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mrsgiovanna · 3 years

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The Beguiling (Hades! Don Giorno x Persephone! Fem! Reader)

This concept has been on my mind for the longest time. This is loosely based off the lore of Hades and Persephone, set in a modern mafia AU, with Giorno as Hades and the reader as Persephone. 🥺💖🐞

TW: Kidnapping, yandere themes, manipulative behaviour, disordered relationship dynamics

Word count : 6.3k

“The truth of the matter I believe to be this. There is, as I stated at first, no absolute right or wrong in love, but everything depends upon the circumstances, to yield to a bad man in a bad way is wrong, but to yield to a worthy man in a right way is right.”

- Plato, Symposium

Being the Don of a mafia is a difficult task, being so far removed from everyone and everything else. Some would even say, its like being part of an entirely different realm…

Extremely beautiful but entirely unapproachable, Giorno didn’t appear in public very often, the burden of running the organization had brought many threats to his safety. Granted, he was able to thwart any plan to even remotely harm him, but one doesn’t have time for such annoyances when you wield as much power as he did. Taking over something so big at such a young age changes a person, and Giorno was no different, he was always seen as aloof and calculating, but there were other dimensions to his character that he was painfully aware of, but would not reveal to anyone else… yet.

“Don Giovanna, are you ready to go? The driver is ready for us,” his consigliere spoke in an even, respectful tone while addressing his don.

“Yes, we can leave, have you informed Fugo of the change in our plans?” Giorno’s voice was monotonous, soft and polite, but conveyed no emotion. The task at hand today was not a pleasant one… he hated having to deal with defectors and had avoided it up until this point. This case was different… the defector in question was your brother. You had always held a special place in his heart ever since he encountered you upon taking over Passione. You were always kind towards him, and all your conversations had brought about a sense of peace within himself. Nonetheless, he dismissed it as a simple juvenile crush, and continued with his mammoth task of remolding the diseased organization, excising the ‘tumors’ to allow for a healthier, better, stronger Passione to emerge. Sacrificing his youth, his personal life and precious friends in order to attain his dream, he was not going to let anyone destroy everything he had worked so hard to create.

As the years went on, there were many times that your path had unwittingly crossed with the young don’s which only intensified his feelings for you, but given the nature of his lifestyle, he tried to convince himself that loving you from afar would be good enough, but Giorno’s resolve- unshakeable in every other scenario- was quickly waning in this regard.

Meeting with your father was painful, his demeanor reminding Giorno of a shadowed figure from his past who had changed his life forever.

“He’ll have to be dealt with, you understand this, correct?”

“I’m aware of this, Don Giovanna. I… I’m willing to take any punishment you see fit… please keep my daughter out of this… I can stake my life on her innocence in all of this,” your father spoke emphatically, desperate to protect you, appealing to the don’s humanity. Giorno furrowed his eyebrows, surely your father knew he wouldn’t harm you in any way- was it normal for people to be this terrified of him? The sharp slam of a door and a greeting from a honeyed voice snapped Giorno from his thoughts.

“I’m home, I hope you’re hungry, I’m making octopus salad, squid ink risotto and I’ve got chocolate fondants for dessert… oh goodness! Don Giovanna- I’m sorry… I, um…” you stuttered embarrassingly as your gaze landed on the blonde’s handsome face and shifted to the ground immediately. Before Giorno could answer you to try and quell your discomfort, your father interjected, sending you away from the room. The young don was completely awestruck by your ethereal beauty, as if you had been crafted by the gods themselves, descended to create joy in an otherwise dull world. He made a silent promise to himself- he had to have you as his own.

“(Y/n), please give us a moment piccolina, I’ll come to you as soon as we have concluded our meeting,”

“Of course, please pardon my interruption,” with a small nod of your head, you took your leave, wanting to start making the dishes you had just rattled off. As you busied yourself with your preparations, your mind kept returning to Giorno, he was always calm and pleasant, but you hadn’t seen him with that kind of expression before. The fact that you hadn’t seen your brother in days didn’t bode well with today’s events… you hoped he was okay, but you experienced first-hand how aggressive he could be, something, you were told, he had shared with your mother. You didn’t have much of a relationship with her as her job had taken her away from the family a bit too much. You understood now that you were a young adult, but your emotions still vacillated between acceptance and resentment when you observed the families of your friends.

“You know… because of the difference in our ages, you’ve always told me that you cared for me as a father would care for a son, as a result, our relationship has always been cordial… its allowed us to speak frankly as we have always done in the past,”

“Yes, Don Giovanna… this is true.”

“Please, I’ve told you many times before, call me Giorno…”

“Alright… Giorno,”

“Good, good, see? That sounds better already. As I was saying before, if your affections for me run that deep… accept me as a son-in-law and allow me to marry (y/n) and you will never have to worry about her safety again. Nobody would ever think to harm her if they have to contend with me first,”

“What? Are you asking for permission to marry my daughter? I don’t think she has even considered something like that… you’ve barely spoken to each other…” your father was battling to make sense of Giorno’s request, if one could even call it a request.

“I don’t think you understand the situation you’re in… your son has singlehandedly created a colossal mess; we’d be in the middle of a turf war if it wasn’t for the quick thinking of my consigliere. That’s not to say other people wouldn’t want to exact their own personal brand of justice. I can guarantee you though, if she’s under my care, none of those things will ever reach her.” Just as the consigliere was about to speak, perhaps, an attempt to rationalize with the don, a sharp sideward glance from the latter had left all suggestions unspoken. The silence in the room was palpable… uncomfortable, until it was broken by Giorno.

“I’ve loved (y/n) for as long as I’ve known her, the best place for her would be with me, my strength is unparalleled… this is probably a lot to take in right now, I’ll allow you some time to come around to the idea, I’d hate to have to take her by force, but, if that’s what it will take…”

“Are you threatening me Don Giovanna?” asked your father with a restrained bite to his voice.

“Of course not, I’m merely making my intentions clear, my reach spans well beyond anything you could ever imagine… well, I’ve said all I need to in this instance. I’ll be back for her in three days, I trust you’ll be able comply with my suggestion. I’ll be taking my leave now.” With a flourish of his cerulean blue coat, Giorno and his consigliere left your home. Your father cursed his position, but there was little he could do about it. Finding you blissfully tinkering in the kitchen, his heart broke, knowing already that this was one of the last times he would be seeing you like this… or at all.

“You don’t agree with what I’m doing, do you, Lorenzo? You know I’m good at reading people, although you’re not even trying to mask your disdain,” asked Giorno, breaking the silence on the drive home.

“Well, if I’m allowed to speak freely, I don’t think you’re going about this in the right manner. She’s going to be terrified and resentful because you’re effectively abducting her, so in brief, I don’t agree with this at all,”

“Fair enough, and for the record, obviously I’m aware that she’s going to hate me… at first anyway, but she’ll come to understand eventually. Anyway, what’s done is done, in three days, I’ll be bringing home my goddess.” Giorno turned his attention to his phone and with that Lorenzo had backed off, knowing from years of serving Giorno that there was no talking to him when he resolved to do something.

“Father, you’re so quiet… did something happen?” you asked, part of you not wanting to know the answer to that question.

“It’s a mess, but don’t worry about that, I’ll handle it. There is something that I have to speak to you about though… it’s about Don Giovanna, he would like to see you in a few days, nothing serious, just be sure to keep your schedule open for the day,” your father explained, only divulging half the truth of your situation.

“He wants to see me? Do you know why? Have I done something wrong?” you were curious as to what Giorno could possible want with you.

“Of course not dolcezza, he just wants to have a chat with you, I think he’s just making sure that you’re alright… that’s part of why he was here today.

“Oh, alright, I’ll be available. Anyway, dinner’s ready, once you get washed up, we can eat,” you glanced up at your father to see his face contorted in grief. “What’s the matter? I know you don’t like talking about things that have to do with your occupation, but you’ve been like this ever since Don Giovanna left,”

Being too much for him to bear, he pulled you into a vicelike embrace, almost as if you would disappear if he let you go, which was not entirely false. “Aww, it’s okay dad, everything will be fine, come on, the food’s getting cold, you need to eat,” with that, you both ate in a comfortable silence as you always did, before you both retired for the evening.

While you tried to prepare yourself for your “meeting”, your soon to be captor was busy creating your sanctuary, or rather, overseeing the creation of your sanctuary- there was no reason why your surroundings couldn’t be as beautiful as you were, his aim after all was to get you to fall in love with him. Large, glittering mirrors with gilded frames adorned the walls of the hallways that lead to your room. Inside, was everything one could ever hope to have; an extensive closet filled with things that were made especially for you, various trinkets and baubles carefully selected for you, state of the art electronic devices, albeit with restrictions on the amount of things you could access… just for the time being though. If you were to start off as a bird in a cage, it should be a bejeweled cage worthy of a rarity like you.

As it got closer to the time you’d be seeing Giorno, your nerves started increasing exponentially, you knew that under normal circumstances, having to meet with someone like him without knowing what the subject matter would be was intimidating, but this feeling was something else altogether. As if something in your gut was telling you to cancel- to run- but you dismissed those feelings, and prepared yourself for the engagement.

“Buonasera cara, you look especially charming this evening…” he greeted you with a velvety voice that masked the true nature of him being there.

“Buonasera Don Giovanna, thank you for the compliment,”

“Shall we leave, (y/n)?”

“Um, okay… I just need to fetch my things and let my father know that I’m leaving…”

“Alright, perfect, actually, would you mind if I followed you? I’d like a quick word with him before we leave,” his expression was so charismatic, you felt guilty for not inviting him inside immediately.

“Of course, I’m sorry, please do come in.” you say as you stepped aside to make room for Giorno to enter. You lead him to the study and went to fetch your coat and purse to go, giving yourself a onceover in the mirror to make sure you were presentable and with that you kissed your father on the cheek and left.

The restaurant that you and Giorno went to was completely empty except for a single table set up for you both and the staff that were going to serve you, you found it odd, but dismissed it as one of the nuances of leading a mafia, privacy was of utmost importance. Ever the gentleman, the young don pulled out your chair for you and seated himself across from you.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me (y/n), I appreciate you taking the time to do so,”

“Of course, although I have to admit, I’m a little confused as to why I’m here,” you say with a nervous titter. The waiter brought a bottle of wine to the table, probably preapproved by Giorno already, and with a small nod, it is poured out into the awaiting glasses for the two of you.

“You will understand soon enough cara, come, lets toast to something… ah! To new beginnings…” he suggested with a sardonic smile.

“New beginnings? Okay… to new beginnings, salute!” with a confused smile and a delicate clink of your glasses you both took a sip of your wine. As the night went on, you were having a wonderful time, however, it seemed like your alcohol was getting to you faster than usual.

“Are you alright, cara, you look a bit out of sorts, come, I’ll take you home,”

“Thanks Don, I… I’m sorry I don’t know-” before completing the rest of your sentence, your consciousness faded and you fell into a strong pair of arms. Giorno sat you back down and made a quick call to his driver before picking you up again and placing you in the awaiting car to take you to your new home. As he gazed lovingly upon your face, he knew that the road is going to be a tedious one, but you would love him one day.

Your head pounded incessantly as you tried to open your eyes. The sensations on your skin were unfamiliar- soft, silken, so inviting, lulling you back into the deep slumber you were trying to break. Was this a dream? Your eyes finally opened to an unfamiliar room, you gathered the courage to sit up in bed, still unsure if you were in a dream or not and tried to rub the sleep out of your eyes. Looking around the room, feeling a sense of panic enveloping your very existence, you ran towards the large, ornately carved door to try and leave the room, but it was locked. The windows, it seemed, were crafted from reinforced glass as they would not break regardless of what was thrown at them. Left with only one option, you began to cry out for help, surely someone would be there, it was too well kept to be an abandoned building.

Listening to the commotion from outside the room were the guards and servants tasked with making sure your requests were fulfilled, but more importantly, they needed to ensure you were safe and didn’t escape. Giorno had a way with people, a charisma that both scared and enchanted those around him. Disobedience was not even a fleeting option for those who served him, partly out of fear, but mostly out of devotion to the young don. Giving each other a knowing glance, your guard decided to call his boss to come and subdue you before you had hurt yourself.

Your throat felt raw from the shouting and hyperventilating, your skin shimmered, veiled in a thin layer of sweat and your eyes shifted this way and that, trying to spot something you could exploit to leave the room while your captor was away. It dawned on you that as terrifying as it was to be in that place, it would be even worse if you had to face whoever was holding you there, choosing rather to contend with the fear of the unknown, than putting a face to your jailor. As if even thinking of something willed it into existence, your worst nightmare materialized as you heard the door being unlocked.

“Tesoro… please stop, you’re hurting yourself,” your eyes widened when you heard the velvety voice addressing you with such tenderness.

“Don… Giovanna? Where am I? What are you doing here? Please, I need to go home, I don’t know who brought me here…” you could barely articulate yourself with your shaky voice.

“I know that you’re extremely scared and confused… there’s so much I need to explain to you… but please, first, let me look at your hands, you are hurt, I can take care of that,” it was only after he spoke that you saw the bruises blooming on the delicate skin of your hands and arms. You still stayed rooted to where you were, but Giorno inched closer, materializing GE to heal your injuries. His heart stung when you silently grimaced at the pain of his ability rejoining the blood vessels that had broken, but he hated seeing your beautiful skin being marred like that.

“Don…”

“Please, call me Giorno…”

“Okay… Giorno… can we go now? I need to go home, if we stay any longer the people who put me here might come back or send others, I…”

“Tesoro… this is your home now… the person who brought you here was me… what is the last thing you remember from yesterday?” The young don circled around you and sat you down next to him at the foot of the bed.

“Why? Why did you bring me here? Are you insane? I can’t stay here, I… don’t understand what the hell is going on! I need to call my father,” seeing you start to get agitated again, Giorno pulled out his phone and motioned for you to take it.

“Here, call him, he has already agreed to this arrangement. You’re not safe my love, I’m sure you know about the recent transgressions courtesy of your cretin of a brother. People are angry and want revenge, and unfortunately you’re in the direct line of fire. So it was decided that you would come and live with me, you’ll find all your belongings here already, mixed with things that I believe you would like. I will give you anything your heart desires, lavish you with all the love and attention I can. All you need to do is stay here… near me… nobody can challenge me…”

You heard the words, but nothing was making sense to you. You decided to take up your captor’s offer to speak to your father, who confirmed his entire story. Feeling dejected, empty and completely alone, you sank to the floor as violent sobs wracked your body. Seeing you in this state filled Giorno with dread as he lifted you off the lushly carpeted floor, but he knew he would be able to get you to love him eventually. This was this the initial shock; he was willing to wait for you to acclimate to your surroundings.

Thus began your life of isolation… your routine, if you could even call it that, consisted of waking up in your palatial room, begrudgingly having breakfast with your green-eyed abductor and sulking around for the rest of the day. Giorno put a lot of effort into making sure that you were comfortable and tried to interact with you as much as his schedule would allow him to. Initially, all of his attempts to speak to you were ignored, you wondered if the awkward silence even bothered him at all, but he always had a peaceful expression on his face. If nothing else, he was very patient with you, and at times you tested his patience on purpose, goading him to anger, in those times though, he simply left you alone in your room, not allowing you to leave for a few days, instructing your handlers to confiscate your electronics, not even offering you a sliver of human contact… you needed to think about why you were in that position after all, so there could be no distractions whatsoever. Those isolation periods would thankfully not last long enough to tip you over the edge though, and like a ray of sunshine after a storm, he’d come to unlock your doors and add color back into your world. You always were more affectionate towards him after a few days on your own, which, you reasoned, was due to the lack of any interaction at all as opposed to having any genuine feelings towards him. Giorno wasn’t picky though, he accepted your gentle touches and embraces all the same, one day… soon… you would undertake those gestures solely on your desire to do so.

Surely enough, as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, you had warmed up to him, settling into an oddly satisfying domestic life with the don. The more of yourself you gave to him, the wider your world had gotten, until you eventually had free reign over the entire estate. You soon had come to realize that if you had just played your part, and listened to him, complied with his simple requests, his kindness towards you was limitless. Giorno had remained as attentive as ever, picking up on every little change on you from the subtle change in the color of your blush to the miniscule changes in the length of your hair after its trimmed, nothing escaped his well trained eye. He beamed when you started to wear the clothes and jewels he bought for you, seeing it as a sign that you were slowly starting to accept him. The truth of the situation was that you had, against your better judgement, fallen in love with this living deity.

“Giorno… the weather’s warming up quite beautifully, why don’t we train outdoors from now on instead of working out inside?” you suggested while you kneeled on the bed behind a seated Giorno as you undid his elaborate hairstyle and brushed out the product from his hair before he took a shower.

“Hmmm… alright bella, I suppose we could do that, I’m sure the fresh air would do us both some good,” as he got up, he bent down to place a chaste kiss on your forehead before heading into the shower. For a fleeting moment, you thought about your old life, you had earned back the liberty to speak to your family, well, your father, and some friends, but the fractured relationships weren’t the same. Pushing those negative feelings to the back of your mind, you waited for Giorno so that you could both go to sleep, but your heavy eyelids fell shut. His patience with you was never more evident than in these moments, never once overstepping your boundaries or initiating intimacy that would make you feel uncomfortable. Emerging to see your sleeping form, he pulled up the covers around you and climbed into the other side of the bed, facing you, he clutched your hands in his, allowing himself to close his eyes as well.

“We’ve managed to locate her… you aren’t going to like this though,”

“Just tell me where my daughter is, I’ll decide the rest,” your mother spoke bluntly to her partner.

“She’s living with some mafia boss; I think he’s her boyfriend or something. You never see her out on her own, she’s always with him. I’ve got people watching your husband’s house, she’s only been there once, with the cocky bastard in tow. The security at his place is insane, worst of all, we think he’s a stand user,”

“Stand user? Don’t make me laugh, that means nothing, we’re stand users too, every ability has a weakness that can be exploited,” your mother lit a cigarette and took a long drag, musing on what her first move should be. After a moment of contemplation, she had her sights set on her old marital home, deciding that your father would be able to provide the most complete description of what is going on. She portrayed a nonchalant exterior, but your mother was very worried for your safety. She had a powerful stand of her own, in fact all the members of your family were powerful stand users- except you. Your mother worked closely with a foreign organization dedicated to studying supernatural phenomena as such, most of her time was divided between her travels on behalf of the organization and work that she would need to do onsite at their headquarters in Washington. Over her lifetime, she’s found herself in many precarious positions, so she decided it would be safer if she stayed away from the family in an attempt to keep everyone safe… upon hindsight, that was a fatal miscalculation. To describe her mood after speaking to your father as livid, would be an understatement.

Not wasting a moment, your mother called her associate and made her way to the don’s villa, hell-bent on taking you back from his dark clutches.

“Bella, are you ready to go?” Giorno called to you as he pulled on his coat while you put on your last accessory. You never turned down an opportunity to go out, even though your outings became slightly more frequent, you were completely captivated by discovering the different facets to Giorno’s personality. As much as he was fervently observing you and curating an ideal world tailored to you, you were learning a lot about him and the circumstances that fashioned him in this manner.

“Yes tesoro, sorry for keeping you waiting… what is it?” you were met by a wide-eyed Giorno, and it hit you… Tesoro… the name trickled so effortlessly off your lips, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t really thinking…”

“Don’t apologize amore, as long as it’s you, I don’t mind…” he softly replied, as he stroked your cheek with the back of his forefinger. You heard a faint clatter accompanied by the ring of Giorno’s phone, informing him that there had been a security breach. The soft expression on his face was gone, as he gripped you with a protective arm.

Before you had time to ask him what was going on, you heard your name being called out by a voice you barely remembered, one you didn’t think you’d hear again.

“Mother?” your voice was a whisper. Your mother looked at you, disdain skewing her features before turning her attention to Giorno, whose grip continued to tighten around you.

“(y/n), I’ve come to take you away from here, it’s obvious leaving you in the care of your father was a mistake. And you, step away from her this instant, you will regret it if you don’t,”

You hadn’t noticed the swarm of black suits that had surrounded you all, ready to pounce at Giorno’s command. His intense gaze had not left your face while your mother spoke, searching for the slightest tell indicating you might have known about this, but you were just as perplexed as he was… the guilt of him doubting you twisting his features even further.

“It’s alright, stand down men… while you really have a nerve of breaking into my property, I feel that this can be solved amicably, I’d hate for (y/n) to have to contend with any discord between us,” he spoke with a calm, even voice but that didn’t match the fury brewing in his eyes.

“Amicable? You take my daughter away from her home and you still feel like this is something that can be talked out of? You really are a piece of work!”

“Better to be the overbearing lover than the neglectful mother…” Giorno’s tone was dripping with cynicism as he handed you to one of your awaiting guards.

“You sick bastard!” your mother cried out. As if being pushed back by a glowing force that you couldn’t quite discern, the young don was thrown backwards. You hated feeling so powerless. Giorno sat up and smiled mockingly, before launching into an attack of his own you assumed, as you saw a similar golden glow envelop his body, and the bodies of the security personnel backing him up.

“Please, stop it! All of you!” you wanted to run out between them but you were restrained by your guard. It didn’t take long for Giorno and his men to restrain your mother and her associate, taking care to leave them largely unharmed while you were still present. Giorno had made one fatal error though… blame it on overconfidence or his need to constantly check on you, he had turned away and left himself wide open for a last ditch attack from your mother as she broke free. At that very moment, your body moved itself before you could even think, and faster than you ever thought possible, pushing him out of the way with only a second to spare, as the attack hit the very spot he had stood on just a moment before, shattering the marble flooring on contact. The room was enveloped in silence, Giorno motioned for his guards to leave the room, as did your mother to her partner.

“(y/n) … tesoro mio… are you okay? You… you saved me…” he said as he kneeled next to your shaking, winged form, combing his hands through your hair as he tried to get a look at your face. You looked up to see Giorno with a wide eyed golden figure hovering over him, approaching you was your mother, with a luminescent humanoid woman matching her footsteps.

“Tesoro, it seems you’re a stand user after all,” mentioned Giorno, still gazing at you, this time with an expression you hadn’t seen from him before. Completely overwhelmed by the recent events, you sat for a moment, trying to regulate your breathing with the exercises Giorno practiced with you when your anxiety overwhelmed you.

“So these are what stands are… they look terrifying…” you say, finally managing to normalize your breathing and take command of your senses once again. “where is my stand then? I presume these two figures belong to you and mother.”

“Yours is different amore… are you able to walk? Come with me…” Giorno lead you to one of the mirrors so you could see how your stand manifested; you had large wings that had sprouted from your back, your eyes glowed colorlessly, and you had luminescent geometric patterns running down your face and body, akin to the patterns you would find on a circuit board. “You have what is known as a phenomenon stand, this means that it changes your body rather than manifesting a separate entity,”

“I see…”

“We can figure out the extent of your abilities another time, for now I need to see those injuries,”

“Excuse me? You’re not doing anything further with her, I’m still serious about taking back (y/n),” interjected your mother sarcastically.

“Are you trying to anger me on purpose? I loathe having to repeat myself. Do not mistake my unwillingness to kill you this very instant on anything other than respect for (y/n),”

“Likewise…”

“You’re both so selfish!” surprised to hear you raise your voice that much, both parties were stunned to silence.

“I’m a person with my own will, I have feelings, thoughts, desires, dreams… but neither of you bother to consider any of that… Giorno, you essentially abducted me, under the ruse of protecting me, I’m sure you would have found a way to keep me safe while I lived my own life, if it was that important to you, but you weren’t interested in that… if you had just approached me like a normal person, I’d still have fallen for you… well I guess now we’ll never know … And you… mother- I use that term liberally- abandoned me… abandoned us, I don’t care what the reasons were, you left me to grow up without a mother, and now you come here and ridicule me with this dramatic display of affection,” your voice began to crack but you wouldn’t let them see you cry, not so soon after finally finding your voice, so you left them there and went off to your special spot in the far corner of the estate. You knew that Giorno created that little piece of heaven for you strategically, as it was visible from his study, but it served as your safe place, and it was what you needed right now.

Giorno’s mind was clouded and he felt an uncomfortable suffocating sensation in his chest. Glancing at your mother it was apparent that your emotional outpouring had affected her as well.

“I think its best if you leave,”

“Wait, Giorno… perhaps this approach wasn’t the best way to do this, I underestimated you…”

“For the sake of curiosity, what do you propose?”

“That’s going to depend on how you answer my next question…”

“For someone with as few options as you have, you’re incredibly brazen,” shot back Giorno, clearly becoming tired of the conversation.

“I spoke to her father before coming here… he told me about my son… is… is he dead?” speaking earnestly this time, your mother steeling herself for what the young don would say to her. He observed her intently, debating whether it would be safe to divulge any information to her.

“That’s classified information,” he said, knowing full well that the idiot was alive somewhere, unable to be a threat to anyone again, unfortunately he couldn’t divulge this information to anyone. If she was smart enough she would be able to figure it out for herself, any more than that he could not offer.

“I understand… Fine, I’ll back off, (y/n) can stay here… but I need to speak to her, to explain everything, when she’s ready though…”

Giorno contemplated for a moment, feeling oddly moved by the change in your mother’s demeanor, he found himself agreeing with her, “Fine… I’ll allow it, but I can’t have you here, never again, if you need to see her, we’ll come to you… if that’s all, I need to check on (y/n)” Your mother took her leave, thoughts of the bizarre events of the day dominating her thoughts.

