his travels had been fantastique, especially this one, and the annual ball to his birthday had been better than ever. Mainly because one person, who he didn’t like to think about, didn’t attend. For the first time in forever Friedrich didn’t had to see the face of we-don’t-talk-about-her. She had been sick or something, he didn’t really care, when he heard the sad news, as his mother called them, he felt like dancing, purely out of joy – or relief, or schadenfreude, or all three of them.

Well, the only thing that mattered: Friedrich hadn’t seen someone, the one who shall not be named, for over a year.

What a true blessing.

And even better, at the Salisbury ball he met her, Daphne Bridgerton. His aunt, Queen Charlotte, had told him so much about her, there were only things to praise. She was so enthused by this girl; he had rarely seen his aunt like that. To her she was flawless but to him she was so much more.

If you’d ask him the queen wasn’t able to give Daphne justice. No one could. Her words couldn’t describe her, not the slightest. Friedrich had met her, she wasn’t only beautiful with her copper hair and rosy skin, her laugh was incredibly charming, infatuating, and endearing. Sadly, he only had had the chance to dance with her once.

Did Friedrich believe in love at first sight? – He didn’t know, exactly. Maybe.

Was is love at first sight? Maybe.

He didn’t know.

. . .

England was exciting, no, thrilling! You had seen different big cities, each unique in its own, but London and its countryside were something else. Never had you seen such huge white cliffs, which looked like someone had chopped them off with a knife. From your ship you could’ve starred at them for hours. The biggest surprise, however, was the English sun shining down on you. The weather wasn’t as cloudy and rainy as you’d imagined. Your father must have lied.

London wasn’t Vienna but it had its own charm, which made it impossible for you to not marvel at, literally, everything.

Your inn was magnificent. It hadn’t looked like much from the outside. Well, to you it looked just like the other brick buildings of Mayfair, but when you entered the house you couldn’t contain your wonder. You were amazed how big it was from the inside. Oh, and your suite was decked in lush green colours, which reminded you of home. It looked very pleasant, homey even and the bed very inviting. Tired as you were you flopped down onto the huge bed, face first.

One of your family’s maids, who stood ready, with straight posture, near the door, stared at you with wide confused eyes. You hadn’t noticed her at all. Of course, she knew your habits. But seeing you falling into your bed so plump, like a ragdoll … or a corpse, completely ignoring her, was … a surprise.

“What shall I do now?” the young girl asked herself in a whisper, her eyes huge and baffled. She knew that you had just set down foot on English ground, but there was no time for you to rest. They had to get you ready for tonight’s soirée at Lady –

Were you snoring?

“Oh, you must be kidding.” Your snores were almost able to compete with your father’s. Not very ladylike. She pondered if she should wake you, already calculating the time she needed to tend to your hair, robes etc. But after the long travel you needed some time to rest – wait, she also needed that!

For a mere moment you made no sound and she grew scared, did you stop breathing? What should she do? If she reported a dead princess their first, and maybe only, suspect would be her.

Oh. Oh, no, everything was fine you were snoring again.

“Okay,” she sighed, addressing your limp, sleeping body. “But only for some minutes.”

“But Mama, do we really have –“you tried to stifle a yawn, not succeeding. The short nap had felt incredible but now the movement of the coach, light but steady rocking, made you feel tired again. Right now, you felt like falling asleep any moment.

“Y/N, please, your manners,” scolded Marie, your mama. Well, it was hardly scolding, she knew you were tired, hell, she herself was tired from your travels. It was more like a friendly reminder, not to yawn every second at the soirée. “Or Lady Danbury could feel offended, thinking she bores us.”

“But do we need to? It’s our first night in London. – And it’s not like we know this Lady Danbury anyway,” you asked, or more tried to convince your mother of returning to the inn, mumbling the last part.

But like so often Marie had heard every word you said. “Oh, Bärli. I’ve told you; her son and your papa were friends.”

Your mama nodded to your father, who had dozed off, arms crossed and his head falling to his shoulder. At the sight of her snoring husband Marie sighed. “They met at Oxford, or was it Cambridge? God knows where he studied – but he made friends with her son. Well, you know the rest.”

His feet were dancing but his heart wasn’t. Yes, he had asked Miss Cowper for a dance and she was a good dancer, but his heart longed for another girl in his arms. Kind as he was Friedrich tried to focus on Cressida, it was only fair. She too was a marvellous young lady, with incredible coiffure if he may add. But deep inside his heart yearned for another. His blue eyes always seemed to seek out Daphne on their own, but he couldn’t help it.

Friedrich always spared short longing glances at Daphne Bridgerton. Cressida knew and hated it. She wanted the prince to focus on her, and only her. But what should she do? Break off the dance and risking offending prince and queen? No, she wouldn’t do that. She and her mama had worked too hard for this opportunity to go to waste.

Daphne seemed to enjoy this dance and sharing it with the duke. Ugh, deep inside him Friedrich felt a weird mix of longing and jealousy. Yes, he was jealous of the duke, because he was able to dance with her and make her laugh. He wanted to be the one, but he was also a gentleman, and thus respected Daphne’s wishes. But he couldn’t help himself, his eyes were glued on her. She looked very lovely in her pale blue gown.

When the music finished Friedrich’s heart desperately wanted to run off to Daphne. But one she was still enjoying the company of the Duke of Hastings and second, he couldn’t do that to Cressida. So instead, he asked her for another dance.

Cressida smiled, even if the prince hadn’t been completely focused on her, him asking for another dance was a good sign. So, when she saw that Daphne Bridgerton retired from the dancefloor she said, “I would love to, your Highness.”

And so, they danced. For Cressida this felt like a triumph, one Daphne didn’t have.

Your father, risen from his beautiful slumber, as if he had pricked his finger on a thorn, ushered you towards an elder lady. One you didn’t know, but that wasn’t so surprising, so far, you knew no one in Mayfair. But you guessed that this Lady, dressed in rich purple colours and resting her weight on a fancy cane, was the infamous Lady Danbury. And after your short greetings you knew that you were right. The lady across from you was, indeed, Lady Danbury.

The older woman stared at you, studying you with raised brows and eyes like a hawk. “You’ve grown a lot since I saw you.”

You tried not to look puzzled, but her comment left you dumbfounded. You couldn’t remember her, when have you two met? Clearly you failed with your attempt of hiding your confusion, Lady Danbury laughed at the look on your face. “Oh, you won’t remember. Your sister Franziska was four I believe.”

You nodded at her words. Of course, you couldn’t remember her when you met you must have been a year old.

“Oh you were a very plump baby, even chubbier than my son, which I thought was impossible. But the plump baby turned into a lovely lady, I’d say.”

Blinking confused you smiled at her words. What could you retort to that? All children of your parents had been chubby babies, or so you’ve heard since you where the last offspring. Karl, your dear papa, laughed wholehearted at Lady Danbury’s word. Tears pricked his eyes as he remembered how plump and wrinkly you used to be.

When Lady Danbury hit his leg with her cane, more than once, his laughter died abruptly. Karl winced at the power the dowager hold, she was quite strong for an old lady. “I see you finally managed to grow a beard. Whiskers even!” Lady Danbury remarked with a sly and cunning smile.

She eyed his locks critically. “And you still have your curls. You can be lucky, that your wife met you when you were young. I see more skin than hair!”

Karl’s face grew red, his fingers moved to carefully touch and brush his hair. He didn’t like his receding hairline, but he had always thought with his curly hair it wasn’t that obvious. But Lady Agatha Danbury saw and heard everything, he should’ve known.

Like your father you couldn’t help but giggle at Lady Danbury’s words and his embarrassment. You didn’t think of his hair badly, but his face was just too good. He looked so flustered and alarmed; you couldn’t contain your laughter. And then you couldn’t hide a little yawn. Quickly you covered it with your hand, but Lady Danbury shot you a sharp look. “Do I bore you, your Highness?”

You gulped; you didn’t mean to offend her, but the yawn had escaped by itself. After all you haven’t properly rested. Seeing your panicked eyes Lady Danbury loosened her façade and cackled. “Don’t dread, I am merely joking. I know you’ve made a long way and had no time to rest, I might say.”

She stung your father with her gaze and hit him with her cane again. “I invited you so that you could attend a day after your arrival. I know my arithmetic. – I bet your father has departed later than planned, back in Cambridge he often dawdled.”

With a splutter of words Karl tried to excuse your late arrival. Something with the wind and water, the roads and so on. But Lady Danbury had nothing of it, she simply continued. “But I must say I am very lucky to have a prince and a princess attending my soirée. What are the odds?”

A prince and a princess? The way she said it she couldn’t mean your parents. There must be someone else, maybe a prince from the Isles, Sweden, or Austria even? Your excitement and curiosity grew. Was it someone you knew?

“Oh! There he is!” Lady Danbury exclaimed with a satisfied grin. Interested you turned around and your smile faded fast. Your curiosity and all your excitement was gone, all swept away, when you saw him. Standing in front of you, with a blonde lady in his arm, was Friedrich and he looked as pleased as you did.

The Prussian prince stared at your family in shock.

What where they doing here?

What where you doing here?

He was so shocked to see you here in London, in the same house, that Friedrich didn’t notice the stunned look on your face. Like him, you were frozen, unable to even move a tiny muscle of your face. He could sense Cressida’s fingers on his arms, slowly bringing him back to consciousness. Cressida had no idea who she was facing or why her prince was standing stiff like a statue.

“Friedrich, we didn’t know you would be here. What a pleasant surprise!” exclaimed Princess Marie happily, a big friendly, maybe even relieved, smile on her face.

Of course, he wasn’t happy to see you, but he couldn’t say so. Friedrich cleared his throat and put on his best smile. “The pleasure is all mine.”

Marie laughed and nudged you lightly with her elbow, reminding you to greet him proper. She expected a proper curtsy but knowing you, Friedrich excepted nothing. To his surprise you curtsied, well if you could call bending your knees barely a centimetre a curtsy, and you kept your mouth shut. You merely looked at him grimly, with gloomy eyes and tight lips, remaining silent. He almost couldn’t believe his eyes and ears, for once you didn’t greet him with your typical phrases and rolled his first R. It was unusual but heaven to his ears.

“I see you’ve grown chops,” you remarked, suddenly, not sounding neither pleased nor appalled. It was merely a fact. Friedrich had grown hair, almost as blonde as his fluffy curls, on his cheeks. He was clueless on what you had intended with your statement like … yes, he had sideburns.

But then you mumbled something incomprehensible, Friedrich only saw your lips moving unable to make out a single word. But they lit an impish spark in Lady Danbury’s eyes. Her almost sinister chuckles made Friedrich curious, but also anxious. Like he couldn’t hear you but regarding Lady Danbury’s reaction it hadn’t been something good.

Friedrich was glad, no, relieved when he could withdraw with Cressida from their company. His life was going so well, one year without you felt like a stay in Rügen. No, even better. Strolling aimlessly through the hall with Cressida on his arm, he asked himself how he deserved this. Has he ever sinned so badly to justify you? Friedrich tried to forget his encounter with you. Yet he couldn’t; like so often you inhabited his mind as soon as he saw you, even if it was just a glimpse. Avoiding you always became his sole intention as soon as he knew you were there.

“Your Highness, are you alright?” Cressida asked him, pressing her fingers lightly into his arm. Swiftly Friedrich nodded, putting his casual, friendly smile.

Cressida hadn’t really a chance to talk to Lady Danbury’s guests. She was only able to introduce herself, which frustrated her because she wanted to know more. Cressida wasn’t stupid, she had noticed his reaction. They must know each other, she concluded, she just didn’t know what their relationship was.

“You seemed quite familiar. May I ask – are they your friends?”

He scoffed at the thought of being friends with you, and yet all he said was yes. “But they’re more my mother’s friends than mine.”

“I see.” That was all she needed to know. They were his friends and when they knew his mother, they probably knew him for quite a long time. How wonderful! This surely would become useful for her.

Saying that you, one single person, ruined his evening might be an exaggeration but you did. You were able to ruin his mood and everything solely by existing. Finally, Friedrich could spend his time with Daphne. He should feel happy, well he was happy to finally be with Miss Bridgerton. But he couldn’t stop looking for you.

Deep inside his mind, far, far away in one little corner were you, you practically inhabited that small space of his mind. And knowing of your presence was enough to drive him insane. Since he didn’t harbour the desire to talk or even face you again, he kept looking, only to avoid you. But he really should relish his moment with Daphne.

How could he enjoy his time, when you were dancing, jumping, and laughing around with a gentleman? This man must’ve been insane to even ask you. But Friedrich told himself, that he felt irritated because you stole his chance to dance this exact same dance with Daphne.

“Are you alright, your Highness?” He heard Daphne ask him and felt like he had heard the exact same question once before. Friedrich looked at her, startled and immediately felt like he could drown in her big, worried eyes. “You seem a bit absent. Is something bothering you, don’t you feel well?”

Oh, wasn’t she adorable? Briefly he shook his head, as if he wanted to cleanse his face from his sour mood. “Don’t you worry about me, Miss Bridgerton. I assure you, everything is fine.”

He had thought that his words would reassure her, he didn’t expect for her to look even more troubled. Her light brows hitched up in concern, she clearly didn’t believe him. But her worried face made his heart … it felt a bit like it was dancing, nervously. How could he not like her? His aunt was right about her. The prince only knew Daphne for over a week and yet he was so infatuated by her … how could he not? She was flawless, no, even more than that.

“Have I told you, that you look absolutely lovely today?” Friedrich must sound like a love-struck fool.

“Well, yes you did,” she said, sounding rather confused, maybe even a little more concerned. Clearly his plan of distracting her mind wasn’t working. “You said so earlier this evening, when we met. Do you remember?”

“Yes, you’re right.” He chuckled. “But I can say it more than once, no?”

Indeed, Daphne looked very lovely wearing her pale blue dress, adorned with small stitched flowers. It perfectly emphasised the warm colours of her hair and skin. He could compliment her every second.

He had expected her to blush, she’d look lovely with pink cheeks. But his words couldn’t divert her from her concerns. “I know we’re not friends per se, but if something’s bothering you, your Highness …”

“Glad to know that, Miss Bridgerton. But I assure you –“ You laughed, loud, a sound his ears couldn’t ignore. This devilish sound was like an alarm. But when he quickly turned around and spotted you amongst the dancing folk, he was surprised that you were having … fun. Unlike him you enjoyed your evening. And you didn’t laugh at anyone, you laughed with them, which you never did with him. You were just mocking him.

How was it fair, and even possible, that you enjoyed your time with others but used his to torture him?

To his dismay Daphne caught his gaze, his move had been anything but discreet, and he didn’t know why, but she shouldn’t have. Even worse, she seemed to know you. “Oh, is something the matter with Miss Y/N?”

Knowing you must be heaven’s punishment, Daphne shouldn’t know you, but she did. “You know her?” Friedrich asked puzzled. While he knew that you acted pretty civil and friendly around others, just not him, he couldn’t imagine anything but the worst.

Daphne nodded, not thinking much of his confused face. “Well, yes. I met her and her mama. – We talked a little; she was really lovely.”

Friedrich blinked. He furiously blinked at her. Had he heard right? Did Daphne call you lovely, after spending her precious time with you?

You? Lovely?

Friedrich could describe you with many words but none of them would be lovely. Malicious, annoying, vicious, disturbing, and so on, but not lovely.

You, Y/N of Bravaria, spawn of the devil, lovely?

Not a chance.

. . .

Friedrich jolted awake, his blonde locks tousled, his shirt out of place, tired his drowsy eyes wandered around the room looking for any sign of time. A few shafts of sunlight shone through the gaps of his heavy curtains. It was morning already but why did he not feel properly rested? Sluggish he sat in his bed like a slack potato sack. A loud tune, probably a trumpet or so, blasted still through the walls of the palace.

Friedrich groaned. Dizzy he slowly began to remember. This had to be a nightmare and with the melody blaring he knew that he must still be in his nightmare. Else he wasn’t able to explain all of this. Yeah, he must still be dreaming. This was all a dream, yesterday never happened and you never moved into the palace.

Yearning for some more minutes of sleep Friedrich flopped back on to his pillows. He tried to drone out the music, but it nearly impossible. Not even his thick pillows, pressed against his ears were helping him. Frustrated Friedrich groaned, gave up sleep and starred sullen at this ceiling.

Who was playing the trumpet, or any instrument for that matter, at this unearthly hour?

Who?

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griefpersevering · 3 years

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sometimes you bend, sometimes you stand

the lokius beach fix-it fic nobody asked for

[Read on AO3] [Buy me a coffee?]

“Who are you?”

Loki stares at him for a long moment, his heart sinking in his chest. First Sylvie, now Mobius… maybe Lokis are destined to lose.

“What?” he asks, still breathing heavily.

The last few days have all melded into one; an indecipherable blur of racing for survival and not much else. With so much happening in quick succession since his failure in New York, it’s impossible to tell whether it has been days or weeks or months since he first arrived at the TVA.

Mobius doesn’t answer, just raising an eyebrow at him.

Loki allows his eyes to wander, assessing the situation and resigning himself to a fight. If Mobius doesn’t know who he is… well, there’s a chance he could get pruned again, and he would like to avoid that situation. Currently, the only people he can see are B-15 - who shouldn’t be too much of a problem - and Mobius, who he would prefer not to hurt, but if he doesn’t recognise him then-

Mobius bursts out laughing, B-15 snickering behind him. She claps him on the shoulder before waving goodbye and wandering off, still laughing to herself as she leaves.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Mobius says between breaths, his confusion replaced with a smile. “That was mean. I just couldn’t help myself.”

“Mobius?” Loki ventures, still wary.

“Look, all that stuff about the Multiverse or whatever?” he replies, waving a hand dismissively. “Not our problem. I’ve officially retired, and I’ve got an excellent retirement plan. Fancy joining me?”

Loki crosses his arms, frowning. “You tricked me.”

Mobius shrugs. “Seems only fair.”

He tries not to smile. “You’re sure the TVA can deal with the Multiverse?”

“Yep, B-15’s taking care of it. Now, come on, there’s a beach waiting for us.”

Mobius fiddles with his TemPad for a moment, a doorway opening up in front of them. He takes a few confident strides towards it before hesitating, looking around the library one last time.

“You don’t have to come with me, you know,” he says, not meeting Loki’s eyes. “I know… I know a quieter life doesn’t really agree with Lokis. You can stay for the fight, if you want, or for Sylvie.”

Loki’s chest constricts at the mention of her, but he forces a small, sad smile onto his face. “You can’t get rid of me that easily,” he answers, and Mobius smiles.

“For all time, then,” he says, extending his hand to Loki.

“Always,” he finishes, taking it as they step through the doorway together.

keep reading under the cut!

1991

The other side of the portal is exactly what Mobius promised: a beach. But what he failed to mention is the beauty of said beach - it isn’t just any old strip of sand, but one of the most breathtaking places Loki has ever had the honour of visiting.

They take a few steps into this new world, their shoes filling up with sand and their hands still entwined as they let their eyes adjust to the bright light. Loki pauses to slip off his socks and shoes, the sand warm and soft between his toes. Mobius follows suit, leaning on Loki for balance, a huge smile on his face.

“It should only be a few minutes walk from here,” Mobius announces, grinning.

“What is?” Loki asks, but he doesn’t get an answer. For once in his life, he isn’t sure he needs one, happy to go along with whatever adventure Mobius has planned.

They walk in comfortable silence, their feet sinking into the sand as they take in the tropical sights. To their left is a bay filled with sparking water which disappears past the land out to the horizon. In the distance, Loki can see a much busier beach by what appears to be a town. If he listens carefully enough, and the wind is blowing in the right direction, he can hear a hundred conversations carrying across the bay at once, a pleasant white noise that mixes with the sound of lapping waves.

To their right is a row of secluded houses, all enveloped in lush greenery that grows from the forest behind them, seeming to lean forwards and envelop them. Their front doors are all painted a variety of bright colours - red, yellow, purple, orange, pink - apart from the one at the end, which is just the default brown.

Mobius pulls a set of keys out of his pocket, a tiny fish keyring hanging from them. “This one is ours,” he declares, and he tugs Loki towards the little cottage at the end of the row.

It takes him a moment to find the right key to unlock the door before it swings open, a neutral brown and white hallway greeting them. He leaves his shoes on the mat outside the front door, Loki following suit, before venturing inside their new house.

Loki can’t say he is surprised by the decor - it isn’t exactly reminiscent of the TVA, but everything is decorated to look almost like a show home. There are no bright colours, no personal touches, nothing to indicate that anyone has ever lived there before them.

Just as Loki opens his mouth to say something, Mobius wrinkles his nose and beats him to it.

“Would it kill someone to pick up a paintbrush?” he complains, but he’s still smiling. “That’s what you get for a company retirement plan that’s only been in place for six hours, I guess… we’ll have to do it all ourselves.”