You listlessly played with the water in the fountain you sat beside, eyeing the way the sunshine made the droplets that fell from your fingertips look like gems. Hearing the scrunching sound of grass being stepped on, you knew that Giorno was approaching you. Unwilling to turn around to face him, you continued to look at the water.

“May I sit with you?” his voice was tender and didn’t match his imposing figure. Looking up his striking face, framed by golden waves, you nodded wordlessly.

“Talk to me cara…”

“What do you want me to say?”

“What’s on your mind…”

You paused, thinking carefully before starting to speak. “There’s so much on my mind… I… I just can’t understand you. You bring me here under the most dubious circumstances, but treat me like I’m the center of your world. I want to hate you for taking me away from my world, but I’ve never felt as loved by anyone in that world as much as I do here with you. How can you look at me with eyes so gentle now, when those same eyes were ready to kill not even two hours ago? How am I supposed to make up my mind about you when your every action contradicts the next?”

“It’s simple bella… I love you… you’re above the rules I set for everyone else… my one weakness is you, I’m sorry, I just don’t know how else to be, it’s either everything or nothing. Perhaps, forget about what you think and focus on how you feel… You know, we aren’t that different, the two of us… so many parents between us and barely enough traits among them to make up one good guardian, having to basically raise ourselves, so much pressure from such a young age, being scared of what lurks in the dark, experiencing so much physical pain, you just become immune to it. I have to admit, I was jealous of that brave assault by your mother, I don’t know if anyone would do the same for me… except you of course… you almost died to get me out of harm’s way… and just when I thought I couldn’t love you any more than I do…”

The gentle way he cupped your chin, as if you were made of crystal, and the swirl of emotion in his eyes, compelled you to act on your impulses, kissing him passionately, releasing some of the pent up emotions and frustrations that have been building up for the longest time. His free hand curled itself around your waist, while your hands tangled themselves in his hair. Resting your forehead on his, you hear him murmuring affirmations of his love for you.

“I love you too, Gio,” the words just rolled off your tongue as if you were always meant to say them. Giorno, seemingly moved by your placid declaration, buried his face in your hair, inhaling the floral scent of your shampoo that he loved so much. What you didn’t see was the sardonic smile blooming on his handsome face. He always was a master at deception… although, it couldn’t be classified as deception if most of what he said was true… could it? He didn’t want to play the sympathy card today, but it was the only way he could firmly cement your place with him for good. Pulling away for a moment, looking at the love-struck expression on your face as you softly move your hand from his hair to his chest, he could see that you were finally complete- entirely devoted to him… there was no room for guilt this time.

#giorno giovanna x reader #giorno x reader #Hades!Giorno x Persephone! Reader #Hades x Persephone modern AU #yandere jjba prt 5 #yandere giogio #yandere giorno #giorno giovanna #giorno #yandere jjba x reader #kidnapping #manipulation

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one-boring-person · 3 years

Note

Could you do a Maverick imagine where the reader is Viper’s daughter and there all having dinner together and Viper’s not too fond of the idea of them together?❤️

I would love to, thank you for requesting! I hope you like this!😊💛

That's Not Overprotective.

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x reader

Warnings: none

Masterlist

Editing Help: @jawline-of-steel (Thanks bro!💛)

The sound of forks scraping on ceramic plates is near enough deafening in the tense silence, no one daring to interrupt It as we continue to eat, mouths moving slowly as we try to prolong the quiet, knowing that things will only get worse when we start talking again. Beside me, Pete sits stiffly, keeping his eyes trained on the plate in front of him, trying to ignore the deathly stare my father, our commander, is sending his way. From my own seat, I glare back at him, trying to get him to ease up on the protective father act, knowing that it is making things very difficult for the rest of us.

"Well, Pete, you say you are in the same class as (Y/n) here, who's your RIO?" My mother finally pipes up, coughing to break up the heavy silence.

"Oh, err, my RIO is Goo- sorry, Nick Bradshaw. His call sign is Goose." The pilot answers pleasantly, looking up at my mother with a smile, knowing that people often like it more when he does so.

"Oh, yes. How could I forget?" She laughs, clearly reminded of all the times I've spoken of them, "(Y/n) has told us a lot about the two of you."

"You have?" He lifts his eyebrows, turning to look at me in slight concern.

"Yes, all good, don't you worry." She reassures him, winking at me as I blush and look back down at my plate, fighting the redness rising to my cheeks.

"Yeah, it's interesting to find out what you guys actually do in your free time. Not as much studying as I would've thought." Viper cuts in, fixing Pete with a sharp stare again.

The two of us tense up again, exchanging a look as the silence falls on us again, my father's words cold and emotionless. For a few more minutes, we all continue to eat, Pete and I slightly more subdued than before, feeling like deer caught in the headlights. Eventually, Pete speaks up again, glancing back at my mother with another one of his charming smiles.

"The food is really good, Mrs Metcalf." He compliments her, sounding genuine.

"Oh, thank you, you're very kind." She laughs, smiling broadly from the positive feedback.

"It's the truth, this is some of the best I've ever eaten!"

"You are sweet, thank you, Pete." She flicks her eyes over to me, winking subtly.

I feel a small sense of relief, knowing now that he has won her over, though I am well aware of the fact that my father will be harder to convince.

"It'd be nice if you were this polite in class." Viper butts in again, shooting both of us a pointed look, "Instead of messing around."

"Dad, can we not do this now? You have all day to criticize us in class so can we at least have the evening off?" I finally interject, fed up with his jibes and snide comments.

"I'm not criticizing you, I'm pointing out a fact." He reasons, training his stern gaze on me, taking a sip of the beer in front of him.

"Then stop doing it, if that's what you want to call it, we never asked for it."

"You wanted my opinion, I'm expressing it. I don't see the problem." He clarifies, before suddenly standing from the table, "Excuse me."

Stepping away from his place, he goes out of the room, the door to the bathroom audibly closing down the hall as he enters it. With a sigh, my mother stands up, too, collecting in our now-empty plates with an uneasy smile, aware of the growing tension.

"I'll just go and get the dessert." She explains, leaving the room and going to the kitchen.

Pete waits for her to leave the room before turning to me, visibly relaxing.

"Your mum made dessert?" He questions, clearly surprised by her hospitality.

"Yep. She loves making full course meals, so you'd better get used to it." I grin, taking a drink from my glass of soda.

"I'm not complaining, her cooking is very good." He compliments again, smiling at me.

"That she is." I sit back in my chair, watching him, "I'm sorry about my dad, he can be a bit overprotective sometimes."

"That's not overprotective, that's just disapproving." The pilot laughs dryly, "I don't think he's too happy about you dating one of his students."

"I guess." I frown a little, upset at my father for being so judgemental.

Noticing this, Pete leans over and takes my hand in his, interlocking our fingers and squeezing gently, trying to reassure me.

"It's not going to put me off, don't worry." He says, quickly moving in to kiss my cheek, only to be intercepted by my lips as I turn my head and press them against his. We stay like that for a few minutes, just letting ourselves enjoy the moment, before pulling away again when we hear the bathroom door open again, signalling the approach of my dad as he returns.

The pilot keeps our hands locked together as Viper strides into the room, the commander taking his place at the table with a grunt of greeting, instantly noticing our contact and lifting an eyebrow.

"You afraid you might fly away there?" He comments, looking at us sternly.

"No, Dad, it's a sign of affection, something you've probably forgotten over the years." I retort before I can stop myself, my hand coming up to clap itself over my mouth, though it is too late.

"I beg your pardon, young lady? What did you just say to me?" The commander snaps at me, brow furrowing in anger.

"Nothing, Dad, I'm sorry." I rush out, quick to try and make amends, Pete holding my hand tighter to try and reassure me.

"Thank your lucky stars I didn't hear you, (Y/n), or you'd be in a lot more trouble." He bites out in response, stating me down as I look at my plate, embarrassment flooding me.

"Yes, Dad, I'm sorry." I bite my lip, annoyed that Pete was there to experience that.

We are silent again until my mother returns to the room with a tray of bowls, which she sets down on the table, handing each of us one with a spoon and fork, signalling that we should start. As we do so, we lapse back into the awkward tension, Pete and I shooting each other a look as we start to eat, thanking my mother for the food again.

My father continues to send us hostile looks over the table, clearly still unhappy with us as he angrily jabs at the food in his bowl, eating it quickly. As he finishes, he watches the rest of us eat up, sitting back in his chair as he sips his beer, brooding over something with himself.

"Excuse me, I'm just going to use the bathroom." Pete excuses himself, breaking the silence as he stands up and leaves the room. As soon as he has left, I round on my father.

"What is wrong with you? Why can't you just be polite?" I exclaim, annoyed at his behaviour.

"I don't know what you mean." Is all he says, acting innocent.

"Yes you do! Can you stop it, please? Or at least tell me why you're being hostile?"

"She has a point, Mike. Why are you being so tense?" My mother chimes in, fixing him with a stare of her own, though she is more curious than angry.

He is silent for a moment, chewing on his lip slightly as he considers how he should answer.

"I just, well, it's a hard concept for me to grasp, that my daughter is seeing one of my students. It's just wrong to me." Viper finally manages, though it is not satisfactory for me.

"It's wrong? How? How is it wrong?" I question him further, getting more and more annoyed by the minute.

"I don't have to explain myself, (Y/n). You wanted my opinion, and I have told you it. Surely that is enough for you?" He manages to keep his tone calm, though I can tell he is just as angered as I am.

I go to reply to him, only to be interrupted by the sound of Pete coming back into the room, the pilot still looking a little uneasy as he retakes his seat at the table.

I close my mouth, but continue to glower across the table at my father, knowing that Pete has figured out that something went on whilst he was out of the room. He shoots me a questioning look, but I only shake my head, non-verbally telling him that I will fill him in later, whenever later is.

At this rate, that won't be for some time.

#top gun imagine #top gun #top gun: maverick #maverick x reader #request #Tom cruise

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brandywine-tomatoes · 3 years

Text

One of the Bad Ones

From a little thought of mine <3

Masterlist

Pairing: (platonic) female!oc & crosshair

TW: sad/depressing thoughts, a little bit of human experimentation, self-depreciation, PTSD

Word count: 1895

QUICK NOTE: this is a concept with my oc Dain and her (platonic) relationship with Crosshair. Dain is a chiss jedi who hates the republic. She was the TechnoUnion's test subject years before Echo got there. She was rescued by the Batch and Co. when they went to rescue Echo. If you want more details, let me know!

There were good days and bad days for Dain. This day would be one of the bad ones.

Hunter and Wrecker were getting some much-needed rest, recovering from the day before. Tech was messing with a small part of the hyperdrive in his bunk with Echo helping, not getting the rest they needed. That left Dain piloting through the ridiculous amount of traffic on Pasaana, their new mission destination, with Crosshair as her co-pilot. A content silence consumed the ship, only Tech’s fiddling with a blow torch, Hunter and Wrecker’s soft snores, and the clicking of controls filling the cramped space.

Dain was consumed whole by her usual track of mind. The horrors of Skako were always her first destination. It was hard not to think about it, she was there for years. She constantly had to rhyme off the different things she could see, focus on the light reflecting and refracting around the ship, squeeze her eyes shut and dive into the life forces of her crewmates to bring her back from the fluorescent-lit laboratories and chilling surgical tables. Her limbs disobeying her commands as her captures messed mercilessly with her eyes. She could feel the tiniest of needles embedded in her iris, the sorry excuse for a numbing agent being injected.

She could still feel the helplessness that she constantly felt every second she was conscious on Skako. The bacta tube she was confined in when the surgeons needed a break still haunted her. Her long hair frail and coarse flowing like a separate entity, her oxygen mask so tight around her face practically another body part. She felt like she was being slowly and carefully pulled back to it, she could feel the warmth of the liquid seeping up her calves and past her knees, almost above her waist.

“You okay?”

Those few words violently pulled her out of the tank she was sinking into.

She didn’t feel the little drops staining her cheeks. Of course she wouldn’t, she was too messed up to feel the things that made her organic. She saw a sparkling on her cheeks refracting the light of the speeders and pods held up in front of her.

Dain quickly wiped them away. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“Simple question,” he said, his usual snark present.

“I am perfectly adequate; I don’t know where you’re getting your ideas from.”

“Your bullshit doesn’t fool me,” Crosshair sighed.

Dain whipped her head around to his dead serious face gazing out at the fully stopped highway. “I beg your pardon? I am not, as you say, bullshitting.”

“You’re suffering. You really think this act is convincing?”

She was perplexed.

“Don’t look so surprised.” He went back to prepping the ship from its parked mode to move a couple inches further.

Dain did her part in guiding the ship the few little inches. They stayed in silence for quite a while, Dain trying to stay afloat by following the train of speeders and pods zig and zagging across miles and miles towards the capital city. Crosshair had propped a tiny black book on his raised knee, sketching away like he always did when he had extra time.

“How could you tell?”

Cross continued with his pen. “Hm?”

“How could you tell?” Dain asked a little louder.

“Well crying doesn’t cover anything up,” he gestured with his pen to her newly wet cheeks.

She quickly went to work wiping them dry, the force drawing a deeper blue to her skin. She dropped her hands in her lap in defeat, her shoulders sagging. “I can’t control it.”

“Nothing special.”

“I misspoke. I can’t feel it.”

Crosshair seeded his sketching of the pods and speeders.

“I remember what lacrimal feels like, seeping from the tear ducts,” she continued. “But I just... I don’t function like that anymore.”

He didn’t know what to say. What do you say to such a horrific fact? What did they do to you?

“I, um, overshared. Apologies.”

“No,” he objected. “It’s, uh, fine.”

Dain sunk into her seat, pulling her knees up to her eyes instinctually. Making herself as small as possible eased a little itch in the back of her mind.

She was a leader before all of this, she didn’t want to shy away into a corner and fade away in her own shadow. She stood with purpose and commanded respect. She was a decorated soldier, higher in rank than most Jedi. She had a family who she loved and who loved her. She depended on the Wolffe Pack as much as they depended on her. She was one of them.

She held a burning passion against the Republic. She fought to someday end the war so she could help burn it down and build something better in its ashes. Something that didn’t negotiate living being's lives like they were poker chips to be tossed in a pot.

It was all gone. It disappeared. She only wanted to melt into the soil, maybe help the earth flourish with trees and wildlife beside a rushing river. She didn’t hold a passion for anything she used to. She wasn’t the leader she needed to be, she didn’t have a family, she didn’t have anything to fuel her anymore. She was empty and purposeless. Maybe I’m better off melting into the earth.

“Here.”

Crosshair tossed the little black book and the pen to Dain, landing in the space between the armrest and herself. Dain stared at it for a moment, unsure of what he was playing at.

She slowly unfurled herself, her feet setting on the floor without a sound and her nimble hands bringing the book and pen to her lap.

“You can’t stay in there forever, you know. It’ll drive you insane,” he started.

Dain’s shoulders deflated. “I know.”

“It’s impossible.”

She eyed him wearily. And I thought this was going to be a pep talk.

“You just have to escape long enough.”

She stayed silent and a small bit of intrigue nipped at her fingers.

“Try it,” he gestured to the open landscape in front of them.

Dain shimmied to the edge of her seat to prop the book to a blank page against the dash in a free spot of any controls.

“Any requests?” She asked without an ounce of cheek in her words, only what seemed to be defeat.

“Nothing you can remember.”

She looked around the desert in front of her. Only a city that looked like a birdbath all those miles and miles away and the pods and speeders backed up were to see. Nothing she could see really sparked interest in her, nothing ever did anymore.

Just as she was about to toss the book back, she found her subject. A little patch of orangey clouds against the scorching sun. The entire sky was filled with them, the light bouncing off every fluffy edge and casting long shadows, but this patch’s edges were sharply defined and outlined against the glowing of the sun. There was no double meaning, no metaphor she could attach to it. Nothing sad to see in the clouds, it just looked graceful and meaningless.

She scribbled away on a page, not having enough energy to criticize her chicken scratch. She remembered a piece of advice from someone she hadn’t thought about for what felt like decades. You always get caught up in what you think you’re seeing, not what’s actually in front of you. Exasperated laughter echoed in the aftermath.

She proceeded with that in mind, trying to stay out of her head and only taking what was in front of her to transfer messily onto the textured parchment.

Crosshair was the smallest bit surprised the broken woman in front of him kept sketching away for more than five minutes. He half expected her to toss it back and retreat into whatever hell her mind had become.

He didn’t believe it when Anakin told the rescue team on Skako that it was Force Marshel Dain Lec in the bacta tank, floating eerily like a dead specimen with a tight black shirt and shorts that gave away how much she looked like a dead, decaying skeleton.

She was basically a myth in the GAR. Force Marshel Lec was one of the most decorated soldiers in history; her battle plans and strategies were studied by captains, commanders, and generals. The Bad Batch admired her work, it was exactly their style of getting things done. But she only worked with Commander Wolffe and his battalion, she didn’t ever grace the rest of the GAR with her presence. The fact that she was one of the only Chiss serving the Republic only added to the mystery of Dain Lec.

But it wasn’t just her bat shit crazy plans and strategies that she was known for, her humanity and empathy were only dreamed of. The regs all had their fair share of generals who hated them for existing, some even had the unfortunate fate of serving under Krell, but the Wolffe pack only spread the word of her immense empathy and compassion. Ruthlessness and compassion never went hand in hand, but somehow the universe broke logic and made Force Marshel Lec.

Crosshair couldn’t put the myth to the face. Sitting beside him, still sketching away on the consul, was a shrivelled and washed-out woman who couldn’t feel her own tears. Granted, it had only been a few months of her being dumped on them along with Echo, and she hadn’t been in the thick of the action yet, only drawing up plans and flying the ship, but he couldn’t imagine what else an escaped science experiment could do.

“You underestimate my abilities a staggering amount, Crosshair,” Dain’s permanently shaky voice broke his thoughts and sent him into a panic.

His thoughts staggered. “You- you-”

“Force users can’t read other beings' thoughts, but I can most certainly piece together the ones that float by.”

Crosshair thought someone raised the temperature in the ship by 20 degrees.

“I... I...”

“I’ve made the best snipper in the GAR speechless,” a small smile spread across her lips. “It’s perfectly fine, no ill will befalls this situation. I’ve endured far worse than the judgement of others.”

He didn’t know what to say. Again. He felt embarrassed over anything, over the fact he’d stoop to such lows. Why was he like this? Why did he have to point out the worst in people who were already suffering enough? Was it some kind of ego thing? Was he that insecure?

Dain tossed the book and pen back to Cross, making him jump. She looked at him intently, trying to catch his gaze that was anywhere but on Dain.

“Cross.”

He sighed and met her foggy crimson eyes. It didn’t seem like a confrontation. She brought her knees up to her chest again and fidgeted with something in her lap. How could she be considered a leader? Stop it.

Her gaze turned to one of sympathy. Pity.

“You should consider your own advice, you really think this act is convincing?”

He scoffed and leaned back against the co-pilot's seat, turning his attention to the backed-up traffic.

She sighed deeply, like the weight of the world was getting heavier with each conversation they had. “I’m still here, even if everyone here doesn't want me to be.”

A/N: HELLOO PEOPLE!! It's been a while!! I haven't been writing a lot lately, that's not true, I've just been writing a long marvel fic and making new OCs that no one's interested in I'm sorry for that. If you want more of my bb Dain, please let me know! I'd love to share her with y'all!! Go drink some water, get a snack, take a break, you deserve it so much!! I'M SO SORRY IF THIS WAS OOC, I TRIED MY BEST OKAY

#the bad batch #tbb #star wars #sw #bad batch #the clone wars #tcw #echo #tech #wrecker #hunter #crosshair #omega #original character #anakin skywalker

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crystalrose555 · 3 years

Text

Don’t make me slap you pt 30

Marley sighed softly as she floated in a still sea covered by a heavy fog. At first, she thought she was simply dreaming but deep down she knew what was actually happening, she was floating away. This must be her final dream based on how calm and soothing the ocean water. She no longer felt the burn, she was at peace just like what she heard from others. The only thing she would change was the thick fog as she hoped to go out while staring at the night sky.

She wanted to mourn herself once more but she was unable to grip her frustration and anger. The only thing she felt was a small ripple of regret for those she left back at home on that distant beach. She may be gone and they may cry for a bit but she knew they would be strong enough to move on. If anything, she wanted to see them smiling one last time. Slowly the sky and water darken as she could barely feel anything, she closed her eyes and prepared to embrace oblivion.

“Hey...”

“Hey, wake up!!!”

Marley’s eyes snapped open as Little D No. 2 brought his face close to hers.

“Oh good, you’re awake~”

Suddenly, another Little D pushed No. 2 away while shaking him violently.

“What is with you and waking her up, how rude can you be!?”

“Hey, get off of me!”

With that, the two little demons began to tussle back and forth all over the bed while the other ones cheered on their respective side. As the fight continued, their voices grew more and more shill with each blow. Marley tried to ignore them but they bounced the bed with each time they hit the mattress. Finally, with a snap of her final nerve, Marley quickly sat up in the bed and grabbed each of the little demons roughly.

“Can’t a girl die in peace? Take your fighting somewhere else!” She yelled as she bared her fangs.

No. 2 struggled in Marley’s grip while the other little demons curled up.

“Ow, let go!”

“Not a chance, ya demonic ball! I want to go peacefully and I can’t do that if you all are fighting! Now get out of my room!”

And with that, Marley gathered all the little demons and tossed them out of her room, and slammed the door. She sighed deeply while dusting her hands of the chaos. She turned to return to her bed only to stop dead in her tracks. Her eyes were wide with surprise as she realized that she had got up from her deathbed with lively vigor. Quickly, she rushed over to the full body mirror to see her reflection. There she stood, skin polished and revitalized, the bags underneath her eyes gone, her scleras were white and clean instead of gray and veiny. No ash could be seen anywhere, even her hair was shimmering in the soft lighting of the room. She was so shocked that she stumbled back before slumping to the floor.

“What the hell...”

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Diavolo sighed as he looked at his desk for the first time that day. Thanks to Barbatos, it was organized based on importance and urgency but he felt no rush to do any of it. He wanted to be by Marley’s side and ease her suffering but he feared her rejecting his comfort. He sighed deeply before ruffling his hair, however, he was interrupted by cries of help accompanied by crashing. Immediately, he snapped to attention and rushed out of his office only to have a Little D rush into his arms.

“Save me, save me!” He cried out.

“From what?”

Just then more screams of terror echoed as the Little Ds were flung into his office hallway by an unknown force. Suddenly, the air grew cold as ice crept against the walls and floor. Diavolo’s eyes widened to the point of tearing up as Marley slid into sight while holding an iced-over morning star. A joyous smile crept on his face upon seeing the selkie standing on her own two feet. He slowly began to stagger toward the armed woman, trying not to show too much of his joy.

“Marley...” He managed to crack out.

Hearing her name being called, Marley turned to see an elated prince. However, Diavolo’s joy was short-lived as Marley growled at him while baring her fangs.

“You...”

“Pardon?”

In a flash, Marley rushed straight toward Diavolo on the icy floor while gripping the icy morning star tightly. She then jumped toward the demon prince and readied herself to swing her weapon against him. Suddenly, Diavolo released the little demon before instinctively grabbed the weapon by its shaft with one hand while holding Marley close with the other.

“Marley, it’s me!”

“I know it’s you, now let me go so I can hit you!” She hissed.

“What? Why do you want to hit me!?”

“Because you turned me into a zombie! Do I look like Zombie Goth Girl? Now give me back my mace!”

“Actually, it’s a morning star-”

“I don’t care, now gimme!!!”

However, Diavolo only stared down at the lively woman trapped in his embrace. It didn’t even register that she tried to attack him but the sheer act of her lively destruction and fiery temper was the greatest proof of life he could ask for. In an instant, he pulled the weapon out of her grasp and held her tightly with both arms, lifting her off the ground as his embrace tightened. Marley then violently beat her fists against the nearly invulnerable demon.

“Let go of me!!!” She growled as she tried to push him away.

“Marley, you’re alive, you’re healed.” Diavolo choked out as he began to tremble with joy.

“I’m glad to see everyone so early in the morning.”

Diavolo stopped himself only to look at the calm Barbatos who was easily sliding on the icy floor.

“Barbatos, is this your doing?”

Marley snapped her attention to Barbatos who smiled normally. She then pulled her arm out of the prince’s embrace and pointed at the butler in an accusing manner.

“You the one who turned me into a zombie?!”

“I’m afraid you are mistaken, Miss Marley. You can’t be a zombie for the sole reason that you are still alive.”

“...I don’t believe you. I should be dead right now!”

“You would’ve been but my lord asked me to take care of your pelt while he slumbered.”

Diavolo blinked while Marley continued to squirm in Diavolo’s grasp. Suddenly, a very stern look bloomed upon the prince’s face as he stared at his faithful butler.

“Barbatos, when I said take care of her pelt-”

Barbatos simply bowed his head before giving his calm response.

“My lord asked me to take care of her pelt without specific details. So I assumed I was allowed to take care of the pelt as I saw fit. If this wasn’t your desire, I deeply apologize for my actions, my lord.”

Diavolo stared for a moment before his expression melted away to something warmer. He then turned his gaze downward at a frustrated and confused Marley. Suddenly, his embrace grew tighter as he enveloped his body around the unexpecting woman.

“There’s no need for apologies.” He claimed happily.

“Diavolo...Let go...Can’t...Breathe...” Marley wheezed as she tried to tap out of the demonic bear hug.

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“You can be at ease now, Marley.” Diavolo claimed with a smile.

Marley just gave him a side glance as she held her weapon close. There she sat at the table across from the heir to the throne who casually sipped his tea. Under normal circumstances, she would go with the flow and join him in enjoying breakfast but these were far from normal times. She was dying, she was supposed to die but there she was, alive and well. Still feeling Diavolo’s warm gaze upon her body, she turned sharply away from. Before Diavolo could speak, a flurry of little Ds burst onto the balcony, huffing and puffing.

“We’ve finished cleaning up the main hallway, my lord.”

“Well done, everyone.” He praised as he held up a plate of treats for the little demons to feast on.

“Yeah, it was a real mess with all the ice and smashing.” No. 2 claimed with its face stuffed.

However, a quick glare from Marley took all the air out of the haughty creature’s snide remark. Thankfully for the tiny devil, Barbatos had returned to the balcony holding his cloth covered bundle. Taking the hint, all the little Ds dispensed, leaving the trio alone. Gently, Barbatos unraveled the cloth, revealing Marley’s pelt. However, Marley’s wide eyes that were filled with relief were replaced with shocking confusion as she lowered the morningstar she held. The familiar shades of grey were absent as Barbatos presented a pelt of jet black with bands of white. Instinctively, Marley recoiled away from the pelt as she dropped her weapon, cracking the tile. For the first time since knowing her, Diavolo saw she was shying away from the fur with a shaken expression.

“Marley, what’s wrong?”

“That’s not my pelt...”

“I assure you, Miss Marley, this is yours.”

“It’s not, mine’s grey with white rings.” she muttered.

Barbatos straightened his spine while Diavolo interlocked his fingers and sat back in his chair with a solemn look on his face.

“Barbatos, care to explain to our guest?”

“Very well, this pelt is yours but it’s from another place in time.”

Marley’s eyes grew wide as her hair puffed up at the very concept Barbatos offered. Seeing this, he decided to take things slow.

“I have the ability to see the past and future as well as their endless outcomes. Of course, I will never alter them without the permission of my lord. However, he wished for me to take care of your pelt and the best way to do that was to replace it with another one.”

Marley still looked at the man as if he was speaking a different language. Once again, Barbatos changed his tactics.

“Think of time like a river with a multitude of branches and dead ends that I can alter as I wish. If time is a river then living creatures are the fish that swim in the water while an object like your pelt would be a stone, polished and carried upon the riverbed. Your stone was cracked and would only break away as more water beats across it, leading to your death. All I did was replace your stone from the river with another stone from one of the dead ends where it would have been destroyed anyway. Unfortunately, sometimes the stone may not look the same due to different experiences in the river.”

Marley thought for a moment while still looking at the fur.

“...If that’s the case, what happened to that Marley, the one who originally owned it? Was it her ‘dead end’ when you got this? Do we still have the same soul?”

Barbatos gave a soft smile as a comfort.

“It no longer matters since that Marley no longer exists and I assure you that I was not the cause of their demise. However, I assume that they shared your goal of wanting your pelt to live on in some way. A soul may be shaped by its experience but all that matters is what you choose to do from this point.”

Marley looked at the surprisingly kind gaze that Barbatos shared with her. Slowly, she reached and received the strange sealskin that came across time to be held by her. Once in her embrace, a feeling of safety and familiarity washed over her and cleansed her of her dread. The soft velvet against her fingers drew her closer as she rubbed her face gently against its silky exterior. She felt so drawn to it, she didn’t realize that she rose from the table to transform back into a seal for the first time in weeks.

Diavolo quickly rose to his feet to see Marley in her ‘Mochi’ persona but it was striking just how different she looked. No longer was she an orb of a grey seal adorned with many small rings, she was larger and longer with a deep velvet black pelt and decorated with four large white stripes. She bounced over to the glass of the balcony door and tilted her head back and forth as if to look at her new coat. After a brief few minutes, Marley turned to Barbatos and Diavolo and gave them a hasty puff that ended in a high pitched snort. Surprised, Marley scrunched up her snout and tilted her head before making more noises. Diavolo and Barbatos couldn’t help but chuckle as Marley continued to test out her new voice. She turned her attention at the laughing demons and gave a surprisingly low growl at the duo.

“Hmm, looks like your vocal range has increased, Miss Marley.”

“And I must add that you look beautiful in your new coat.” Diavolo chimed in.

Marley snorted at them before peeling away the sealskin to walk on two legs again.

“Barbatos?”

“Yes?”

“Where’s my treasure?”

“Treasure, miss?”

Upon hearing his response, Marley dropped to her knees and gripped her new pelt tightly. All her hard searching and planning made a mote point as her brain was filled with all her hardships that she endured. The largest treasure stash that she ever found and protected for over three months were now lost to the literal flow of time. Concerned, Barbatos and Diavolo called out to the discouraged woman who sniffled slightly.

“Are you alright, Marley?”

“I’m fine, or I will be at the least. Can I borrow your phone real quick?” She asked shakily.

“Sure, but whatever for?” He questioned as he handed over his D.D.D.

“I need to let them know that I’m alright now.”

Marley called the brothers one by one, only for the phone to ring out each time which made Diavolo look away with slight shame in his face.

“They haven’t been responding to my calls or messages as of late.”

Marley just gave Diavolo a cheeky grin lined with mischief and revenge.

“Ok, then let me try something else that will get their attention.”

Diavolo looked on confused while Barbatos looked away with his shoulders trembling.

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #mochi story fanfic #mochi #crystalrose555 #diavolo #barbatos #obey me mc #obey me oc #selkie #obey me fandom #om #obey me!#obey me shall we date?

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rikalovesrice · 3 years

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Douxie x Reader #4 - Comfort (Part 1)

Reader Recap : Lives in older sister’s shadow, rarely ever acknowledged by her parents or people at school. Has a host of insecurities because of it. Part-time pizza delivery girl on a scooter. A partner in crime when hunting for monsters in the late hours of night with Douxie, Archie, and Zoe. You and Douxie have become close friends.

You didn’t know where you going and you didn’t care. All you knew is that you had to get as far away from your house and the people inside of it as you could without leaving Arcadia.

You floored it on your scooter, fueled by the frustration and hurt pumping through your veins. Eventually you rolled into town and parked the scooter in the park, dismounting and leaning back against the seat, holding yourself. There was a dull sort of ache in your head and you could feel the pressure of tears forming but refusing to fall. It brought you to the ground and you curled in on yourself, rocking forward onto the balls of your feet. It was times like this, when being swept aside became too much, that you questioned your very existence. Why you even bothered sometimes. If your parents even knew they had another child. If you really were just a speck of dirt on your older sister’s pristine image.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed there all balled up beside your scooter, taking deep breathes and crying softly into your arms. You had just noticed a bizarre, prickling rasp in your ear when -

“(Name)!!”

There as a flash of blue and you instinctively ducked, rolling forward and roughly onto your side as some kind of misty, shadowy form took the brunt of a blast of blue. The creature screeched and quickly recovered from the attack. It was about the size of a squirrel and it twitched and jerked about like a glitch. White, ghastly, hollow eyes pulsed against a shape of black and gray smoke, like distorted full moons. You backed away on your elbows, terrified when not one, not two, but what looked like a hundred more of the things manifested from the night, rising like a wave from behind your scooter.

You braced yourself as the creatures descended upon you, squeezing your eyes shut, when a hand clamped around your shoulder and pulled you snug against a familiar bundle of black.

“Douxie...!” you gasped, looked up at his face creased with concentration. You flinched at the force of the shadowy creatures slamming into the shield of magic Douxie had conjured, his left arm extended, charm bracelet alight with symbols. When they’d dispersed, Douxie lowered the shield and helped you to your feet, checking you over.

“Are you alright?” he asked, patting your shoulders and arms. “What are you doing here? I thought you had something with your family tonight.”

“What...What are those things?” you huffed, wondering how you’d manage to forget what Arcadia’s like after midnight. The flurry of writhing shadows regrouped in the air, a frightening show against the street lights, and were circling back. Douxie moved in front of you, watching them closely with charm bracelet at the ready.

“Hollowsprites,” Douxie said lowly. “Nasty things. Haven’t seen this many since Morgana returned. Drawn to darkness. They feed upon strong negative emotions and feelings. Fear. Anger. Sadness.” His voice lost some edge and his head turned slightly back towards you. “Pain and suffering...”

Sensing a lapse in attention, the hollowsprites spiraled downward, only to be intercepted by a bright flash of pink and a burst of fire. Archie and Zoe were hurrying onto the scene, Archie perching himself around Douxie’s shoulders.

“(Name)! Change your mind about tonight?” Archie asked, glancing back at you.

“So this is where they all went,” Zoe said, pink electricity sparking between her fingers. “Thought you were gonna have all the fun, did you, Doux?”

“Ugh, you’re welcome for finding them,” Douxie retorted. Then he grinned, his charm bracelet flickering as he clenched his fist. “Go on, Zoe. I’ve worn them down for you!”

“Yeah cause more hollowsprites showing up is wearing them down.”

“Provoking is more like it,” Archie added. “Dramatically emoting?”

“Whose side are you on?” Douxie whined.

“Uh, sorry, Arch,” you say. “I think I was one...er, emoting.”

Archie turned in the air to face you, his white eyebrows creased. “That so? Are you alright, (Name)?”

Douxie let his guard down even more, slightly lowering his charm bracelet and equally concerned as he looked back at you.

“Okay not to be insensitive but can we do this later cause we’ve kinda got a situation here!” Zoe lashed the angry hollowsprites with sparks of magic. “Sit tight, (Name). Come on you two!”

“Thought you wanted all the fun, Zoe!”

“Douxie, I swear -”

Continuing their banter, Douxie, Zoe, and Archie got to work blasting and zapping and burning the hollowsprites into submission. The pain in your heart was suspended for the moment as you were fixated on the action in front of you. Several hollowsprites lunged at you, but they ended up barreling into another one of Douxie’s shields.

“(Name), whatever negative emotions are inside of you, they want to consume them,” he said, looking back at you. “They want to use your emotions to make them stronger and corrupt you. But you can resist them. Don’t let them win!” Douxie shoved the magical shield forward with a loud grunt, the magic bursting and causing the hollowsprites to scatter furiously.

Corruption. That was a concept that hadn’t occurred to you. But now that you thought about it, it made sense. There were plenty of times the hurt threatened to melt into bitter hatred, to the point where you considered being a nasty person yourself in retaliation. Everything was constantly being taken away from you. Everything. But...There were things within you that your family could never touch. Things no one could touch or take, not if you had any say in it. And right now...It seems you did.

No one would steal the peace of a bookstore. The warmth of a cafe. Jamming out in a record store. The thrill of cruising on a scooter under a starlit sky. The wonder of literal magic, the kind you thought only existed in movies. A talking cat with glasses and a pair of wings. Headphones over a head of pink hair. Black clothes and golden eyes and that breathtaking smile of his.

The place where you belonged.

The friends you now cherished.

The love you had found.

The pain of understanding now what life could be. What it should have been.

You were constantly aware of the exhaustion of choosing love. Choosing to have grace. Choosing to be strong and steadfast. Choosing to be different. But as tiring as it was, you never once regretted it. And that belonged to you, too.

The decision, your resolve, to try and be better.

You planted your feet, grounding yourself as the hollowsprites once again took aim at you. As they dove down, Douxie almost conjured another shield but you stepped firmly in front of him.

“Stay away from my emotions you freaks!” you yelled at the mass of writhing shadows. “They’re mine! My feelings are mine!” Almost immediately, the hollowsprites recoiled as if stung, screeching and squealing in confusion.

“That’s it!” Douxie said with a broad smile, summoning rings of magic to attack the creatures further. Archie flew between the rings, setting Douxie’s magic ablaze to amplify his spells. Soon blue flames were raining down like falling leaves from hollowsprites being burned alive.

“Big mistake messing with my friend!” Zoe said, engulfing herself in pink electricity. With two taps of her toes on the ground, she bolted forward, powerful streams of lightning trailing behind her and frying any hollowsprite in her path. The ravenous behavior of the creatures dissolved into frustrated disorientation, members of the shadowy cluster zipping around aimlessly.

You noticed that the hollowsprites weren’t actually dying. Rather the number of hollowsprites began to dwindle as members of the swarm shot off into the night like dark firecrackers.

Eventually all the hollowsprites fled, an eerie silence filling the town in their wake. All three of your magical friends loosened in exhaustion, Douxie actually dropping to the ground to sit.

“None of them were destroyed,” you commented, looking up into the night where the creatures had vanished.

“Yea, well...As long as negative emotions exist, hollowsprites can’t be destroyed,” Zoe said. “Just shooed away, really.”

You frowned. “I’m sorry...”

“Don’t be,” Douxie said. “We’ve been seeing more and more of them lately anyway.”

“You see, hollowsprites are also drawn to...‘disturbances’ in the realms, so to speak,” Archie said. “We suspect something must be amiss...”

“There’s that, too, yes. But I suppose they targeted you because your emotions were so strong...”

You locked eyes with Douxie, a moment passing between you both. His eyes were soft with concern. For some reason, looking to those eyes, you felt really vulnerable.

Zoe cleared her throat. “Erm, Archie? Why don’t we make sure the rest of the town is clear of those things?”

“Pardon...?” Archie said. “But- Oh. Oh...Y-yes! Good idea, Zoe!”

Zoe gave you a quick hug. “I’ll text you later. You better answer me! Make sure she gets home safe, Doux.”

You felt a blush on your cheeks. They were leaving you alone with him?

“Uh, hold on-” But Zoe and Archie were already hurrying away. You leaned back against the seat of your scooter, fumbling with your fingers and saying nothing. And suddenly extremely aware of Douxie’s presence. You actually jumped a little when he said your name.

“(Name)...Um...” Douxie scratched the back of his neck. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to...But if you don’t mind me asking what happened...?”

Of course you didn’t mind. Douxie was a safe space where the monsters couldn’t reach you. Your place of respite. But even though the tears came easily then, it didn’t mean you weren’t embarrassed.

“They all forgot,” you said, your voice already thick with tears. “They forgot about the dinner I had planned to um...celebrate my dad’s promotion.” With an empty laugh, you wiped your face with your palm. “I mean, I don’t know what I was expecting. I just...”

Douxie got up off the ground, stepping closer to you. “(Name)...”

“I just wanted to do something nice for my dad. For my family. But I’m dumb and I actually thought they’d care. Mom and dad just went out to eat and my sister just stayed in her room and the food was getting cold and -”

As soon as his arms wrapped around you, you sobbed into his sweatshirt. You were vaguely aware that you were probably getting tears and snot and dribble all over your crush but you couldn’t stop crying for a solid three minutes. Douxie just held you the whole time, hand squeezing your shoulder and thumb stroking your back.

"I’m emoting all over you...,” you whimpered, having settled down into soft sniffling and hiccups.

“Oh stop it,” Douxie said. Then he hugged you tighter. “I’m so sorry they treat you like this. You know you can always come to me...Zoe, and Archie, right? I... We’ll never sweep you aside.”

You almost came undone again. Not wanting to soak Douxie’s sweatshirt further, you moved back and pressed your forehead against his collarbone, still staying as close as you could to his warmth. To his eyes like the sun and moon, glowing with compassion, soft with understanding. To his smile that always made you smile. To his gentle hands. Those streaks of blue hair. The comforting shadow of his presence. His magic, bright and beautiful like he was.

It terrified you.

“Yeah...” You pulled away to look up at him, still holding his arms. “Yeah, I know you won’t. I...I believe you. I’ll try....”

Douxie gazed at you for a moment before smiling softy, wiping a tear away with his finger.

“Good,” he said. Then he smooshed your face between his hands, forcing your cheeks and lips to pucker.

“H-hey!!”

He released you, laughing. “Shall I walk you home?”

Blushing wildly and rubbing your face, you managed a smile.

“That’d be nice.”

There wasn’t any hurry. It was probably two in the morning now but would your family notice your absence? Negative.

You guided your scooter along as Douxie strolled beside you, the two of you chatting about any and everything. Douxie went off a bit talking about how he didn’t understand people who ate fondant and how much of a jerk Shakespeare was. It was the cutest thing. Then you started going on and on about how pretty the moon was tonight and how crescent moons were your favorite. For a second, Douxie might’ve been staring at you, but, no, duh, you definitely imagined it.

“Well uh...This is me.” You took one look at your front door and sighed. “Sadly.”

“Hey.” Douxie placed a hand on your arm. “Remember what I said. Anytime. A phone call, a text-”

“A raven?”

He snickered. “Especially a raven. But seriously...Just say the word.”

Under the moonlight, Douxie was otherworldly. So gorgeous your heart threatened to swell to bursting. How was it that your paths could possibly have crossed? It escaped you, and you had no hope of catching it.

“Okay,” you said softly.

“Okay,” Douxie repeated. “Goodnight, (Name).”

“Goodnight, Douxie.”

Neither of you moved.

“Ah, go on, then,” Douxie said kindly, putting his hands in his pockets. “I’ll stay until you’re inside.”

“O-oh. Okay, thanks.” You parked your scooter next to your sister’s car. Just as your hand touched the doorknob, you were overwhelmed with the urge to just tell him. Heart racing, you tried to say his name, starting to turn back around.

“Uh..Uh D-Doux-”

“(Name).”

You paused. “Y-yeah?”

Douxie smiled warmly. “I’m glad that I met you. I’m glad we’re friends.”

It was sweetness followed by a stab.

“Me, too,” you said, meaning it with your whole aching heart. “You...” A shaky breath. “You guys mean the world to me.”

Before he could say anything else, you hurried inside, up the stairs in the dark, and into your room, not caring if you woke anyone up. You curled up on your bed, face in your forearms.

You were happy. So, so happy.

And so utterly crushed.

Just outside, still in front of your house, Douxie’s eyes fixated on your bedroom window. Then he turned and started back towards the town, wondering how he could ease the pain in your life and thinking about the look on your face, the glow in your eyes, as you enthused over the moonlight.

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haxorus-imp · 3 years

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Dreamer Biology - Newton and Reader short fic

Just a short fic on how I feel like Newton and a Human would be friends. So they chill and have meaningful conversations together while they hang out. Just some ideas I drew up and like the thoughts of. Platonic Newton and Reader - Gender neutral Reader - Alien Concepts No thoughts, just Single Braincell Shenanigans. AO3 link for those that would rather read it there > https://archiveofourown.org/works/28950645

You were currently dozing peacefully on a plateau that was near the top of Needlepoint Peaks in Bunkum. Which was the perfect place for a midday snooze. The air at the top was crisp and fresh. Which sent a pleasant feeling that rang throughout the entirety of your organic lungs.

Your skin shivered at the brisk wind as it brushed on by. Carrying the cardboard clouds that hovered nearby away in a random direction. Despite the slight chill, you were completely relaxed and you stretched your arms slightly to loosen the remaining tension from your hike up the mountain. Then, your ears perked up a bit when you heard a hushed curse come from nearby. Ah, that’s right. You almost completely forgot about your companion that decided to accompany you on your trek up the mountainside.

You slowly crack open your eyes and look over. A few meters away from your dormant form sat your only friend in the whole ‘imagisphere’, Newton Pud. Who was fiddling with some equipment just a few feet away from your lazy form. He seemed to be concentrating as he worked on the random project in his lap, getting slightly frustrated at something that wasn’t cooperating with the fixture.

Surrounding himself was a picnic blanket, a basket full of goodies (that you couldn’t ingest sadly), a pile of mechanical pieces,a notebook and pen, a laid out blueprint, and some bottles of some foreign lubricant.

You simply watch as he would look over to your ‘sleeping’ form a few times before getting back to his project, despite the frustration. It made your mind wander a bit. It was rather strange how you two became friends. A human and a lightbulb object-head. Not that you could complain. You were probably really lucky to make any friends out here in the imagisphere. It wasn’t like the natives were hostile to you or anything. It was just because you were a rather strange case. Nobody around here on ‘Bunkum’, nor on the neighboring nearby planet called ‘Craftworld’, have ever seen your kind before. Not that you couldn’t blame them for being a bit cautious. There was rarely anything around here that resembled ‘organic’ materials. It was a dimension filled with fabrics and crafts that were made to mimic the real thing. Nothing here seemed to be made of flesh. Which is what you were made of. Flesh, blood, and bones.

Which was strange in this universe.

You don’t even remember how you arrived here nor why you’re here. But once you were found by the little brave Sackthing, you found yourself meeting ‘The Alliance’ and going on a trip in a little rocket ship. As of right now, you were under the care of the members of that Alliance. Until your culture shock, amnesia, and living predicaments were addressed. So, Larry has been coming to and from Bunkum while attending the popit academy.

With an invitation, you were allowed to travel with Larry and visit Bunkum. That’s when you met Newton and he gave you a grand tour of his homeworld while Larry was teaching his lessons. After that day, you two have been hanging out regularly and seemed to have developed some form of bond. I guess two oddballs being friends wouldn’t be that far fetched, now would it? It was fun hanging out with him though. So you couldn’t really complain. “Erm...pardon me, Chum.” Newton’s voice broke the silence between you two as you sat up slightly, humming in acknowledgement and turning your gaze towards him. He was sitting a little bit away, now facing you fully. The contraption in his lap looking no closer to completion as his electric eyes stare at your own. “Yeah, Newton?” “Um...well. I know this is, uh, rather sudden. But, I have waited a while to question you on this particular topic.” Newton begins as you listen in.

“I can tell from the moment we met, you’re not from around here. Like...you’re not from either Craftworld nor Bunkum. Not even from that odd place, Carnivalia. So, I have gotten rather curious about where you came from.” Newton questions. You think for a second as memories of your true home flash in your head. You shrug.

“I honestly don’t know how I got here, but I’m from a place called Earth. It’s like this world and dimension...just...organic? ‘Real’? Like...stuff is made out of...it’s kinda hard to explain it…” You mutter. Your explanation was met with silence. Newton seemed almost completely confused as he appeared to be thinking deeply before replying. “Uh, chum? Not to doubt your explanation...but ‘Earth’? Isn’t that the ‘Orb of Dreamers’ from mythology? Like...from what I can remember, the legends said that beings from a place called ‘Earth’ is what created the imagisphere long, long ago. Like...we’re talking ancient history here...” You get a bit upset and sit upright to look at Newton fully. “Oh, come on! Newton, look at me! How can I be lying? I mean, nobody around here has ever seen a human before! Do I look like anything ‘natural’ that’s been made around here?” You gesture to yourself as Newton does a quick skim of your figure before locking your eyes together again. “Er...well...now that you say it like that...no? I apologize. I wasn’t saying that you were a liar. I was just...caught off guard a bit by that explanation.” Silence hangs in the air for a moment while he looks a bit bewildered before speaking up once more.

“So…’Earth’. The ‘Orb of Dreamers’. It’s real then? A real place? Not a myth like the mythology legends say it is?” Newton wonders, his eyes sparking a bit.

You roll your eyes comically at his question. “I don’t know, Newton. Am I real? Am I just a hallucination?” You joke. Newton blinks a bit before he looks away timidly. He closes his eyes for a moment, then he presses a finger to his non-existent chin. After a moment of thought, he seems to be ready to ask another question. He opens his eyes and glances back towards your general direction. “What’s it like? The orb of dreamers, I mean.” He asks.

You ponder the question for a moment.

“Well...like I said before...like this place. But, everything is MUCH bigger. Like...I would probably match this mountain in height...or I would be able to pick up a large tin of crackers with extreme ease. I’m scaled down, but everything seems to be accurate to the size of Earth. As for what makes up Earth...it’s just...different? Like...hmmmm...” You were at a complete loss on how to describe your home world to someone who knew only fabric and material. Then, you got an idea while you ran your fingers through your hair. You hold your arm out to your lightbulb companion and he flinched a bit before looking at you curiously. You wiggle your arm for emphasis. “Touch my arm. Tell me what you think.” You gesture again, still holding it out. Newton gives you a questioning glance, but eventually places down the tools he was holding before reaching out with both hands. His fabric appendages touch down on your hand before they grip your palm and fingers. His gaze focuses intensely as he runs his hands up your wrist, forearm, and elbow. His white cloth fingers press in on the flesh. Feeling the hard bones underneath as he curiously prods the alien material that made up your form. He even took to bending the limb. Turning it one way, then the other. Watching the muscles and angles change to provide movement for the direction he chose. He seemed completely fascinated. You almost wanted to laugh as his expression looked similar to that of child wonderment. Like he discovered something for the first time, guaranteed that this was the first time you let anyone else other than Eve touch your flesh.

He slides his hands down your arms and back to your hand, which he begins to mess with the fingers. That is, until he pushed one a bit far and it let out a distinct ‘pop’. He quickly lets go before a flood of apologies suddenly spill from his wiry mouth. You couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m so so so sorry! I didn’t know--oh crumbs! What if I broke it?!?” Newton nearly panics before you shush him. “I’m okay, man! That’s normal...for the most part. Our body parts pop like that to release tension and strain. Keep in mind that we CAN break them, but a mere pop is nothing to be worried about. Observe.” You say. Then, you promptly lace your two hands together and push them outwards.