Loki raises an eyebrow. “Company retirement plan?”

Mobius grins. “We have a lot to catch up on. Come on, why don’t you get cleaned up, and I’ll get us something to drink.”

As soon as he leaves the room, Loki rolls his eyes and waves his hand, using his magic to clean the blood and the dirt off of him and to change into a pair of shorts and a bright green haiwaiian t-shirt. And, now that he thinks about it… he frowns and uses what little magic he has left in him to spruce up the place a bit, before collapsing onto the (admittedly, very comfy) couch.

Mobius returns only a few minutes later, raising his eyebrows at the way Loki is sprawled across the sofa, his eyes closed. He looks around the room, taking in the few things that Loki has added - a blanket draped across the back of the couch, a wooden coffee table with a golden bowl of fruit placed neatly on top, and a framed poster of a jet ski on the far wall.

Oh, Mobius thinks with a snicker, you’re gonna love what I have planned for tomorrow.

“Did you get us a drink or are you just going to stand there for all eternity?” Loki asks without opening his eyes, swinging his legs so that there’s room to sit next to him.

“Sorry if I wasn’t moving fast enough, your highness,” Mobius teases as he plops onto the couch, passing a cold beer bottle into Loki’s waiting hands. “The new outfit slowed me down a bit.”

Loki smirks, cracking open one eye to see the outfit that he’d swapped for Mobius’ old clothes. “I thought you’d appreciate something more comfortable. Besides, we match.”

He swings his legs back up onto Mobius’ lap, taking a swig of his drink. They are quiet for a moment, listening to the distant crashing of waves and enjoying the lack of need to do… well, anything.

“Do you mind if I turn the television on?” Mobius eventually asks, and Loki hums an affirmative. He grabs the remote, trying to avoid jostling the legs on his lap as much as possible, before pressing the on button.

As an afterthought, he tugs the soft blanket from the back of the sofa and drapes it over the both of them, firmly focusing his attention on the screen in front of them rather than the sleepy god next to him.

{o0o}

Since he isn’t exactly human, Loki doesn’t need nearly as much sleep as humans. Usually, about eight hours is enough to get him through the week. However, with all the crazy stuff and time hopping and running for his life that he has done in the last however long, he’s asleep within minutes of making contact with the sofa.

When he wakes, however, it is to light streaming through a thin beige curtain. He sits up, running a hand through his hair, as he sleepily takes in his surroundings.

Somehow, he has ended up on top of a bed that he has never seen before. Given the boring decor, he assumes it must be the upstairs of the cottage… so, presumably, Mobius had moved him upstairs in his sleep.

Loki waits for that statement to sink in, for him to feel that usual sense of panic at someone being there and moving him while he was vulnerable, but it never comes.

(If he is being honest with himself, he knows exactly why Mobius is the exception, but he isn’t ready to admit that, not yet.)

He wanders over to the window, yanking open the curtain. There, outside, is the same paradise they had arrived in only last night. And, if the digital clock on the bedside table is enough to go by, it’s 10am on the twenty-fourth of September, 1991.

The view is even more beautiful when he is more awake to admire it, Loki decides. The bay sparkles like a rare jewel, and he finds himself cracking the window open to let some fresh air in.

He sighs, a long breath that mists the glass in front of him. He’ll miss this place, when he inevitably has to leave. Because there’s no way he can stay here for the rest of his life; he’s a Loki, after all, and Lokis are destined to lose. This - a paradise beyond time with someone who knows who he is and accepts him for who he is? He could scoff at the idea. When has the Universe (or the Multiverse, he supposes) ever been that kind to him?

Loki stares blankly out of the window for a few minutes until he is broken from his trance when he spots a familiar figure struggling down the beach, attempting to balance much more shopping than one man can manage.

He blinks a few times, making sure that it is, in fact, Mobius, before barking out a laugh and rushing downstairs and out the front door to lend him a hand. After all, what kind of guest would he be if he let his host embarrass himself publicly within 24 hours of moving in?

When he catches up to him - wearing the same garish, bright orange haiwaiian shirt that Loki had conjured up for him yesterday, he notes - Mobius doesn’t even notice he’s there until several of the bags are lifted from him.

“Hey! Oh, it’s just you,” he exclaims, adjusting a box under his arm. “Thank you,” he adds.

“What did you get?” Loki asks, tucking some of the smaller items into a pocket dimension so he had free hands to carry the rest of it.

“Oh, just a couple of things to spruce the place up. I got a bit carried away, actually,” Mobius admits as they start off back down the beach. “How did you sleep?”

Loki rolls his eyes. “Like the dead, apparently. Did you move me while I was asleep?”

Mobius doesn’t meet his eyes as he responds. “Yep. You looked uncomfortable, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

There’s a pang in Loki’s chest; another reminder that leaving this place will get more and more painful the longer he stays. He can’t get used to these common gestures of affection - he can’t think of another person who would have cared enough about his comfort to go to the effort of carrying him up the stairs.

“Is something wrong?” Mobius asks, interrupting Loki’s train of thought. He’s staring at him, a curious expression on his face, and it’s only then that Loki realises they have stopped.

“It’s nothing,” Loki replies quickly, giving Mobius one of his most charming smiles as he starts walking again.

Mobius stays rooted to the spot. “Bullshit.”

Loki stops, his back turned to Mobius, and sighs. A range of lies are on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t quite find it in himself to bother trying to keep up a facade that they both know Mobius can see straight through.

“I’m having a nice time,” he states, after a minute of debate.

Mobius starts walking again, juggling his shopping as he catches up to Loki. “And that is a problem… why?”

“Because good things don’t last!” he exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. “Lokis are destined to lose.”

Mobius raises an eyebrow. “You think this will be taken away from you,” he says. It isn’t a question. “Well, I have a present for you, then. Two, actually.”

They reach the front door of their cottage, Loki’s eyes trained on the ground as he scuffs his sandals on the sand. Mobius rummages through his bags, trying to find something specific.

“May I have the red striped carrier bag, please?” he asks, when his search comes up fruitless. Loki conjures it for him, passing it over. He doesn’t know what’s in any of the bags (although, now, he’s thinking he should probably have checked), he had only picked it because it is one of the heaviest ones.

Mobius opens the bag from him with a word of thanks, peering in to check it’s the right one. Then, he sticks a hand in his pocket, pulling out his fist closed around something.

“Here,” he says, offering his closed fist to Loki. “This is yours to keep, forever.”

Loki cautiously holds out a hand, and Mobius drops the item into his palm. Loki stares at the little piece of metal, wondering how it could mean so much.

“...Is this?”

“The key to our house, yeah,” Mobius confirms, smiling. “And a crocodile keyring, since I’m apparently never going to get over meeting that version of you.”

Loki smiles, just slightly, cupping the key carefully in his hands as he admires the keyring.

“And that bag is also for you. Well, the contents are, I don’t know if you want the bag as well-”

It’s not hard to tell that Mobius is nervous, so Loki can’t begin to imagine what is in the bag. He picks it up, sand pouring out the bottom of the bag, raising his eyebrows at what he finds.

“Green paint?”

Mobius grins, scratching the back of his head. “We’re the only ones with a boring front door. I figured we should probably fix that, add some of your flare.”

Loki gives him a shit-eating grin, sliding the keys into his pocket.

“What?” Mobius asks, sensing something is up. “What did I say?”

With a wave of a hand and without the paint can ever being opened, the front door is suddenly the colour of Peppermint Fresh.

“You seem to be forgetting you live with a god,” Loki declares, waggling his eyebrows.

“Oh, come on.”

They spend the rest of their day renovating their new house, Loki’s powers speeding up the process immensely. Other than paint and wallpaper, Mobius had also bought them both some clothes, as well as a range of random items to make the place look a little more personal, and two whole bags of groceries.

“I’ve never cooked anything before,” he admits, just as the sun starts to dip below the horizon. “We never had to, at the TVA. We always just went to the canteen.”

Loki hums to the radio playing in the corner, standing back to check if the strip of wallpaper he had just hung looked straight. “We always had people cook for us, back on Asgard,” he replies. “My mother tried to teach me, but I found pestering my brother much more interesting.”

“Do you miss your family?” Mobius asks, collecting the paintbrushes from around the room so he can wash them in the kitchen sink.

“They weren’t my family,” he responds immediately, before wincing. “Well, not biologically. But I’m starting to think that maybe family is more than just DNA.”

Mobius nods, shoving the paintbrushes into a carrier bag. When he’s sure Loki has nothing else to say, he gestures to the door. “Want to make sure I don’t set fire to the kitchen?”

Loki smiles. He has found himself doing that more and more since he has met Mobius; the man always seems to know what to say and do. “I’m pretty sure you know that I have quite the history of arson, but sure.”

So, they go downstairs, Loki waving his hands and cleaning the stray blotches of paint off their clothes.

“Let’s start with something simple,” Mobius suggests, opening the fridge. “Fish fingers?”

Loki nods. “Surely even you can’t mess that up.”

Oh, how he was wrong. An hour later, they’re sitting next to each other on the couch (upright, this time) eating burnt fish fingers and scoffing at the programme they’re watching.

“Do humans really believe in these things?” Loki asks incredulously, squirting more ketchup on his plate in an attempt to overpower the burnt taste.

Mobius scoffs. “I think it’s for entertainment, Loki. But yeah, ‘aliens’ don’t act like this. At least, not as far as I know.”

“There’s a multiverse now,” Loki muses. “Maybe there weren’t any before, but there are now.”

Mobius shrugs. “Who knows. It’s not our problem, either way.”

Loki doesn’t answer, instead opting to scoop the fishfinger into his mouth. Mobius frowns at his lack of response, grabbing the remote and muting Mulder and Scully’s investigation.

“You do know… this whole multiverse business, it’s not your fault, right? And, as far as we know, nothing catastrophic has happened yet.”

Loki swallows, refusing to take his eyes off the silent TV. “That’s the thing, Mobius. It is my fault - partly, at the very least. And what if something bad does happen? Any suffering or pain caused by this is on my shoulders.”

Mobius puts his plate down on the coffee table, nudging him with his shoulder. “That statement is so incorrect, it’s unbelievable. I thought you were supposed to be smart?”

Loki doesn’t say anything, and he sighs.

“Look - first of all, it isn’t your fault. This is all on Sylvie. I don’t know what happened there, but from what I gather, you tried to stop her, and that’s all that matters. I’ve met a hundred different Lokis, and every single one of them would have done what benefits them the most, not fought to try and do something to help other people.”

“She kissed me,” Loki says, out of nowhere. “Sylvie, I mean. And then she just… tossed me away.”

Mobius frowns. “Did you like her?”

“I thought I did,” he admits. “But I think - I don’t think I liked her like that. I think I mistook wanting her to be safe and happy for love.”

“It’s a kind of love, just perhaps not the one you assumed it was.”

Loki nods. “I loved her like a sister, I suppose.”

“And she betrayed you,” Mobius continues. “When you were finally allowing yourself to trust others again.”

Loki puts his plate on top of Mobius’, suddenly not hungry. He tries to turn his attention back to the muted television, but he’s missed too much of the exposition to properly understand what is happening.

“Loki, look at me,” Mobius says softly. “Loki.”

He turns, praying that he doesn’t notice the tears welling in his eyes.

“Experiencing two conflicting emotions is perfectly normal,” Mobius continues, reaching for Loki’s hand and squeezing it. “You can care about Sylvie, and be upset about what she did at the same time.”

“I just-” he tries, his voice cracking. “I just wonder whether she ever cared about me, or whether she was just using me the entire time. I mean, it’s the kind of thing I would do, isn’t it?”

Mobius stares him dead in the eye, his voice firm. “Maybe once, but not now. You know what makes you different from every other Loki?”

“The fact I stole the Tesseract, escaped to the desert, and then helped to take down the man in charge of the universe?”

“No.” Mobius sighs. “Well, yes, I suppose. But what I was trying to say is that you’re different to every Loki because you care. You recognised your faults, and then you tried to change them.

“You said, earlier, ‘Lokis are destined to lose’, and yet here you are. I would count this as a win, wouldn’t you?”

Loki is uncharacteristically silent after that. They sit like that for a few minutes, neither of them speaking, before Loki stands up and disappears into the kitchen, taking the plates with him. Mobius sighs, reaching for the TV remote and turning the channel to some random movie.

When Loki returns a few minutes later, he sits straight down next to Mobius. They watch the movie - something about little fluffy monsters - together, not finding the need to speak.

It’s only by the time Loki’s head has drooped onto Mobius’ shoulder that the silence is broken. He drags the blanket over the sleepy Loki that’s attached itself to him, grinning at how adorable he finds the ferocious god.

“Thank you,” Loki mumbles, only half-conscious, and they both know he isn’t only talking about the blanket.

{o0o}

This time, when Loki wakes up, he knows the bed he lies in is his own. He frowns, not remembering getting into bed, before realising that Mobius must have carried him upstairs again.

If anyone asked him, he would say that he had fallen asleep because of all the magic he had used to renovate during the day, but that wouldn’t be the truth. No, he’d be a little more hesitant to admit that their little cottage by the beach feels like the safest place he has ever stayed. Besides, emotions are exhausting.

He sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and checking the little clock by his bedside. 9:24, it reads, which isn’t too-

“Loki?” a sleepy voice says from beside him, and he has to stop himself from leaping out of the bed in surprise.

Because somehow, in the few minutes he has been awake, he has failed to notice that he is not alone in the room. Next to him, tucked neatly under the covers, is Mobius, Captain America pajamas and all.

Loki wrinkles his nose at the choice of outfit, but doesn’t voice his opinion. “What - did I fall asleep again?”

“Mmm,” Mobius hums, eyes sliding shut again. “‘S too early, go back to sleep.”

Okay, Loki’s pretty sure his heart just melted slightly. “I don’t need as much sleep as you,” he replies gently. “But you should lie in.”

“Fine,” Mobius complains, rolling over. “But I’m stealing your pillows.”

Loki can’t help but grin at the ridiculous sight - Mobius M. Mobius, formerly one of the most prestigious members of an elite organisation, spread starfish-style across their bed in his Avengers pajamas.

(Although, Loki supposes, the actual Avengers won’t exist for another twenty or so years, thanks to their time travel shenanigans.)

He slips into the hallway, leaving the door ajar behind him, before rummaging around in the bags they had shoved in the study yesterday without bothering to unpack. It only takes a few minutes to find the item he’s looking for, and it takes even less time to sneak back into their bedroom, his footsteps entirely silent.

Click! Loki smirks from behind the disposable camera and sneaks back out of the room, hoping that Mobius doesn’t wake up. Just because he doesn’t want a throne anymore doesn’t mean that he isn’t the God of Mischief- surely, Mobius should be expecting at least a few harmless pranks.

It’s a nice morning - cool, but in that way that suggests it might get much warmer later in the day - so Loki decides to go for a walk. He has barely made it past the second house in their row when a familiar face pops up from behind a hedge, waving wildly.

“Hey! I know you - blue box guy!”

Loki blinks a few times, trying to place the man in front of him. “Casey?”

“Yeah!” he exclaims, hurrying out of his front gate. “You stole my drink.”

“Sorry,” Loki replies automatically, before shaking his head. “Wait, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, you would not believe the week I have had,” Casey begins, waving his arm dramatically. “So I’ve been behind a desk my entire life, right? And then Mobius comes along, and he’s all like ‘Everyone who works for the TVA is a variant and the Timekeepers aren’t real!’ So there’s a bit of a fight - not everyone believes him, you see, and I had no idea what to think - and then a load of people come back from a field mission saying they saw Judge Renslayer as a high school principal!”

“Really,” Loki says drily, trying to keep up with the man’s incessant babbling.

“Yeah! So then Mobius takes over, just for a while, and he says that there are two Loki variants who are gonna take down whoever is behind the TVA, and he comes up with a plan - the people who still want to work there answer to B-15 and do whatever they want to, or you can retire to a few different locations in a few different times! And I figured, ‘Gosh, I nearly died twice in the span of ten minutes and that was scary so I should probably make sure my life has meant something,’ and also a multiverse sounds like a lot of paperwork, so. Here I am!”

Loki is silent for a few seconds, still trying to process all the information that Casey managed to spit out at an alarmingly fast rate. “Wait. So, everyone who lives here used to work for the TVA?”

Casey nods. “This row of houses, yeah. ‘1991 Beach’ was the most popular retirement option - I was pretty lucky to get one of these spots.”

“Huh,” is just about all Loki can manage.

“And guess what, criminal whose name I don’t know!” Casey exclaims excitedly. “I met a fish the other day.”

Loki raises an eyebrow, amused. “Did you, now?”

“Yep! Which, uh, makes your threat much more vivid.” Casey shudders.

“Don’t worry, I don’t kill people anymore,” Loki says, and realises that that is probably the truth. “Sorry about that, and for stealing your drink.”

Casey shrugs. “It’s okay. I forgive you.”

“I should head back, but it was nice to see you again, Casey.” Loki turns back to their house, his feet slipping slightly in the sand. “Oh, and, by the way - my name is Loki.”

He turns his back and walks away before he can see the look on Casey’s face, but if the sharp intake of breath he hears is anything to go by, he has certainly succeeded in surprising his new neighbour.

When he gets back, Mobius is awake, shuffling around the kitchen in his pajamas. “Morning, sunshine,” he greets as Loki appears in the doorway, sniffing the air.

“Breakfast?” he asks hopefully, and Mobius laughs.

“Yup. Full English, I thought. Did you have a nice walk?”

Loki perches on the edge of the table, smiling. “I didn’t get particularly far. I had an… interesting conversation with Casey, though.”

“Oh, I remember him. Bit weird, if memory serves,” Mobius responds, scrunching his nose as he cracks two eggs into the frying pan. “Wait, how do you know him?”

Loki scratches the back of his head. “I may, uh - I may have threatened to ‘gut him like a fish’. And then I stole his drink and poured it into your salad.”

Mobius raises an eyebrow. “Wow, okay.”

“In my defense, he didn’t know what a fish was until he moved here. And, I was part of the reason he retired, so.”

“How did he not know what a fish- You know what,” he replies, shaking his head as he turns back to the stove. “I don’t care.”

Loki turns the radio in the corner on with a flick of his wrist, and they are both content to sit and enjoy the quiet morning while Mobius cooks. In no time at all, they are sitting across from each other, two plates of food in front of them.

Picking a piece of eggshell out of his food, Loki warily takes a bite. “Did you have any plans for today?”

“As a matter of fact,” Mobius responds with an excited grin, “I do.”

It turns out, Mobius’ plans involve him packing a backpack and eagerly dragging Loki down the beach to a small jetty. There, waiting for them on the end of the small pier, is a jet ski.

Loki grins. “So that's why you chose the beach.”

Mobius grins, dumping the bag on the side and fishing his keys out of his pockets. “I have read about these things every day for almost the entirety of what I can remember, and I’m finally getting to go on one. Are you coming?”

“Of course,” Loki answers, and he clambers on behind Mobius.

“Hang on,” he shouts over the engine, and Loki wraps his arms around his waist. “You ready?”

“I’m starting to think this might be a bad- woah!”

Before Loki can even finish his statement, they’re off. Mobius soon gets the hang of it, zipping around the bay and whooping. Loki can’t help but smile - sure, he isn’t nearly as bothered about jet skis as Mobius is, but the man’s excitement is contagious. Besides, there is a certain freedom to it; he can feel the wind in his hair and taste the salt on his lips.

Suddenly, Mobius attempts to do a sharp turn, jolting them both with absolutely no warning. Loki tries to hang on, clinging tightly onto his chest, but the movement catches him by surprise and he ends up in the water.

Mobius turns the jet ski around, slowly pulling up next to (the now very wet) god. “Sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t sound very apologetic.

“Maybe I’ll stick to sunbathing,” Loki suggests as Mobius hauls him back onto the ski before dropping him off at the jetty.

“Are you sure?” he asks, clearly torn between having the time of his life and leaving Loki on his own.

“Of course I’m sure,” he answers. “I think I’ll survive an hour or two on my own. Besides, I don’t want to ruin your fun by vomiting all over you.”

Mobius pulls a face. “Maybe it’s for the best, then. I won’t go far, I promise.”

“Go!” Loki says, waving his arm at his friend as he picks up their bag. “Have some fun. You’ve earned it. I think we both have.”

Hours later, when the sun has started to set over the horizon, the two men find themselves lazing on the beach next to each other. Mobius slips a chocolate wrapper into the book he’s reading and places it down next to him, turning to his companion.

“Loki,” he begins, staring out at the sea. “Did you ever think you would settle down like this?”

“Never,” Loki answers, without any hesitation.

“Me neither.”

In the distance, there is the faint smell of cherry pie - perhaps one of their neighbours is cooking. A seagull swoops by overhead, landing on a fence a few feet behind them and bobbing about. If you look closely enough, you can see the ripples on the top of the water; the only clue that there are fish below the surface.

“We make a strange pair, don’t we?” Mobius muses, watching the sky turn from blue to orange to pink.

Loki hums. “That’s why we’re perfect for each other.”

There’s no argument to be made against that in Mobius’ mind, so they sit together, not at the end of the world, but at the beginning of one.

THE END.

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#lokius #loki #loki spoilers #mobius #mcu #my writing #syssyb

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beni-draw-ikemen-please · 3 years

Text

Kintsugi ~ Repairing with Gold

Kintsugi ~ Repairing with Gold ◆ Ikemen Vampire Fanfiction ◆

CHAPTER 3 - TWO SUNS

Words: 4, 596

TW: Angst and Hurt ◆ References to Depression ◆ Mental Instability ◆ Mental Health Issues ◆ Implied/Referenced Suicide ◆ Suicidal Thoughts ◆ Graphic Depictions of Sex/Intercourse ◆ Vaginal Sex/Fingering ◆ Rough Sex ◆ Non-con

Pairings: M/F Leonardo Da Vinci x Seiya Amanogawa [OC] / Comte de Saint-Germain x Seiya Amanogawa [OC]

Chapter Index [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ 4 ] [ 5 ] [ 6 ] [ 7 ] [ 8 ] [ 9 ] [ 10 ]

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

A/N: This work of fiction is Canon x OC. For some reason everything is coming to me but I have no idea how to structure this properly, let alone beta >.< But still, if you made it this far, thank you for reading! Here’s chapter 3, fresh from AO3.

KINTSUGI - CHAPTER 3

Two Suns

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Seiya couldn’t remember why, but she remembered being fully awake on a Tuesday, 3:32 am and she just hauled herself yet again across the globe.

A new apartment, a new life, another clean slate. For the fifth, or was it sixth, time in her life.

She remembered her empty apartment, just outside Amsterdam, barely a futon and any cooking pans in possession. It was cold, but it was a new beginning and new beginnings settled her nerves. It was familiar.

The moving, the starting -- she accustomed herself to these things, sort of like a reversed coping mechanism. Adjusting and adapting to a new place, a new environment, a whole new country was something she could do without even trying.

She was exhausted. Tired from all the big cities.

She remembered booking a last-minute flight to Paris, and then visiting the Louvre for the sole reason of finding inspiration. She had been working non stop, and she came to Paris hoping to revive whatever creative soul or confidence she had before the past five years.

It felt like the crowd never ceased and it took almost all of her strength and willpower to go around the people who were barely looking at the paintings.

She remembered being exhausted, and securing a bench just outside the Da Vinci hall.

And she remembered stopping, not particularly minding or observing a piece but stopping to draw something down her notebook.

And the next thing she knew, the bright museum day turned into a star-lit sky. Darker than what she’s accustomed to, behind widows that stretched as high as the ceilings, wine red curtains framing the peculiar view in sight. A thick dark forest just outside what looked like a giant mansion gate.

She forgot a whole list of things as the man clad in gold explained the rules and basics of the mansion, and her month-long wait before she could go home.

It wasn’t particularly different from what she’d experienced before.

Another place? Another move? Only now, it’s another time.

Seiya didn’t really remember much, she barely got acquainted with her new apartment, and she wasn’t particularly attached to anything yet after she prepared herself to move and leave everything that’s been established in her life. A career that barely sustained her creativity; wore her energy and self-esteem down. People who only hung around because of her work, or because it was convenient at that exact place, exact time. There were no farewell parties on her behalf.

It was as if she quietly slipped through the back door, continued to run and run and run until she was on the other side of the world. Not knowing anyone, not receiving any other calls as to why she left, no emergency contact in her wallet. Nobody. Nothing new, really.

And yet, for the briefest moment, as she focused on him — lush locks of gold that seemed to glow and shine under the masterful lighting of the museum, and the meticulously-placed lamps within the mansion — she saw a man whom she’d hoped to be someone in her life.

The count smiled at her, careful with his words but never mincing them around her. She felt no threat, no ill intent coming from him, and immediately, she told her heart to settle down. She could — at least, she really hoped to — trust this man who called himself Le Comte. Maybe, this was the reason why she followed him that day, in the Louvre. When he chuckled faintly and softly behind her back as she scribbled what she thought would be a fitting portrait of Leonardo Da Vinci himself, all tension that accumulated in her neck and shoulders seemed to melt away at the sound of his voice.

He complimented her, saying Leonardo himself would approve of the portrait, however silly and childish her scribble looked. He said it was an accurate depiction of him. Seiya didn’t know if he was being honest, or if he was just making fun of her. But she didn’t peg him, a man dressed like a gentleman —an elegant light mohair suit and golden cufflinks — as someone who would go by so casually only to make fun of ladies wandering inside museum halls. But she had to admit, making small talk with him felt pleasant and comforting. Her first conversation in days.

She wasn’t the type to open up so easily to strangers, let alone, let them peak inside her pocket Moleskine. But something about him, the gold of his eyes, something that reminded her of time, and something forgotten —something old and true and important—called to her and swept her off her feet.

Enough to lure her into opening the door to an alternate timeline. An alternate universe. Where creatures of the night were made up of the greatest names in history. This was their domain. His domain and she was a visitor. And yet he was gracious enough to provide for her, much to her surprise. Why would someone like him care about someone like her? She always questioned it. And, as she learned more and more about the mansion, the household and the residents, she found herself watching the count. Anticipating when he’ll be back, what he’ll be needing next, and how she can be a part of it.

Seiya remembered when she felt the need to draw something. For the first time in a long time, to actually sit down and make something for herself. Make something that’s not dictated by some middle-aged, kitsch cretin. Just something for herself. Something she could hold on to, whilst she lived the dream of being scooped up from her own reality and into a world of vampires, enchantment, and time travel. Who could have thought? Who could have imagined? She most certainly did, many times, many days, all those years.

Seiya didn’t feel like anyone wanted her, really. A home was something her parents once paid for; allowance usually automatically being credited to her account. Holidays that were empty, birthdays without anyone, achievements unrecognised. It didn’t take long for her to realise that these people, who were supposed to care for her, were simply waiting for her to be old enough so they can let her be without being frowned upon by society. She quickly learned that all those years of moving and adjusting, readjusting and adapting— her so-called talent— left her with almost no one to turn to.

No foundations.

No shared experiences that forged true friendships.

Nobody.

You leave, and people feel sad, and they forget about you.

People move on.

Or people just leave.

People move on.

They forget about you, and they move on.

A mantra she’d recite every time she decided to move again and again and again.

The beginnings excited her, and opportunities were always present for those who were willing to take the risk. Opportunity was this haughty goddess she was now very much acquainted with. But she had no one to call to share the good news. No one to celebrate the good days with. And the bad days — the bad days were heavy and ruthless — bad days would stay for days, weeks, years.

So, when the count explained that she’ll have to stay for a month, maybe more, Seiya felt relief seep through her veins. The tension on her shoulders and back dissipated, and for a while, she almost fully stopped clenching her jaw.

Being around him helped her feel at ease. She never had anyone to rely on, up until Leonardo. When he promised he'd look out for monsters and watch her door until she fell asleep, she felt something she never felt before. A sense of security.

Leonardo offered more than just a brief sense of security. For Seiya, he felt like a safe room, and she, though she does not notice it herself, was acting more and more like herself around him. Truer to herself than she could ever imagine herself to be. Because of Leonardo, and those days they spent quietly together, the evenings when they both retire together, she began to see a clearer image of who she really is and how she can live her life without the restrictions and the prejudice of the modern world she was so used to.

The modern world is filled with mannerly empty phrases, words that seem to zigzag away further from the truth. Communication was done in a blink of an eye, but all other meanings— meanings that truly mattered— were lost even before the button was pressed.

He must have felt uncomfortable sleeping outside her door, though. She thought.

Seiya wasn’t sure why and what force of nature brought it back, but she felt an ounce of confidence lift her hand to catch the hem of his coat just as he was leaving. How beautiful he looked, she thought. Not at all close to that chibi drawing she did whilst sitting by that bench in the Louvre. But just as her glass-blue eyes were focusing on him and how the golden light seemed to amplify his innate glow, she saw the count’s face, clear as day, flashing before her eyes.

She felt her throat dry, at the sight of Leonardo’s eyes. The same gold as Comte’s. The same distant, unearthly, gold smoked by time, and maybe eternity herself.

Was that the reason why she invited him to her bed?

Because his eyes resembled the count’s?

Seiya remembered Leonardo’s weight shifting her bed as she waited for him to settle down. It had been years since she slept with someone. And the last time she did, she became incredibly attached. When you get used to living and being content with your own company, anyone else who breaches your space feels uncomfortable, until you unlearn the true meaning of solitude, until you start leaning onto that person, until you start being attached, dependent.

Seiya knew what it was like to be alone with her own thoughts. She kept most things to herself and barely interacted. But when one person tried to get past her defenses, she gave in. She let down her guard and soon enough, she was crumbling, ready to give anything, her everything to this person at any given word.

She knew what it was like to give her everything only to be left alone.

She knew better. People won’t reciprocate.

She should have known better. And yet,

And yet, she allowed herself the comforts of Leonardo’s company. The rhythm of his husked breathing was a lullaby she so desperately memorised, so once he is gone—by the time she is to return home—once the spell is broken and she is back to her own world, her own reality, she can sing herself to sleep. With his face in mind. With the image of his dark brown locks slowly fading into an ashen hue, locks that covered and framed his face that slept so serenely next to her. As if she wasn’t a stranger to this house.

Just so she wouldn’t have to rely on anyone, ever again. Not ever.

But Seiya underestimated the romance that 19th century Paris brought, and along with it came the renaissance man.

He was especially good with his hands, she noticed. And she found comfort in them. They were warm and larger than her own, and they easily found hers whenever she was unsure where to go, what to do, what to say. Her fingers found safety and solace between his gloved ones, and slowly, very slowly, she caught herself able to touch him freely. Leonardo touched her often, too. And Seiya did not mind, no.

It was new, at least to her. It was different. It was a treasure she was adamant to keep around her. A soothing companion, a calming presence, a safe haven, all these things meant Leonardo in her heart’s dictionary. But something inside her doubted this dream. Doubted the comfort of his touch and if she was the one who was deserving of it. She felt, at times, like a fraud.

Odly enough, they could communicate well, though she felt confused and uncomfortable whenever he would grumble, maybe even curse in Italian. But after a while, she grew accustomed to his quirks, even picked up a few Italian swear words. It made the count frown, but it made Leonardo smile the biggest smile she ever saw him smile. Leonardo, at least to her, was like the sun.

A radiant and roaring presence, even if he tried his best to lay low, even often slouched when he walked, but no one could deny the presence that was Leonardo. Seiya liked that about him. Her life, for the longest time, felt like a dark room with just her in it. And she— at least to herself— believed she liked being in the dark. She was able to convince herself, throughout the years that it was cool, and calming, and no one could touch her there. It’s safe there. No one could hurt her. No one could leave her. No one could disrupt this oasis she’s built for herself, albeit the lack of light. Everything she needed, she could buy, she could get her hands on. Except for a warm, inviting and soothing source of light.

Comte, to her, looked and felt like the sun, too. Far away, unreachable and untouchable. The brightest treasure to everything it supports, everything it touches. A gem on the horizons that pull her to her feet in the morning, and one that gently whispers goodbye as it hides itself back.

But Leonardo was a different kind of sun. Leonardo was the sun you could embrace. The sun on midday, that dries the white sheets hanging behind the mansion. The crisp scent of cleanliness and warmth all tangled together inside the consumable, describable word of fabric.

The sun that keeps your heart warm. Like the stained glass colourless sun that would seep between the leaves of the trees as you walk along the forest. Like the warmth you feel while you’re immersed in a novel, laying by the grass without a care in the world.

The sun that kissed your cheeks pink, planting loving marks on the bridge of your nose and your shoulders.That sun is now slowly bringing that warm light inside her dark room.

There was no way for Seiya to stop the light. She tried to, half-heartedly. Something inside her wanted that light, wanted that warmth. But she already made up her mind and her heart, not to yearn and not to ask for things she cannot have. In this case, in Leonardo’s case, something shifted within Seiya’s world. And it all came together with the lingering scent of velvet cigarillos, the faint smell of leather, and wood, and something metallic but sweet when it hits the tongue. Something dark, and something light, all at the same time. Everything that made up the renaissance man and more— indescribably luscious and sensuous even to someone who has their guard actively up.

══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ══════

Sebastian would notice how their new resident would ask if she could bring Comte’s meals up to his study. And, when given the chance, if she could be the one to welcome him home. Sebastian noticed the smile on her face whenever she was tasked to take Comte’s coat. Or, when he finds her with some free time in the afternoon, the blush on her cheeks when he would invite her to share some sweets over a fresh pot of tea.

Sebastian thought it was adorable of Seiya to follow the count around whenever she had the chance. And, Sebas being himself, would reward Seiya for finishing her chores with more tasks - picking up things Comte asked for. Getting his favourite macarons and picking new tea leaves so she and Sebastian could blend a new flavour for the next day.

When she could, she would bring back flowers for his room and his study. Yellow chrysanthemums, sometimes white. They reminded her of home, but also reminded her of him. And she would make sure there were always fresh flowers whenever Comte was around. It was for him, though she would not say anything in words, Sebastian knew she was putting them up for the count.

And he would notice this red leather book wrapped in black lace whenever she was working in the kitchen or carrying the residents’ meals. It would be next to her by the counter, or at the bottom of her trolley whenever she lunged it around the mansion.

Sebastian too, had his own secret notebook where he writes his observations, the quirks he’s learned from the residents and research. But something about Seiya’s book intrigued him. But he would always brush it off, telling himself that a lady is entitled to her own privacy.

Seiya didn’t say much around the other residents, except for Isaac and Vincent, but to Sebastian’s dismay, he was stuck with all her questions.

Sometimes, she would just throw them at him like a curveball. With a straight face, whilst they polish the silverwares or refill the blanc bottles.

“Why do they have to eat so much food?”

“If I sliced a finger off, would it grow back?”

“Why do they sleep? Aren’t they supposed to be nocturnal?”

“Can they smell us like how other animals can?”

Sebastian then learned that Seiya was simply curious and to her, she was entitled to answers if her means of travel home was inoperable, prolonging her stay in the mansion.

She didn’t seem too displeased with that fact. And now, it had been more than a month since she travelled through the door.

“Can they,” Seiya paused for a moment, a new question at the ready. Sebastian’s skillful hands kept with the polishing of the silverware. It was quiet as they both slowly settled the objects down. “Can they feel pleasure, like how humans do?”

Her eyes stayed on the shine of the fork she’s been polishing. And Sebastian’s eyes focused on her hands as he waited for a follow up question. She’s heard Arthur mention this before. How a vampire’s bite can be nothing like any kind of pleasure humans can fathom. But she wanted to know, truly, if a kiss, an embrace, or just being against someone’s back gave the same kind of satisfaction and pleasure as it would give a normal human.

“Vampires are not so different from us, Seiya-san.” Sebastian’s hands continued the work as he cleared his throat. Continuing his sentence made Seiya’s curious eyes look up at him, her pale hair, now tied into a loose bun behind her, gave him a better view of the expression on her face.

A childlike curiosity blinked several times before he could finish his sentence. And the colour of the sky slowly widening before him as he assured Seiya that yes, vampires do feel pleasure like humans do. Not entirely the same, but it’s there.

Seiya wore a meek and triumphant smile as she continued with her work. Sebastian was happy to teach, and help her, any way he could though they are from different timelines from the future, they grew incredibly closer. They spoke Japanese to each other, and when Dazai fancied joining in on their traditional tea ceremonies.

She felt at home around them. Somehow, they accepted her, jaded and broken as she was, she was welcomed by the most unusual crowd. But she liked that. How they were all patched together, irregularities and quirks and all. Somehow, it all works out, and everyone lives in harmony and comfort.

She saw it first hand, the warmth within the mansion, albeit the frequent tension. Everyone, somehow, accepted one another. Perhaps being brought back to life by Comte proved to be a necessary common ground. Perhaps, he was the one who kept the household together.

Seiya didn’t understand it, until she started attending society balls and parties as Le Comte’s companion.

The brilliance and radiance that is Le Comte de Saint-Germain is not limited to the walls of the mansion. Everyone wanted to meet him. Everyone wanted a moment of his time. Everyone wanted to shake his hand. The women so desperately asked and waited for a chance to dance with him.

She remembers it well, that night. When the light of the lamps burned somewhat brighter for them, Leonardo asked about the meaning behind her name. Seiya never saw anyone so excited whilst she wrote these characters that make up her name.

As she settled her pen and showed him the characters, his gold eyes slowly shifted from the characters she’s written down, to her face.

Her lips.

She wasn’t able to notice the shift in weight, but his hand, somehow, ended up on her neck. She could feel herself trembling.

Him, a creature of the night, with his hand on her sweet spot—the place where vampires sunk their teeth in movies she’s watched over and over again. Her eyes found herself in his as they closed the gap between them. Something about the way he pressed his weight down her neck and shoulders that tempted her to surrender her heart, even though she was in fact warned through a dream, an apparition, not to.

“Leonardo,” her lips barely forming his name as a whisper, a prayer, a wish perhaps. She wanted to know why he was so eager to tend to her needs and why he would reach out to her, at random times during the day or mid conversation. Why his eyes felt so heavy whenever they settled on her. And why, he was holding her like this right now.

Why now, Leonardo? She thought.

All thoughts and questions seemed to disappear when their lips met. The taste of him, entirely new and yet somewhat expectedly familiar to her. Cigarillos, and somehow, sweet like apples. Lips so light on hers, she even questioned if they were really there. But, after a moment, his hesitation dissolved into a deeper, hotter, heady kiss. His mouth was rough, and yet smooth as his lips glide with hers. Tongue licking her lips down, and then down her chin and then back up, back to her lips and finding its way entwined with hers. She felt hunger from him, and she felt a chill down her spine.

But Leonardo pulled away, panting. His eyes hesitated to look at her after leaving her in that state. Lips so desperately kissed and flushed. Cheeks red as his favourite apples and eyes misted with unanswered questions.

He managed to mutter an apology, but Leonardo was surprised when he felt Seiya tug his collar and soon, her lips were once again crashing with his, only this time, she was able to show him that there was no need for hesitation. Not from him, not from her, ever.

And so it began. This peculiar thing they did. A comforting ritual, perhaps. They would retreat in her room, sometimes his. And more often than not, the library. Seiya could imagine the scowl on Mozart’s face whenever they knocked a pile of books as they kissed. Or whenever they’d forget to fold the blankets they brought with them whenever they felt like reading by the fire. But in a sense, she felt happiness in his arms. A shriveled sort of happiness that came with the comfort and security that was Leonardo da Vinci himself. His hands always behind the small of her back, guiding her through; hands and arms pulling her close to him whenever he felt like, not that she mind, no.

There was solace and tranquility in his voice whenever he spoke to her and reassured her he was around. She never had anyone in her life that guarded her like a prized jewel. Not anyone who made sure she knew they were around. Not anyone, unfortunately, to treat her the way Leonardo treated her.

And everyone noticed.

The special treatment wasn’t intended to be kept a secret. Somehow, Leonardo now can’t be found half-dead or asleep like a log someplace where people could step on him. Oddly enough, to Mozart’s satisfaction, and in the very rare occasion he would peek through Leonardo’s room, he found not chaos but a semi-organised mess. He would be where Seiya was. And he would be watching her, attending to her, making sure she was safe, comfortable and smiling.

They were quiet. A quiet couple who barely said words to each other. But what couldn’t be said with words, they made up for with their hands and lips and sighs. Vincent would often be the last person she would be hanging around with before Leonardo finally picked her up for the evening.

“I thought you liked Leonardo,” Vincent’s voice was hesitant, as he sat down with her by the bench near the gate of the mansion. It was dark and dusk already gnawed the day away, the glow of the moon reflecting on her pale hair. Vincent almost always found a way towards her. Their eyes seemed like signals to one another, the same crystal-clear kind of blue. The bluest of spring blue sky.

He didn’t like seeing her like this, tears rolling down her cheeks.

He truly believed that Seiya was fond of Leonardo. Until of course, they would have these episodes. He would walk in, and he would take her notebook away. And they would argue. It happened twice already, and until now, Vincent is unsure if he should be used to these antics already.

He was most certain that Leonardo only wanted what’s best for Seiya. At least when they are together, that’s how it looked like. To him, to any of the residents. To Sebastian, to Comte.

Seiya took a deep breath, after a moment of silence as Vincent asked her the question. Her hands willingly opening the book that had been thrown, and picked and wrapped in black lace.