Resulting in a large series of pops from your fingers and shoulders. Newton’s face violently glitches suddenly at the sound and it quickly morphs into a face of horror. You smirk at his reaction and then begin to turn your back while sitting in place. This resulted in more and louder pops that make Newton recoil in disgust. “AUGH! How does that NOT hurt you?! It sounds so PAINFUL!” Newton yowls. You just laugh a bit and shrug. “Humans are weird like that, Newton.” You say, a smirk still present on your face as Newton tries to shake off the discomfort of the sounds he just witnessed. “You should’ve seen how the others reacted to my bones popping. Larry thought I snapped myself in half and Eve wanted to give me medical attention. So it’s not the first time someone reacted that way.” “Wait...THOSE ARE BONES?!! WHY WOULD HUMANS DO THAT TO THEIR BONES?!!” Newton shrieked as you burst out into another fit of laughter. You struggled to gain your breath as Newton looks at you in a horrified manner. “T-To...hah, release tension! It’s really quite relaxing!” “Balderdash!!” Newton retorts. You snicker a bit as you finally are able to catch your breath. Your laughter and shenanigans echoing through the mountain ranges as Newton quickly shakes his head around a bit, as if trying to dislodge the sound of your bones popping from his memory. A second of bliss passes. “So...you’re naturally warm all of the time?” Newton speaks up again, fiddling with the machine in his lap as he looks at you from time to time from underneath his egg-timer bowler hat. “Well...yeah. Don’t see how you lack body heat, since you’re a lightbulb and all. But, I guess we humans feel like we have little furnaces inside of us that are lit all the time.” “Oh. It’s not like we don’t have body heat. But, we just...don’t feel like you do? It’s kinda strange. You feel like something is constantly warming you up from the inside. Plus, we don’t freeze like you do. We can get ‘cold’ but not enough to actually freeze.” Newton says. You nod in understanding. A brief memory of you nearly freezing in the Ziggurat while touring Bunkum flashes in your mind. Newton then continues. “And your… ’skin’ ...it feels different too. It’s very soft and similar to leather. But, like...there’s really REALLY fine threats that go through it? No stitching or pattern lines...it just looks like everything on you was burned into the covering.” Newton rambles as you listen in. Was having flesh really that strange? “And...I was wondering...what about that stuff on your head? Is it yarn...or a fine string?” Newton ponders out loud, pointing to your hair. “That? Well...I guess silk or ‘fine string’ would be a way to describe it. It grows out of my head naturally. Every week or so, they get longer and longer.” You explain. Newton seemed intrigued by this information. “Wait...you PRODUCE things from your body? Like...constantly??” “Well, yeah. Same with my fingernails. They grow constantly and I have to cut them every now and then.” You show Newton your hand as an example. Newton looks at the ends of your fingers and takes notice of the nails on the end, as well as the creases of your palms and skin lines on your bendable bits.

“What about your eyes?” He asks, letting go of your hand and pointing to your face.

“My eyes? Well...they are a complicated organ. Unlike sackfolk and such, I can’t just change my eyes willy-nilly. These are the same eyes I got from birth. If I’m careful, I’ll have them for the rest of my life.” “If you’re careful?” “Yeah. A human can lose parts of their body and they can’t grow back. Some things can be replaced or substituted. Like a leg or arm, but eyes grant me the ability to see. If I lose them in an accident or fight, I can become blind.” You elaborate. “Ah. I understand...anything else…?” Newton mutters a bit, as if he was thinking of anything else to say. “I also noticed that the locals around here have a tongue made of fabric. I just wanted to say that I have one too.” Without even being asked, you stick out your tongue and wiggle it for emphasis. Newton gives it a disturbed look as he leans back a bit. “What is...what is that bloody thing made of?? It looks so wet and slimy!” You return your tongue back into your mouth before you speak. “Flesh. It’s a muscle that allows me to enunciate and properly pronounce my words. Without it, I would have trouble speaking and communicating vocally.” You idly speak. Newton’s mouth makes a waving motion as a sound of uncertainty emits from him. Then, a minute or two passes once again before Newton seems to take an interest in something else and sets his project aside in favor of the notepad that he was writing on. He flips a few pages before stopping on a blank sheet. Picking up his pen, he begins to write some things down. The sound of his pen was frantic as he seemed to be thinking while he wrote. You could catch some quick sketches of a humanoid-figure being drawn up in his notebook before a few boxes were sketched nearby with lines going towards certain parts of the sketch. Then, you realized what he was doing. He was taking notes of your conversation. How cute. You smile a bit as you look off into the distance. The mountains around you both were slowly turning a pale orange while the sun was beginning to sink towards the mountain-embraced horizon. The cardboard clouds slowly creeped along, turning some various shades of purple and pink while they drifted. The sky was slowly changing as well, giving the scenery around you both a feeling of tranquility as the evening was slowly creeping towards nightfall. You could even see a few ‘stars’ beginning to appear as the night slowly was coming around. It was easy to get lost in the scenery before you. “So. You’re a dreamer then?” You are suddenly pulled back to this reality as Newton interrupts the blissful silence. You look back toward him and give him a confused look. “A dreamer?” “Yes, chum. You came from the ‘Orb of Dreamers’, right? So that would make you a dreamer.” “When did you come up with that assumption?” “I didn’t. That’s what the mythology books I read sometimes say. I quote, ‘Earth, or as the Omniverse calls it, the ‘Orb of Dreamers’. In which the occupants spend so much time asleep and dreaming. Their imaginations humming away, charged with creative energy.’ end quote.” Newton explained. “The book also said, like before, that ‘Earth’ is responsible for the creation of the entire imagisphere. Again I quote, ‘Their energy travels up through the ceribrumbilical cord to meld with all of the other dreamers energy. And from that energy, they make a planet. An abstract plane of wonderment. Filled with adventure and endless possibilities.’ , end quote.” He continued. You sit there in contemplative silence. “That’s what you are...right? A dreamer?” Newton cautiously prods. “. . .” You sigh a bit. “It explains a lot actually.” You say, confusing Newton. “Explains what?” “What happens when I fall asleep.” You explain before continuing. “Everytime I fall asleep, something happens. Like...things pop into existence. I woke up once after dozing off in Clive’s factory to find some new robots standing next to me. Clive claimed he didn’t build them and I said I didn’t either. Then, I went to sleep in the Gardens and a flowerbed had grown up around me so quickly while I was dozing. It’s just...weird stuff happens when I take a nap or sleep.” You admit. Newton seemed to blink before getting a bit excited. “Does that make you a creator then??” He says ethustiactally. “Crumbs! That means you can make anything real! You’re like a creator or a maker or--” “Shush, Newton!” You hush him harshly, in which you feel immediately bad after he recoils.

You simply let out a stressful sigh before continuing.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you...it’s just...well--I don’t really know what’s going on...nor even how I got here. I really don’t want a lot of excess attention on me. So for now, I’m (Name) the Human not (Name) the Dreamer, okay? Please, let’s just keep this revelation between the two of us.” you finish. Newton looked thoughtful before nodding in agreement. “Okay, chum! You can count on me! Not one word will slip past my wire, not one!” He pridefully states before writing more information down in his personal notebook. You merely roll your eyes at the overly excited lightbulb before looking back at the sunset.

Then, a sudden thought comes to your mind. “Hey, Newton?” “Yes, chum?” “When we get back to Stitchem Manor, do you think you can lend me one of those ‘mythology’ books? I would like to see what this realm thinks of my homeworld.” Newton perks up at that request. “Sure thing! There’s a couple of books in my personal library I can lend to you! I may even search for more information on the topic if you want!” He offers. “Just a book will be fine for now, Newton. Thanks for the offer, though.” “Anytime, my chummy friend!” You stare at the horizon as Newton scribbles down notes nearby. A smile slowly creeping across your face at the potential possibility of being able to find your way home. Looking into myths and legends may be a stretch, but a lead is a lead.

So you just enjoy your time on the mountain. Thinking about the things Newton told you and the secret you both are now keeping between yourselves.

Who knew being a human would lead to such a conundrum such as this. And all over your biology too, who would’ve thunk?

#little big planet #LBP #LBP3 #Newton Pud #reader insert #LBP fanfic #Just some ideas I have about humans in the imagisphere #reader is gender neutral #Reader is a human

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meandmyechoes · 3 years

Text

The more I think about Dark Disciple, the more I find something odd.

[28th March 17:46]

I keep referring to it as a ‘favourable experience’, and there is no question the writing is what made me fall totally head over heels about quintress, but I also just, can’t?

I mean, yes. It’s very passionate, dramatic, scenes and gestures I can only dream of. But I also, don’t really see it in that ’omg they totally belong together here are my sixty headcanons of them’ sense?

I am very involved in the pairing, but also don’t really, actively ‘ship’ it — like the way it was an open book with Rhayme or Latts Razzi (since it’s the same author that indoctrinated me to Captain Rhayme). I could imagine them being happily ever after and silly shenanigans and slow-burn. But the concept of a quintress fairytale ending is so wild. I can only ask how much it is tainted with my personal view on relationships.

I know the plot leaves little room for “the future” and fed us well on all tropes possible. But, it just never occurred to me to put them in any other clichés or invent a missing scene.

Winding up, I don’t think their relationship is "weak", but it’s very motivated by circumstances and once you take that out of them, you are a little bit lost. For example even during the illicit affairs month, I… can’t really propose one date that does not seem tonally insensitive. (I can think of them being cloak dorks and Vos bringing her to ice-cream, that’s it, after a long hard moment) Really, all I possibly want is that sweet, sweet angst and canon is already there so I have no complaint.

It’s just… I don’t really get why it has to be the two of them that fall for each other. I understand why they did, and I believe it— Perhaps it’s much more a physical attraction thing that I don’t really have personal experience with.

I don’t know if quintress classify as slow-burn because 10 chapters still seem a little quick in the grand scheme of things. (aside: I’m quite disappointed Ventress wasn’t doing much in the last quarter of the book.) My point is, they do feel a little bit puppet to tropes, and while it’s deliciously written, there’s not much potential outside of canon. And that lack of inspiration makes me grimace a little.

[3rd April, 01:39]

I’ve scrolled through the dd tag and let the book sank a little. I am better articulated to talk about the sexist criticism now.

It’s a romance story, and when I judge it by that (lower) standard, it ticks the boxes. However, it might be a weakness as well, due to the projectability of the heroes. And yes, the whole assassination is dumb. Yet, tcw has been consistently this dumb at us. The last two times when she’s more rooted in the dark she failed, sent Savage and failed, so she’s gonna do it again with Vos… after she put down her desire for revenge. right. and surprise! Our “assassination” plan is to find Dooku and duel him directly. right…

I’ve read a review that says the romance takes away from the plot. However, the romance IS the plot. The book IS supposed to revolve around the two of them. I do agree them becoming begrudging allies then partners is a more unique approach, more rewarding as foils as well. but I guess a romance is easier for the conventional to process ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

With the “Ventress lose agency in falling for Vos”. Now, I can’t dictate how each of us buy into their physical attraction and chemistry (or lack thereof), and there’s no denial that a conscious human being is making that choice for the fictional character, I think the stance on this topic varied person to person from the above two factors, which are very different starting points.

I kept Katie Lucas’s foreword vividly in mind while reading. She said this is a story about people seizing chances to rebuild. That there’s always a choice. Cliché as it is, I believe ~the power of love~. I believe there exists someone you’re willing to sacrifice everything for, to overlook everything for, to forgive - to love them, warts and all. So, yes whether you think Ventress loses her agency to the romance, or if that’s a conscious choice on her behalf, is swayed heavily by how much you buy that they are the one.

[10th April, 10:30]

Yesterday I’ve been thinking a bit more about this. I do love this ship, I just don’t believe they’d be two people who find each other again and again in every life time, in every universe. That’s why, as magnificent as fireworks, it also won’t last.

To explore this, it’s not entire impossible for quintress to separate peacefully after this incident, but would that cheapen the build before? The entire motivation of dark!Quinlan hinges on his vision of their future. And say, Ventress did saved him and survived. How would he balance being a Jedi and his feelings - that’s publicly exposed to the Council? (sidenote: i really don’t like Ch. 27 where a bunch of old men are questioning their love life, but uhhh yes, I’m a sensible person!) For now, I’m seeing another Obi-Satine situation. And honestly how bad that an outcome is. It’s not like Ventress died for her war crimes! The show gave her a full pardon! So Idk man. Why can’t she leave him because she loves him and she exiled herself and they never see each other again WHY NOT FILONI WHY NOT.

Now I’m lamenting more what could’ve been with the two arcs. In Filoni’s original sketch, Aayla and Maul were involved. Man, that could’ve been the dream.

~~~

Part 2: [26th April, 15:15]

It has been… a month, since I finished Dark Disciple and I feel like it’s time to conclude all the thinking this book has made me do.

On the wider reflection about attachment and the Jedi Order, I still have to do more reading on it from other sources to form a concrete opinion. This theme won’t be touched on in this post yet, but I cannot shake how intriguing it is to compare “falling” in love to falling to the dark side. The temptation, and the submission to their emotions, the irrationality, the newfound curiosity, it all incites. Very curiously, it was Anakin Skywalker who commented that one is “blinded by love”

Okay, so what I’ve been scratching my head off the past two weeks is how I look at the romance between Asajj Ventress and Quinlan Vos. How would I define it?

Now this is as much as an exploration of how I view romantic relationships. Well, I’ve decided it wasn’t “love”, it was an “affair”. It was an affair because it’s a rush of passion, it’s a secret, it won’t last. Before I chop my own head off for bluntness, I mean it in, of course they are hopelessly in love with each other, that’s the exact premise of why it moved me so. But it wasn’t a complete relationship, wasn’t a healthy, sustainable one by any objective standards. Then, that’s the exact contradiction. Oh to throw caution in the wind with you, or to build a future with you?

Both are things I want a lot, and the ideal is of course one after the other. What quintress had (in the end) is definitely not something I’d want for myself, but it’s so fantastical, it’s alluring, just like the concept of falling in love - opening up yourself and trusting another person, is - it’s risky. That’s why it’s a sweet, sweet drug.

I’ve been so angry at all the red flags in this relationship. Reading this book, getting into both of their shoes, yelling NO like their best friends. But ultimately, what they had is unique to them and I can’t influence it in any way. Re-reading, I find myself holding myself back at all the places I was furious about going ‘You are smarter than this!’. Because it’s a tragedy, and the beautiful (I guess) thing is they chose each other.

The other day something on the dash inspired me to really think about ship dynamics. I, unashamedly admit, I’m VERY into Obi/Quin/Ventress in any and all combinations. *cough* I will not explain further.

I do accept the premise and I did discover they share quite a bunch of traits, but it confused me a while what made them cross the boundary, and it was, physical attraction (that the book was selling so hard I was blushing hot). I love them both a lot, and I would like to date them both, and I can see myself in either of them. Again comes the contradiction, is it a good thing to have characters so easily projectable, or do I want to see myself in more complex characters like them?

I probably lost quite a few cars stalling this train of thought. And I've been a canon apologist since forever. This book brought me a lot of emotional upheavals and a lot of food for thought. It brought me down to reflect on my romantic worldview and sexuality because I have nothing better to do. It totally challenged me as a writer and it’s just a really good novel by its right, regardless of the absurdity that is The Clone Wars. It’s a lot of firsts for me. And I really should find something better to do.

[26th April 16:00]

I must address that I got spoiled of the ending and the first and second half of the book probably went through some big changes.

If I cried for this book, it’s score would be even higher. And I’ve been so obsessed with discussing the relationship, without shedding light on the characterization, which is definitely an unfortunate side effect. Then it occurs that quite possibly the second half (26-42) deviated even further from the script than the first? It doesn’t have concept art or blocking, plus possibly (heavily) edited to omit correlation to other arcs. My major complaint for the second half is Ventress doesn’t do much and we know NOTHING about Vos, even though he is given screen time in the book. my, I just wish Ventress punch him harder and drag his idiotic mess back to the light sooner.

And to criticism about it being their ‘toxic’ relationship being portrayed as ‘true love’, well, it really depends on how thoughtful the reader is, right? I think if the reader is able to notice all these red flags and gave their own interpretation of the relationship and its outcome, it’d’ve been an educating experience. There’s what for the reader and what for the characters. They don’t know this ‘love’ is destroying them, and what kind of message is it sending? What ‘love’ depicted in the book is true then? I have my answers, and I hope every reader comes to their own as well.

#dark disciple #sw reading #clean version #i yell 'EXCEPT THE FLIRTY PART' every three scenes

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biblio-bitch · 4 years

Text

Detroit Evolution Commentary Pt. 3 [FINAL]

It’s been a while, sorry. Life sucks ass sometimes and I had to do some transferring to my new laptop. I’ll write down some more fun facts as an apology. Disclaimer: This is all stuff I noticed, inferred, or interpreted. I didn’t write the film, anything I’ve interpreted is just that, an interpretation based on things I noticed using my experiences and knowledge.

Fun fact #1: I have attempted to write in a proper novel style at least five times. After watching DE and watching @octopunkmedia ‘s script breakdowns and such, I've started writing scripts instead. I’m much farther along in those than I ever have been in books. 10/10 amazing for my visual based concepts.

Fun fact #2: My mental health was rapidly declining and I was losing interest in quite literally everything at the time the film was released. Watching the film and fixating on it for a month straight not only inspired me but helped me regain control of my life. Watching streams by the cast and Michelle while I worked for school made my productivity skyrocket.

Fun fact #3: I recently developed a tic that I now can’t get rid of. It was out of control for about twenty minutes right before I began writing this post. However, when I began re-watching the film (partially because it’s a comfort for me and I’m quite honestly terrified of what’s happening in the US right now) it stopped. So that’s fun.

As usual, spoilers and swearing under the cut! Quick note: If there should be a trigger warning on this or anything else I post, please let me know! I’m horrible at remembering to tag triggers. I’ll also be doing some quick posts on Umbrella Academy and my severe obsession with Jason Todd soon. Have fun!

As usual, here’s a list of people I know the users of in case you’d like to check any of them out. I’m likely missing people so feel free to let me know who I’m missing so I can add them!

Maximilian Kroger - Nines (@ maximiliankroger)

Christopher (Chris) Trindade - Gavin (@ trindabago)

Michael Smallwood - Chris Miller (@ michaelsmallwoodforever)

Carla Kim - Tina Chen (@ carlahkim)

Jillian Geurts - Ada (@ jilbobaggins_nyc)

Michelle Iannantuono - (@ octopunkmedia)

JJ Goller - Lazzo (@ quasar.cos)

Brett Mullen - Cinematographer (@ brettmullendirector)

Austin Butts - Sound Design (@ austinbytts)

Tiare Solis - Valerie (@ tiareleiana)

So I decided to put all of the rest into this post. It’s a long one. Not even that sorry about it bc I love this film with my entire heart. Warning for me getting sidetracked. I use a lot of Supernatural references but it’s because I’m visiting my dad and he’s binge watching the show. I like Dean and only Dean, don’t bully me for it.

The Wrist Grip™️ in the bedroom before Nines moves back

Shoutout to Maximilian Kroger’s muscles u go dude

Lighting Symbolism™️, big theme through the movie, honestly I think it’s beautiful and they did a wonderful job with it.

The little nod from Gavin as he starts talking about his nightmare

You can see Gavin gearing up to move, like not in a normal way, in a “oh god I don’t know if I have the energy to do this” way and that’s Relatable™️

The little smile from Nines as they sit together

The SHARK PLUSHIE I LOVE HIM (THE SHARK HAS AN INSTAGRAM @ sharktreuse)

Nines being domestic, making coffee and breakfast, being Soft.

Shirt change??? Either I’m blind or he’s wearing a different shirt in the morning (He is. He’s wearing a t shirt at night and a buttoned collar shirt in the morning. Perhaps he changed? He’s wearing normal pants so he probably changed but he’s not wearing that same shirt in the next scene)

Ada eye rolling at them being passive aggressive dumbasses. Same. Apparently Jillian kept fucking with them which is,, so valid.

The lighting in this scene (the office pt. 2) makes Maximilian look Android-white and outlined in the CyberLife blue-ish color. Very symbolic, I have no idea if it was intentional.

Another shoutout, this time to Maximilian’s eyebrows, the expressiveness is *chef’s kiss*.

“You can thank me later, Casanova.” Nines: *confused Android noises*

Honorable mention to Michael’s Foo Fighters t shirt in the bar, it’s vintage.

Nines is in fact wearing a different shirt now. Not the same shirt from the morning bedroom scene. I also think he’s wearing a different jacket. Less of a peacoat and more of a leather jacket. Nice.

Shoutout to Tina’s (not irl) wife, Valerie! And her weird crush on Hank! I honestly can’t wait to see her in Seven Deadly Synths!!

Ada DODGING the questions that Nines is asking because she is SHADY.

Also, he looks to Gavin when he talks about wanting to be more human. Recurring theme of him perceiving himself as lacking because of his ace-ness/android-ness, like he can’t give Gavin what he wants. Honestly I know that the android thing is a thinly veiled metaphor for race in canon but I kinda like thinking of it as a metaphor for being LGBT+ and in Nines’ case, specifically ace. Might not make sense but it does in my brain??

Gavin Senses Are Tingling and Nines is GONE. Leaving the bar for ur not-bf to try to talk things out like adults??? King shit.

Also electric lighter, fun, I genuinely didn’t know those existed

SHIRT WITH UNBUTTONED COLLAR

“You don’t want to help me, you want to fix me.” What a loaded line. Because in a way, it’s almost true? Like, Nines has this entire simulation of Gavin in his ideal world, and obviously that version of Gavin has probably been idealized at least a bit. Nature of humanity, and Nines might not be human but he’s got the Brain Things. And at that moment, it’s nearly true that Nines wants Gavin to be like that ideal Gavin. Obviously Nines wants Gavin as Gavin, but there’s the edge of that simulation there, still.

But Nines does want to help Gavin, and that’s where he’s wrong. Nines wants Gavin to get better, wants to help stop the nightmares, etc. But by pointing that out, I think it’s partially why Nines can accept letting go of Simulation!Gavin when Ada attacks him. Because he knows that the simulation of Gavin will never be the real Gavin, and this line sort of helps him understand that he can’t really keep Sim!Gavin anyways.

Again idk if that’s legit but that’s definitely something I felt from that while watching.

Nines is constantly very controlled, but when he walks away from Gavin you can see him straining to keep that composure and not let his anger show.

Ada looking So Done With This Shit when Nines comes back from talking with Gavin outside of the bar

“I’m sure this will be like...every other time.” Oh honey. Oh my sweet child. I am so very sorry. It most definitely will not be.

Ada’s exasperated Eyebrow Raise before taking a drink. If that ain’t the mood sis.

I love Ada’s bat wings on her outfits.

Gavin being a stalker and putting his hood up.

“I’m...certain that most of the credit can go to you.” IMMEDIATE ANGER. Must Defend Boyfriend.

I SO WANTED HIM TO SAY “WISDOM” WHILE TALKING ABOUT GAVIN’S SKILLS BECAUSE IT WOULD MIRROR HIM TELLING GAVIN THAT HE ISN’T WISE BEFORE THEY LEFT FOR THE STAKEOUT. He didn’t, but instinct is a better word for Gavin anyways.

Nines has Suspicion™️...press X for doubt...

*Only vaguely related rant warning*

I do feel that we as a fandom tend to make Connor almost childishly innocent despite him being likely one of the least kind and least innocent characters. The characterization of Nines in this--and pardon me for the off topic rant--where he’s a fully grown man and acts like it is so much more realistic. Nines is a cop, as is Connor.

Even post deviancy, they were designed and equipped to handle murder. Nines, in a lot of fandom content, tends to come off as an exasperated older brother or a gritty and mean detective, or even worse, essentially a sociopath who feels nothing in contrast to Connor’s childish and extreme innocence. I dislike both. Seeing Nines be a normal fucking person is so relieving, I’m serious. There’s still those elements of ‘oh he’s only been properly alive for like a year, right? He probably doesn’t get Chris’ Casanova reference.’ but it’s not to such an extreme that it overtakes all of his personality traits.

Like, yeah, ok, I get why a lot of fandom content does that. In order to balance what we see Connor do (and in order to further push the Hank as a father line) we over-emphasize the not getting references and such. Honestly I see the same in content for Castiel from Supernatural. Nines, when he’s added, often HAS to be a lot darker in order to make that seem not as jarring and unrealistic.

Doesn’t mean I enjoy it. If you do? That’s great, good for you, but I don’t like seeing those characters be portrayed as such one dimensional extremes. People aren’t like that. On the off chance that someone is such an extreme, there’s still other aspects of their personality.

DE has done an amazing job at not flattening their personalities. Nines and Gavin are three-dimensional and incredibly interesting characters I find myself invested in every time I watch it.

*Onto the commentary again.*

Gavin is still being a stalker

“Particular fascination with the RK line” AHAHA funny. She’s also an RK, and she likely knows more than Nines because her programming is based on information gathering. Her fascination begins and ends with what their programming can do for her.

The little computer details in Ada’s eyes as she copies Nines’ OS, and again in Nines’ eyes when he’s in the alley alone. I believe Michelle did all of that and I am just amazed every time I watch.

The warped voice effect.

Gavin shifting to hold Nines as soon as he passes out

The ethereal colored lighting is very good for the mood, space hospital vibes

Shoutout to the latex suit they put Maximilian in! That’s not CG! He’s wearing a full body white latex suit. I’m so sorry.

Gavin looks so tired talking to Dr. Maria. His posture is defensive, pulled into himself. Shoulders hunched, arms pulled in. Eye bags, messy hair. Boy looked messed up. Somebody hug him.

Nines’ hair being disheveled and messy in the corrupted Zen Garden, rivaling his assertion that in his ideal world (Aka the normal Zen Garden) his appearance is polished, signifying the loss of control and the loss of the Zen Garden being a safe, ideal space for him. Same concept with Sim!Gavin being corrupted.

Nines: *wakes up in his mindspace*

Also Nines, immediately: GAVIN!!1!!1

Nines believes in CONSENT!! You do not go into someone’s program without asking, ADA.

Ada’s “poor widdle baby” face as Nines is freaking out because she trapped him. Mood.

Tina wearing a low turtleneck and a flannel is Peak Gay, especially next to Gavin “I wear the same leather jacket+hoodie combo every single day and probably the same jeans for a month” Reed, aka the most disastrous and chaotic bisexual I have ever seen. Again, a mood, I honestly felt that one.

The face when Nines realizes that Ada isn’t deviant yet.

Gavin is blaming himself somebody stop this idiot.

“Not without Nines.” What a softie.

“The last thing I said to him was ‘I don’t need you’.” BITCH WHAT THE FUCK MY HEART.

Gavin calling Tina “T” in that soft voice is so sweet omg

Ugh the bisexual LIGHTING is KILLING ME, ESPECIALLY as Gavin sits at Nines’ bedside

Tina encouraging Gavin. WLW/MLM solidarity.

Fun fact: Chris Trindade told Maximilian not to react at all to the big speech but Maximilian literally started crying during it and there’s footage somewhere of the Dramatic Single Tear rolling down his face while he’s still ‘in stasis’.

Yes, I double checked the streams to make sure I got this right, I love the concept though.

Look I cannot get into the speech because I will write 1.5k words on it, but I will say this: It made me cry. The acting, the writing, it’s iconic. The amount of love and devotion they got without even saying the words “I love you” was amazing. Chris is so very talented.

THERES A TAKE WHERE GAVIN FALLS ASLEEP NEXT TO NINES’ HOSPITAL BED AKSDGAKL IM SCREAMING

Tina is the best wingman ngl

The glitches in Zen Gavin are amazing. The sequence when he’s deleting the Zen Garden is also amazing. I use amazing a lot but it’s deserved.

Nines deleting the Zen Garden and Sim!Gavin is very symbolic of letting go of all of the fake stuff, letting go of the fear he was holding that kept him from confessing to Gavin and I love that

Nines sitting silently straight up.

Gavin is highly intelligent and I’m so glad Octopunk embraces that.

*another vaguely related rant warning*

Ok let me tell y’all a thing because this RUINS MY LIFE. People tend to take characters like Percy Jackson or Dean Winchester, whose intelligence isn’t outwardly obvious from the get-go, and remove it entirely. Percy is reduced to an idiot who can’t tie his own shoes and Dean is often shown basically unable to research without Sam. Both of those are bullshit.

Percy has ADHD and Dyslexia, so when often we categorize smart as only book-smart, Percy’s intelligence as a battle strategist and his actual knowledge gets erased. Dean is usually the more physical and shoot-first-never-ask-questions type, and his intelligence is severely downplayed. He made an EMP detector from scratch. Made a shotgun, remembers how to kill things, is a very good hunter, especially on his own. But that’s thrown away because he’s not book-smart.

I despise when people take characters who are talented and smart in ways that aren’t just reciting the periodic table and reduce them to muscles and angst or drooling children.

Octopunk having a scene where Gavin is working through a case, already having done the things that Chris, someone who was only recently promoted, suggests, is just affirming Gavin’s intelligence in a way I wish I could be not surprised by. Gavin is smart, and luckily I haven’t seen much downplaying that fact. He’s a detective for a reason. Unfortunately I think it might be because the fandom tends to turn Connor and Nines into actual children, but a win is a win.

Now I’m not saying I don’t love a good himbo character but I literally had to stop interacting with Percy Jackson content because people wrote him as incapable.

*Moving on*

“I think I can help with that.” Bitch why are you so dramatic I love him so much.

Nines’ t-shirt says “Detroit City Marathon”

“You...undead asshole.” What an iconic line. I need a t-shirt.

“I...hate you.” “You love me.” Harkens back to the beginning where the roles are reversed. Yes I used that unironically. Words are fun.

Gavin looking scared right before The Kiss™️

THE PULSE POINT!! THE SCENE WAS SUPER EMOTIONAL SO MICHELLE WANTED THEM TO DO YOGA ZEN SHIT TO PREPARE AND THEN THEY JUST DID THE THING BUT THEY PUT IN THE PULSE POINT

ANYWAYS THAT’S WHAT GAVIN IS FEELING FOR ON NINES’ WRIST RIGHT BEFORE THE KISS.

I thought that was cute when I learned it in one of the streams.

Nines’ LED spinning blue when they finally kiss asgladkaf

“What dipshit programmed you to do that?” “I’m the most advanced android ever made, detective-“ “oh you are such a fuckin’ prick!” “Takes one to know one.” I canNOT with them, I laughed my ASS off

The little broken laugh Nines does

Nines rubbing his hands over Gavin’s while they talk about Gavin’s jacket

Shoutout to Chris’ surprised pikachu face. (Tina is also there) That was a joke take, it’s in the gag reel, too. The face wasn’t supposed to make it into the film but Michelle added it. (In the gag reel, Carla yells “Let’s go to Denny’s!” At the end.)

And Ada’s leather pants. Honestly?? She’s so pretty. I love her. They’re all really attractive it’s actually terrifying.

Nines and Tina being a part of the Gay Turtleneck Gang

Nines’ untucked turtleneck

Tina being a Smart Girl. (Nines calling her “Officer” and her replying with “I’ll make detective someday.”

Chris being Exhausted during the whole meeting. Me too dude.

Chris and Tina doing literally nothing while Gavin and Nines have a whole heart to heart

The WHITE COAT. Tina in her blues. Chris’ Foo Fighters shirt. They’re such icons but they absolutely look like a group of gay ppl who did NOT decide on a theme.

The fight sequence is impressive, considering that they’re literally not stunt actors. I’m not a fight choreographer or stunt person so That’s really all I have to say on that.

Chris patting Gavin’s gun after he explains what he’s doing. \

As a Jason Todd lover the crowbar is unfortunate (had to, sorry)

Nines’ smirk and the TURTLENECK as he spins away from Ada with the crowbar. Iconic. The Big Dick Energy. Especially for someone who doesn’t have a dick.

Chris being a Dad when Gavin runs off to go stop the body calibration

Ada just YEETS Gavin. Iconic.

Ada: *doing the villain “you won’t shoot me, you’re too moral” thing*

Chris: Shut the fuck up *shoots her*

Deviancy sequence, iconic

“You’re awake now” bitch get your own tag line, Markus became Robot Jesus for this shit

He’s HOLDING HER HAND while DEFENDING HER!! PLATONIC HAND HOLDING

Gavin trusting Nines’ decision immediately. Amazing. THAT’S LOVE BITCH.

The SMILES after Ada leaves!! They know they made the right choice!

Ugh the COLOR SYMBOLISM!! This is one thing that Michelle has touched on herself! Gavin isn’t wearing white in this scene because he’s not ‘fixed’, he never will be! He has trauma and he’s just barely beginning to heal from it with Nines’ help. He’s wearing grey, lighter than his usual, but still grey because they aren’t pure or innocent and they’re not perfect!! And that’s the fucking point!! It’s also a contrast against Sim!Gavin wearing white! Sim!Gavin was an idealized version of Gavin in Nines’ idealized world!! Real Gavin isn’t that!! So he’s wearing grey!!

Gavin immediately understanding that Nines is Ace and that it’s ok!! Beautiful!

“You’ve been a whole person since the day you woke up” YES!! YOU DO NOT NEED SEX TO BE WHOLE!! FUCK YEAH!!! (this is ace excitement. In the months since writing this I realized I’m aro-ace and trans so fuck yeah for ace rep.)

Gavin being a dick and making Nines tell him about the skin thing

THE KISS!! They slowly move more into the light!! Because they’re getting better TOGETHER!!

Ok before I sign off, it’s only 3 am so I think I’m awake enough to talk about this, I like that they bring up that Gavin has like, actual issues that he needs to get through. Let’s be 100% honest here, I see Gavin as having ADHD, depression, and probably a form or symptoms of PTSD. He’s kinda fucked up and I’m gonna be real here he needs some therapy. He’s got trauma and needs to work through it.

I like that at the end they explicitly have Nines understand and accept that that’s what needs to happen. As someone who has actually had relationships ruined because of trauma (on both sides) that we were unprepared to work through together, if I had seen something like that? Game changer. As it was, most relationships I had seen were idealized and seemed to “fix” those issues by way of just being in a relationship. Thanks major media.

Now that the Detroit Evolution post series is over, I’m gonna be a bit sentimental and say that this film quite literally changed my life. Seriously. Michelle is such a big inspiration for me and I can only hope to be the same for someone else.

If you ever have a chance to check out any of the amazing people who worked on this film, please do. To put into context how big this was: I changed my ideal college major from Forensics to Film.

That’s it that’s all, ending this post at 3:24 am before I literally start crying over it. Thanks for suffering through my long-winded explanations, I hope you enjoyed. Have a wonderful day.

#theo watches Detroit Evolution #octopunk media #reed900 #gavin reed #rk900 #look I tagged Michelle because I have shit impulse control and I wanted y'all to have like #a direct link to her page #i might cry if she sees this and comments on it #seriously I might #happy tears though #it's 3 am and my tic is back #I have no impulse control rn #and I would fight god #also if y'all wanna request something head to the askbox or the dms #I'll look into it

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marvelhead17 · 3 years

Text

The Tale of Eossimar (Original Female Character x Bofur Fic)

Chapter 4

Word Count: 7k

Warnings to cover the whole fic: Fake relationships, half-blood children, mild violence, fight scenes, male/male relationships, Dwarf gender concepts, battle of five armies fix-it, pre-battle of five armies, near death incidents, talking to dead people, mentions of paradise/heaven.

Callon’s clothing was piled in a corner of the room, long forgotten during Bombur’s rescue. He had already asked Fíli to remove Kíli’s clothing along with the bind, so that it wouldn’t need to be removed in the water, and they complied. He jumped into the spring below, raising his hands above his head, as Fíli lowered his brother down slowly to him, he held the dwarf under his arms and kept a firm hold on him.

“Now grab his legs so we don’t strain them, I’ll step back and he can be lowered in on his own terms,” Callon instructed, Fíli followed his orders without argument, “Easy now, good.” Kíli huffed and puffed anxiously during the process, “Relax,”

“You expect me to relax when a strange man holds me from behind while I’m naked, and he’s almost naked as well?” Kíli quipped.

“Kee, he’s trying to help,” Fíli looked at his brother with a serious face.

Kíli relaxed a bit and gradually went from floating on his backside to standing upright, the water taking any pressure on his leg off of him and providing some relief.

“Besides, we’re all the same here, there’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Callon added.

“Right,” Fíli nodded, resting his hands on his hips.

“So come on Fee, the water’s lovely,” Kíli smirked.

A young lady villager made her way to the group with a determined step, catching the eyes of the company, one of the dwarves reckoned she had passed by earlier worriedly compared to the relief she seemed to express now.

“Lady Nari!” she exhaled, “I’ve been looking for you all over-”

“Please Elva, I’ve told ye not to call me by that,” Nari rested her hands on her shoulders and leaned in, speaking quietly, “What is it?”

Both Thorin and Bofur were intrigued to hear the conversation, especially in the way that Nari had been addressed, and tried to listen in without appearing to be, which was proving difficult given the distance between them and the softness in which they spoke.

The rest of the group was engaged in conversation with their other members, and some had not even noticed the dwarrow passing through them.

“You may not wish to hear this, but it’s Cáleb,”

“Really? I thought I told him time and time again that I’m not having it-”

“You did,” she glanced at the dwarves and back to Nari, “{But he wishes to see you tomorrow at noon, the usual place},” Elva informed her.

“Alright, tell him I’ll meet him,” Nari said, she glanced over the elf’s shoulder and saw the two watching and quickly averting their gazes, she spoke in Elven to her, “{But tell him that it will be the last time that he can see me, the very last,}”

“Yes Nari,” Elva agreed and quickly ran off, leaving Thorin and Bofur in a complete state of confusion.

“May I ask what that was concerning?” Thorin inquired.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Nari responded with a shrug, “Nothing concerning the company anyway,”

“I see,” Thorin looked at her as if he wanted to say something more, but then dropped the matter.

“Pardon?” Fíli’s eyes widened.

“If you agree that there’s nothing to be ashamed of, then come on in,” Kíli grinned wickedly, not that Callon could see.

“Ye are here to bathe, are ye not?” Callon asked, frowning.

“Join us brother,” Kíli waved his hand.

“I can leave, if that’s what’s bothering ye-” he made to move out the spring.

“No don’t leave, of course it won’t bother us,” Kíli raised his hand and blew the idea away, “Besides Fíli will need help in getting me out again, won’t he?” he gave his brother another devilish grin.

“Alright Kíli, you’ve made your point,” Fíli sighed at his brother.

Fíli removed his boots, followed in succession by the rest of his clothing; Kíli tried and failed to hold back his chuckles as he watched his brother stumble nervously as he did so, all the while Callon decided to have a bath himself and was paying no attention to either of them. He went so far as to dunk his whole head under the water and had popped back to the surface just as Fíli leaped into the water, making an enormous splash that hit the pair as he did so.

They all bathed separately and made no conversation throughout their time, and then they proceeded to help Kíli from the water in the same manner in which they had got him in. The brothers pat themselves dry and changed into fresh clothes they hadn’t seen being placed down, while Callon simply put on his clothes in the corner of the room.

Fíli gave his best attempts to avoid staring at Callon while they waited for him, even going as far as staring at the ceiling for a brief moment, however, something about the dwarf was drawing his attention.

His body appeared lithe, yet muscular, being as tall as the Elf Prince Legolas they had encountered, but his overall appearance was more dwarvish. His ears were large and round and he had much more hair on just his torso than the elves had on their heads he had thought.

Callon looked up and caught Fíli’s warm gaze, but said nothing as he finished the last of the buttons on the coat he pulled on, “Kíli, do ye think ye can walk?”

“Aye, that much I can do, thank you,” he nodded, Callon returned the gesture and walked out of the building, Kíli glanced at his brother who was now pink in his face. “I think the steam from the springs is getting to you brother,”

“Aye, let’s go,” Fíli agreed, a little too quickly much to Kíli’s amusement, and they walked out.

“Took ye long enough in there,” Nari commented, “Right, the last of ye should get going.” She looked to the others who wordlessly made their way into the building, “Did ye take a bath as well?” she looked at her brother in confusion.

“Aye, I was in the water so I took the opportunity,” Callon shrugged.

She narrowed her eyes at the sight of his hair, “Sit,”

“Why?”

“Yer braiding’s come loose, I want to fix it, now sit.” She instructed, and he sat on a nearby rock, she quickly loosened his braids from his head, combing through his wet hair tenderly with her fingers.

Bofur looked on at the unexpected affectionate moment, and found that he was being shoved from behind, he turned in surprise and quickly started walking as his eyes met Thorin’s intense gaze.

“I take it that ye enjoyed the view?” she asked absentmindedly, untangling a small knot that had formed in his hair, and carefully placing any beads that came free next to him on the rock.

“Nari, mind what ye say,” Callon turned to meet her eyes with a scowl, though his cheeks had flushed slightly.

“Fine,” she sighed, “{But I think the golden haired dwarf has eyes for you},”

“{I have my doubts, he stared at me while I put on my clothes; he must think little of me},”

“{Don’t speak to soon brother, here he comes},”

Fíli approached the pair and cleared his throat nervously, “I just wanted to thank you for your help with my brother,”

“It wasn’t any trouble,” Callon gave him a smile, “I’d help ye out anytime,”

“Right,” he rocked on his heels and nodded, “Well, I’ll be getting back to my brother then,” Fíli bit his lip and quickly turned on his heel, walking back to his brother hurriedly.

“{I may not have known him long, but he doesn’t seem one to get shy fast, I do believe he’s smitten with you brother},” she grinned as she finished forming one of the braids. “This is looking better already,” she grabbed another part of his hair and started plaiting it together.

“Are ye braiding my hair up?” he asked in alarm.

“Aye, ye have such a handsome face; ye need to stop hiding it with this wild hair,” she hummed happily as she managed to quickly finish off the braid, “And don’t dare argue with me, {any man of any creed, or race, would be lucky to have you as a husband},”

“Alright,” he sighed, “I do appreciate ye braiding my hair in the meanwhile,”

She finished off the braids and clipped in all the beads, “Perfect.” She patted his face, “Smile brother.” He gave her a small smile as he stood up, “We’ll work on that,” she grinned and gave him a quick hug which he returned.

The last of them returned from their bath and Nari and Callon led the group on towards the mess hall, not far off from where they were.