“I do love Leonardo,” her voice was hoarse and her lips trembled as she slowly spoke those words. It was as if they were only revealing themselves to her now, with him. The priced treasure that was the contents of her dear leather-bound book and her confession caught Vincent off guard. His hands gently picking up the book as she handed it to him. Her head lowered, pale hair falling down the side of her face like a shimmering sheer curtain against the backdrop of the night sky and moon.

Vincent’s eyes focusing on the pages, his hands tracing over illustrations, sketches and sketches and sketches of him. Vincent took a deep breath, and Seiya waited for him to take in everything. He could’ve sworn he heard her whisper an apology in between sobs.

Vincent did not say anything, but he sat closer to her and listened as she cried the last bit of tears she could that night. Vincent understood now, why. And he felt his heart full at the thought of Seiya, drawing away her feelings for this man.

The way her cheeks lifted every time she finished a drawing. The blush on her cheeks as she tucks a small piece of folded paper in one of those makeshift paper pockets. His heart ached for her, and all he could offer was his hand. Seiya squeezed his hand, and he understood, somehow, it was her thank you. The most unusual person he ever met, even more unusual than Gaugin, and all those eclectic peculiar artists.

His friend loved this man. And he could really only hope for the best.

-To be continued-

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen leonardo #ikemen comte #Onibeni Seiya

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jabbajambler · 3 years

Text

Human

The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x f!OC

Word Count: 2,117

*GIF by JStarrC*

It was dark in the cockpit, but the stars outside shined brighter because of it. I followed the patterns the best I could, trying to remember the constellations that Mando had told me about. That night we shared so many stories, most weren't ours, but they were still nice.

I told him a story of a young girl. She was ripped from her family as an infant, raised to be a powerful warrior. They told her that one day, she would be the strongest of them all, that no person could ever match her power. In order to keep that power, however, she had to block herself off from the world.

She could no longer dance in the storms, prank her friends, or even fall in love. But it was too late for all of that.

They criticized her emotions, taunted her and claimed she could never meet her true potential. So, she left. For a long time, she battled her inner demons. Being alone with her thoughts, she struggled to keep them at bay.

She fought her darkness her entire life. In the end, she gave up her life for the greater good.

Mando compared it to the Creed. He wasn't too far off, really. They were similar in many ways. But there was something else to his reaction. A sadness of sorts. Perhaps a realization that him and the girl were not too different.

When I told him how the girl was reunited with her love in the end, there was a light. He radiated this warm energy that filled the ship with joy.

Him and the girl truly weren't that different at all.

The little green child sat on the control panel next to Mando, cooing quietly and pressing the buttons on the box next to him. I likely should have warned him, but the little guy was so cute, I couldn't help but just sit back and watch. It pressed a small green button and quietly looked around when nothing happened.

"Stop touching things." Mando instructed, not paying too much attention to the curious child. I giggled quietly from my seat, continuing to watch the tiny thing.

I looked at him as he blinked his big brown eyes. How could you possibly stay upset with something so unbelievably cute.

His ears perked up and he slyly moved his arm towards the box again, flicking a red switch that caused the entire ship to shake. Mando immediately reached over and turned it off, grabbing the child and placing him in his lap.

I leaned forward and rubbed the kid's fuzzy green ear while he whined. Glancing up at Mando, I tried to watch for any reaction, but there was nothing. He refused to even turn his head towards me.

"Let's see... Sorgan." Ah, so now he speaks. "Looks like there's no star port, no industrial centers, no population density. Real backwater skug hole. Which means it's perfect for us...You ready to lay low and stretch your legs for a couple of months, you little womp rat? Nobody's gonna find us here."

He set the child down in the seat to his right. I assumed it was to get him out of the way, but it was such a soft gesture that it brought a little smile to my face.

Mando swirled in his chair to face me, his eyes boring into mine from behind the helmet. At least, that's what it felt like. I really hated not being able to read his face. Of course, I could sense his emotions if I wanted to, but it was almost like violating his privacy.

"What? Can't keep your eyes off me?" I teased and leaned forward in my seat.

He scoffed. "Whatever you say, Princess."

My breath hitched and my face grew red from anger. "Keep calling me that and just see what happens."

So much for getting along again.

"I'd like to see you try."

┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉

We managed to find a small clearing of the forest to land. I had never seen such a beautiful sight before. While Mando powered down the Crest, I gawked at the land before me, wondering what the lush grass would feel like.

I've seen greenery before, but never to this extent and not for a long, long time. It was incredibly difficult to not run out and embrace the nature of the planet.

"Listen." Mando sighed and stood up, facing the child. "We're gonna go out and look around."

I was practically shaking with excitement, ready to go outside to actually see everything. Although, I was surprised that he was voluntarily bringing me along. I figured there would be some argument to be had.

"It shouldn't take too long." He continued. "No, don't touch anything. We'll find some lodging and come back for you. You stay right here." He pointed to the child, his voice firm. "You stay. Don't move. You understand?"

The child whimpered a response.

"Great."

I left towards the hatch with Mando not far behind me. "Any idea where we're headed?" I said as I pressed the button beside me to lower the ramp to the ground.

"Aren't you the one who knows everything?"

There was a quiet coo that broke the short, tense silence between us. I could see Mando turn to look at me out of the corner of my eye.

"It wasn't me." I pointed down at the ground between us where the child now stood, gazing up at us.

He sighed deeply and shook his head, looking between me and the child. "Oh, what the hell? Come on."

We walked through the trees with the child waddling behind us. I struggled to take my eyes off of the gorgeous plants. They reached out to me and I could feel myself drawn to the place as we spent more time here.

The last thing I needed was to get stuck on another planet.

We walked in silence until we came across a small village filled with huts. All the locals gathered in a spacious restaurant of sorts, talking and drinking with one another.

On second thought, I wouldn't mind getting stuck here.

We found ourselves a small table at the back. While Mando stared dead ahead, my attention was immediately drawn to a young woman on the other side of the building, staring at us. Her hair was dark and short and she wore a rebel tattoo proudly on her arm.

You didn't see many of those anymore.

Mando helped the child onto a stool before he sat himself down on one next to me "What are you all tense about?" He glanced around before his gaze settled on me.

I nodded towards the stranger, trying to not alert her. "That woman-"

"Welcome, travelers. Can I interest you in anything?" A middle-aged waitress came over, interrupting me with a big smile on her face.

"Bone broth, for the little one." Mando spoke, his voice calm and collected as usual.

"Oh, well, you're in luck. I just took down a grinjer, so there's plenty. Can I interest either one of you in a porringer of broth as well?"

"Yes, one for-" He started, gesturing towards me.

"No thanks. The one is fine." I stopped him, not feeling very hungry with a possible threat on the lovely planet.

"Very well."

I nodded again towards the rebel woman. "That woman over there. When did she arrive?"

"I've seen her here for the last week or so."

"What's her business here?" Mando questioned, finally noticing the suspicious woman.

"Business? Oh, well, there's not much business in Sorgan, so I can't say." She chuckled.

I tossed a small pouch of credits onto the table as I leaned against it. Mando looked over at me, then at his cross-body belt, quickly realizing that his credits were no longer there.

"She doesn't strike me as a log runner. Well, thank you, ma'am. I will get that broth to you as soon as possible, and I will throw in a flagon of spotchka just for good measure. I will be right back with that." The waitress smiled before turning and leaving to fetch the broth.

I looked over towards where the woman once sat, only to find it empty. "She's gone."

I tried to stand, but I was pushed back into my seat by Mando's hand on my shoulder. I scowled and tried to stand again, but of course, was forced back down.

"Stay here. I'm going to look for her."

"But-"

"Stay. Here." He stood up and tossed a credit to the waitress. "Keep an eye on them." He demanded before swiftly leaving the building.

I groaned and ran my hands over my face. Did he not trust me to go after her? I mean, I am the one who caught sight of her in the first place. Besides, I can take care of myself if anything were to happen. He knows that.

I couldn't bring myself to sit here any longer. As soon as the waitress returned with the broth and spotchka, I left. Mando had no right to tell me to stay put, especially if he was putting himself in danger.

There were a few grunts and the sound of fire crackling from behind a couple huts. Of course his first reaction would be to get in a fight.

I followed the sound, coming across the woman flipping Mando onto his back. They rolled on the ground until they both came to a sudden halt, pointing their blasters at one another.

The sound of the child slurping his broth caught the attention of the two on the ground. I could hear Mando's exhausted sigh once his gaze landed on me.

"I told you to stay back there."

"And how many times do I have to tell you that you can't tell me what to do?" I crossed my arms over my chest and tapped by foot against the ground.

He glanced over at the woman that held a gun to his head. "You want some soup?"

┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉

The rebel woman, whose name we learned is Cara, sat with us in the hut, sipping a bowl of broth. She had been going on about her time as a fighter and while it was interesting, I couldn't hold back the irritation I had towards Mando.

I played with the child, avoiding being brought into any sort of conversation. Although, I do recall Cara saying 'I like her' while they were whispering when we first came in. That made me smile.

"How'd you end up here?" Mando asked her.

"Let's just call it an early retirement." Cara sipped her broth. "Look, I knew you two were Guild. I figured you had a fob on me. That's why I came at you so hard."

"Yeah, that's what I figured." He shifted in his seat, his posture straightening.

"Well, this has been a real treat, but unless you wanna go another round, one of us is gonna have to move on," she stood and finished off her soup, "and I was here first." She shrugged and set the bowl down on the table, leaving without another word.

"Well, looks like this planet's taken." Mando turned towards me, gently nudging my elbow as he spoke. "Myrah?"

Nope.

"Myrah, come on." I refused, keeping my focus on the giggling child. "Are you going to stay mad at me forever?"

I took a deep breath and tried to keep messing with the green baby. "Are you going to act like a dick forever?" I snapped back.

In all honesty, I didn't want to be upset with him. I wanted things to go back to the way they were before, but it doesn't seem like that's going to happen any time soon.

He shook his head and sighed, clearly irritated. "Oh, will you get over yourself?"

"I'm not the one who got all butt hurt just because someone tried to help them-"

"I didn't need help, Myrah. I was fine on my own. I didn't need you in the first place. You intruded on my mission."

That hurt.

No, that was more than hurt. I knew it was his mission, I knew he never asked for me, but to hear him say it made it so much worse.

He didn't need me.

"Whatever... Let's just go back to the ship." I quickly left the hut with my head held high. I couldn't let him know that he had gotten to me.

I wished that I could just hide behind a helmet like he could.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x oc #mandalorian #mandalorian x oc #din djarin #din djarin x oc #dyn jarren #jedi #oc #star wars #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #babyyoda

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distinguishednachotale · 4 years

Text

The DJ

Previous Chapter

Chapter Four

A farmhouse cottage stood swallowed beneath a field of lush green grass, a wooden fence surrounded the boundaries with beautifully tended to flowers weaving their way through the timber. A cobblestone pathway led to the front porch where a middle aged couple were enjoying a quiet Scotch to wind down the end of the day, a pipe hung loosely from his mouth while she had her feet up on the his lap enjoying a soft massage. The farm was running smoothly, enough profits coming in to put on another farmhand allowing the older man to spend a little less time in the fields and more time enjoying the company of his now retired wife.

“Have you heard from Everly this week?” James wandered out loud, knowing the answer would still be a ‘no’ but hoping that even an e-mail had been exchanged, a photo or anything. With a sigh Leticia shook her head. “Did we do something, do you think?” The silence between themselves and their daughter as painful, they didn’t know her address to visit, their e-mails and text messages went unanswered. Occasionally she would send a two or three word response, but never any detail. Their older son, Angus, worked on the farm with them; his house across the road where he, his wife and four children lived. It was a rare day that the grandchildren didn’t wander across to their Grandparents house to spend time together. To have the polar opposite from their daughter was eating away at them.

“Oh, speak of the devil.” Leticia smiled widely, her mobile phone lit up with a photo of her beautiful daughter and her name. “Oh Everly, my love we were just talking about ye.”

“Mrs McCarthy, it’s Richard Madden. Uh, I’m not sure if you remember me,”[/I

Sitting forward and pulling her feet down from her husbands lap, a frown crossed her face, “Richard, has something happened to Everly?” It wasn’t like Everly to call, let alone having someone call from her mobile. “Please, lad, tell me.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs McCarthy. I was trying to help her leave him, she was coming back to life and, god, she was her again…” Though a broken voice and breaks to compose himself Richard told the McCarthy’s all he knew. The phone placed on loud speaker so both parents could hear of the journey their daughter had been on over the years without them knowing. Angus had wandered into the yard with a cheerful ‘Hello’ only to stop when he saw the look on his parents face. Running to them he heard the tail end of the explanation, the attack.

“He broke a lot of bones, her wrist, two fingers, jaw, cheek bones, eye socket, ribs.. Her rib punctured her lungs, there’s a tube in there at the minute to fix that. Uh,” His voice broke looking at the sleeping figure before him, your jaw wired shut to help it heal while an oxygen mask covered you face gently. “They fixed her liver, it was lacerated as well as her right kidney. I’m sorry, I’m sorry I couldn’t stop him.”

“It’s not ye fault, laddy. Thank you for finding her. We’ll get a flight-”

“I’ll have my assistant organize it, one less thing to take care of. Angus, can I get you a flight too?”

“If ye could, Rich. I’ll bring Ma and Pa over.” Jotting down their details on his own phone Richard sent everything to his own assistant to have organised, flights and hotels to be close to their daughter at hospital. Bidding them farewell he promised not to leave her side again, to stay with her and keep her safe until they arrived. You hadn’t woken up since you were found, the Doctors assured Richard this was common when suffering trauma and a severe concussion; rest was the bodies natural defence.

Police had been by to take statements after scouring the trailer for evidence to link Nate to the attack, evidence was taken from beneath your fingernails; his skin and DNA was trapped there from you clawing at him. He had been found, drunk and covered in dried blood in his hotel room. He was sure he had killed you, hoped he had killed you. Disappointment was evident when he found out you were alive, fighting for your life despite his attempt to end it.

The following morning Richard had not yet moved, occasionally he was brought a coffee or a sandwich by the kind nurses; otherwise he sat there watching your every breath. You’d had a small turn overnight, your heart rate dropping dangerously low but it was stabilised quickly by the Doctor’s on hand. The swelling was increasing, as expected. The broken bones were being inspected by a orthopaedic surgeon, plastic surgeon and ear-nose-throat specialist to ensure a healthy recovery with minimal facial scarring.

Two days passed before your family arrived, they had quickly taken their belongings to the hotel before coming straight to the hospital to be with you. Leticia had crumbled upon seeing her only daughter so broken, bruised and damaged. James was quiet, trying to stay strong for his wife while feeling his own heart shatter upon seeing his baby. Angus turned to rage, having to immediately step back outside to regain his composure. Richard followed him outside, wanting to make sure he was alright.

“Its one thing to hear it, ye ken. But to actually see it…” Angus ran his hand through his shaggy hair, pushing it off his face. “I’ve never wanted to kill someone before, but now. Thank you for finding her.”

“I’m expected back on set this evening, re-shooting some scenes with a stand in for Ev, I’m sorry I’ll have to leave soon. Are you going to be okay-”

“She’s awake.” Richard and Angus both jumped hearing your Father speak, his voice shaking with both relief and sadness. Walking in they saw you laying very still, eyes open and breathing slowly with trepidation. The ache and pull in your side told you your lung was damaged, you were afraid to breathe too hard or deep.

“Angus and Richard are here too, Evey.” Your mother quietly told you, running her hand over your hair gently. You flicked your eyes over to the figured standing near the doorway, hardly able to make much out with your limited vision. Any calm quickly faded when you attempted to move your mouth, the wires on your teeth bound together keeping your jaw closed and still, it caused an immediate panic inside you.

“What’s going on?” Angus worried, looking a the heart rate machine escalate into fast rhythm as your body jolted. “Doctor!” He darted out the door searching for help. Richard recognised the look on your face, despite the swelling he could see your fear. Crouching beside you he softly placed his hand on your cheek and ran his thumb gently and slowly.

“Shhhh… Ev, I know you’re scared.” You raised your hand to your jaw and mouth, he picked up your non verbal worry. “It’s wired, Love. It’s a little broken, it’s going to be a couple of weeks wired to heal. But I’m sure you’ll find a way to talk our ears off still.” He teased lovingly. “There’s a tube in your nose, I’m sure it’s uncomfortable. It’s your feeding tube, you can’t eat for a little while either. There’s another in your lung, just keeping it inflated for now…” James, Angus, Leticia and the Doctor’s watched as your heart rate lowered as Richard explained what was happening, neither of you breaking eye contact with each other.

Three weeks passed, filming was rearranged so Richard could do his part quickly to be alongside you as you healed. Your jaw was released, you were unable to eat solid food still due to the pain but had enjoyed being able to slowly have spoonful’s of soup, and the occasional sneaky liquid treat brought into the hospital by your brother and Richard. The tube in your lung had long been removed, stitches still in place helping the skin recover from being open. The swelling around your face had gone down dramatically, your eyes were open fully but a dark shade of blue still. New’s had spread around the media, a news outlet had gotten photos of you being taken away from the trailer - you had unwillingly become the face of domestic violence, a pressure you were not ready for.

You had been taken back to Scotland to finish healing at your parents farm, Richard had brought himself a little time before he had to go into intense filming of his upcoming program ‘Bodyguard’ to be with you. His role was going to leave him drained, he knew it. Between rest and physical therapy, you ran lines with him when and when he was doing his workouts you watched from the porch while admiring his physicality.

“I forgot how fresh the air is here,” You breathe in deeply, leaning back as Richard ran a brush through your hair softly. Putting the brush down he ran his finger tips gently through the strands of your long hair, tying it into a loose bun at the nape of your neck for you. “You don’t have to do all this, you know?” Looking back behind you, Richard had his eyebrow raised at you.

“Stop protesting, ye stubborn woman.”

“I’ll miss you when you have to go.” Sadly the time was coming, you both knew it. “Although I won’t miss my Pa making me sleep with the door open.” James had allowed Richard to sleep in your bed with you under the condition the bedroom door remained open, a traditional man and not wanting anything to be happening under his roof. Although nothing had been said, the mutual feelings you had for one another had you spending your nights curled up safe by his side; nightmares and anxiety were common overnight, the security of having Richard there was soothing.

“You know as soon as you’re ready, my house is ready for you.”

“The movers are getting my things from my house this weekend, moving it to storage.”

“Have them bring it to my apartment, no point moving it twice.” The warm sun shone down on you both, a picnic rug beneath you both as you sat in the front yard of the farm. Over the fence you could see your Pa, brother and farmhand moving the sheep into the next yard; the well trained dogs doing their part to herd the sheep over. It was peaceful hearing them call to the dog in Gaelic, you missed hearing the language you had grown being spoken to in.

“I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you again,” You told Richard, looking over at him

A soft kiss was pressed against your lips, “You’ll never have to find out.”

#richard madden #richard madden x ofc #richard madden fanfiction

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curiousartemis · 4 years

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Five Questions for Writers

Thank you for the tag, dearest @tishinada !! ❤

Tagging @silvanils and anyone else who wants to do it!

1. Do you have a favorite character to write? Who and why?

2. Do you have a favorite trope to write? Or one you want to write?

3. Share your favorite description you’ve written?

4. Share your favorite dialogue you’ve written?

5. Scene you haven’t written, but want to?

>>>>>>>>>>>

1. Do you have a favorite character to write? Who and why?

This is probably way too obvious, but the OC who’s easiest to write is Casien, and the NPC who’s easiest to write is definitely Ulfric.

Casien is, in fairness, the original character I’ve written the most for. I’ve written three books in his voice, and multiple one-shots. That’s probably well over 400K words. It helps that I love him a great deal, that I have such incredible affection for this character. But it also helps that I’ve mirrored myself in him in many ways. We don’t just physically resemble one another to a certain extent, but he has many of my faults, tendencies, fears, and personality traits. I mean, in fairness, I’m sure he’s an idealized version of myself. But nonetheless.

It’s a similar situation with Ulfric. True, I’ve been writing him from Casien’s point-of-view, but still. I’ve also written a few stories from his point of view, both first and third person. I made Ulfric my age when I first started writing him, and that helped me connect with him. If I gave Casien the hopes and fears of my youth, I gave Ulfric the hopes and fears of my present day self. I know what it’s like to be so tired at the end of the day. I know what it’s like to have so many different demands on your attention, and how that taxes you both mentally, physically, and emotionally. I know what it’s like to live with deep fear and deep regret, and how wonderful it is to regain even the tiniest spark of hope. That’s my Ulfric in a nutshell.

2. Do you have a favorite trope to write? Or one you want to write?

I think I have two: #SlowBurn and “opposites attract.”