“Where are you taking us now?” Thorin queried, he glanced back at the company to make sure everyone was accounted for, and found that Bofur had jogged up behind them, and he shook his head at the dwarf receiving a sheepish rub of the neck in return.

“To the mess hall, for supper,” Nari answered.

“I think it’ll be a feast tonight, {among other things that is},” Callon looked to his sister, “I heard Elanor shot down a large stag today,”

“A mess hall, I’m surprised you have a guard here,” Dwalin sounded surprised.

“I fail to see why, even the most peaceful of creatures have enemies that they must defend themselves from,” she said, “Why else would a rabbit have such large ears and feet, if not to hear and run from the fox?” she quipped with a cheeky smile.

“We only patrol twice a day, just to ensure no enemies are settling nearby, and a lot of the guards tend to eat at home with their families if they prefer to,” Callon added.

They walked up to the hall, with the siblings opening the doors and stepping in without another word, expecting the company to follow them inside. They didn’t know where to look first, the hall was decorated along some of the walls with taxidermied animal heads and was well lit with chandeliers and candles. A fireplace and piano located to the right gave the place a homier feel like a tavern.

To their left was a set up much like a bar, with a long table and stools to sit, while large barrels with taps sat on the other side. Further along was what appeared to be a buffet with meats, vegetables and fresh breads were set up in trays of two each and were piled high, underneath a metal pipe connected from underneath the tray to the fireplace, presumably this is how the food was retaining its heat; next to them lay crockery and cutlery, just itching to be used.

They spotted Nari talking to some of the guards, a mix of men and women by the looks of it, and they all seemed to be in agreement of sorts before she returned to the group.

“I’m sure the lot of ye are starving, so help yerselves to whatever ye fancy, we can take the table nearest to the fireplace,” she gestured, and they glanced at the long empty table and then to the buffet that awaited them. “Callon and I will bring drinks,” they signalled their agreements and made no hesitation in making their way to the food.

“Mind if I give ye a hand?” Nari turned, smiling when she saw the familiar hat on Bofur’s head, and saw the dwarf standing behind her eagerly.

“Aye if ye wish, although yer meant to be the guests here,” she looked at him and he shrugged. “Alright, come along,” the three of them walked together and she walked behind the counter to the barrels.

She bent down and collected the glass mugs together on the table, her brother and Bofur waiting as she filled them up carefully, not wanting them to spill over. She set them on the table and her brother took four in his hands, before making his way over to the table that was slowly being filled up by the company with their plates heaped with food.

“Bofur?” Nari asked to get the dwarf’s attention that had drifted off; he quickly turned to her apologetically. “Won’t ye ask Bilbo if he’d prefer something else? I’m not sure if hobbits like the same drink as dwarves,”

“Aye will do,” he nodded, taking the four mugs in front of him and heading towards the table, he set them down by his companions who were already scoffing down their meals hungrily. He walked over to where Bilbo had settled himself, “Bilbo, lad,”

“Yes Bofur?” he looked up with a warm smile.

“Nari would like to know if ye’d want something other than the ale,”

“Oh,” he sat up in surprise, “Oh, my. Well I wouldn’t mind a red wine if they have,” he said, “And pass on my thanks!” he added as Bofur began walking back.

He leaned against the table with crossed arms and spoke to her, “Nari, Bilbo said he’d like a red wine if ye have?”

“That I can do indeed,” she poured the deep red liquid into a fancier glass from a different barrel, and passed the glass over to Bofur, he took the glass along with two more ales and turned around.

“Oh, wait,” Bofur caught himself and turned around, “I mustn’t forget he extends his thanks!” Bofur raised the red wine in a salute making her smile.

“Alright, thank ye Bofur, now go on, my brother is already beating ye to dinner!” she encouraged him to move on and he did so quickly.

The spaces available were limited now as Bofur and Nari dished up some food before heading to the group, Nari chose her seat by Thorin, the young dwarf princes, Dwalin and Balin, along with her brother; leaving Bofur with no choice but to find seating opposite his little companion Bilbo on the other end of the table.

The company, with Nari and Callon, simply ate their meals and drank for some time, letting the discussion flow, and allowing them to settle in without fear of being attacked by a pack of Orcs. The guard gave no heed to the ruckus caused by them; in fact there were moments that the guard were louder than the group, which made it easier for the dwarves to feel at home.

The dwarf next to Dwalin looked to Nari, “So those children are they related to you?”

“Aye,” Nari said after swallowing another bite of food, “The little rascal that accidentally ambushed Bilbo is my niece Maethríen, the taller lad was my oldest nephew Lumlin and the smaller is my other nephew Lorin, they’re our sister’s bairns,”

Kíli whispered to his brother, “So he is unmarried,” and Fíli quickly stomped on his brother’s foot, making him hold back a yelp.

Dwalin growled, “Behave yourselves you two,”

Fíli immediately lowered his head, “Sorry Dwalin,”

“You better be,” he scolded. “We are guests, so don’t play your childish games here,”

“Yes, Dwalin,” they said rather deflated.

“What do ye think they’re talking about over there?” Bofur asked Bilbo, the hobbit peered over as best as he could at the other side and shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m not sure, could be anything really,” he looked to Bofur and frowned, “Did you fix your braids?”

“Aye I did, do they look alright?”

“Yes, they look fine,” he assured him, “But I’m curious as to why, we’ve travelled for months and I haven’t seen you groom yourself so carefully before,”

“No reason.” Bofur shrugged the subject off, he banged his fist lightly on the table as he watched the group continue their discussions, alarming Bilbo; but he didn’t press the subject further.

“So Nari, you said you’d tell us about your ear?” Kíli asked, taking another swig of his ale while waiting for her answer, the dwarves suddenly quietened down and looked to her.

“Oh that’s right, I’d promised to tell ye,” she sat up a little, “I was practically a pebble when it happened… I lived with my father at the time, in Erebor. A lot of the dwarflings used to stare at me because I was clearly different to them,” she flicked her ears as an example.

“I wish I could’ve been there to stop them,” Callon muttered.

“Well ye couldn’t Cal, ye weren’t even conceived yet.” She shook her head, “Anyway, there were two older dwarves that decided that they had had enough of seeing me around, I was walking by myself just outside in the fields when they came up from nowhere,” she glanced at the eyes all watching her as she spoke and swallowed slightly.

“I hadn’t seen them at first, but then one of them grabbed me by my hair, it was a lot longer at the time, and he threw me on the ground. They started cursing at me in Khuzdul, and then one of them kneeled on my shoulder to pin me down, and I wasn’t strong enough to fight back then. His friend brought out a small dagger and started cutting my left ear,”

There was a moment of silence before Dwalin’s companion spoke up, “That’s truly awful, I’m very sorry to hear our kin had treated you so poorly,”

“Thank ye,” she nodded, “Thankfully my father had been searching for me, he heard my screams, and he chased them away before they could do away with my whole ear,” she took a gulp from her ale and set the drink down. “Ever since then, I’ve been keeping my hair short, and that’s when my father decided to train me to defend myself,”

“That explains how ye know yer way around a weapon,” Dwalin inclined his head in agreement, she nodded as well.

“But I know where that hatred was coming from; King Thrór wasn’t particularly trusting of the elves when they had come to seek gems from the mountain, almost as if he thought the Elves would have stooped to thievery,”

Thorin tensed up next to Nari and glared at her, “What say you of my grandfather?”

“I met him not long after I was attacked, and he was different from what I’d been told about him, he was incredibly tense, and quite terrifying if I’m honest,”

“Of course he was, he was strained from his duties as King,” Thorin defended.

“Ye don’t understand… the moment he laid eyes on me, it was as if dragon-fire erupted from him. He knew my blood wasn’t pure, wasn’t all dwarf,” she glanced at her brother briefly, “He lashed out at my father while I stood next to him, called me an abomination in front of hundreds of dwarves and he banished my father and me. And then, he threatened to behead us, and anyone like us, if we ever dared to enter Erebor again.” The company remained silent.

“That was the first time I truly understood fear. It was the kind that makes yer heart thump out of yer chest and a lump form in yer throat, leaving ye unable to breathe, that deadly look he gave was enough to shake my soul from my body.” She stared into the distance at nothing in particular.

Thorin almost whispered as he spoke, “I had no idea that such things were happening under his rule.”

“Ye couldn’t know everything that goes on,” Nari cocked her head to the side.

“As the new King I apologise on behalf of the heirs of Erebor for what he said to you, you have been nothing but kind and welcoming to us thus far,”

She shrugged, “After a few years I learned not to take his words to heart, I came to realise that gold-sickness was slowing consuming him, and was likely the reason for his anger,”

“There was no gold sickness-”

“Everyone knows of it, even the Elves and Men,” she gave him a look that made him hold back his tongue. “Look, I know ye bear yer own hatred to Elves because of Thranduil’s decision not to aid Erebor during Smaug’s Desolation, but ye don’t even know of those who did-”

“There were none.” Thorin stated.

Nari laughed, “Really? Because we have plenty of Elves living here that will tell ye otherwise, they’ve never returned to their woodland realm because of their ever so wonderful King Thranduil.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, looking at his advisor, but the dwarf shrugged and shook his head.

“King Thranduil warned the Elves that if they dared to help the Dwarves that they’d be banished from Mirkwood,” she looked at them and they all seemed confused, “Believe me or don’t, but ye can ask anyone here, most of the villagers are half-dwarf and half-elf. The elves who were banished settled here and, well they fell in love,” she took another sip of ale.

“A few years passed by and they had children of their own, more outcasts came from far to settle with us, and the village went from a handful to hundreds, and now we have generations growing and learning mixed cultures together. That’s why Thranduil was so displeased seeing me, knowing that we are real must’ve sickened him,”

“Ye were face to face with Thranduil?” Callon asked in astonishment. “I’m surprised he didn’t try to smite ye on the spot,”

“I do believe he was tempted,” Thorin spoke up, “Though, Nari did not aid her chances by speaking back to him,” Nari chuckled at that.

Kíli piped in, “So what’s it like, growing up with both Dwarven and Elvish cultures?”

“Oh, it’s interesting to say the least. At first I lived mostly with my father in Erebor, so I knew Khuzdul and picked up his thick accent before I learned Sindarin from my mother. Though when I had to learn how to fight I was better with Elven weapons, mostly because they were lighter than the Dwarven for my age,”

“I’ve been curious,” Fíli looked between her and Callon with a slight frown, “Why does your sister seem completely different from both of you?”

They looked between each other and Callon decided to answer, “Our sister took a greater liking to Elven culture-”

“In other words she decided she was somehow better than us,” Nari scoffed and Callon looked at her, “It’s true Callon, ye saw how she acted today,”

“And how does it work with your names?” Fíli asked, still clearly confused.

“It’s actually quite simple,” Nari raised her finger, “Daughters tend to be given Elven names, while sons are given Dwarven names, but I’m not sure when that started happening... I suppose it makes it easier to distinguish between the sexes?” she shrugged. “And before ye ask, my full name makes me sound like a fairy so I prefer not to use it,”

“Even though its meaning is perfectly suited,” Callon smirked, making Nari stick out her tongue. “Translated, it means ‘a narrator of stories’, mine means ‘a hero’,”

“And ironically, Lúthrien’s means ‘to enchant’,” Nari rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Ye shouldn’t talk so little of yer older siblings; sometimes they mean the best for ye,” Dwalin’s companion spoke up and looked to his left, “Right, Dwalin?”

“Aye, Balin, this is true,” Dwalin agreed.

“Older?” Nari’s brows furrowed, “I’m the eldest.”

“Oh, well, uh…” they both faltered.

“Whatever, I won’t argue, everyone always thinks she’s the oldest anyways,” she shook her head, “She likes to appear level-headed when she knows people are watching, but she can have a temper worse than me when she’s angry. And she just happens to have my mother’s height on her side,”

“Don’t worry about it,” Callon assured her with a small smile.

“Ye know, talking of families… I’d like to tell you what I want in return for this favour of ours,” she turned to Thorin.

“Go on,” he said, readying himself for the worst.

“Most of the dwarves who reside here came from Erebor and a lot of their children, such as myself, grew up on tales of the Kingdom. Only, I was lucky enough to have experienced life there for a short while, and well… since yer on yer way to reclaim the Kingdom as a descendant of the line of Durin, and they are also children of Durin, they were hoping to return to their home.” She paused to let the information sink in, he opened his mouth to speak but she continued.

“There’s great heartache among some of the villagers, to a lot of them this doesn’t feel like home, it was meant to serve as a temporary settlement until they could be welcomed back. The worst part of it being that Erebor is so close, but yet it feels worlds away, but I’m sure ye understand what that feels like, that’s why ye’re on this journey. To return home.”

“It is,” Thorin said slowly. “Though I’d perhaps need some time to process how it would all work,”

“It is a lot, but I’d like ye to at least consider it,” she looked up at him and searched his gaze, but could not make anything of it.

“I will,” he nodded shortly.

At the other end of the table Bofur and Bilbo noticed a guard had taken to the piano and was beginning to play the keys in a melancholic tune; Bilbo looked at Bofur, he shrugged and looked at the other end of the table, the group was still talking and had not noticed anything, the guard was then joined by another who stood and began to sing in a low deep voice.

“I saw the sun begin to dim, and felt that winter wind blow cold. A dwarf learns who is there for him, when the glitter fades and the walls won’t hold.”

The pianist began to sing with him, “’Cause from then, rubble one remains, can only be what’s true. If all was lost, there’s more I gained. ‘Cause it led me back… to you.”

At this point Nari and the group near the head of the table had stopped conversing; her brother moved from his seat and approached the men, leaning against the fireplace to watch them.

“From now on, these eyes will not be hidden from the lights, from now on. What’s waited ‘til tomorrow starts tonight, tonight.” The tune slowly picked up, “Let this promise in me start, like an anthem in my heart, from now on, from now on.” The piano started playing more light-heartedly.

Suddenly Callon joined in, his voice was warm in comparison to the others, “We drank champagne as King and Queen, the village people praised our name!” he looked up to the guard and company, “But those were someone else’s dreams, the pitfalls of the dwarf I became… For years and years, I chased their cheers, the crazy speed of always needing more-”

Nari joined her brother’s side, placing a hand on his shoulder and faced the guard that was now gathering around them. “But when I stop, and see you here- I remember who all this was for!”

She wrapped an arm around Callon’s shoulder and he did the same to her waist, they leaned into each other and continued with their song. “And from now on, these eyes will not be hidden from the lights.”

Some of the guards had gathered by the bar, filling mugs with ale, some had gone as far as climbing and sitting on each other’s shoulders, passing the drinks along to the rest. “From now on, what’s waited ‘til tomorrow starts tonight, it starts tonight!”

“Hey!” The guard cheered loudly, clinking their ales together, while the company stepped back to give them room.

Bilbo pressed himself firmly against the wall in alarm, having already experienced the wildness upon meeting the company and not wanting it again. The company was not familiar with the song, but they watched on; Bofur’s gaze was fixed to Nari, and Fíli’s fell onto her brother.

“And let this promise in me start, like an anthem in my heart; from now on… from now on!”

“Hey!” The guard cheers once more.

Callon belted out, “From now on…!”

Suddenly the guard joined in, “And we will come back home, and we will come back home… home, again!” they stomped their feet, some linked arms and swung each other around enthusiastically, others simply enjoyed jumping around and stepped onto the tables.

“And we will come back home, and we will come back home, home, again! And we will come back home, and we will come back home… home, again!

Callon sang out, “From now on…!”

“And we will come back home and we will come back home, home, again! And we will come back home, and we will come back home, home, again! And we will come back home, and we will come back home-”

“Yes!” Nari cheered happily.

“- Home, again! And we will come back home, and we will come back home, home, again! From now on…”

The siblings sang together, “These eyes will not be hidden from the lights!” The crowd started stomping on the wooden floors and tables together.

“From now on!”

“What’s waited ‘til tomorrow starts tonight! It starts tonight! Let this promise in me start, like an anthem in my heart. From now on… from now on… from now on…!”

Everyone sang out together, “And we will come back home, and we will come back home, home, again! And we will come back home and we will come back home, home, again! And we will come back home, and we will come back home, home again!”

The song began to slow down now, with some of the softer voices singing the final chorus, “From now on… from now on… home, again! Ooooh. From now on… From now on… home, again.”

The dwarves remained where they stood as the guard disbanded from their sudden outburst of song, most leaving the mess hall with their companions and hanging onto each other, chattering away eagerly while making their way back to their homes. The company felt a sudden emptiness in their chest that could only be described as longing and homesickness; it was weighing heavy on them now that soon they would set foot once again in the place that they could call home.

Thorin watched on but was in deep thought, assessing his options in the situation; his men needed to get whatever supplies they could get hold of to reach the mountain and reclaim it, however, there was still an uncertainty pressing in the back of his mind. His father and grandfather would certainly not have wanted half-elves living in Erebor, no matter if they were half-dwarf; though… Nari’s efforts in helping them were not something he could ignore.

He had not noticed Nari standing next to him until she spoke up and waved her hand in front of his face, “Thorin?”

He cleared his throat, “Apologies,”

“I was just saying that ye can settle in one of the old bunkers for the night, it might be slightly cramped but I reckon it’s a lot better than sleeping on the ground.”

“Thank you,” he glanced at Balin and gave him a sure nod, “And I’d like to offer our home to your people, however many there may be, it’s about time we start filling the halls of Erebor with life once again.”

The company was stunned by the sudden revelation, even Nari and Callon were surprised, and she caught sight of Bofur who was grinning cheerfully.

“If that’s yer final decision, I can certainly live with it,” Nari smiled, as if the news had given her the sudden relief she had needed, she extended her hand to Thorin and they shook in agreement; the company cheered.

“Now let’s end the night on an even better note, sleep,” Callon said, “It’ll be dawn before ye know it,” he cocked his head and Nari nodded, leading the way out, followed by the company.

Callon kept his eye on the group as they walked on and he noticed that Fíli and Kíli had started falling behind, he turned around and made his way to them, while Nari continued to lead the way to the bunkers.

“Is he alright?” he nodded to Fíli.

“I’m fine; I can still walk by myself!” Kíli argued irritably, “I wish everyone would stop making a fuss- Ah!” he stumbled slightly and grabbed for his injured leg, Fíli immediately tucked himself under his arm to support him.

“He told me his leg had been feeling a bit numb during supper,” Fíli admitted, making Kíli glare at him. “Brother, you need help. Don’t look at me with those eyes.”

Bofur had finally caught up with Nari, her eyes crinkled slightly as she smiled at him, and she looked him over once more. “Ye clean up nicely Bofur, yer braiding is very nice,” she noted.

“I try,” he shrugged with a cheeky grin, “I have to tone it down otherwise I’ll outshine the others ye know,”

“Oh I bet the ladies can’t keep their hands from ye.” She laughed, just ahead there were several bunker buildings. “We’re almost there now,”

Kíli grimaced and stopped in his tracks, the pain was becoming unbearable, “Okay, I’ll admit- I’m not in peak condition,”

“Is there something we can do for him?” Fíli looked up to Callon worriedly, the dwarf nodded.

“Nari!” he yelled out, making her stop and turn her attention to the call, “We need help,” he informed, gesturing to Kíli.

“Alright, I’ll be right there!” she looked to the rest of the company, “It’s just this building here,” she pointed in front of her, “Rest well, all of ye, the days to come will surely be a lot more challenging than the rest has been.”

They walked on without complaint to the bunkers, some waited for the others to enter first as Nari began walking to Callon, Fíli and Kíli who had remained behind.

“Nari, thank ye lass,” Bofur called out with a wave, she turned to look at him. “Ye have a good night.”

“Aye, ye too Bofur, thank ye,” she waved and gave him a smile, and continued walking with Thorin striding up to her side.

“Will he be alright?” he asked with a straight face.

“I’ll try my best to make sure he’ll heal. He will be safe.” She assured him; she placed a hand on his shoulder, “Thorin, rest. Tomorrow ye’ll be travelling again and ye need all the strength ye can get,”

“Take care of him,” he gave her a serious look. “Lads, take care of each other,” he instructed the brothers.

“Of course Uncle,” Fíli nodded, as did Kíli, he inclined his head and turned back around, heading into the bunker.

“Right, let’s have a look at ye,” Nari said as she approached them, she bent down to examine the wound quickly, “Let’s get him into the bunker next door,” she suggested, the boys didn’t hesitate in carrying Kíli in as he had begun to pale slightly.

They rested him onto one of the beds and Nari rested her palm on his forehead, she frowned and shook her head, “Cal, get my healer’s kit from my house, quickly,” she didn’t even look up at him as she spoke; her attention was focused on Kíli’s leg, her fingers tracing the outer areas where the skin had blackened terribly.

“How is it looking?” Fíli asked nervously, he paced for a bit before sitting at the end of the bed, holding Kíli’s lower leg gently.

“Well he’s got a fever, which means he’s battling the poison, but he’s also paling which isn’t good,” she looked over his face, checking his eyes, “Kíli, how clearly can ye see me?”

“Very clearly,” he swallowed almost nervously, “Did you know you have turquoise and honeycomb eyes?” he asked, looking dreamily at her.

She stared at him for a moment with raised brows, before looking down at his leg, “Wait, what happened to his bindings?” she asked, forgetting his delirious question.

“We took it off so he could bathe,” Fíli explained.

“Why didn’t ye replace it?” she asked with a frown, her brother returned with a small bag in hand and handed it to her, she didn’t wait for Fíli’s response. “Callon, why didn’t ye replace the bind on him?”

“It wasn’t a bleeding wound, I assumed it wasn’t necessary,” he shrugged, “Why?”

“He was shot with an orc arrow, that’s why,” she huffed, digging into her bag for something; she pulled out a small box and set it down on the table. “Hold him down, he’s not going to like this,” she ordered, opening it and scooping a vibrant pink ointment with her fingers, they did as she told, with Callon holding his legs and Fíli moving up to hold his shoulders as he sat next to him.

She rubbed the ointment into the wound and Kíli hissed in pain, she ignored his complaints and scooped more of the ointment and rubbed it all in, Kíli started writhing and wriggling trying to loosen their grasp.

“It burns!” he yelled out, balling his hands into fists, his eyes closing as he struggled to take on the pain.

“Aye, it’s an open wound, and that’s the worst of it done with, so stop whining,” she packed the box away and looked at Callon, “I need hot water,” he nodded and left quickly.

“What did you put on him?” Fíli asked, rubbing his brother’s shoulder to soothe him, Kíli settled back down again.

“It’s for wounds that don’t heal well; it should stop the numbness and encourage the skin to regrow… if it can that is,” she sat on the bed and touched Kíli’s forehead again, “The fever is settling slightly, but I have a feeling that he won’t be able to rest comfortably tonight,”

Callon returned with a bucket steaming with hot water, and a small bowl, he set them down next to Nari. “Are ye planning to brew tea?” he asked her.

“Aye, one that will help him sleep,”

“I’ll get to work on brewing it,” he said without second thought, opening another box and plucking out dried leaves, placing them into a small clothed bag. Fíli watched as he then put the small clothed bag into the bowl and poured the hot water over it.

Nari leaned over and placed her right ear against Kíli’s chest and listened carefully to the thumping heart, for a few moments it sounded very slow, but eventually it started picking up a steady rhythm again and she moved back.

“His heart sounds better than I thought it would,” she told Fíli, “Now I’m no expert, so I do suggest that in the morning we have a healer examine him properly-”

“I’m fine,” Kíli spoke up, “There’s no need,” he waved her suggestion off. Callon handed Nari the brewed tea and she leaned over to Kíli to let him drink, but he shook his head. “I said I’m fine, really,”

“Give it to me,” Fíli lifted his hands, she placed the small bowl in his hand and stood up and he held it to his brother’s mouth. “Drink Kíli, it’s for your own health,”

“But Fee-”

“Please,” he pleaded, staring at his younger brother.

“Alright, alright, but I can do it myself,” Kíli resolved and took the bowl from his hands, he took a sip and scrunched his nose up, “This tastes awful,”

“It’s medicine, and it’s said that the worst tasting medicine will heal ye the best, so drink up,” Nari suggested, “Besides, it’ll take away yer fever and pain, and help ye sleep better tonight,”

“Fine,” Kíli looked at the bowl uncertainly, but then he decided to take it down in one big gulp, and another, until it was empty. “Retched stuff,” he coughed and sniffled.

Fíli stood up and walked around to the other two and whispered, “Thank you, both of you.” He glanced at Kíli and spoke quietly, “Kee can be a bit of a stubborn dwarf sometimes, I think he learned that from Uncle,” he admitted in embarrassment.

“It’s no trouble, I’ve dealt with far worse,” Nari glanced at her brother with a cheeky grin and he rolled his eyes but returned the smile. “I couldn’t stand seeing another dwarf die because of an orc arrow,” she looked at Kíli.

“Another dwarf?” he asked, he glanced at his brother who was beginning to dose off and frowned at her.

“I suggest ye keep an eye on him, if he’s as stubborn as ye say he’s going to play down his pain. But the most important thing for him is plenty of rest, keep his leg elevated as much as ye can,” she informed him.

“I will keep an eye on him,” he agreed.

“We should get some rest,” she looked to her brother, “It’ll be easier if we stay here for the night; once they wake we can make further arrangements,”

“Aye, sounds good,” Callon agreed.

They spread out onto some of the other beds not too far away, Fíli decidedly taking the bed nearest to his brother, while the other siblings settled a little further away. Nari stared at the ceiling, her eyes moving around to look at nothing in particular as if she was going through her thoughts, and Callon frowned softly at her, wondering what was troubling her.

He whispered, “Nari?”

“Mm?”

“What’s on yer mind?”

She spoke quietly, “{Tomorrow I duel with Cáleb},”

“{That’s nothing new},”

“{I informed him that this is the last fight, for good},” she turned her head slightly to look at him, “{I’ll go mad if I lose tomorrow of all days},”

“{But you will not, we both know this},” he assured her, “{Tomorrow, you will finally be rid of him. And we will be able make a start to our resettlement into Erebor, once we send the company on their way},”

“{I hope so},” she breathed out and stared up at the ceiling once more.

He chuckled lightly, “A million dreams are keeping me awake,”

“A million dreams is all it’s gonna take,” she gave him a soft smile before turning over in her bed, “Goodnight Callon.”

“Goodnight Nari,” he closed his eyes with a grin still on his face.

____________________________________________________________

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some-cookie-crumbz · 4 years

Note

“It’s three in the morning” for Fuyumi and Hawks please...🥺

Oh, Anon, you came for my Secret Ship with this one!!! I am all about that Huwumi!!!

The clatter of glass being rattled violently jolted her awake. She'd always been a light sleeper, for reasons she didn't like thinking about, and laid still for a moment. She determined the sound was coming from her own window. She flipped over slowly and stared at the looming shadow taking up the whole of her window. She sucked in a breath and frantically threw her glasses on, dropping the small, jagged icicle she'd conjured up with Quirk in her haste. Just because she wasn't a Pro didn't mean she didn't understand the concept of self defense. She made quick of the latch, pushing the slider up. "Hawks?" she wheezed in disbelief.

"The one and only," he said, the teasing tone he always spoke with sounding strained and the words struggling out through his teeth. She stepped back, arms extended to help him slip inside, as he wobbled his way inside. "Pardon the intrusion."

"Hawks, what are you doing here? It's-" she started, hands up in the air uselessly as she stole a glance at her alarm clock, "three in the morning!"

"Sorry about that; didn't mean to drop in unannounced," he drawled with a huffy chuckle. She took the moment to size him up, watching him sway uncertainly before her. It was then she noticed his feathers starting to pool on the floor, wings drooping with the struggle of staying upright.

"You're hurt," she breathed. She guided him over to sit on her futon before squatting down and cupping his face, carefully tilting his head this way and that, checking him over. She was a little relieved to find no head injuries, before she shifted to push at his jacket. “Where are the injuries? How bad are they? Should I call an ambulance?”

He reached out, looping one arm around her waist to pull her a little closer and dropped his head against her shoulder. “‘S not that bad. Mostly minor stuff on my back and shoulders, probably a little banged up in the wing area,” he said, not lifting his head from its perch and flapping his free hand in the air lightly.

“I’m going to go get a first aid kit out of the bathroom so I can patch you up. If they’re really bad, though, then I’m taking you to a doctor,” she warned, moving to pull away. He let out a small whine of protest but let her slip away. She carefully moved over to her desk and turned on the little lamp there, casting the room in a faint glow. “While I’m gone, get your jacket and shirt off for me.”

“Can’t wait to get me undressed, Fu?” he purred, his tone playful but still a bit bogged down. She shook her head but felt her lips twitch up in a small smile. If he was feeling well enough to make flirty commentary, he would be safe for a few minutes. "No rush about the injuries, though. I just... I really needed to see you."

Pink flooded her cheeks at the omission and she scampered out, letting out a quiet mutter that she'd try to be quick.

Fuyumi wasn't sure when whatever was between she and Hawks had gotten to this point of intimacy. As the only daughter - and the only sibling with a somewhat amicable relationship with their father - the job of maintaining positive public relations fell to her. She could be charismatic and superficial - and flirtatious when absolutely necessary - so, when he needed someone to grease the squeaky wheels of Hero society, Enji tended to call upon the now-eldest. She would be dragged along to banquets and charity events and the like to flounce about, playing the role of darling debutante to a tee, and gaining him some amount of clout. After all, Endeavor couldn't be that bad if he raised such a charming young lady.

She absolutely loathed it. She hated having to go and play the part, of having to let men she barely knew get cozy with her just for her father's sake. He was always watching for her, and nothing more than a hand sliding too a little too far above her knee had occurred, but the whole thing was still uncomfortable. And then there was the strain it put on her relationship with her brothers, too. With Shouto, it was more that he was put off by her assisting her father and gave her these looks that said more than words ever could. She opted against pointing out that, unless he do something about his own attitude, she'd most likely have to do clean up duty for him, too. It was always a fight with Natsuo and had come down to some nasty accusations being thrown at her a handful of times.

She had openly sobbed, the first time he said it, before closing herself off from feeling the sting of it when she'd seen how upset his own words had made him.

At one charity event, though, she'd slipped out to get some air and encountered then Number Three Hero, Hawks. He had overheard her grousing to herself about investors and the Hero Commission and chimed in with a few quibbles of his own. It had been a nice reprieve, to speak with someone who wasn't as tucked into the Commissions pocket as some of the other Pros, and from that point forward they sort of gravitated towards each other at social gatherings. They would whisper and gossip about some of the other Heroes in attendance, chat about their personal lives outside of work, about music and books and television dramas. She wasn't sure when she started actively seeking out red feathers or slicked back golden hair, nor when the fluttering had started in her belly at the mere thought, but… She liked it. She liked him. And he liked her. And, well… they fell into whatever their relationship was from there.

They didn't label it, but they were exclusive and belonged to the other and that was enough.

She was quiet and careful as she slipped out of her room and to the bathroom. Endeavor was out of the city for a few days and, as such, Natsuo and Shouto were both staying in the family manor. She knew they’d stayed up later than she had, with the older teaching the younger how to play Mario Kart, and hoped she didn’t wake them up. Locating the first aid kit was easy, but she double-checked it to make sure that all the items were there. She took a second to toss an extra tube of antiseptic cream and an actual bottle of burn cream in it as well. She then grabbed a washcloth and small basin, filling it with lukewarm water and tossing the cloth inside. She was willing to wager there’d be a bit of mess to clear away before she could start cleaning it properly. “Okay, that should be everything,” she mumbled to herself, carefully juggling the items and slipping back out into the hallway.

“Nee-Chan?” She jumped and turned to see Shouto watching her from the other end of the hallway. He was rubbing at one eye with the heel of a hand, voice thick with sleep, eyebrows knit in confusion.

She relaxed a bit at seeing it was him. Between Natsuo and Shouto, her youngest brother was the easier one to deal with. “Sorry, Shouto, did I wake you?”

“Mm. I heard voices coming from your room. Is everything okay?” he asked, wiping away the last bits of sleep before his eyes wandered down to the items in her arms. He blinked before lifting his gaze back up to meet hers. “Fuyumi?”

“It's nothing major; just an unexpected guest. Don’t worry about it, okay?” she asked, trying her best to sound reassuring. He just continued to stare at her, expression giving away nothing. Maybe he was the harder sibling to deal with; Natsu wore his heart on his sleeve and was incredibly vocal, sure, but at least she could always get a reading on him. But Shouto? Not so much.

"It's that guy, isn't it? The one you're kinda-not-dating?" he prompted, eyes narrowing and a slightly bitter note catching in his voice.

If she wasn't so frazzled, she might have been touched by how affronted he was on her behalf. "Sho, don't believe everything Natsuo tells you. He doesn't know as much about it as he thinks he does," she said gently, readjusting her arms and starting towards her room again. He looked like he had more to say, but she slipped back into her room as quickly as she could. She listened for a moment for the sound of his near-silent footsteps to move away before letting her shoulders go slack.

That would be a conversation - unpleasant - for the morning. Or, rather, later in the morning.

When she peered back into her room proper, Hawks had done as she asked and then some, sitting on the floor with his legs stretched out in nothing but his boxers. What bothered her, though, was the fact he was staring at the window, one hand twitching on his knee with a feather under his palm. His expression was pensive, as if he was anticipating something or someone to come through after him. She made sure to move with a little bit of noise to alert him to her presence without jarring him too much. His gaze softened on her immediately and she felt a small smile turn up on her own lips. "I doubt that the floor is more comfortable than my futon," she commented as she stepped closer.

He flashed her his trademark prankster grin but it didn't reach his eyes. "I didn't want to get it dirty," he said, scooting forward as she settled in behind him. It was a good thing she'd grabbed the cloth and basin, since his back was covered in road rash, bits of broken glass and what she knew by smell was liquor. There were even bits of gravel dug into some of the wounds, presumably from him being thrown out of wherever he'd been before. The worst of them were a two-inch gash right between his wings - jagged and oozing and uneven as if made with broken glass, good God - and a burn mark about the size of a fist on the lower left side of his back. Her fingers trailed down his back as the ghost of contact, fearful of hurting him.

"Keigo, who did this to you?" she asked, taking a breath to calm herself, and reached to wring the cloth out. She needed to have steady hands to prevent making things worse as she tended the wounds.

"Just a little… disagreement with some work buddies. Didn't like something I said and we decided to solve it like gentlemen," he said with a wheezed out laugh. She kept her touches light and delicate as she got the filth off. She could tell that it was more than that. Pros normally knew better than to come to blows over petty disagreements. Plus, the haunted, dull look in his eyes told her that much. But she also didn't want to press him on it. They would come to discuss it on their own terms, when he was ready. "Take it you had something similar going on out there?"

"Shouto heard me let you in. He, Natsu and I will most likely have a chat about that after breakfast," she said with a small huff, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, will they be giving me the shovel talk instead of your old man?" he asked, tone perking up a bit with amusement. She found herself giggling quietly as she worked on putting him back together. The stab wound was, thankfully, not deep enough to warrant the need for stitches, though she was sure that he'd be more than a little uncomfortable while it was covered and healing. Hawks made a noise of contemplation before clicking his tongue. "Ah, but that might be worse. I saw what the little one did to his buddy at the Sports Festival."

"In Shouto's defense," she said, picking up the burn cream and squeezing a generous amount on into her palm, "a good half of those injuries were self-inflicted on Midoriya-Kun's part. He told me so himself." She applied the cream with dainty dabs while she listened to his befuddled muttering at that revelation. She couldn’t blame him, though, as she’d been just as startled about the impractical effects of the Quirk herself. A comfortable silence fell between them as she finished patching him up. With that done, she carefully regrouped the supplies and put them away. “Okay, I’m going to go put everything away. While I’m gone, get as comfortable as you can, okay? I think if you lie down on your side, you can avoid agitating your wounds and still stretch out your wings.”

He hummed quietly, watching her as she left. She made fast work of getting everything put away and washing her hands. She stopped by the kitchen to get him a glass of water and some pain relievers, too. He had been unnervingly quiet while she’d worked on him, but she knew to expect that. When Shouto used to let her dress his wounds from training with Endeavor, he was silent, too. When she returned to her room, he had settled in on the far side of the futon, wings stretched out and dipping to the floor. She offered him the pills and water before heading to turn the lamp back off. With that done, she made her way back over to her futon and removed her glasses before slipping under the covers.

The minute she was in reach, his arms were around her, pulling her flush against him. He dipped his head and kissed her, soft but insistent. She kissed back and moved her arms carefully to loop around his neck. Normally she'd drape them over his shoulders and lightly rub along the base of his wings, delighting in how they would stretch and shudder in delight, but she didn't want to risk it this time. Instead she went for another soothing gesture she's learned in her time with him; gently dragging her nails through the short hairs along the nape of his neck. She felt his chest rumble with a pleased groan as they pulled apart from the kiss. "You know how much you mean to me, right, Fuyumi?" he mumbled, reaching a hand up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

A welcome, if not strange, sentiment. Apparently whatever happened had really rattled him

She tilted her head to press a kiss to his fingertips, awarding her with a small chuckle. "Of course I do, Keigo. And I hope you know that feeling is mutual," she assured, opting against making any teasing jabs. She could tell that now wasn't the time. Instead she gently pulled him closer, smiling into his hair as he burrowed into the crook of her neck, the arm still around her waist tightening slightly.

"We should get some rest; we're gonna have some explaining to do in the morning," he mumbled, lips brushing her skin with his words. Her heart skipped at the idea of him staying and helping her explain things to her brothers, a flush coming to her face and a giddy flutter kicking up in her belly. She closed her eyes and let out a small, contented sigh. She knew there'd be chaos in the morning, but they would handle that then. Right now, she wanted to indulge in the warmth of Keigo's body against hers.

#crumbles grumbles #Huwumi #Oh my gosh I hope I did them justice in this fic #I just really wanted to write them soft #I hope I did them justice!#And I'll have to write them again soon! :3 #my fics

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lazella · 5 years

Note

I like your Avengers AU so much! I read them repeteadly.. Can I request something? About how each Yu-boys use their respective stone. I want to know how far they can use the power. I hope you don't mind.. Thank you..

Oh you want powers? YOU GOT THE POWER!!!! Oh man this was fun to write and I really tried to think of creative ways the boys would use the Stones. And there were some fun things I was able to work in. Plus I’m starting to work in the Avenger’s rouges gallery so watch out!!!!

Using Powers Responsibly…..Maybe

Out of all the boys, Yugi was the one having the toughesttime figuring out the Soul Stone’s powers. The other Avengers admittedthemselves that they didn’t know a lot about that stone or what it could do. Itwas just sort of there and not there as the same time, evident how it seemed tobe in Yugi’s Soul Room and in his physical hand at the same time. When askinghow they first found the stone, all the Avengers quickly became mum on thetopic. Thor did admit that he knew that the Soul Stone could control others butmuch to the god’s relief, Yugi had no interest in testing that power out. Theimplications were bad enough to trigger flashbacks of seeing Jounochi beingcontrolled by the Millennium Rod.

Most of Yugi’s training sessions were just trying to figureout just HOW Yugi could use the stone in combat that did not involvecontrolling someone or taking their soul. It wasn’t going very well in allhonesty. But that all changed when he accidently bumped into Judai in thehallway and the stone flared up.

An odd but familiar sensation washed over Yugi as he foundhimself in a room covered in posters of superhero characters and duelingchampionships with two doors in the back wall. One was pitch black with a goldinsignia on it with the other look old and rusted but appeared to have somerepair work on it. Yugi wanted to get a closer look but something flung himbackwards and he found himself back in the hallway looking a dazed Judai andYami yelling in panic in his head.

I’m fine other me!

You just…disappeared. It was just for a second but youwere just…gone.

I think…Yugi looked over at the still dazed Judai…Iwas in his Soul Room.

His Soul Room? How?

Yugi looked down at the Soul Stone, I think I have anidea.

Yugi first had to explain what Soul Rooms were to Tonybefore they started testing the theory out. Once Dr. Strange was called toobserve this they got started. First Dr. Strange had Yugi enter his own SoulRoom curious about the concept. Yugi had witness lots of medical charts, books,and maps inside. Then they tried it on Tony. Inside were many Iron Man suits,schematics, and old family photos.

“That felt weird…” Tony muttered as Yugi returned toreality.

“And you’ve said you’ve had experiences like this before?”Dr. Strange asked.

“Well more on the receiving end,” Yugi explained, “There’sanother Millennium Item like my Puzzle that has the ability to enter SoulRooms.”

“Could it do anything else?

“Well…” Yugi scratch his cheek feeling unsure about the nextpart, “You could use it to rearrange a Soul Room so that the person is now apuppet.”

Silence hung over the room.

“Can we not do that? Ever?” Tony asked.

“I wasn’t planning too.” Yugi reassured the two men, “Perhapswe can use this as a therapy tool? You have been complaining a lot that we needbetter therapy Tony-san.”

“So diving into heads and figuring out what our inner demonsare…” Tony muttered, “I can live with that.”

……………………………….

It was times like these that made question Judai questionwhy Shou loved robots so much. They were really annoying to fight. They came inhordes, did not tire, and were really hard to break. He was runninginterference with Clint to clear out security robots at some sort of secretfacility, not sure what kind because Judai may have napped during the briefing.But the fight was getting annoying.

“Hey Judai?! How about just punching them?!” Clint calledout.

“They are too strong to punch through!” Judai yelled back.

Clint looked like he wanted to face palm, “You have thePower Stone! Use it!”

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…….”

“You forgot didn’t you…”

“Did not!”

Judai you totally forgot.

“Don’t you start Yubel!!!!”

Just use the stone already…

“Fine…” Judai tossed the stone in his hand a few timesbefore clenching it tightly activating its power. A purple aura surrounded hisbody as Judai felt his muscles tighten with power.

“Take this!!!” Judai threw a punch, ripping a robot’s headclean off. It felt weirdly satisfying for some reason. Now he just had to do ita few hundred more times.

Or you can get a little creative and deal with all ofthem at once. Yubel pointed out.

Or he could do that. Could be make a fireball with thisthing? Or summon one of his Elemental Heroes who could make a fireball andreally soup it up. Probably the later. One quick summon of Flame Wingman laterand Judai has having fun turning robots into melted piles of goo.

“Judai…while I like the idea melting the robots we now havethe problem of molten steel all over the floor….” Clint looked to the floorrather unamused.

“We can just walk over it.”

“No we cannot…”

“I’ve done it before.” Judai said with a shrug.

“And I am just becoming more and more convinced that you arenot a normal human…” Clint massaged his temples. “Can you just punch the walland give us a shortcut already?”

“Okie dokie!” With too much enthusiasm for Clint’s taste,Judai kicked the nearby wall down then continued in a leisurely stroll kicking moreand more walls down. Eventually Judai’s voice echoed down the broken hallways.

“Oh hey there! Whatcha doing?”

Then there was screaming.

Clint sighed, next time he was requesting to take Yusei withhim.

…………………………………………….

Yusei was fiddling with some wiring when he heard Tony letout a very colorful string of swears and curses. Removing the screwdriver fromhis mouth, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Some former disgruntled employees of mine have set up anunground weapon smuggling and production ring.” Tony looked torn betweenbreaking something now or later, “I need to go deal with it.”

“Would you like help?”

Tony turned in surprise at Yusei.

“You might need someone else who understands circuitry androbotics. And I’ve memorized all your schematics.”

Tony thought for a moment, clearly debating something,before hitting a button on a remote reveal several Ironman style suits indifferent colors, “What color scheme do you want?”

“Pardon?”

“I am not letting you tag along with no protection so whichcolor do you want? They’re older suits but they’ll still work.”

“Oh um….” Yusei took a look over the choices, “The blue andblack one?”

“Thought you would go for red and white like your bike butoh well…” Tony shrugged, “Let me give you a rundown and we’ll fly over there.”

It turned out that when Tony said fly there, he didn’t meanfly in the Quin Jet, he meant fly in the suits. The experience wasexhilarating! Yusei felt lighter than air as they soared through the sky. Thiswas nothing like when he dueled Z-One, this felt like complete freedom.

Enjoying yourself? Tony asked over the com-link.

I can’t describe this Mr. Stark…Yusei responded.

Looks like I’ll put the flight system in your officialsuit.

Excuse me?

I’m designing suits for all of you kids. Customized of coursebased on your skills and can handle the power of the Infinity Stones. Tonyexplained, Yours is not ready yet so that’s why I had to pull out some of myolder suits.

Yusei felt overwhelmed with gratitude, Thank you.

Anytime kid, ready to get this party started? Tonyasked, We’re going to stick to non-lethal weapons since I want to turn theseguys over to the authorities. JARVIS should be able to help you with the weaponand aiming systems.

Roger…Yusei nodded as they aimed to land. He couldsee the shabby warehouses and men going in an out with large crates. He wouldbe lying if he said he wasn’t afraid, but he took comfort that Tony had hisback.

They landed in the middle of the operation rather dramaticallythough Tony was a bit more graceful than Yusei but still looked ratherintimidating. The men began yelling in panic and started firing rifles at them.Yusei felt his heart leap to his throat but then relaxed when he rememberedthat the suit was protecting him from bullets. Both Tony and Yusei raised theirarms and shout out concussive blasts knocking most of the arms dealers down. Theones that avoided the blast ran back into the warehouse assumingly to grab betterweapons.

Take care of the ones out here! Tony yelled over thelink, I’ll take care of the ones that ran in.

Roger! Yusei had the suit make a shield to betterprotect himself from the next round of bullets then used it to knock away a dealerthat got too close. Then he had to use the suit’s flight system to get awayfrom the guy who had a bright idea to through a grenade at him.

Yusei tried to calm his breathing. Things were happening reallyfast and lucky for him, he had something that could help in that department.

The Time Stone flashed green as Yusei willed it to slow downtime. Now that Yusei had more time to react he could better handle thesituation. Scanning the battlefield he spotted two men hiding behind crates preparingto take aim at him. Another three were running to a truck, most likely to grabmore guns. He fired a quick shot at the creates knocking the men back and destroyingtheir cover then another one at the truck to destroy the weapon supply inside.When things settled, Yusei had time resume at its normal pace. The arms dealerswere groaning on the ground but going nowhere anytime soon. But he hadn’t heardfrom Tony since he entered the warehouse. Having a gut feeling, Yusei shot intothe building.

The place was a mess. Remnants of explosions and torn metaltwisted every which way. Tony was hovering mid air fired down on the men whowere firing weapons that Yusei did not recognize. Tony looked like he had ahandle on the situation, until Yusei noticed some men were trying to aim arocket launcher at Tony’s back.

Yusei was having none of that. He froze time to astandstill. Calming walking over to the rocket launcher, he disarmed the ammothen dismantled the launcher piece by piece laying them out around the men.Then he stood in front of them as menacingly as he could before he resumedtime.

The two men needed a new pair of pants.

Tony was laughing over the commlink, That was brilliant! Youshould of taken their clothes while you were at it.

That would be excessive. Yusei replied back.

Tony landed and retracted his helm as did Yusei, “We justneed to round up the unconscious ones and we should be good to go. How’d you likedthe suit?”

“The flying part was amazing though I would admit the suit doesfeel a bit bulky.”

“A lot of my older suits were like that. I’m working onmaking them slimmer so that they feel more comfortable and easier to movearound in.” Tony said.

“And still have room for a weapon and a flight system?”Yusei asked

Tony grinned, “It’s about time I introduced you to nanite technology.”

……………………………..

Yuma huddled under his cover. He had heard Tony and theothers talk how dangerous Ultron was in the past but now actually dealing with thecrazy robot, Yuma believed every word. The killer robot had chosen to attackthe tower catching everyone of guard meaning Yuma had no idea where anyone was.He thought he heard Natasha’s voice nearby but then there were sounds of lasers,so he guessed she wasn’t there anymore.

“Calm down Yuma…we can get out of this.” Astral reassured him.

“I’m scared….” Yuma admitted, “This is nothing like dueling.”

“In some ways it is…” Astral gripped his shoulder, “Rememberthe three steps I taught you?”

“Find out what your opponent is doing, stop him from doingit…then win?” Yuma recited from memory.

“Exactly…now what is Ultron doing?”

“He’s trying to get the Avengers.”

“So how do we stop him?”

“Well…” Yuma bit his lip, “Getting him out of the tower forone thing.”

“It’s a good thing we have something to help.” Astralpointed to the Space Stone.

Yuma swallowed the lump in his throat, “So where do we sendhim?”

“Do you remember that video game you were playing with Yuyathe other day?” Astral asked.

“The one with the portals? Yuma clarified.

“And that thing you two were doing that entertained you fora good half hour?”

A realization hit Yuma, “Oh yeah…That could work.”

“Now we just need to enact our plan.” Yuma could of swornthat Astral had a smirk on his face, “Think you can use the stone to warparound the tower to avoid the firefight?”

Yuma peered over the couch he was hiding behind, “I think so…Ithink the fight was towards the labs.”

“Warp to the closest training room first. We need to surveythe situation before going in.” Astral said.

Yuma nodded and warped the two of them to the training room.It looked trashed, most likely the fight already went through here. There wasshouting coming from down the hall and explosions, so it didn’t take much detectivework for Yuma to figure out where the action was happening. Looking around thecorner, he saw Hulk get thrown into the wall. Then Ultron himself stepped outaiming his arm ready with a missile at the fallen green titan.

Acting fast, Yuma made two portals. One in front of Ultronand one behind him causing him to be hit by his own attack. Ultron growled inpain and spotted Yuma. Whether or not if he realized that Yuma caused theportals, Ultron started charging full speed at Yuma. Thankfully with the plan alreadyin mind, Yuma made his portals.

When Tony stumbled out of the remains of the lab, he was metwith the rather amusing sight of Ultron freefalling between two portals, one inthe ceiling and on in the floor. Yuma stood nearby thankfully with no injuriesgiving the man a thumbs up.

Tony returned it.

……………………………………………..

Yuya wondered if this was considered normal for Clint andNatasha. He tagged along with them for a scouting mission about a mafia family stirringup trouble. Well one thing led to another because it turned out this mafiafamily was lead by this crazy guy calling himself Count Neferia (a reallystupid name according to Yuri) who quickly noticed them a fight broke out. AndCount Neferia had a really broken set of powers. It’s like he was pulling themout of hat whenever he wanted too. If they had Thor with them this wouldn’t be aproblem but Clint and Natasha had no powers to speak off and Yuya was just a fourteenyear old kid with a super powered rock in his pocket.

“What’s wrong little maggots? Afraid of me?” Count Neferialaughed as he ran circles around the trio.

“I am really hating this guy…” Clint muttered.

“And we can’t put a scratch on him….” Natasha glanced toYuya, “And we need to get Yuya out of here.”

“Oh is mommy and daddy worried about the kid? I can fixthat!” Count Neferia rushed by grabbing Yuya by the throat pinning him against thewall. “Kids are so easy to kill…”

Clint and Natasha shot nearly all of their ammo into CountNeferia’s back, but the crazy man just tanked it. Whether or not it was due tothe crazy costume Yuya didn’t care, he just needed to get him off.

Make the walls turn into spikes and stab him! Yuriproposed

Bullets and arrows aren’t doing anything so why do youthink spikes will do the trick? Yuto countered.

You know that we can’t do anything if Yuya passes outright? Yugo tried to bring the immediate danger back to attention.

And none of you are helping…Yuya grunted trying toget the hands off of his throat. “H-Hey….y-you want a show?”

“A show?” Neferia’s grip slacked a bit, “What do you mean ashow?”

“A show you won’t forget…” Yuya smirked. Then a trumpetemerged from the wall and blared in Neferia’s face. The crime boss dropped Yuyain shock at the sheer absurdity.

“How did you do that boy?!” Neferia recomposed himself andswiped at Yuya again.

“Magician’s secret!” Yuya teased while making sure that thered glow of the Reality Stone was hidden, “And for my next trick…” He snappedhis fingers and Neferia’s suit turned pink. Clint and Natasha nearly doubledover laughing.

Neferia was having none of this nonsense and pulled out hisown gun but it started shooting flowers instead of bullets. Switching to daggerresulting in the blade turning into a balloon sword. Each change angered thecrime lord more and more.

“You are a dead man!” Neferia raised his fists ready tosmash Yuya’s head in.

Yuya just snapped his fingers and Neferia’s hot pink suitturned into a hot pink straight jacket. The originally intimidating crime lordwas now humiliated and restrained.

Clint wiped the tears from his eyes from laughing so hard, “Youhad us worried for a moment…glad you’re okay.”

“Can’t take the showman out of you, can we?” Natasha joked, “Thatwas rather entertaining.”

“It’s my job to make the audience laugh.” Yuya smiled.

I still think we should of gone for spikes. Yurimuttered

Shut up about the spikes!

………………………………………….

Yusaku stared at the screen as lines of code scrolled pastfrowning as he did so.

“So whatcha looking for?” Ai asked.

“Mr. Stark said that he’s been finding evidence that someonehas been trying to hack the Avenger’s database. He was hoping that I could identifyand block whoever was doing it.”

“Why would he care so much about some hacker. You hack thedatabase every day.”

“Three reasons…” Yusaku said, “One…Mr. Stark knows that Iwouldn’t cause damage to the database. Two…he wants to know how to improve thesecurity. And three…we need to know if this hacker is one of his enemies.”

“And why isn’t he doing this?” Ai grumbled, “We could be doingsomething more fun.”

“I believe his words were ‘to do something useful so that youdon’t start messing with the dark web’ or something along those lines.” Yusakusaid, “Like I would willingly traverse the dark web anyway.”

“You’re telling me…that place is way to creepy.” Aishuddered.

Yusaku just turned his attention back to the screen scanningfor signs of the hacker. Eventually his patience paid off as he noticed smallblips, clearly signs of someone testing the defenses.

“Found you…” Yusaku’s fingers were making quick work tohijack the signal and began tracking it back. Once there he would reverse hackthe hacker’s computer to get as much information as he could to determine theidentity of the individual.

Though it seemed like the hacker was on to him quickly. Afirewall was quickly thrown up but Yusaku tore it apart quickly. Another wallwas quickly created which Yusaku originally found some difficulty cracking untilhe noticed a virus inside the firewall. He had to make a quick anti-virus sothat his own computer wouldn’t get attacked. It seemed like his opponent wasanticipating his moves was deliberately being unpredictable to throw Yusakuoff.

“If I only knew what they were thinking…” Yusaku muttered tohimself. Then his eyes trailed down to the Mind Stone. Would it work withouteye contact?

“What ever you’re thinking…just putting it out there that Ithink it’s a bad idea.” Ai said.

“You think everything is a bad idea.” Yusaku said as hepicked up the stone and focused on trying to connect with the mind of the personon the other side of the screen. Instantly his mind was sailing through seas ofnumbers and code. He could see his opponent working on his next move and Yusakumet him line by line.

Soon Yusaku was in his mind and computer. He started rippingas much as he could, copies of programs, data files, contacts, and finally…hegot a name.

Helmut Zemo

Yusaku snapped back to reality, head spinning with all theinformation he just got. After quickly reinforcing the tower’s defense code, heran to tell Tony what he found.

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nortromthesilencer · 4 years

Text

Bits and Pieces (Compiled)

A compiled RP between @rizzrack and Myself

Nortromthesilencer

“What’sa runt like you doing out here alone, anyways?”

This was bad. This was beyond bad. Nortrom backed away some more, the heels of his feet hitting a large root, tree directly behind him inhibiting any further attempts to retreat. Was this really The Silencer? Not in any recognizable sense by those that knew him now: He was much shorter, much leaner, much younger. The once middle aged man was not seen in this child, meekly cowering from the trio of bandits closing in. Used to harassment from his peers and preceptors, Nortrom normally met them with submission and acceptance. Now, he wasn’t sure how to act. He was lost in more ways than one.

“Doubt the kid’s got anything on ‘im. Might be able to ransom ‘im to the town though,” A toothy sneer dragged across the lopsided face of one of the bandits, knife slowly unsheathing. Nortrom’s pale blue eyes locked on the blade, scared, anticipating. Again he tried to back away, pressing his shoulders firm against the rough bark. With no weapon or sense of where he was, the child knew he was facing greatly skewed odds.

“Leave me alone, please.” The timid request was quiet, near begging, and the least threatening thing in the world. It brought about a great laugh from the men, a sound that caused the boy to flinch.

“Ya hear that? Th’ runt said please! Oh boy, now we hav’ to leave ‘im alone!” Their mocking jeers forced Nortrom to droop even more, his situation getting more hopeless by the second. What did he do to wind up here? Why were these men doing this? The outside world was foreign, and even more so the lawless corruption of thieves.

Rizzrack

Elusive and unpredictable, the Timbersaw still has the uncanny ability to show up in places no one wants him to be, so long as there is a single tree around.

Just a single tree off a dirt road that connects two small towns together. It caught his attention from a distance, like a single thread poking from the seam of a military uniform. Upon approach however the small-keen takes notice of the group. It’s immediate to him that the situation is a bad one. Very likely a dispute between two parties. Normally he wouldn’t intervene… most adults can take care of themselves you know! However, this victim was obviously a child, and Rizzrack would not let that slide by.