I like drawing out a relationship. This goes for friendships, too, but I love writing romance even more. I want to see these people truly getting to know one another... learning to admire the little things about one another, realizing they’re eager to see one another again, then feeling maybe a little embarrassed about it. I like to write lots of conversations between the two before they ever become lovers, to show that it’s not just the physical that attracts them to one another, but the mind as well.

“Now be sincere; did you admire me for my impertinence?”

“For the liveliness of your mind, I did.”

Now that’s the good stuff, right there. 👌

As for opposites attract -- basically a very similar feeling. I love it when a couple might feel initially awkward around one another because of their differences, yet learn they actually have a lot in common, and thus begins the first spark of love. Age differences are particularly adorable to me... probably I look at youth with rose-tinted glasses, but it’s still provides some hilariously befuddled moments for the older partner, and then the younger partner can tease them for being an old fogey. Class differences, too... I’m writing a king and a former servant; I’ll be writing a king and the son of a retired soldier and bard soon. The wealthy person seeing themself in the working class person and vice versa... it’s a moment of simple humanity that always makes my heart stir. Even better if the wealthy/well-placed person can be humbled by the working class person and realize they’ve taken much in their life for granted. But yes, I’d say every one of my couples are some form or other “opposites attract”--wherein they actually realize that they’re very, very similar.

(No wonder Jane Eyre is my favorite novel...)

3. Share your favorite description you’ve written?

My favorite (not necessarily my “best”) description I’ve written is the wedding scene. I wanted it to be dreamlike, because Casien was quite dazed, and I wanted to show that he sees Ulfric in a way that no one else really does. Ulfric, after all, is 38 years old, a warrior-king who’s had a hard life in many ways. He has a large nose, pale eyes that squint in the sun a little too much, and he has a tendency to glare. But to Casien... he is breathtakingly handsome (spoilers for the end of book 2):

We walked around the back, down the little stone path. There was a pretty sort of garden here, with stone benches and rose trellises and miniature shrines meant for personal reflection. The yard was encompassed by a stone wall, and towards the back of the far wall I could see the tall, main shrine and altar, along with several priests.

But I could barely see them through the crowd. It was small, but the yard was not large, and I had to suddenly stop and try not to shrink at the way they all paused in their conversations and smiled when they saw me. I recognized them, of course, the most important people in Skyrim, for I had spent a good deal of time with them these past few weeks. But my eyes skimmed over most of them, until they settled on two men, and one man in particular.

I noticed that his tunic was a lush, dark red, and that his own boots were new, but I took little further notice of how he was dressed. His hair had been partially pulled back from his face, two little braids on each side—I wondered who had done it for him—Ania, or Hellina, or Una? My heart seemed to stutter, then I walked towards him, and all the while his eyes held mine.

“Hello,” I said, once we were together.

He smiled, the expression small and warm and strangely reverent.

“Hello,” he said.

He reached up, tracing the silver circlet on my brow, then tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, as was his wont of late.

“You are beautiful,” he murmured.

I felt myself blush, and smiled.

“So are you,” I said, and I heard a few people chuckle, but his smile only widened ever so slightly, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

4. Share your favorite dialogue you’ve written?

That’s tough; I love writing dialogue! 😊 Well, one passage I really loved and was really quite proud of was the one where Casien finally confronted Ulfric about his apparent newfound fear of physical intimacy. You see, in the first few years of their relationship, Casien would have been too nervous or intimidated to broach the subject. But now he has the confidence--both in himself and in his relationship--to ask his husband point blank what’s going on. And because he was assertive and brave enough to do this, he ends up being the one who helps jump start their relationship again. (Spoilers for the middle-end of book 3):

“Yes,” he said, pulling a hand free so that he could lay it over both of mine, as if he were trying to comfort me. “I know. Yet still I cannot help the thought that lingers in my mind: suppose my delusions should return. Suppose in the act of making love, I should be brought back to that wretched state again. And suppose, having you with me again, it should ignite something horrible in me, something I could not—

But I pulled my own hand free and laid it hastily over his mouth, silencing him. He made no move to push my hand away, only looked at me, his eyes sad.

“Don’t,” I said, and I realized I was crying now, sniffing and using my other hand to swipe at the back of my eyes, to stop the evidence from making its appearance. “Don’t say that. Melaran is dead. The Thalmor are all dead. Whoever cast that spell, they’re dead. They can’t hurt us anymore.”

“We don’t know that for sure.”

“Yes, we do,” I insisted, and I’m certain my face looked quite ugly by then. “So, what then? We just stop? We never have sex again? Is that what you want?”

“No…” He looked stricken—it made me feel awful. “Of course not. But I…”

“Make love to me,” I said. I crawled forward, into his lap, wrapping my legs loosely around him. “Please. I miss you. I thought about you, every day and every night, for an entire year. And then you weren’t there when I returned home, and all I could do was think about you again, and…”

I trailed off, a little too embarrassed, even despite my earnestness, to admit to touching myself.

A lot. I had really, really missed him.

His gaze was warm now, and I think he knew what I had almost said. He wrapped his arms around me, and I pressed myself against him a little, and he let out a startled little breath that I’m almost certain was very nearly a moan.

“You aren’t worried about being heard,” he said, lips twitching now, as he reached up to cup my cheek. “My little roebuck has lost all his shyness.”

“I highly doubt that,” I said. “But they all think we’ve been doing it every night anyway…” I paused, resting my hand over his now, linking our fingers together. “Whether through hardship, poor health, broken trust, or sorrow of any kind. It’s in our vows, Ulfric. I said ‘yes,’ and I meant it. It does neither of us any good to wait for something terrible that may never happen.”

His eyes widened when I said this, and I think, somehow, I finally got through to him. His expression softened once again, and he rubbed his thumb gently against my cheek, the gesture a caress.

“My heart,” he murmured, another little smile creeping onto his face. “wiser than any Greybeard.”

“Because I want to have sex with you?” I asked. “I agree. Only an idiot wouldn’t want that.”

He laughed, loud enough, I’m sure, to be heard by the others. But then he looked at me, his expression turning almost cheeky. He hesitated for only a moment more—before finally tilting his face towards mine, nuzzling his nose again my own before brushing our lips together. I sought him out, reaching eagerly for him—he pulled away, smiling, teasing me, even as he shifted so that we could lie down together.

“I’ve missed you, too,” he said, pressing the words softly against my ear with a kiss, once we were both naked and, despite everything, doing our best to keep quiet.

I smiled, and wrapped my arms around him, and muffled my joy and my pleasure against his skin.

5. Scene you haven’t written, but want to?

A scene I’m really looking forward to is the scene where Linas first meets Vilkas. I can’t even really talk about it because it’s kind of a spoiler. But suffice it to say, Linas won’t realize who he’s talking to. The second scene I really want to write is when he finally does realize who Vilkas is.

They’re another “opposites attract” romance, with Linas being literally wild and illiterate while Vilkas is the quiet, controlled warrior who has a love of literature. Of course, they’ll discover that they’re more alike than different... a pair of introverted artists who find solace in one another.

#writing #meta #fanfiction #ulfrien #vilnas

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kucigloss · 4 years

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TOP 10 albums of the decade

Hello folks!

The year is coming to a close, and I felt it necessary to share my top 10 favorite albums of the decade. It was so hard to narrow it down to only 10 but ultimately, I went with the albums that stuck with me the most during the most formative years of my life. I’m excited to see what my 20s will be like, soundtracked by new music of the 2020s. Let me know what your favorites were!

beach house - depression cherry (2015)

This album made my xx-loving, emo/indie girl lifestyle feel so validated. Beach House songs tend to have a certain air of nostalgia, melancholy and hopefulness, but the airy, unique tracks on Depression Cherry are in an emotional universe of its own.

Faves: 10:37, Space Song, PPP

___

the garden – haha (2015)

The Garden was my favorite band for the first half of high school. Every single album they put out creates a new ethos, with the Shears twins’ method acting supporting it all the way through. The Vada Vada universe was made whole when haha came out (I'm also probably biased because I was at their album release show lol). This is one of their most defining albums as an act that is constantly breaking molds and standards. Although that sounds contradictory, haha truly set the Garden apart as a band slightly outside of the “Burger Records” scene forming around that time, materializing the Vada Vada aesthetic into our dimension.

Faves: This House Can Build a Home, Crystal Clear, Gift

___

death grips – the money store (2012)

Death Grips was my favorite band for the second half of high school. MC ride's gritty vocals/screaming paired with Andy and Zach's tight musicianship has been what makes death grips so powerful, album after album. This release in particular employs a more synthy-electronic vibe to its tracks, which may make it more accessible, but also more unique among their discography.

Faves: Hustle Bones, Hacker, The Fever (Aye Aye)

___

US Girls - in a poem unlimited (2018)

Every track on this album makes me want to dance. The sensual vocals over the vintage-tinged instrumentals make US Girls a go-to for me. Some tracks go super hard while others are more sensitive; but either track you choose to listen to will make you feel like a badass.

Faves: M.A.H., Incidental Boogie, L-Over

___

japanese breakfast - soft sounds from another planet (2017)

This beautiful and heartfelt album takes me back to my early college days, when I first started up at KUCI! Michelle Zauner’s emotional traumas are exposed in her first release Psychopomp, which was meant to be her only album. After some growth and learning, though, this album was created and showcases an evolution; it explores the same themes of mortality, fame, and love through a more mature angle, without compromising her child-like raw emotionalism.

Faves: Diving Woman, Road Head, Machinist, Boyish

___

parquet courts - wide awake! (2018)

Political, poetic and emotional, Wide Awake! is a study of masculinity, relationships, and war in a weirdly fluorescent light (their album cover is the most fitting one I've ever seen). Andrew Savage is just a genuine dude with a shy aloofness that makes his scream signing all the more endearing. They use cowbells and talk about Alan Turing-- what else could I ask for?

Faves: Before the Water Gets Too High, Almost Had to Start a Fight/In and Out of Patience, Normalisation, Wide Awake

___

french vanilla - french vanilla (2017)

This album changed my mind about riot grrl. Although their music is a bit more organized, almost neurotically, and much more instrumentally formal, French Vanilla takes the wailing vocals and angry lyrics the riot grrl genre was partly known for and made a beast of it's own. I love them.

Faves: Honesty, Carrie, Evolution Heavy Handed

___

little dragon - ritual union (2011)

Little Dragon was one of those bands along with Crystal Castles, Blonde Redhead and others, that were the foundation of my music taste during the formative years of my life. I can’t explain more about the album without spoiling it; it’s just a lovely journey to take.

Faves: Little Man, Brush the Heat, Shuffle a Dream, Crystalfilm

___

khruangbin - the universe smiles upon you (2015)

Call it easy listening for hipsters if you want, but Khruangbin is one of the few bands I know where I can truthfully say I like every single track they put out. Their energy is infectious and seeing them live changed me for the better!

Faves: Dern Kala, White Gloves People Everywhere (Still Alive)

___

mitski - bury me at makeout creek (2014)

Although Retired from Sad, New Career in Business holds a very special place in my heart, Mitski's junior release, Bury Me at Makeout Creek, is one of Mitski's most powerful and vulnerable albums. Her exploration of genre, sound, and identity are tangible, though admittedly not as much as her art school debut, Lush. Every track still experiments with poetry and taps into a new wound, but she sounds more confident in herself this time around. Where her sophomore album was a piano-ridden set of ballads, this album is much heavier with bass-heavy love songs, leaving listeners with a distinctly different taste in their mouths. Her Joni Mitchell-esque mania makes me cry and dance just the right amount. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

Faves: Townie, First Love/Late Spring, Francis Forever, I Dont Smoke, Drunk Walk Home, Last Words of a Shooting Star... so like all of them (oh and Class of 2013 from Retired from Sad belongs here too, same energy)

___

honorable mentions:

show me the body - body war (2016) I officially became a cool e-kid when I went to my first show me the body show. Their new album is great too, but this ones a classic. (Listen to Tight SWAT when you’re angry, or not angry enough).

autolux – PUSSY’S DEAD (2016) This genre-defying album was the soundtrack to the end of my high school career. Every moody lyric and punchy drum beat had me feeling like Bella Swan in the second half of Twilight.

sasami – SASAMI (2019) I'm so very moved by every heart wrenching song on this album. That’s all.

Kadhja Bonet - Childqueen (2018) Beautiful neo-soul with a classic edge.

MGMT – Little Dark Age (2018) One of the best comeback albums ever.

Anderson .Paak – all of his releases He was my top artist of 2019, whoops.

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zanrai-kid · 5 years

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I have no legitimate sleep schedule, so take my list of my Top 20 favorite Gorillaz tracks

20: Momentz - In the same league as Feel Good Inc., don't at me.

19: Stylo - Mos Def and Bobby Womack absolutely devastating on the bridges. Hearing Jeremih perform this live was gorgeous.

18: Humility - Gorillaz made a summer jam, and it sure sounds like it. Damon's getting old, man. Just wants to retire, wants to have a few beers by the beach.

17: Sleeping Powder - iwasgone I M B A C K ASDKJHAJSDHGSKDJHFGKJHASGLDKJAGSD

16: Feel Good Inc. - A legendary song in my formative years, and a soundtrack to the Bush administration as important as “American Idiot”. Only so low on the list because of oversaturation.

15: Rhinestone Eyes - This song is the embellished production of Plastic Beach in a moment. I once made a mashup with this song and "Kangaroo Court" by Capital Cities.

14: Re-Hash - First song on the first album, and it slaps.

13: Ascension - Vince Staples is such a brilliant voice in the latter half of the decade, and I'm pleased to see Damon Albarn recognize this.

12: DARE - Hot damn, this song is a jam.

11: M1 A1 - Hearing this song kick off a Gorillaz concert feels like getting shot by a cannon. It's the "most like the sound the pilliows exuded on the FLCL soundtrack" song in the Gorillaz discography, and for that, I like it.

10: Fire Coming Out Of The Monkey's Head - When Gorillaz want to tell a horror story, they double down and get Dennis Hopper to tell a story of apocalypse. Demon Days is such an immortal album, and this song will live on as a ubiquitous reminder of one's mortality at the hands of greed. Good one for the pessimistic crowds of both 2005 and 2019.

9: Rock the House - BETTER THAN CLINT EASTWOOD. FIGHT ME. When Gorillaz sample audio, they make sure to make the most of it. The ten second sample of John Dankworth's "Modesty Blaise" carries Del the Funky Homosapien's bragging boogie rap through to another level with the tight bass riffs the self-titled album is known for. Echo effects, horn stabs, a fucking recorder. This tracks fucks me up.

8: Souk Eye - I think a track off of The Now Now is one of the best works in the Gorillaz discography. Primarily because following Humanz and The Now Now, Albarn and Hewlett are in a strange time of their lives. Both are now 50 years old, and Gorillaz has lasted 20 years. The concept has run its course for now. To hear this song close this chapter of the Gorillaz story feels fitting. A love song to the many miles taken, only to realize one must leave their current circumstances in order to survive.

7: Last Living Souls - It's a cliche to say a song builds, but when the track starts with little more than a drum machine, and leads to an acoustic breakdown and string section breakdown back-to-back, you can agree this song builds. A lush atmosphere of tiny bleeps and bloops coming together to become greater than the sum of all parts. The song sounds so down and muted on the album, but hearing it live, it feels like a war cry. Both interpretations fit the themes of Demon Days, and it's a good one to start off the album following the Dawn of the Dead sampled "Intro".

6: El Mañana - Hearing this song follow "Busted and Blue" accompanied by visuals of Noodle during the Humanz Tour is the closest I've come to a religious experience at a concert. The sudden immediacy of the situation following "Feel Good Inc" is made aware from sirens and Damon delivering a ragged vocal delivery. The track ebbs and flows in and out of deep bass and washed out highs. It feels like a sigh. It feels like crying. And if you're a Gorillaz lore sucker like I am, this track accompanies the death of Noodle, the single most important event in the canon. Also, the acoustic version reminds one how good Damon is at evoking very quiet emotion.

5: Tomorrow Comes Today - When those drums come in, man, you get teleported to the turn of the millennium. Dirty trip-hop was coming out of the UK en masse, Fatboy Slim released one of my favorites albums of all time "Halfway Between the Gutter and the Stars", and Daft Punk's "Discovery" was still a year off. In between some of the most important music of my life being dropped, Gorillaz dropped their first single "Tomorrow Comes Today" at the end of the year and solidified their place for years to come. Slinking and sly, velvety and smoky. This is Gorillaz sending up a culture of basement shows and turntablism. If Think Tank is the first "Gorillaz album", this is when the transition was made manifest.

4: On Melancholy Hill - Ugh, this song. This song is pretty. Full stop. It's one of Gorillaz' very few love songs, and it still manages to capture the plasticine sadness of Plastic Beach. Plastic Beach was my first real and honest introduction to Gorillaz in college, as I only remember hearing about Demon Days from advertising in 2005, when I was 12. This track was just a treat to hear in spring/summer, and a reason I made so many (see: too many) of my finals about Gorillaz. Around the time Humanz was teased, I went back and realized this song had held up so well. It's just a universal sentiment about how the world we know is falling apart, but let's have this moment together. The acoustic version is an honest to God lullaby. Something I can play my future children. Not bad for only 16 lines of lyric.

3: Empire Ants - If "On Melancholy Hill" is about finding the beauty in ruin, "Empire Ants" holds a magnifying glass up to ruin, wondering how it came to be. Listening to the album, "Superfast Jellyfish" came just before. A satirical take on consumeristic meals leading into a song about how we are personified as ants, marching in tandem to complete our tasks and build ever outward, never truly satisfied until death. It is a reminder to look upon the greater picture that is our world and see the moments of tranquility for what they are. Sadly, these moments do not last, and Little Dragon's part reminds us we are part of a machine, ever moving, ever crumbling. It is beauty interrupted by obligation, and for a kid who was in college when this album dropped, and who is now 26 and facing a lifetime of having to make my own decisions, it's an anthem.

2: Hong Kong - I remember loading the entirety of Plastic Beach onto my iPod Nano, and having an iTunes gift card left to spend from Christmas/birthday/etc. Having seen the Demon Days Live concert, I knew this track had to be on my beautiful iPod Nano. That, and for some reason, "Dirty Harry (Schtung Chinese New Year Remix). I remember long car rides staring out the window, listening to this track as the scenery blew by. I remember reading up on this track's history, how it was released in-between Demon Days and Plastic Beach and it shows, how it's a tale of neo-industrial China and Hong Kong's place in both Chinese and British history. This is both a love letter and warning to the nation of the apocryphal train ride that inspired Demon Days. In a world where China seems to be ever rising, "Hong Kong" is a song that asks questions of how this will affect the world as a whole, using Hong Kong as a metaphor. That's nothing to say of the wondrous instrumentation, the piano part in particular on my wishlist of "Songs I Should Learn on Piano Before I Die". Many call it Gorillaz' most underrated track, and I agree full stop.

1: DoYaThing - I'M THE SHIT. I SAID I'M THE SHIT. Above all else, Gorillaz is a collaborative effort of hundreds of musicians from all walks of life. When you throw James Murphy of LCD Soundsystem, a band that rose in the same timeframe as Gorillaz, and Andre 3000, my personal pick for the G.O.A.T., magic happens. Uncut, unedited, 13 minute magic happens. Is it a bit of a meme? Sure. It is a shitpost disguised as a legitimate song? Why not. But sometimes, the goofy aspect of Gorillaz can craft audio gold. And aren't we all about memes on this blog? Albarn's at his most snotty white boy. Murphy's production and vocals are a reminder he was every music nerd's wet dream in the 2000s. Andre 3000 is just laying into every line with a confidence not heard since Stankonia. Everything about this song is designed and manufactured to sound like it it running off the rails in a fit of confidence. It is both wildly powerful and mournfully unaware. In short, to quote the great music critic Todd in the Shadows on the subject of LCD Soundsystem’s song “Losing My Edge”, "(It is) a critical darling... This was tailor made for critics. It is perfect music nerd bait, total pandering." DoYaThing, my favorite Gorillaz song of all time.

#gorillaz #top 20 #songs #music #damon albarn #jamie hewlett #zanraikid

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leongraphics · 5 years

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GREENTOUCHED // *drabble. ( 1354 words, commissioned by @ivcrn for @zyrc ) happy birthday, zyrc !! i wish you had an amazing day ( and i hope you enjoy this ) !!

GOOGLEDOC: here.

A vine-touched head lifts regally to the soft murmurings of whispers in the waving blades of grass, green-covered roots lifting from the soil of the earth. Ivern could hear it, the excited murmurings of flowers tittering amongst themselves.

“It is the greenmother! The bloom-mother is here!”

The greenfather feels a smile gracing his features as he, first, feels this thorn-blossom through the soft movement of the breeze and the soft vibration of lacey-wings and twitching antennae, creatures disturbed by the movement of the animated trees and vines excited for this new visitor. Then, he sees her, as graceful and entwined to the earth as he, her knowledgeable, glimmering eyes fixated upon his own. The loam beneath her rhythmic steps yearns, small green sprouts spreading their innocent tendrils opening through the dark prosperous soil of the surrounding magical forest, opening to the clearing host to this fae meeting.

They do not speak, no, not at first, their greeting done through touch and the connection of the terran domain beneath them. Grass-stained, thorn-marked fingertips touch to bark-covered fingertips worn by the weary passing of time, a woody brow lowering to touch theirs, tender-velvet like the petals of a young blossom (and as deceptive to the dangerous thorns beneath, currently hidden for this tender moment). And those two pairs of knowing eyes, wise beyond the years and as old as the very Earth itself (perhaps, it is not so far from the truth) closed to better hear the hum of the forest.

The beetles and sparrows whisper around them, witnesses to this mythical moment. The shining of the forest grows, unable to be contained from the limits of their grasping brush, the very sky above the canopy aglow with the enigmatic emotion that surrounded these two speakers of the wild, two of the last saviors for the voices of the roots and branches who cannot speak for themselves.

Silence is broken as a voice, rare, untinged with their usual sultry tune and instead genuine, caring, warm.

“It has been so long since we have last met, love.”

There is a response in a throaty, kind chuckle, those eyes colored like the dandelions and marigolds mumbling in the meadow around them opening to peer endearingly at those golden eyes beneath him.

“And yet each time we meet, it is as if time flows at a stand-still.”

The thorn-blossom laughs, the small daisies around her feet bobbing along with the near-musical sound.

“You still have a way with words, greenfather.”

“Strange, this poetic side to me only seems to arise when you are near.”

A pair of songbirds pass overhead, a twittering whistle the music to their motionless dance, the two beings opting instead to seat together in that grassy meadow and enjoy the talk of the forest around them.

A young squirrel family chittered, talkative, in a nearby tree. Somewhere deeper in the woods, a dire-wolf barked half-heartedly at its rambunctious young. A spring bubbled happily at the bathing raccoons enjoying the cool water. All the while, these two guardians enjoyed the conversation, occasionally looking to the other for a reassuring smile or an affectionate glance.

And that momentary silence is broken once more, a voice this time tinged with worry, with sadness.

“Ivern, why not leave your responsibilities and escape with me to the wilds… You have no ties to the humans you have left behind, you are no longer one of them. You have no need to help them.”

The flower turns, placing her tendril laced fingers upon that wooden head, gently moving so that she may directly gaze into those loving eyes, her brows furrowed.

“I can feel you, I can feel your heart all the time, no matter how far I am. You grieve, you suffer, for every fallen beast, for every fallen living creature who are lost to the greed of humankind, who kill not for necessity but out of want.”

The greenfather opens his mouth, but not a sound is uttered. The greenmother continues, insistent, her eyes imploring, asking.

“You are my other-half, the trees to my flowering, the leaves to my bloom. You need not suffer so, just come, live with me, deep in the wilderness where no human dares wander into thorny groves. You will not need to witness the fall of your creatures any longer, please, cease your grief...”

The wind stills, and the birds are quiet. The squirrels have long moved to another tree, the dire-wolves retired to their den, and the spring vacant from its previous bathers. For a moment, time did stand still, centered around these two progenitors of life. A daisy nearby is touched in the shadow of a cloud.

“I love you.” She finishes, simply, a statement devoid of flourishing decor and yet so full of her life, leaving those red-tinted lips, so like a rose bud.

And Ivern brushes a finger across those lips, his eyes softened by sentimentality, another one of those gentle chuckles leaving his throat before he leans forward and gently touches his lips to her pale cheek, her head lowering in response, gaze downturned for she knew his answer before he even speaks.

“My rose, I never meant for you to worry for me. I love you, I love you as my other-soul, my fellow guardian, as another aspect of life for the forest itself… But as you may never forget your origins to the beautiful thorn-blossoms, I also can never forget my roots in humanity.”

His gaze is firm, steady, full of that determination he has felt ever since he first felt the endless mercy the God-Willow, a determination as strong as he is kind, as willful as he is compassionate.

He looks fondly to Zyra, his mate, his fellow parent, guardian, and protector of nature, and, most importantly, his friend. A blooming exquisite beauty, who would dirty her face with tears at his expense, who would dirty her hands with the blood of beasts to feed him, who would go as far as to open her own sanctuary to provide him shelter from the cruel world of a human-run world. He murmurs soft thanks, running his hands over the soft featherings of petals upon her eyelashes, to the grasping green leaves that adorned her hair, her limbs, anything to comfort this treasure.

“But I do promise, upon the day my mission is done, no matter when or where that will be, I will return to you, my dear. I will return, and we will spend the rest of our eternity together, under these green canopies until they turn into dust, under the stars even should they lose their light. Even when humanity ends and the very sky falls, I will remain by your side.”

He grasps that vine-tangled hand, entwining their fingers together and listening, feeling, carefully, the thrum of life that beat through her body, to the life that ran through those veins. A life that he cares for, that he loves with all of his very being.

That rose-blossom, with her brows still furrowed and yet eyes lifting from their previous downward gaze to look incredulously, tender-heartedly, full of the lush life that blooms all around them to the honey-tinged gaze of her light.

“And you say you are no poet.”

The greenfather lets out a laugh, hearty, heartful, a sound that reverberates deep to Zyra’s heart.

“I really am not. You, my dear, just bring out the best of me.”

The two spent the rest of their time together seated in that meadow, fingers still intertwined, limbs touching, eyes upturned to the passing of wispy clouds and ears listening to the resuming of life. One of those previous songbirds return, splashing in the spring with a sweet song. A raccoon rummages for mushrooms and tubes in the root of the tree where the squirrel family had occupied before. One of those young dire-wolf tumbles out of the den, its sibling close after its heels as their parents looked on in sleepy pride from inside the dark cave.

Life moves on, and life’s guardians remained together, peering on upon their children, proud.

Full of love.

#drabble

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travellingmonk · 5 years

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Shin Kon Hen /Early Dusk Volume Book 4 - Chapter 3

Book title : Book 4 * Samurai Troopers * Shin Kon Hen (Early Dusk Volume) Published by Keibunsha Novels Character designs by Enzan Norio Story by Ushyuu Miki

Character designs by Enzan Norio Story by Ushyuu Miki

-> Chapter 3 - Era of the Oni < -

Despite the attack on Yakushi's house and the attackers having retreated into the nearby swamp lands, it took very little time for things to return to normal. Yakushi and Oni had managed to take cover in her mansion only seconds before the attack had begun, so neither one had been injured. The arrows embedded into the walls were removed and the walls themselves repaired to no longer show any signs of what had happened. If it had been almost anyone else, they would've been left upset, flustered, scared that another, larger attack, would come. Yakushi, however, shrugged it off. It's not like she wasn't expecting jealous people to try something, or any of the nasty people who resided in the swamp lands. This was par for the course and she'd be damned if she let it slow her down or hinder her quest for power in any way. Two full weeks had passed since that day. Deep within the heart of the city, in among the most beautiful area of the city with luxurious houses lining the street was a large, lush garden in full bloom. In the surrounding houses is where the most famous people and the nobles lived at. For all accounts and purposes, this appeared to be a beautiful and calm atmosphere to find oneself in. Sunlight poured down to invigorate the plants of the garden. A pond that had been built there to accentuate the space. Aside from being a garden, it also served as a rather fancy passage way between numerous buildings in the area. On this late afternoon, a beautiful woman with long black hair can be seen making her way through the space. Her clothing is very expensive looking but, curiously, she's not dressed as expensively as what she normally is. Yakushi carried a tray in her hands. A single white porcelian bowl with a lid was set on the tray. The humble looking items in contrast to her stunning looks, clothing, and dyed red lips. In the garden with her is a tall, thin man wearing a straight, unimpressive-looking coat. The instant the man saw her, he walked faster in order to meet her." Yakushi," he greeted with a genuinely happy smile. Seeing a woman as beautiful as her always made his day better. She smiled back at him. "Retired emperor, it's nice to see you. It's not often you make an appearance outside like this. Let's go back inside. The wind feels cold." He nodded in agreement and followed after her. Once they were inside a nearby building, having the place all to themselves, Yakushi sat down, taking an extra moment to make sure that her clothing was smooth and with as few wrinkles as possible. The retired emperor, a man who appeared to be somewhat young at first glance, but was, in fact, quite an older gentleman, smiled warmly at her, admiring her beauty. Last year after he'd fallen ill and needed to stay in bed, he gave up his role as the reigning emperor, allowing his brother to take command. After all, what good is an emperor if he spends his days in bed and asleep, instead of tending to the issues of his land and people? It was impossible for him to handle the hard work required, and the only solution was to let someone else take over, withdraw himself from society, and focus on trying to get better. Or, if worse came to worse and he died, he could pass on knowing that a suitable replacement was already in charge. Throughout it all, however, Yakushi had been at his side and he loved her. In Yakushi's opinion, he was much too young to have retired, even if he was sick. The retired emperor slowly sat down next to Yakushi and sighed. "I have to admit, I've been looking and feeling a lot better thanks to your prayers for healing and protection." She turned those deep brown eyes up to him and it was hard for him not to feel loved. "I'm glad to hear that. I did my best to make sure I prayed every single day to the gods and hoped they would hear me." "Seems like it worked. I appreciate it." "Indeed. Just you wait and see," she said as she removed the lit from the bowl, revealing soft, steamy, fresh food. "One day you'll be perfectly healthy and strong again." He nodded once as a thanks and took one of the items to eat. Yakushi sat quietly watching her favorite man in the world. This man that she enjoyed taking care of and genuinely cared about. If anyone were to look at her, they'd think she was, without a question, more beautiful than any noble person or townsperson who lived in this wonderful, luxurious city. It wasn't due to her carefully applied makeup or her beautiful clothes. Her physical appearance aside, she's the sort of woman who greatly loves this guy. It was the sort of love that a young child would have for a parent. The innocence of one so incredibly young and untainted by the evils and cruelty of the world. Whenever she was with him, anyone could see just how she felt about him. And, yet, she still had that dream of power. "When you're strong and healthy once more, let's go back to the capital city. I want to serve you and be at your side when you're the emperor again." He'd been in the middle of taking a bite of the food and actually paused at her statement. After finishing, he looked at her, a bit puzzled. "Yakushi, you've said that a lot of times, but each time I've told you that this is how things are now. I gave up being the emperor. I live here now." He turned to directly face her. "From now, this is how I'll be living the rest of my life." "But, you're still so young!" she countered. "Once you've overcome this illness, you'll be able to get back to work like you use to do." "I was already having health issues long before this hit me," he explained. "Even if whatever I'm suffering from now gets cured, I don't have the strength like I use to. I won't be able to handle all of the hard work that would be required of me. Besides, my brother is a good replacement from what I've seen. Whatever needs to be tended do, he's got this. I'm satisfied with my decision." "What good is all of the praying I've done to God and Buddha if, once you're all better, you don't even bother taking up your previous role as the emperor?!" She looked at him, feeling upset. For a woman who was so beautiful, raised to be well-educated and physically attractive like some sort of prestigious princess, she had more passion that a lot of the people he'd met over the years. "I will admit that the thought of becoming the emperor again would be nice, it's simply not something I'm fit to do any more. Having to deal with all of the politics involved, ugh, it's a headache. The higher the position someone has, the more noise that gets made. The easier it is to say careless things and hurt people's feelings." The tail end of that statement a gentle warning for her to watch what she says. "I'll never have the chance to regain my previous position and, as much as I appreciate you wanting that for me, and all of the prayers you've said on my behalf, this is simply how things are now. How about this? How about we go and live over in another city. Set up a residence there, move in together, have a nice life. That wouldn't be such a bad way to live, would it?" Yakushi looked at him, tears welling up in her eyes, her bottom lip trembling, more from anger than any sadness. For as much as she loved him, she knew better than to tell him about her personal motivations. The only reason she wanted him back in power was so she could have power, too. What good was she, how much power could she possibly hope to weild, being at the side of some retired emperor? She wanted- no. She NEEDED him to be the emperor again. Why couldn't he understand this!? He embraced her and gently patted her back. All that he had ever known Yakushi for was a beautiful woman who loved him and only wanted the best for him. "I know you only want the best for me. I know I was born into this weak body, so, forgive me for having been such an inconvenience to you," he said gently and apologetically. She began to cry, his words not doing much to help her feel better. For as upset and frustrated as she was, she couldn't fault him for having that sense of pride. He was a greater man than most who lived in this era. As emperor, he wasn't in it for the power or the prestige. He used his position to help people. To make things better. Well, to try his best to do so. One man could only do so much, even in the highest position in the country. On the other side of things was Yakushi. This was a woman who was as shrewd and intelligent as she was beautiful to look at. He could look at a lesser person and knew what was going on in their mind. Alongside this, she's also the kind of person who can't hold it against someone who follows their heart to do something truly good. She came from a family that has a pretty well known name, and her beauty was known throughout the entire city. It's not like she didn't have the opportunity to choose any man she wanted, including any that would become a famous man of the city. She wanted someone better than that. Someone who could see a single individual and their abilities, not get swept up and distracted by their appearance. She wanted someone who she could dedicate her family and her entire heart to. This is what she'd wanted out of the retired emperor. Then again, for a woman as proud and noble as Yakushi was, she was hindered by the fact that she was a woman. For someone to have such a sharp intellect and keep mind as her, she hated compromise and it seemd like everywhere she turned, that's what was being expected of her. It was a challenge and she hated it. The only way this could be changed was to get the emperor to change it. How could she do any of this if this blasted man refused to want to become emperor again? Pulling away from her, the gentleman gently took hold of her chin and raised her tear-streaked face to look at him. "Yakushi, what if I told you about an emperor from a very long time ago used his powers to define this very world we live in? It's said that this was a shining emperor from the ancient days." She blinked. Never before had she heard of this and it absolutely fascinated her. "An emperor can shine?" Wiping away the tears from her eyes, she intently listened to him. "It's said that long ago, long before God or Buddha had shown up in ths world, this world was a horrible place. People would fight and die all the time. Many, many people. Just before the world fell into eternal darkness and evil ways, the people who'd managed to survive all of that violence were afraid. So afraid that they prayed to heavens for help. For salvation. That's when it's said that an emperor dressed in glittering, shining armor appeared. This emperor single-handedly drove out all of the darkness and evil from the world." "It's said that the revelation of this emperor was what brought about the true beginning of our world." "Emperor," muttered Yakushi, "dressed in shining armor. . ." "And that the one who wears that armor has the power to guide this world and all living things in whatever direction they want. People and animals are said to receive life through the power of this shining emperor. That all of us have the ability within us to shine like that emperor. Isn't it a great story?" It looked as though the young woman was a hundred miles away. "Hey, what's the matter? Was it a disappointing story to hear about? My mother told it to me when I was a little kid, so, maybe it's not that good of a story after all?" She looked back at him with a smile. "Disappointing? Not at all. Think about it! An armor that can shine! That's great!" "The story says that the shine of the armor is the result of all those people who wanted to protect themselves. They wanted to live and be at peace. As if it were the physical embodiment of all their hopes, prayers, and dreams for a better way to live." "What if we were to get a hold of this armor?" Yakushi asked him. "Think of how much power it could give. It'd make you stronger than anyone in the world." He shook his head once. "No. The way you're thinking makes it sound like the only way to have power is my standing on top of and trampling other people. A human being is a living thing and will eventually die. Living a life made only by standing on top of others isn't a good way to live. Too many people get hurt all for the sake of one person's ambitions. Trying your best to live peacefully alongside others is a much better way to live. I want to live in a way that helps to protect people-" Unfortunately, little did the retired emperor know that his words were falling on deaf ears. She'd become absorbed by the thought of this radiant, shining, powerful armor that everything else seemed meaningless. Who wanted something like living in peace when they could simply wear a shining armor and be powerful enough to rule over everyone? And if this was an armor that only an emperor could weild, then, certainly, her beloved retiered emperor could somehow have access to this without even knowing it. What if there was a way to make him tap into that power and bring forth that armor to wear? If he got that armor and wore it, he'd be the single most powerful person in the world. No one would dare to stand against him . . . or stand against the woman at his side. After a while the retired emperor left her presense and returned to his own home nearby to rest. The next day found Yakushi visiting a nearby temple to partake in her usual daily prayers. Today, however, things were different. Once her usual bout of prayers were finished, she went to the priest in charge of the temple, wearing her best smile to flatter him. They were in a room together, all alone, that offered quite a nice view of the spacious courtyard outside. The priest closed the door behind her and found it a chore not to be completely taken back by her lovely appearance. This wasn't the first time he'd ever seen her, but it seemed like no matter when he saw her, she always looked amazing. "Tell me," she began, standing over by the window and looking outside, "do you know anything about an empror? A shining emperor?" "A . . . shining emperor?" he echoed. "Yes. I was recently told a story about an ancient warrior who was dressed in a shining armor. That he appeared a very long time ago." She looked back over his shoulder at him. "Back in the days when so much of the world was devoted to evil, one person wore a shining armor and chased away all of the evil in the world. That this armor shone like the sun itself." "Kikoutei." That one poetic word for the sun. He'd heard it before. "I believe I've heard of it, now that I think about it. From time to time we get scrolls here that need to be copied because they've been worn down with time, or new copies made for more people who need them. I remember seeing one scroll that depicted a scene of war with just such an armor on display." "What?! You have?!" Yakushi spun around on her heel and hurried over to him. Her sudden approach and invasion of his personal space took him completely offguard, making him involuntarily blush. "Uh, y-yes. If you give me a m-moment, I'll find it for you." He quietly left the room and entered into a nearby room where shelves of scrolls were kept at. It took him a few minutes of going through the scrolls before he found the exact one he'd been searching for. With it in hand, he returned to the room, heart rushing in his chest, and laid the scroll down onto a simple wooden desk. As he opened it, just as he'd said, a scene of some war was displayed on the paper. Then, there in the middle was a single warrior wearing white, shining armor. Two long swords held above his head.

(Translator's note : Yes, I know the above picture doesn't show this armor holding swords AT ALL, muchless over its head, but I wanted to work this very old style and official painting into the story. So... yeah. Enjoy!)

As Yakushi looked at the image on the paper, it looked a lot more shabby than she was expecting. She'd imagined something beautiful and regal and . . .not this. Then again, this was a very old picture and painted with a very old fashioned style. It was probably beautiful. Written along the side in dark ink were the words, 'The prayers of those who fear evil will make this warrior appear. This warrior collects the power of living things'. The priest watched as the young woman carefully looked over the image, half examining it, half wondering if the image or words had some special extra meaning for her to reveal. "Miss Yakushi," he began, "if I'm not being too forward, why are you interested in this old fairy tale?" She turned those deep brown eyes of hers onto him, they showing that she felt an excitement and fire over this. "If someone would be able to get a hold of this armor, of this 'Kikoutei'," a chill ran up the man's spine as she spoke, "able to harness the power of other people, then that person would be the single most powerful person in the world, right?" He looked at her, completely bewildered and astonished by her very unexpected question. No matter how you chose to look at this information, be it real or a fairy tale, if someone were to get their hands on this armor, they'd have the power of God or Buddha's incarnation. That would make the person wearing the Kikoutei armor rival to God himself. "M-Miss Yakushi, what you're saying. . ." He had no idea of her true intentions. How could a woman so regal and beautiful be anything but majestic and wonderful? . . . right? There's no way anyone except her brother would be aware of just how ambitious of a person she is, or how much greed she felt for power. The longer he looked at her, the more he felt absolutely bewitched by her beauty. Due to the time they lived in, so many of the priests had become greedy. Because of this fact, they weren't humble or afraid of anyone any more. They knew they held power over the people, and the people truly felt like they were powerless against all of the bad things currently going on. For some, this even made the priests a bit arrogant. No one would dare to question them if they wanted help. As Yakushi took a step closer to the priest, not even a full arm's length apart, she directly looking into his eyes, he didn't feel greedy or arrogant. One watching this scene play out would almost think that she was hypnotizing him. In a tone as smooth as silk, she spoke again. "Are you able to make this warrior appear?" "I-I-" he swallowed hard as she took another step closer. "The story goes that only the screams of fearful men can call on this armor. If this world is filled with evil, people will cry out in fear. They will scream and pray for someone to help them find peace." "I see. So, if I could fill this world with evil, then the armored warrior would have to appear," she mused, more as a spoken aloud thought, rather than directly addressing the priest. She smirked in a mischevious way. Not that long ago, she'd aquired Oni and he made it clear from the moment he appeared that he had no problems spreading evil. He would kill, intimidate, and strike fear into any and all who dared to lay eyes on him. With him under her command, it wouldn't take much effort to force the people of this land into a fear-filled state of mind like cattle awaiting the slaughter. With Oni's help, she would plunge this world into darkness, make it into a living hell, and force the armored warrior to appear. Once he did, how much effort would it really take in order to get that armor and use it to her own ends? She could already bend most anyone to her will if she flirted enough. Then, ah yes, then her beloved could wear that armor and become the shining emperor. She easily imagined the retired emperor wearing that armor, looking at her with a great smile of love on his face. All for her. Her attention was brought back to the present at she looked at the priest. Cheeks flushed red, pupils dialated, it was clear to see that her beauty and natural allure practally had him wrapped around her finger. The only thing he wanted to do was love her, make her his own, feel the love she had all aimed only at him. In reality, he'd completely fallen for her and he had become hers. If a woman could make a priest feel this way, certainly it would be no problem at all making the shining warrior surrender his armor to the retired emperor. She took one of his hands into her own and slowly, delicately drew one of her fingertips across the back of his hand, not once breaking her gaze. "Thank you for your help with this. Can I depend on you to keep saying prayers for our cherished retired emperor once I leave?" "Yes. Yes, of course. Whatever you want, I'll happily give to you," he somehow managed to say as her touch made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end and his heart beat faster. "Good. I should take my leave now. I have other things to tend to before the evening comes to an end." "Yes. I understand." He took her by the hands and led the way downstairs and into the main hall of the temple. "Please, on your way back home, be careful. Now, more than ever before, it seems like robbers are cropping up like weeds around here. I'd hate to see anything happen to you." "Thank you for your kind words. I'll be careful." "Here. As extra protection," the priest added, "I'll send this young man to the entrance of the city with you," indicating the somewhat heavy-set young man with short blue hair and matching blue eyes. "I'm sure this extra presence will help stave off any potential attackers since each one of the people who serve this temple are trained in the way of martial arts." "I see. I accept your offer," she said, getting into her carrage and settling down on the beautifully decorated pillows inside. As the cow-drawn carrage began to move forward, the monk wordlessly obeyed and walked alongside it. Of all the people this could've been in the entire world, this was Kose Shuusetsu. There was a full moon overhead, illuminating everything with a soft sort of glow. Instead of making everything feel serene and peaceful, instead, everything seemed to now have an air of something suspicious hanging about. Maybe it was due to this strange illumination that Yakushi returned to her home without a single incident. Maybe that's what kept the 'monsters' at bay that night.

In a large room, the windows boarded up to allow as little light as possible to enter, candles were set all around and lit. The flame from one of the candles swayed in the wind, making the otherwise stable light seem to sway, ever so slightly. Yakushi was in the room with the muscular, towering Oni standing in front of her. Quite unlike the first time they met, he now stood before her in black armor that was specifically made to fit his body and, beneath that was hunting clothing that was known for being strong and durable. His black hair was smooth and slicked back, though it was unclear if the color was due to it being his natural hair color, or if it was so dirty that nothing could wash it clean. His eyes were sharp and clear. This man seemed to radiate an attitude of someone who's been on the battlefield before, and has no problems returning to it. He certainly was the type of person who stood out among all of the fancy houses and people who lived here in the city. Despite the size and high difference, Yakushi looked up at him without an ounce of fear or hesitation. "Have you managed to find many skillfull people to add to your ranks?" "Not yet," he replied, his strong, deep voice feeling cold to listen to. "People around here seem weak. Even less have any real desire to fight or shed blood. To have men strong enough to bring about war, the ones here aren't good enough." "Yes, yes, yes, I know that they're weaklings," she said with a dismissing wave of her hand. "But you're going to need a lot of people who are suitable but, for now, anyone who's willing to fight should be good enough. Are there any around here like that?" He was quiet for a long moment. "In that way, it's good enough. I have managed to find a few people, telling them that I'm gathering people to help create a new role. For there to be a protective security force to keep the outlying city borders safe." Yakushi walked across the room and sat down on a chair, setting one elbow down on the armrest, then placing her chin against her palm. "You need to make a surname for yourself. Really make a name that, even if people don't recognize, they'll learn to know it instead of making strange guesses about who you are. Even if it's a completely fake name, you need to have something." She looked over Oni from head to toe. Sure he was an extraordinarily large man, but looking at him like this, no one would think he's an Oni. He looks like litle more than some person who beats up people and likes spending more time on a battlefield than he would around peaceful people. It was clear as day that he wasn't like other people, and, if given the correct set of circumstances, he could easily gain fame as a ruthless warlord. From everything she'd seen of him so far, he didn't have the mentality to carry out something so intricate and planned. And yet, at the same time, it's like he radiated some kind of strange nobility. Something that set himself apart from everyone else. Something that struck as much awe as it did fear into anyone who looked at him. Maybe she could use this Oni to her own will. Shape him into what she wanted. Make other people believe that he, alone, was so strong and cunning. He would be the key to destroying ths entire reality and bringing her exactally what she wanted. She chuckled at the thought. First thing was first, though. He needed a surname. Something different than what anyone else in the city had. "Let me think," she muttered. "What would be a good name that anyone would immediately associate with being protective? A good, strong name for you to have." Oni had no real inclination to speak or offer any possible suggestions. What would he know of any families or noble people who lived in the city? He hadn't even known his own name when he met her on the road. As she mused to herself, it's almost as if her silky smooth and intoxicating voice was beginning to shake free fragments of memories he'd long since forgotten about. Somehow listening to her voice was having this curious affect on him. Suddenly, from out of the blue, a single word came to the forefront of his mind. "Arago." Yakushi blinked, looking directly at his face. "Hm? You say something?" Speaking loud and clear for her, he repeated himself. "Arago. I remembered that just now." She lifted a single eyebrow. Well, it certainly was a word she hadn't heard around here before. Giving herself the time to let that word roll around in her head, she eventually said it aloud. "Arago. It does sound like a strong name. . . as if it has some sort of noble air about it." "I. . . think . . . it is what the most precious thing in this world is." The beautiful woman nodded once with a satisfied smile on her face. "Well then, from now on, that's what you'll be known as. 'Arago'. It's strange, but I like the way that sounds. As if it belongs to a man who will maintain the security of the city at all costs." The more she thought about it, the more amusing it became. Arago, someone who people would look to for protection would end up being a horrible man and becoming a monster of nightmares. No one would have a clue. Arago's sudden, short laugh caught her offguard. "What's so funny?" She sat up straight to look at him. "It's funny seeing how a woman reacts to my name." For the first time since she'd met him, he'd taken her completely by surprise. Although he hadn't, exactally, said anything rude or insulting, there was something in the tone he was using that sounded exactally like he was purposely being rude and, moreover, didn't regret it. She stood up from her chair and glared at him. "Don't you be rude to me! I picked you up off of the roadside when you were little more than a filthy, blood-covered beast! I've given you a place to stay, food to eat, clothes to wear, even working to get you into a position of military power. If you're that disrespectful to me again, I won't be able to forgive you!" Though she hadn't come right out and said it directly, the threat looming in the air was clear enough. If he pulled that kind of tone again, she'd kick him out of her service, out of the city, and dump him back in the wilds of the countryside where she found him at. It was an interesting exchange, considering how powerful and threatening Arago was. He'd slaughtered men without a second thought. Who's to say that if he was in a bad enough mood, that she wouldn't suffer the same fate at his hands? Then again, there was Yakushi, this delicate, lovely looking woman standing up to him as if he was nothing more than a mouse to be killed under her heel. "Don't you dare forget that I am your lord. I'm the reason you have anything you currently have, and the reason why you will be leading the way to an entirely new era. Keep this fact in your heart from now on." He nodded once to her and she couldn't help somewhat regretting trying to treat this Oni as a regular man of the city. He was something else entirely. Who knows? Maybe he had no heart at all in that chest of his and couldn't feel a thing. Brushing her long hair back over her shoulders, regaining her cool composure and standing up straight. At the end of the day, it didn't matter what his name was. Her first goal was to get him to kill the current reigning empror. Didn't matter how. He simply had to die and get out of her way. With no descendants and only the retired emperor still around, he would have to regain his previous position. With him dead, people would be thrown into a state of panic. That's when she'd be waiting for Kikoutei to arrive. Yes. Yes, that sounded good enough. "You're dismissed." Without a word, he exited the room, leaving Yakushi along with her scheming thoughts. As he made his way outside, he'd already forgotten the fact that he had long since been unable to remember anything of his past. Some time ago, this Oni was called Arago. He'd crossed paths with a travelling monk for a short while. To the best of his ability to remember, this monk was the only person he'd ever known to have treated him as a human being. Not some peasant to be pitied, not some blood-thirsty beast to be feared, but, just a guy. He looked up at the sky and wondered how long he'd been all alone out in the world for. How long had he been a beast instead of a human being trying desperately to simply survive from one hour to the next? There was no way to know for sure. Some things in his mind were still absent and he had no idea how to access them, or even if there was anything there TO access. Maybe none of that was at all relevant. After all, here he was practally living in luxury and not feeling like he had to react like a wild animal at anything that moved in his line of sight. What should his rough past matter when he had all of this?

A month had passed since that day. Thanks to Yakushi's brother, Nakanari, stepping up and putting in a lot of effort to help bring the first phase of his sister's plan into action, Yakushi's armed men came to be recognized as a competent military division. Just as she'd planned, they were tasked with maintaining the security inside the city's walls. It took a bit of time, but with Arago, this towering, large, muscular man leading the way on his pure black horse, worthy men who practiced the martial arts appeared to join his ranks. The only downside is that there were only four men who really stood about the rest as any sort of warrior. Those who wanted to join their cause but weren't as skilled are who served under these four men. Arago was the one who would lead the way. Four men directly served him and would follow his commands. The remaining ones served those four. It wasn't really the full fledged army that Yakushi had been aiming for, but, hey, everyone's got to start somewhere. Maybe this drop in a bucket would bring about more people, more warriors, more soldiers to join their cause in due time. Or, who knows? Maybe this was just the right amount to bring about the hell on Earth that she wanted. The four young men who served Arago were :

(Translator's note : Sorry for the interruption. Just wanted to make it clear that I'm not great with Japanese names and that I'm largely guessing at which is the first or last name. For the sake of ease, let's just say that the names I use in the story from here on out are the names they're called by. I leave it up to you to decide if it's their first or last name. Also, since it seems like these four play an important role? in the story for now, I'm adding in some physical traits so I'm not just calling them by their name or 'he', since that gets real old REAL quick.)

"Oe Shinsei". Black haired, brown eyes, and had made it loud and clear that he was best suited to be a leader of men. "Nana Yokuseki". A young man with brown hair, matching brown eyes, shorter than the other three, but who was a brave and quite the martial artist, despite his young age. And then there was Akimitsu. Blue green eyes, black hair, and who had a strong sense of justice and what was right. "Tomoaki Tenshou". Black haired, blue eyed young man who was a master of the bow and arrow. He came from the Wakasa Prefecture and was able to use swords. This had recently earned himself quite the reputation over in the city of Amitsu. Unlike the others, this young man had encountered Arago once before and immediately sensed that simply the presence of this great man named 'Arago' had something useful to offer in the coming years. He wanted to be a part of this. Using his bow to beat the doors of Yakushi's mansion, he did this solely to get Arago's attention and to be a part of this group. As expected, he was chosen to be one of the top men serving in Arago's Tokyo Metropolitan Security Bureau. Now you can see a little of the measure of this man as well as his purpose for the city. Along with this there is one particular young man who is a part of this group. His name is 'Fuji Takekuni', however, in reality, he's Nosuri, Kaosu's childhood friend who infiltrated Arago's group. What better way to gain information about an enemy than to infiltrate their ranks, right? This had seemed like the most logical approach to learn about 'Oni' and to try and, somehow, prevent Yakushi's scheme from becoming reality. One of the first things the security forces did once they were officially allowed to operate, was to deal with the people living just outside of the capital city in the swampy areas and who had caused so much trouble for the civilians. The night sky was well-illuminated by a full moon overhead. Arago and his four subordinates moved carefully on horseback. They were all dressed in dark clothing. Even in this soft glow, it was difficult to see any of the men moving about. The security forces had decided to strike late at night when most everyone was fast asleep. As expected, this would take the criminals completely by surprise and without any real time to mount a defense. The first move was to take cover, use whatever shadows existed to their advantage, and watch. They had to make sure the odds were in their favor and not be walking into some kind of trap. All of the men were silent. They all watched as one of their own made his way up to the gate of the house and scouted the area. Sure enough, in this small patch of the wetlands, there were people living here. There were several buildings, barely more than huts from the look of things, thad had some families living in them. This wasn't any place people would be found living in unless they had no other choice. They couldn't register as residents of the city so. . . what else were they to do? Even then, by the laws of the city, this isn't a place where anyone was permitted to live. Although this was currently the time for harvesting crops, some people still came to the city in search of work. If they couldn't find work, there's no way to make a living, no way to get food. They and their family would die. More people got turned away and refused work, than those who got hired to do anything or goods bought from. "What do you think?" Yokuseki quietly asked one of his comrades. Shinsei replied. "I don't know. This doesn't really look like some secret hideout for people who go around stealing stuff, muchless attacking and killing people." Akimitsu looked away from his two comrades and back towards the huts. He felt sorry for the people who felt like they had to live out here. Living out in the middle of the countryside under the threat of attacks had to be living in a swampy area like this. They'd come out here with the intent of finding a den of thieves and blood-thirsty murders, ready to attack anyone who dared to approach their territory. Not . . . this. It looked more like a tiny settlement where people were trying their best simply to survive and get by from one day to the next. "I agree," the black haired, blue eyed Tomoaki stated. "So, what do we do? Sure they're living in an unhealthy place, and they can't come live in the capital city-" Before he had the chance to finish that sentence, the sound of a horse neighing cut through the otherwise quiet, dark night. Soon followed by the sight of Arago plowing through the huts. Anyone watching could see the weak buildings give way with too much ease, knowing that there were people inside. Screams could be heard cuttign through the air. All four of the young men's faces showed the shock and bit of horror at the scene unfolding before themselves. "Arago!" shouted Shinsei, emerging from his hiding spot behind a tree. "What do you do!?" Everyone was taken completely offguard and stunned by what their leader on horseback was doing. There was no point in staying hidden now. Either Arago didn't hear them, or chose not to respond because he didn't care, he continued the unprovoked attack. His rampage through the small area and wasting no time mowing down the ramshackle buildings left no doubt in anyone's mind that there would be no survivors from this. There were cries from nearby as people from a few, previously unsee, huts emerged from their little homes to find nothing but the sight of a slaughter unfoling before them. A woman cried in pure fear. Children stumbled outside alongside their parents to see what the commotion was. An old man, a mother with a baby, even a pregnant woman caught sight of this and tried to flee. All of it was in vain, however. Arago, powerful horse underneath him, deadly sharp blade held over his head and ready to slash anyone apart, made certain none of these people would leave here alive. Shinsei shouted as he raced up to the scene of this massacre. "Mr. Arago! Stop! These people aren't dangerous!" He had to stop a short distance away due to how his leader was behaving. He drove that horse like it was crazy and didn't do a thing to ease up on the reins. Hearing Arago's laughter as he ran his blade through a young father who was trying to escape with a young child only made the brown eyed young man's stomach tense up into a knot. Akimitsu, unable to stand by and watch this horrid scene any longer, charged his horse forward and aimed right at Arago. His strong sense of justice wasn't about to let this carry on for a moment longer. Arago looked like he'd gone crazy and had no desire to stop. Akimitsu bodly rode his horse directly in front of Arago's own horse. Just like that, Arago's horse reacted, letting out a shrill sound as it came to a sudden stop, not wanting to crash into the other man's horse. "Guys, we have to stop him!" Akimitsu called out. "Let's get in his way," Yokuseki agreed, kicking his heels into his own horse's side. "Akimitsu, move before you get injured!" The blue green eyed young man didn't move his horse from in front of Arago's. Arago, panting sharply, more from the thrill and excitement than from exhaustion, snarled at his subordinate. "Stop being a coward!" he barked, pulling his horse closer to Akimitsu's before lifting a foot and kicking the neck of the younger man's horse. This wasn't enough to knocked the horse off its hooves, but it was more than plenty to make it rear up and throw the young man off. He hit the ground hard, but the pain didn't register. Everything that was going on, and the Adrenaline shooting through his veins at that moment seemed to be doing a good enough job at keeping any pain he might be feeling at bay. The other three young men gasped at the sight. What sort of leader would attack one of his own?! None of them could understand what was going on in Arago's head. "Akimitsu, you okay?" Shinsei asked, watching the man get to his feet, looking more angry than hurt. "I'm fine," he replied before glaring at their leader. "Arago!" This made Tomoaki and Takekuni stop their horses only a few steps away. The villagers, if you could call them that, that had survived so far and managed to, by some miracle, not get trampled or sliced open, watched at a distance. Some were too scared or surprised to move, others had fled for cover behind nearby trees. "Stop this right now!" Akimitsu shouted at Arago. "Feh," Arago huffed, looking around himself to see the onlookers. "Seems like I missed some." Completely ignoring his soldiers, he dismounted and shifted the grip he had on his sword. He began to run at an old man, lifting the sword over his head and letting out a fierce war cry. "GYAAAAAHH!!!!!" One would almost think that the sword moved only through thin air as it slashed downward. The old man's body falling to the ground a second later let everyone know that Arago had not missed. Without an ounce of pity or remorse, the large beast of a man swung his sword, killing a child. The four young men's mouths dropped open at the sight of this madness. "This is like some sickening level of hell playing out before us," said Yokuseki, feeling sick at the scene. "When is this going to stop?" he asked, more to himself than to anyone else around. As what few survivors remained fled into the darkness and out of the reach of the sword-weilding Arago, all four of the soldiers felt some kind of sick and angry at what had just happened. They were victims of this completely unreasonable punishment. Arago had acted like they were nothing more than pieces of meat to be cut down where they stood. There was no judge or jury, no sentencing or arrests. This had been nothing more than an execution. No... it was something worse. This is something human beings shouldn't do. Ever. This was the work of a madman. Shinsei shouted at their leader. "Arago! How could you do that?! Those people had nothing to do with what happened! And-and you just slaughtered them!" Arago walked back towards the four, fresh blood dripping from his sword. Akimitsu placed a hand on the side of his horse's neck. It would be sore, but fine otherwise. "They're little more than farmers! They're not savages or attackers." he barked at the other man, feeling hot with anger. As horrible as this was, the completely unnecessary slaughter, as Arago made his way back to his four subordinates, he seemed to be much more calm and rational. How could someone who worked for the government be like this!? Dragging the broad, flat side of the bloodied sword across his thigh, wiping away the blood, he stood before the four young men. As he flipped the sword over to do the same on the other side, he spoke. "Why are you all making such a fuss about this? It's like listening to you complain about someone killing bugs. If they can't contribute anything useful to society, then there's no reason for them to exist." "What?!" Takekuni blurted out, too angry to think of much else to say. "It-it doesn't matter if they're contributing anything or not!" Akimitsu snapped at his leader as he got back onto his horse. "They're still human beings!" Arago sheathed his sword and looked up at the small group of men with a faint smile on his lips. It was almost laughable how different their perceptions of this was. Who knows? Maybe Arago was simply insane. With a sharp whistle, the large, muscular, blood splattered man called his black horse to his side. No one said a word as Arago mounted his horse, then led the way back to the capital city. No conversation, no complaints, not a single sound from any of them. Only the horse's hooves walking across the ground provided sound. The entire ride back, the young warriors couldn't shake what they'd witnessed. Such a tragic, unspeakable massacre and this kind of deep-seated anger in the pit of their stomachs would stay with them for a long time. By the time they'd returned to the military club's yard, the young men were more than ready to tell Nakanari, Yakushi's brother and the person in charge of the military department, about that evening's event. Tomoaki, Shinsei, Akimitsu, and Takekuni all stood in a closed, well-lit room with Nakanari. They'd let him know what had transpired out in the swamplands nearby and just how they felt about it. Much to their shock and dismay, the older man's reaction wasn't what they were expecting. He offered them a nonchalant sort of smile and shrugged. "I wouldn't worry about it. After all, those people were inferiors to us. Those peasants entered that area illegally and chose to stay there. Their fate was their own fault." The four young men were absolutely stunned to hear this. "What the hell did you just say?" Shinsei exclaimed. Nakanari's expression barely changed at all, despite the involuntary insult. "Idiots will eventually end up as robbers and thieves living out in the middle of nowhere. Who's to say that they wouldn't have eventually ended up exactally like that and attacking poor innocent civilians of the city? From the sound of it, it sure seems like Arago took care of that before it had the chance to become a problem for anyone. In the end, as long as the city and its residents are safe, that's the only thing that matters." Akimitsu balled his hands into tight fists at his sides. The blue eyed Tomoaki placed a hand on his comrade's arm, silently telling him not to react. Things seemed like they were going from bad to worse. If Nakanari had this sort of attitude towards what was basically the murder of innocent people, who knew what sort of punishment they'd get if Tomoaki's anger got the better of him and he struck the one person in charge of this entire group. Tomoaki spoke up next. "There's a limit to how much a person is able to see. I mean, hell, we saw him kill an innocent little girl tonight!" Nakanari turned his dark brown eyes to look directly at him. "Then I say, commit what you saw to memory. That's the sort of punishment that anyone who stands against this city, its laws, or tries to attack any one of us deserves. Maybe if word of this spreads, less of those people would be willing to break the laws we've set in place." "What about all of those dead bodies?" Akimitsu asked. "We can't just leave them out there to rot. It's not just disrespectful, but those decaying bodies could bring diseases. Shouldn't we, at LEAST, go out there and bury them?" This seemed to have riled up Nakanari. "Burial!? For those peasants?!" he shouted, almost sounding as if he was reacting to a personal insult thrown at him directly. No. Just say they fell asleep and leave them where they lay. Tell people they were nothing more than sinners and leave it be at that." Tomoaki stepped forward, the only person standing between Nakanari and the other warriors in the room. His body was tense and he was trying hard to keep himself in check. "So you're honestly going to stand here and say that what Arago did was correct?" Nakanari sighed heavily. "I'm not saying he was entirely correct the way he carried it out, but, I'm also not saying he was wrong to do so. He did what he felt he had to in order to maintain the security of this city. Of our home here." "Okay, we get it," Shinsei said. It's clear that their view of the situation was different than their own and nothing they said was going to change the minds of Nakanari or Arago. "Thanks for listening to us." Nakanari nodded once then left the room. Tomoaki waited until he was sure the man was out of earshot before he punched a nearby wall from how angry he was feeling. "What is going on around here?!" He turned to face the others. "Is this really suppose to be the city's 'new and grounbreaking' politics at work? Helping to change things for the better and bring about peace? Our leader is going out and murdering people, and the only person he answers to doesn't see a problem with anything he did. What sort of peace could that possibly achieve!?" Shinsei was the youngest and most friendly of the group. This brown eyed young man, who anyone would had the strongest sense of justice and what was right out of their entire group, was probably the most angry of them all. Sure he wanted to bring about peace, and was upset when it came to anyone who threatened that, but this? What happened tonight wasn't right. It wasn't fair. Nakanari and Arago were wrong. Everyone in their small group was in agreement about that. They'd all dreamed of a bright and wonderful new future for their city. By being here, they were going to be a part of history. Something they could take pride in, even when they were old and gray. It was only on this night that they saw how wrong they were. "I don't know," Shinsei said. "From what I saw tonight, Arago seemed more like that Oni guy I've heard rumors about." The young men all looked to him as he spoke. "You know, that really large guy that rides a horse darker than the night sky, and who slaughtered a bunch of Yakushi's guards. I thought Arago was a strong man and would be a great leader. Now . . . I'd almost say that Arago was the Oni or something." "Yeah, but," began Akmitsu, "that whole Oni rumor is just that. A baseless rumor. I heard he was some grotesque monster that Yakushi picked up alongside the road and that would kill any enemy that dared to approach her. Arago doesn't look like that. There's no way they could be one in the same . . . right?" It's not like nearly everyone in the city hadn't been talking about this mysterious 'Oni' character. Some had gone so far to say that they'd seen with their own eyes this blood-stained ogre-like beast escorting Yakushi into the city a few weeks back. Takekuni exhaled heavily, silencing everyone as well as getting their attention. He looked at each of the young men with a serious expression. As if there was a weight on his shoulders. "There's something I need to tell you all." He sat down on the edge of a wooden table nearby, crossing boths arms over his chest. "My name isn't Takekuni. I'm called Nosuri and what I'm going to tell you next is extremely important." From there, he told them about what he knew of Arago's history and of his clan. He wouldn't swear them to silence about this information, but as serious as this all was, it went without saying that this was precious information. The sort of thing not open spoken with or gossiped about unless they only wanted to make matters worse than what they currently are. Shinsei and Akimitsu were clearly stunned by the revelation, though all of the young men were surprised. A clan of people helping bring peace and guidance to the world? The Oni heralding into an era of darkness? This 'Kaosu' character being the entire world's only hope for stopping it? It was different than anything they'd heard of in their lives, but, in a weird sort of way, it felt like it made sense. Sure, things weren't all flowers and rainbows before, but they'd all noticed an increase of bad things going on over the years. Progressively getting worse without any real cause as to why. If it was all due to the Oni's presense. . . "If what you're saying is true," Akimitsu said, "really true, then that person has already gotten into this city's highest military position! He's too dangerous to leave there!" "I agree with you," Tomoaki added. "We're suppose to be out in the world preforming a service to protect the people, help make things better for everyone. Not going out into the dead of night to massacre innocent people who were asleep in their homes, just because they're not 'registered' in the city. It's all different kinds of 'wrong'. And then to hear Nakanari basically saying 'oh yeah, what Arago did is no big deal' just pisses me off even more. What sort of person even says that horrible sort of thing?!" The young men nodded in full agreement. Takekuni spoke up next. "I hear you. For Nakanari to have appointed Arago into such a high ranking position then barely batting an eye hearing what he'd done, things are probably worse than I'd figured. To be supporting such activities is . . ." he exhaled heavily. It was difficult not to feel a firey sort of anger about this whole situation. "There should be no excuse for recommending or excusing the slaughter of exiles just because someone of a higher rank says so. We have to stop this from going any further. However, what if it's worse than we think? What if there's no one in a high ranking government position who's willing to stop this? What we do is basically going to end up being useless. We might put a stop to Arago, but there's no way we can stop the wave of what's already coming." "How in the world," Shinsei asks, "could someone as horrible as Arago get to be the leader of this military group? Weren't there others before us who saw his behavior and wouldn't have tolerated it long before now?" Akimitsu is the one who supplied the answer. "The way I heard it, Nakanari was the one who put him in that position. There wasn't any sort of progression to get the rank he's got." Takekuni offered what information he had. "Yakushi and Nakanari are siblings. She's close to the retired emperor. Sure she's out of the whole political scene, but who's to say that she doesn't still have some amount of leverage in the government because of her relationship? I can't imagine it'd take very much on her part to have convinced the retired emperor to put her brother in charge of this whole operation, then Nakanari left to make whatever decisions he wants, even if they're poor ones." "That's messed up," Tomoaki grumbled under his breath. Akimitsu shook his head once. "What's the driving factor behind all of this if that is the case? Why would Nakanari ever want someone like Arago in charge?" Takekuni shrugged, resting both hands behind himself on the table and leaning back a bit. Taking a moment out to try collecting and organizing everything he'd learned thus far. "Do you think anyone in a higher rank that Nakanari knows about any of this?" Shinsei asked to no one in particular. "I doubt it," the blue eyed Tomoaki replied. "I'd like to think that if someone was, they'd have removed both men from the positions they've got right now. Unless they were as corrupt as these two. Ugh. I don't even want to think about if that's the case," he grumbled, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose. As it stands, it was impossible to know for sure if anyone higher up was aware of any of this, or if anyone outside of this room could even be trusted with this sort of information. "Nakanari," Takekuni said, "is a member of a family with a whole lot of power in this city. Furthermore, behind him is the retired emperor. I don't think there's anything we can do right now in order to fix this situation." Akimitsu gritted his teeth, balling both hands into fists. It was bad enough to be on the front lines of this, but hearing that only seemed to make things worse. "What're we suppose to do, then?" Yokuseki asked, sounding frustrated and exhausted. "Keep serving Arago and pretend like none of this is going on? Follow his lead and be expected to slaughter innocent people just because without a second thought? Ignore the fact that everything seems to be getting worse?" "No," Takekuni, or, rather, Nosuri, said, getting their attention. It was in this very moment he realized that there was a shared feeling among them all. A sense of solidarity among these four warriors. They all had a sense of justice in their hearts. It was in this moment that something completely new had been forged. "We may not be able to directly do anything yet, but that doesn't mean we're out of options." As far as he could piece everything together, the horrible beast called 'Oni' was actually Arago. Yakushi had picked him up and brought him to this city. She probably made sure her brother was put in charge of this group of warriors, as well as making sure her 'Oni' was placed right at the forefront. But why? What was their end goal? "Give me a bit of time to get everything together and speak with my clan about this. We'll meet up again later and take it from there. Alright?" The four young men nodded. It wasn't much, but it was the beginning of something. That, in and of itself, was better than being left to their own devices and being angry at a situation they couldn't do a thing about. They all left the room and went their own ways for the remainder of the night. Nosuri making his way outside of the city a little ways to talk with a fellow clan member who was coming into the city. The young woman had been left in charge of watching Nakanari and Yakushi's servants. So far nothing out of the ordinary had been noticed. Yakushi had departed on her usual trip to a temple in a nearby city to offer up prayers for the retired emperor's health. The catch was, the young woman had noticed that the temple had gotten itself quite the reputation for preforming mysterious curses to those who were willing to pay a high enough price. He thanked the young woman for the valuable information then parted ways. After getting himself some black clothing to wear, in the dead of night and under the cover of darkness, taking advantage of what few precious hours remained before daylight would return, Nosuri made his way to the temple as fast as his horse could carry him. Silently he snuck into the quiet, dimly lit temple. Certainly anyone around would've long since been asleep by now and, hopefully, he wouldn't have to worry about running into anyone. Making his way down one of the wooden hallways, making sure his footsteps were as quiet as possible, he made his way to where the leader of the temple's office was. Logically speaking, it would have to be the easiest room to find to accomidate the single most powerful person on the property. If there was any proof to be had, or any exchanged letters with Yakushi, maybe that could help shed some light on this whole situation. As he continued down the hallway, ever so faintly he could hear something frightening and unsettling. It was a sound that, for most any normal human, wouldn't have been heard. For Nosuri, however, being a member of the clan of Kaosu and having much more heightened senses, he could hear something that could only be truly described as a creepy roar, as if it was somewhere far away and faint. Such as the roar of demons echoing from the core of the Earth itself. It didn't make things much better considering there was a slight stink to the air. It was difficult to identify what it was, but it made his nose scrunch up against it. It was something he had never been exposed to and, secretly, is something he genuinely hoped he'd never have to smell again after this night's activity. As unpleasant as it was to be in this building, things only seemed to grow worse feeling the closer he got. His initial goal may have been to get to the main office of this temple, but he felt pulled towards the large main hall, instead. The place seemed to be the darkest part of this entire complex. The place where a spooky voice seemed to resonate within. Looking up at the tall ceiling overhead, only pure darkness greeted him. Any logical human brain would be saying nothing but the night's shadows were there. He being more than any regular human, and sensitive to more things, knew many bad things had the potential to be hiding there. Moving through the vast room, tuned in to any noises at all, he soon found himself down on his hands and knees and looking behind an altar. Through a few thin gaps between the wooden floor boards, candle light spilled forth. Placing an ear close to one of those spaces, sure enough, that's where the sound of some eerie prayer was being said. Looking down through one of the small gaps, he could see the priest of this temple sitting on a bed and casting a spell of some kind. The longer he watched, the stranger it got. He watched as the flame of one of the candles in the priest's room began to move, flicker, and act in a way normal fire never should. It swelled in size, taking the appearance of a face, no, many faces of different people, then to that of some grotesque bird-like monster. Then, it moved from on top of the candle, made its way across the room without lighting anything on fire, and sat on an altar near where the priest was at. Nosuri moved over to a different gap in the floor and was able to see more pieces of the room's interior. A human skull was seen nearby. Papers with spells written on them. Objects that looked much too similar to voodoo dolls. Sitting up, he happened to look at the back of the altar. There was the image of some sort of sacred god or Buddha, Nosuri honestly couldn't tell in this low light, a bowl of sesame seeds, an offering of some kind, perhaps? And some unfamiliar inscriptions carved into the stone of the altar itself. This whole place seemed to reek of ill intentions. If Yakushi had been coming here, then she must be coming here, repeatedly, knowing full well this was an evil place. Any good, logical person would've been avoiding this place like the plague. Quietly standing up, he figured that there must be some way that priest comes out of that room using some hidden passageway. It would be incredibly reckless if that priest had left easy access to that room for anyone to stumble across. He made his way out of the main hall and began walking through a separate hallway looking for any secret signs, passageways, levers, doors, anything to hint at hidden secrets. It was in the midst of this that something, or rather, someone, took him by surprise. "You DO know you're in a temple, right?" came a young man's steady voice. For as bad as the enviroment felt in this building, oddly enough, Nosuri didn't feel that much immediate danger from the other person. He turned around to see a monk standing in front of him. He was a young man and looked a little fat, but he held a wooden staff at the ready and aimed at Nosuri. Sure he looked young and not exactally fit and trim, but under those monk's robes, it was as good a guess as any that he was probably well built and was confident in using his ability of weilding that staff as a proper injury-inflicting weapon. The young man narrowed his eyes at the intruder. "You don't look like any of the field robbers we've got around these parts. What're you doing in this temple?" Nosuri raised both of his hands in front of his chest, palms facing the monk. "My name is Nosuri. I'm sorry for the intrusion at such a late hour. Please, forgive me." It was an incredibly curious and strange exchange. The monk smiled and it was as if, on some subconscious level, there was an understanding that neither was a threat to the other and both wanted to avoid a useless fight. The monk rested the staff at this side, keeping one hand on it solely to make sure it didn't fall over and clatter to the floor. "Eh. Not a big deal. So, what brings you here in the dead of night?" "To be completely honest, I'm searching for something important. Information, if I can find it, that is." He rested both hands at his side as well. "I see." The monk walked back into the main hall, Nosuri following behind, more from curiousity than anything else. He approached a small stand that was reserved for food offerings to the great Buddha. "Good luck finding anything like that around here." "Thanks. Just so you know, I don't have any intention of starting or wanting to be in a fight. I'd like to avoid that if at all possible." "Eh, don't worry about," the monk said. "I'm not much of a fighter at heart, either." He brushed his fingertips across a few of the food items left in the bowl of the stand, carefully looking over the items. "That's a relief to hear. Hey, you mind if we just sit and talk for bit?" It seemed like a crazy thing to ask. "Sure. Not a big deal to me." He picked up a small roll of bread from the bowl, barely larger than his own fist, and took a seat on the floor. Nosuri decided to have a seat as well, though his mouth dropped open when he watched the monk take a bite out of the bread. Something that was meant to be left as an offering, not a snack food for hungry monks. The young man couldn't help a chuckle from escaping. After swallowing, he explained. "Ah, heh, sorry about that. I'm usually on night duty around here and if I'm on patrol with an empty stomach, well, heh no one's going to be getting a good night of sleep with my stomach growling up a storm." Nosuri had to try and keep himself from making too much noise as he laughed. Yeah, it wasn't really a good thing to be taking food from an offering bowl meant for a god, but he couldn't exactally blame the guy for a noisy, growling stomach in the dead of the night. "I understand. And," he leaned over to whisper, "don't worry. I won't tell anyone." This got a big smile from the monk, glad to see the intruder had a healthy sense of humor. It was a weird scene. These two, who should've been enemies and fighting by now, making more than enough racket to wake up everyone in the nearby vicinity, and, yet, here they sat on the floor being okay with one another's presense. "Why do you live here?" Nosuri asked. "This isn't really a good place to be, and you seem like you're still a young and energetic sort of guy." "It's tough living out in the world. When I left home, I was completely overwhelmed by everything I came into contact with. The only viable solution I managed to find was to come here. I know that this place isn't a paradise and it's got its fair share of problems, but . . . it's good enough. Oh, the name's Shuusetsu, by the way. Oh, I mean, my Buddhist temple name is Tetsuhide." He sighed heavily, taking another bite from the bread. "I know this place is rotten. It's not perfect, but I chose to walk the path of Buddha. A temple like this seemed as good a place as any to do that." "I see, I see," Nosuri said, nodding. "About a month ago, I'd gotten sick and tired of being here among all these corrupt people and rotten temples, so, I decided to escape. Lo and behold, I found my way to the mountains of Yoshino and got myself completely and totally lost. I thought for sure I was going to starve and die out there. I mean, nothing but forest everywhere. It's not a thing like around where people live. Buddha or something must've been watching out for me because when I was on my last leg and about to die, this mysterious young guy appeared out of nowhere and saved my life. Shared some of his food with me. Nice guy. Oh, heh I'm rambling. Sorry 'bout that." "Don't worry about it. It's okay. Did I hear you right? You said 'Yoshino?" Nosuri queried. That's out where one of the clans of Kaosu lives at. The monk nodded. "I had all but given up on life, especially one as a monk, but the young guy I met turned me around and helped me out. We spent some time together, even met this really, REALLY old guy. He seemed pretty nice and even shared some food with me, too. After all that, he told me to come back here and give it another try. Even if everywhere around me are bad people, I shouldn't give up on my life path if it's really what I want to do with my life. I should stay true to my heart. Along with that, he mentioned something bad and I wanted to help him out. So, here I am." Nosuri couldn't help but to sit up straighter. If he didn't know any better, he'd think this monk was talking about Kaosu and his teacher. There was only one really 'really' old guy who lived up that way. Had Kose crossed paths with Kaosu? It made him feel a bit excited to think that this monk, one out of a million chance, might've crossed paths with his own childhood friend. And, here they sat, in the dead of night, in a corrupt temple, talking almost as if they were age old friends. "That sounds a lot like what I'm trying to do," Nosuri admitted. "I'm trying to find evidence of a person's evil intentions." "Oh!" Kose snapped his fingers, maybe not having been entirely listening to what the young man had just said. "Kaosu. That was the guy's name. Been trying to remember it this whole conversation." Nosuri's surprise caught Kose's attention. "What? What's wrong? I say something bad?" Nosuri chuckled once. Out of all the people this guy could've crossed paths with. . . "Well," he started to say with a smile of disbelief, "I guess there's no reason to hide anything now." Kose perked up a single, intrigued but confused eyebrow. "Seems like, as unbelievable as it seems, we both ended up on a mission from Kaosu." Who knows? Maybe this was, somehow, the mysterious guiding powers of Kaosu hard at work. Different men, different lives, but paths that were meant to cross one another. "Thanks, by the way, for not wanting to beat me up when you found me here. Not sure if I already said so, but it's appreciated." "You're welcome, and I'm glad I didn't as well." There was a long, quiet moment between the two as the situation began to settle in. Who would've guessed that Kaosu had been a part of both of their lives! "You know, come to think of it," Kose said, "if you're looking for something suspicious, I caught word of a secret hidden prayer room around here. If you're looking for evidence of bad stuff, I'm sure that room's got it. That would probably be best meeting place for them, too, if they're planning bad stuff." "I think I found that a few minutes ago, actually. Under the floor boards behind the altar I saw such a room." The young monk huffed disapprovingly. "Can't say I'm too surprised to hear that. Oh, also heard of rumors that mentioned ordinary prayer rooms lining this main hall but who even knows how 'ordinary' they are in a place like this." "I've seen a bit of that a bit ago. I think the priest has done something terrible." "I've heard enough. I've got to put a stop to it right now!" "Whoa! Wait a minute!" Nosuri scrambled to his feet as Kose stood, taking his wooden staff in hand. "If this is a temple that Yakushi has been coming to, a woman who is close to the retired emperor, you can bet that she knows what's been going on around here had has this place protected from anyone trying to change its ways. It'll be impossible to stop any of the corruption or evil things going on unless we've got evidence, hard proof of what's going on." "Well then, let's get to looking for that evidence. No time like the present." He looked around the room and, nearby he found part of a burned piece of paper laying beside an altar. On the altar was a small pile of ashes. "Hey, I found something." Nosuri hurried to Kose's side. "It's got the name of the retired emperor on it." Nosuri gently took hold of the piece of paper, holding it close to a nearby candle to see it properly. It was part of a tag that priests used to preform rituals and spells with. They were normally disposed of in a fire until nothing at all remained but the ashes. This wasn't something good priests were known for dealing with. As Nosuri examined the paper, Kose used the end of his staff, in case the ashes were still warm, to gently push the small pile of ashes about. Nosuri happened to look up just then. Both of them saw some wooden carvings, bad little replicas of people lined up but not clearly seen for what. Next to them were some small excavated bones that neither man wanted to know where they came from. A small piece of very fancy and expensive looking cloth, a cut of man's hair, and a small wooden doll dressed in a kimono. The doll was covered in countless scratches. Without a doubt, one thing was made incredibly clear this night. They'd found evidence alright that nothing good was going, and that it involved the retired emperor.

#yoroiden samurai troopers #shinkonhen shin kon hen book 4 book4 translated english

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