If the little gathering wasn’t so absorbed within their matters, then perhaps they may have seen the waddling saw suit approaching in the distance. If they did not, then for sure they would have noticed the metal claw that suddenly smashed into the trunk dangerously close to the child. In mere moments the suit pulls itself over, bumping roughly into the tree and partially uprooting it.

“Oh, pardon me!” The clawed hand nudges the child away from the tree and behind the suit before lifting up and punching the woody giant completely to the ground. He takes a quick glance at the bandits, and the partially unsheathed knife is enough to confirm his assumptions. “I was passing by and couldn’t help but notice your entertainingdisplay of blades!” The Small-Keen leans forward in his seat, eyes squinting at the weapons the bandits hold. “Is that your mother’s silverware? Cute.” He chuckles as he falls back into his seat. The suit brings the saw-arm forward, holding the buzzing limb between them. “Now what do you think of mine?”

Nortromthesilencer

When claw met trunk, the child screamed. Reflexively diving away, beige tunic smearing with dirt as he went to ground, Nortrom watched in wide eyed horror while the massive machine lurched to a stop before them. Mouth agape, he slowly scrambled back, still on his butt.

The bandits were not so lucky in making any meaningful distance, instead stuck face to face (or face to saw) with the timbersuit. One looked at the kid, still dragging himself even further away and much too shocked to stand just yet, then back to the saw, then his knife, then the saw again, and threw his hands up with a shout. “Fuck this, not worth it!” At those words, the trio were quick to run, not wanting to risk their lives over this.

Realizing now that one of the threats had retreated, Nortrom scrambled to his feet. Not taking his eyes from the timbersuit, he stepped back ever so slowly, thinking that if he went slow it wouldn’t notice him. With how little else there was around them, he knew this was doubtful but tried anyways.

Rizzrack

The small-keen can’t help himself but to let out a little “ha-hah!” at the sight of the fleeing bandits. “Those three made the right choice! I really wasn’t looking forward to spending a day cleaning a red mess off my blades. Now then…” He glances behind him at the child slowly backing away, his expression becomes stern.

“Oooh no no no I need to have a word with you, little one!” Rizzrack hops down from the cockpit and approaches Nortrom, finger pointed disapprovingly. “Don’t you know it isdangerous out here nowadays?” He stands before him, looking up with hands on cocked hip and tsks away. “Lucky thing I was around. Who knows what could have happened to you? They could have seriously hurt you!” he exclaims, waving his hand towards the direction the bandits fled. “Or that!” He includes the uprooted tree. “Your parents must be worried sick! Unless… they sent you out on an errand all alone. Then I’ll have a word with them too!”

Nortromthesilencer

Once out of the suit, this odd fellow wasn’t anywhere near as intimidating. Nortrom recognized the race, a small keen, from his many studies yet never imagined they really were as short as he read. Hell, the child was only 10 and still stood taller than this one!

He stopped backing up now, one arm rubbing his other anxiously. Still speaking softly, the boy maintained eye contact out of habit. “S-sorry sir. I know it’s dangerous but I don’t know where I am… or how I got here even…”

Clasping the fidgeting hand into a fist, he thought, expression shifting as he did so every few seconds, wracking his brain as to just how he got here. “M-Maybe it was an error in the teleportation spell…?” Nortrom sunk into his own hands, holding his head and groaning loudly, “I’m going to be in so much trouble for this…”

Rizzrack

Firm face turns to a softer expression, one of sympathy for the poor boy. Don’t stress him any more than he needs to be, after all he did just get out of a frightening ordeal.

“Oh, perhaps! B-but don’t think about that right now. Let’s just get you back home, how’s about that? Sound good? Good!” He turns back around and climbs his way back into his suit, continuing to talk to the child. “So you may not know where you are, but if you know where you need to go, we can work from there. Teleportation is tricky business, you won’t catch me messing with that sort of thing often. Oh!” Once seated, he brings the suit over to the boy and leans out over the cockpit extending his gloved hand. “I’m Rizzrack by the way, also known as Timbersaw by those that get on my bad side. Hehe, but you won’t have to worry about that! Now what’s your name kiddo?”

Nortromthesilencer

The cultural concept of a hand shake is lost on the child, who just stares with confusion at the yellow glove as it’s presented. Instead, the boy bows his shoulders slightly, and keeps his eyes down while speaking, “Greetings, sir. I- I have been instructed not to tell outsiders my name. I do thank you for the help, however.” While Nortrom didn’t completely know why this was a rule, he assumed it was for safety or the sort. The reality was quite close, his order wishing to keep him secret and safe from any who would disrupt their prophesied plan.

Lifting his posture once more and cautiously taking a look over at the suit before him, blades and all, the boy absentmindedly tried to answer Rizzrack’s other question. “I’m from the Hazhadal Barrens, by their northern mountains.” Metal, wood, and other strange materials; He had never seen such a contraption before and was fascinated by it. All but ignoring the keen, Nortrom was in awe as he looked over every joint and limb.

Rizzrack

The little bow is odd. It’s polite, but odd, something that Rizzrack has never seen to come from a child. The small-keen nods understandingly. “That’s smart! I get it, you can’t trust everyone.”

He leans back into his suit, thinking on the response. Hazhadal Barrens? That sounds oddly familiar. Where did he hear that from? Hmm, barrens… maybe someplace he himself wandered to for some momentary solace from the trees. Rizzrack looks back to the child, taking notice of how captivated he is of the suit. He has every right to be! Not many who live in a world where magic is the norm can appreciate the true wonder that is technology. It fills him with a sense of pride, and dangerously enough, an urge to show off his creation and perhaps even influence a young mind.

“Pretty amaaaazing, right? Hmhm, I know.” Rizzrack pats the dashboard lovingly. “The one-of-a-kind Timbersaw. Top of the line monster to lumber converter! It slices, it dices, it chops up your nightmares into itty bitty pieces so you’ll never have to worry about them again. And-” He continues. “It can be your best friend.” Shoving a few levers, Rizzrack brings the suit down into a squat, enabling Nortrom to get a much better look at the controls within. “You may behold my amazing invention, but don’t stare for too long or-.” Rizzrack’s jesting is interrupted as the suit suddenly begins to shudder. The smoke from the exhaust sputters until it all falls silent. “Oh, no no! Dangit! Not again…”

Nortromthesilencer

Jumping back as the suit staggers and creaks into a crouch, Nortrom can’t help but grin a bit while Rizzrack goes on his rant about the wonders of the suit. He circles it, not touching, ogling every gear, every lever, every system and weld. Knowing very little about such mechanics as it wasn’t a topic of study in any of his courses, the boy can’t help but be enraptured by this new sight. Curiosity eventually gets the better of him and Nortrom carefully runs a finger across one of the welded seems. The suit sputtered and twitched as if in protest, and again the boy jumped back.

“I…” Did he break it? A dawning look of horror replaces the short lived grin, hands pulling back to his side immediately, and a few very slow steps in retreat his first instinctive reaction. Nortrom store wide eyed up at the suit’s angered pilot and cringes, recoiling into his own posture, “I-I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to break it…”

Rizzrack

Completely distracted by his suit, Rizzrack fails to see the boy’s growing stress.

“I can’t believe it!” Hands fling into the air and he groans out his frustrations to the world. “You just have to go and break, don’t you?? Disappointing, ABSOLUTELY disappointing!” Rizzrack moans. It’s only then that he hears a quivering voice and turns his scowling face towards the child. “What? Break it?” He stares down at the shrinking, fear-stricken child. “Ah no, trust me, even if you wanted to break it you wouldn’t… er…” His words did nothing to comfort the boy. Confusion replaces anger, and Rizzrack can only stand there and rub the back of his neck awkwardly. Geesh, the kid sounds like an orphaned apprentice, and Rizzrack wouldn’t at all be surprised if he was adopted by some nasty keen-folk from that town near The Jungle. “I-it’s okay! It happens! Sometimes things go wrong but they go wrong for a reason. Sometimes that reason is your normal wear and tear, other reasons is to just make me miserable. Why don’t we just take a look, hmm? Nooo reason to be scared.” Turning towards his suit, Rizzrack begins his very unorganized method of trouble shooting. A few minutes are spent opening compartments, tracing wires, tapping gauges until finally he finds a possible cause.

“Ah-hah! There’s the problem!” His tone of optimism is quickly dulled by annoyance. “The fuel line leaked… No matter! I always keep a little extra on me in case of emergencies, such as when the hose clamp doesn’t want to do its one job. Just give me a second.” Fishing around in the cockpit, the small-keen pulls out a bottle large enough to require to of his hands to properly hold and pulls off the cap to sniff the contents. “Nope.” He places it back and grabs another identical bottle and repeats the process. “Oh yeah, that’s it.” He places the bottle of clear liquid upon the control panel of the suit. “That my boy, is fuel, and it’s what makes this big brat run.” Rizzrack turns his attention back to the hoses of the suit as he attempts to make corrections. Every few seconds there’s an annoyed mutter and a bump, and with every bump, the bottle slowly nudges closer and closer to the edge of the slightly tilted cockpit…

Nortromthesilencer

The child let out a deep sigh of relief, breath being held as he waited to be berated. It was reassuring knowing he wasn’t the cause of the malfunction, and although still on edge, worked up the courage to peer over Rizzrack’s shoulder at the work he was doing. So lost was he in the hoses, gaskets, valves, and makeshift repairs that Nortrom paid little attention to what was beside them, that small bottle inching ever so closer to the edge of the timber-suit.

“This looks really complex,” he noted, head tilting in confusion at the machines innards. Not wanting to get in the way of Rizzrack’s light, when the keen moved so too did the child, right into the bottle. An echoing crash of broken glass against stone forced his attention away, the look of horror dawning on his face once again.

This time, he knew he was the cause.

He lept back, crowding the broken bottle, kneeling down to start frantically picking up the glass shards with his bare hands. “No, no no… I didn’t mean… I’ll, I’ll clean this up. I’ll…” Nortrom knew he couldn’t replace the bottle contents, and that scared him most of all. Not only did he break the glass, he ruined whatever was inside. Nearly hyperventilating in panic, he untucked his tunic and held it forward, placing the shards in like a makeshift basket, shaking, and not watching out for the sharp edges that occasionally grazed his skin.

Rizzrack

“It looks complex, but once you become familiar with what’s what, it’s really quite easy to understand an-”

The breaking of glass causes him to flinch and let out a squeak of fright. He whips around and leans over the Timbersuit to stare in dismay at the broken pieces, watching the diesel flow across the ground and dissipate. Brows furrow and with gritted teeth he turns his attention to the boy. “Why would yo-..!” The boy’s frantic attempt to clean the shards and utter disregard of the glass cutting his skin stops Rizzrack from reprimanding the boy. Is this kid alright!? Once again confusion and worry grips the Keen. “D-don’t… stop picking those up you’ll get seriously hurt!” Hands pat the air as he tries to calm the boy. Seeing as he won’t let up, Rizzrack grabs the other bottle of water in his arms and carefully leaps down from the suit.

Placing the bottle down beside him, he firmly grips the child’s wrists. “Stop! Stop! Look!” he turns the palms skyward, shaking glass shards from them and wincing at the sight of the red nicks. “No need to save the pieces. We can’t put it back together. Ugh. Keep your hands there.” Retrieving the bottle of water, he removes the seal and positions the neck over the boys hands and slowly begins to pour the contents. “You can’t just handle broken glass or chemicals without proper protection. You need to wear gloves. Like I do.” Placing the bottle back down beside him. the small-keen takes a knee in front of the boy in an attempt to seem less intimidating in hopes the boy would calm down. He begins to inspect the young hands for any small slivers that may have embedded themselves within the skin. By the looks of it, nothing very serious.

“I appreciate you trying to be responsible, but I don’t want you to get hurt.” He sighs, quite annoyed at the loss of fuel, but it doesn’t mean the end of the world for them. Yet.

Nortromthesilencer

As Rizzrack raised his arms, the child coward, glass shards falling from his tunic as it bent back, arms attempting to protect himself from an expected beating. When they grabbed his wrists he bowed his head, still cringing, waiting, expecting pain at any moment…

None came.

Opening one eye and sheepishly peeking out from his cowering form, the child watched as Rizzrack worked to clean his hands instead of pull at them. But why? It was his fault the bottle fell, it was his fault it broke, and it was his duty to accept punishment for his errors.

As the seconds passed, Nortrom found himself breathing less erratically and forcing himself to stand more straight. He still held the look of a scared animal, but there was even more confusion turning his brows.

“I– I’m sorry. It’s my fault, I ruined your repairs.” Some part of him expected the Keen to no longer wish to help him for being such a useless kid.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack places Nortrom’s hands down. He takes a moment to observe the child, to ensure he’s calmed down. Just about every reaction from the boy confuses the small-keen, bringing to mind worrisome thoughts for the child’s well-being and questionable upbringing.

“It’s fine. It was an accident, and what every good inventor knows, accidents can lead to discovery. Thus, I have discovered I shouldn’t leave fragile glass bottles on the edge of the timbersuit. I think that’s a good lesson.”

He stands back up and closes his remaining bottle of water. He turns his attention back to the suit, glancing over it in thought. Hmm. Until he can get more fuel, he’ll just have to operate it through ‘keen-power’. The sawblades won’t operate and the suit will be completely ineffective at cutting, but it’s still a much better alternative to the other possibly dangerous option. An option he shouldn’t have to take for as long as there’s no immediate danger, everything should be fine.

“Welp.” Rizzrack climbs his way back into the suit, placing the bottle away and beginning to convert the suit from fuel-power to muscle-power. “No point in wasting more time sitting around. We’ll take a trip to the town east of here and get some more fuel, then from there we’ll ask for directions to the barrens. Don’t worry kiddo we’ll get you home.” After some quick reassuring the small-keen begins to ride the Timbersuit towards the desired direction with much more force and effort required to push and pull the levers. It occurs only now occurs to Rizzrack the child may not want to follow a stranger to some other place, but he hopes the boy won’t decline. It’s unsafe out here, and despite there not being much vegetation, with the suit in a vulnerable state, anything could mean death.

Nortromthesilencer

Despite the lessons learned, Nortrom didn’t feel at all convinced that this wasn’t his fault and he wasn’t deserving of punishment for being so careless. Still, the child wasn’t going to push the matter, happy to for once not be berated. What didn’t cross his mind, however, was not following: it would be a hell of a lot safer with this keen than out alone in the middle of an unknown land.

“Yes sir.” Obediently he followed the suit, walking with his hands held at his sides and posture straight. Operating the suit manually looked labour intensive, and while the child wanted to ask if he could help, he also didn’t wish to cause any more problems.

He took this time as they walked to silently look more at their saroundings, and even curiously ponder what the town would be like. Where he came from, most hubs were built around oasis or well points, and he was always instructed not to speak to anyone or leave the group. Never had Nortrom had a chance to freely explore, instead letting his imagination run wild as to how many things might be hidden where no one dare look.

The child was lost in his own thoughts, so very quiet, walking in file.

Rizzrack

He’s following. Good. Good. It settles well with Rizzrack, bringing about a good feeling. He trusts you! But can’t let him down, might be the only one he can depend on out here as well. Which reminds him…

“How did you end up in this place anyways? hmph. Did you get kidnapped? huff.” It’s only been a few minutes and he’s already working up a sweat. “Wouldn’t surprise me. hff. There’s all sorts of whewfelids around here. They’re happy to help strangers, but hmff the moment their eye catches any huff any sign of vulnerability, you’re nothing but prey to them. huff huff. So stick close to me.”

The landscape is flat and dry with little vegetation dotted about. It’s a perfect place for Timbersaw to travel through and wind down from territories infested with trees. It’s also perfect for the inhabitants who love to disappear into the dust when they desire to lose a chaser off their tails.

They couldn’t get to the town soon enough. One can be easily fooled to believe it to be a ghost town. The style of buildings and height of doorways hint that humans lived here before at some point. Perhaps it was some trading hub, seeing as how it resides on a road that connects two seperate, larger towns. Due to the other town being destroyed by powers of nature, it left this road unused and the little town soon abandoned. At least by the humans.

Shadows move glide silently within the buildings like ghosts. Its unsettling and one would think the dendrophobic keen would be frightened, but he is not. Instead, he continues through, passing by a very large structure resembling a bucket with a cone on top.

“That is a water tower. It has no water in it. Speaking of.” He stops the suit in front of a creaky shop with a wooden sign reading “supply”. He grabs the bottle from earlier that is only now filled halfway with water and hands it to the boy. “Drink. It’s easy to die out here.”

Rizzrack hops down from his suit and takes a moment to rub his tired arms before heading up the uneven wooden steps to approach a dark open window. “Madini?”

Emerald eyes appear from the darkness within like orbs of magic in the night.

“Se ‘ami newi, keen. The mechanism thirsts for more? Hmhmm.” The voice is soft and feminine, yet raspy. Already familiar with this particular customer, the sound of her retrieving a can of fuel and placing it upon a table is heard within. As she awaits a container to fill, her eyes glance behind Rizzrack and catch sight of the boy. “Ah, t’enika, a strong young boy. You belong to the keen? Give me the bottle.” From the dark a black furred paw emerges. Pad facing up, the claws open and close, beckoning the boy to come near.

Nortromthesilencer

Watching the Keen struggle wasn’t something Nortrom wanted, but still he feared helping would instead make things worse. Instead, the child quietly answered his questions to the best of his abilities, “I’m not sure how I got here. I woke up in the middle of the road, and I hurt all over. Maybe one of the teleport spells we use at the cantonment messed up?” He shrugged, just as confused as anyone else would be.

With a gracious bow the child took the jar, a small ‘thank you’ chirping from his lips before he took a sip. The rest he saved, holding on to the bottle very firmly, not wanting a repeat of the last accident.

There was something oddly familiar about the town, a sort of Barren-esque feeling that put Nortrom at a bit more ease than he was before. The cities and towns there would come and go like the wind, their lively-hood based on weather conditions and water, and shifting just like the dust that inhabited them. Even the shop keeper was familiar, a feline like race he had seen before in the Barrens. Nortrom recalled a small fact that their large ears helped thermo-regulate their bodies,and survive the harsh conditions where other races would overheat…

He snapped out of his trance like state when spoken to, looking down at the bottle in his hands. Tilting his head towards Rizzrack, the boy cautiously stepped forward and placed it in her paw. If Rizzrack was trusting of this figure, surely he could be as well? Well, maybe not trusting, that was the wrong word, but at least accepting that she didn’t mean them harm for the time being. They did seem to know one another.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack crosses his arms and sighs, head bowed as his fingers pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Ugh, you could say that. The fuel hose came loose and I don’t have enough diesel to clear the lines. Do you know how troublesome it is to fix that? Very troublesome! Sometimes I have to ask myself why I don’t just…” The small-keen continues on rambling to a feline who couldn’t look any more disinterested.

Madini grabs the bottle with both hands and pulls it in through the window. Noticing that there is still some water within the vessel, she takes a moment to lap up some of it before dumping the last remaining bit out the window in a wasteful manner. Such is the way of felines. With some patting of the bottle to empty it as much as possible, she sets it down to fill it to the rim with fuel from the can.

“… I mean I could always take a more economical route and attach a-” Rizzrack is interrupted from his vocal thoughts by the sound of a claw tapping glass. Seeing it, he grabs it all while continuing his yammering and goes back to tend to his suit. Finding the keen to be distracted, the feline leans ever so slightly towards the window. The light of outside just barely reaches in to show her previously hidden features. Unlike the fur on her arms, the fur of her face is much shorter and freely shows her wrinkles. It’s possible she may well be along in her time. She beckons Nortrom closer, expressing her desire to speak to him.

“We’ati, how are you stuck with this keen?” She waves a paw towards the direction of Rizzrack who is much too occupied trying to restart the Timbersuit to notice the the talking going on behind his back. “Do you know what one means when they say someone is not all there? He is crazy.” She hisses softly. “Talking, talking, talking about trees. Everything trees. He say he will cut them all. What trees do you see out here? Monyi…” She shakes her head in disbelief. “I do not think those teeth only cut through wood.”

Nortromthesilencer

Nortrom finds himself looking back and forth between the pair, Rizzrack lost in his suit and Madini gracefully getting the fuel situation sorted out. He was used to just silently standing to the side, a backdrop, as others spoke and did their thing. When gestured to approach the feline closer, he felt it fine to do so as Rizzrack was occupied with the suit.

“Er…” Hesitant to cast any judgement, the boy side eyes Rizzrack as she spoke, the way he was talking to his machine as he worked, and slowly nodded. Maybe it was just Keen thing? “He– He helped me when bandits wanted to hurt and sell me. Said that he will help me get back home.” The more the child thought about it, the more doubtful he became. Could this odd pink Keen actually help him? “I don’t know where we are, Ma’am; where I am. I’m trying to get back to the Hazhadal Barrens.”

Nortrom still refused to give his name out, remembering the preceptors lessons very well. As much as he felt an outcast and useless, Nortrom missed his bed. He missed the secure walls of the cantonment, and the fact there was food. For some strange reason, he even missed his studies. Out here? He was alone, scared, lost, and unsafe.

Sinking into his posture as those thoughts crept on him, the child huffed softly, depressed. “I don’t know what else to do but follow him.”

Rizzrack

The feline tenses ever so subtly at the mention of the bandits, her slit pupils gradually dilate. “Fi’ hateh tena fe.” Madini looks behind the boy, startled by the noise the machine makes as it sputters and returns to operational status. Desperation hinting, she continues. “Do not go with the keen. You are smart boy. You are better with me. I know the Hazhadal Barrens.” She leans back to avoid suspicion as Rizzrack returns with the now empty bottle.

“Whew, well that’s resolved! I’ll need another for the road, madame.” Rizzrack trilled as he pushed the bottle through the window. Madini is much less talkative now, a detail Rizzrack fails to notice as she refills the bottle and trades it back to the keen in return for a sum of gold. Taking the bottle, the keen does a cringing attempt to bid a farewell in her tongue as he made his way back to the rumbling suit to climb in and place the bottle away. “Alright boy let’s get you back home.”

Madini watches silently, intently, gold in paw and her pupils like a black sun in an emerald sky. What will the boy do?

Nortromthesilencer

Oh no. Doubt floods Nortrom’s little head, and now he’s not sure keen on following the keen. His expression sours, tense, and for once the boy chooses to speak up for himself. “Wait,” If he could get one thing answered, he might be more inclined to choose, finding out who really does know of his home and who doesn’t, “Where are we right now? What region, or border?” This sudden change of demeanor will most likely not go unnoticed by the Keen, and Nortrom knows it, but he has to ask. He needs answers.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack pauses and pulls his hands from the levers, confused at Nortrom’s actions. Before he can even say anything, Madini pounces at the opportunity to answer. “This town is to the west of Sunridge, where one may see across the canyon the remains of the Fortress of Valhessi.”

“Canyon? Oh, I’ve passed by a canyon not too long ago! That way.” Madini is once again quick to correct the direction the keen points in. Realizing he may be wrong, Rizzrack sheepishly plays off his incorrect finger-pointing as a hand wave. “.. That waaay… may be the best way to go. Yep.” The suit adjusts its orientation to face the direction Madini pointed to. “Thank you for the directions Madini I’ll be sure to visit you again soon.” The timbersuit begins to walk as Rizzrack is quite sure the boy would have no reason NOT to follow him, especially now that he’s going in the right direction.

Nortromthesilencer

Nortrom’s doesn’t budge. He frowns, fists balled up, “Sir, are you lost?” Looking around, the child compares the sun’s path with what Madina had said and indeed confirms her directions to be true. With a cocked head and a sour look, Nortrom sighs, “I’m thankful for your help, but how can you help me get home if you don’t know where we are?”

Turning to Madina, he gestures innocently, “Ma'am said she knows where the Barrens are from here.” If she wished to keep her little conversation secret, that opportunity was now lost. Nortrom was taught to never lie, as deception is the weapon of the Fold and he was better than that, “She said she could help.”

Rizzrack

The suit stops and the keen turns to face the boy, expression in a forced smile followed by a nervous laugh. “D-do I, LOOK… lost? Do I?” Nostrils flare as the boy points out that it’s true, Rizzrack doesn’t know where they are. The keen looks to the feline and practically shoots daggers at her, now quite aware she has some sort of part in this. Of course. Madini nods quite calmly, ignoring Rizzrack’s growing temper. “I will be gr-”

“NO!” Rizzrack interrupts. He huffs, then laughs, finding his own reaction to be a waste of energy. “No, haha, I understand! It’s okay! Stay with the cat! She knows better than I do! I don’t know anything!” He adds, hands waving about his head in dramatic fashion. “I helped out enough, after all. You don’t need me anymore. Madini will help you get home.” That last sentence in particular is said quite roughly towards the feline. Almost as if it were a threat. She remains cool and grants a mewl of pity towards the keen. “Veti ni me’e-”

“Don’t patronize me, I know I’m wrong!” Rizzrack takes another breath, putting effort into speaking more calmly. In the end he sighs, posture slumping, defeated. He didn’t like to be wrong, but pretending to be right won’t erase the embarrassment, nor get anyone home. “Just be safe, okay? It was nice knowing you- uh…kid. ” He never got the boy’s name, but maybe it was for the best. Turning around, the Timbersuit heads back the way it came. No beckoning for the child to follow. No good bye.

Nortromthesilencer

Nortrom felt guilty, very guilty, as the Keen went on his little rant. He sunk even more, shoulders tucked in, posture hidden, trying to disappear into the air. “S-sorry. Thank-you for your help…” He couldn’t take his eyes off Rizzrack as his machine walked away. Was this the right choice?

Still slumped, the boy shuffled to face Madina. His lips were pursed, sucked into an awkward frown, “I- er… I guess I’m with you now, Ma’am.”

Rizzrack

Madini’s pupils thinned, her gaze relaxing and with excellent hearing one may be able to pick up the faint sound of purring. “He is a danger. Ayi zeni, Ayi zeni… Do not feel sorrow. I will be sure that you are taken care for.” Leaving her spot from the window, she steps to the side behind the door next to where she was. There is some fumbling, some clicking, and the door opens partially to reveal more of the feline who is quite surprisingly close in height to Nortrom. She beckons the boy inside. “Come in, stay cool. I will prepare for the travel.”

Nortromthesilencer

Looking back one last time at Rizzrack vanishing in the distance, Nortrom nodded and obediently followed. Escape from the sun is most welcome, as is the prospect of finally having a route home. Forgetting about his hunger and regret, the boy instead takes comfort in what appears to finally be a positive tone to this whole damned experience.

The inner room is quite cluttered, stacks of goods and supplies gathered in crates and bags against the walls, and dirty sewn rugs laid out on the ground. Nortrom was very careful not to touch anything.

Rizzrack

Very carefully Madini closes the door. Her steps are light as she moves around and away the dim light, nearly one with the shadows and objects. She paces about the boy, her attention on moving around various objects with no real purpose, keeping the boy within her periphreal vision.

Waiting.

She steps behind Nortrom, a thin rag in her paws. When she finds she’s out of the boy’s vision and he’s grown relaxed to the environment… She makes her move.

Pressing her form against his back, she throws her hands with cloth over his head, taking advantage of whatever shriek he may have cried out of surprise by tugging rag tight between his jaws. “Shhh.” Keeping the hold firm against herself and slightly above the ground she forces Nortrom on his toes. Maneuvering him to a wall, she pins him there and hisses to a previously unseen party to assist in capturing the boy.

Nortromthesilencer

With both the door and the window closer, there was very little light. Nortrom stepped inward more, avoiding tripping on boxes or Madina, and stood still awaiting directions.

The sudden movement and force caused Nortrom to jump, his yelp cut off mid breath by a cloth being abruptly wedged between his teeth. His hands shot up trying to grab hold of her own from behind him, the awkward angle doing little to help, and the shock leaving him off guard long enough for her to shove him against the wall. Even with the cloth making it hard to speak, muffled questions and protests were attempted, Nortrom still trying to push his hand against the wall and free himself from her weight.

“W-wht ar yu dongh?!? Et ee go!”

No longer at ease, he was quite the opposite! Nortrom was terrified, expecting this woman to help him and not assault him. He thrashed, refusing to make things easy for her.

Rizzrack

Madini did not respond to him, instead she only kept him firm against the wall but unable to do anything else. That is until another pair of hands came into the picture, grabbing the boys wrists and securing them together behind his back.

“Me’in iyadereki newi?”

“Lijuni leme shet’i ini mokiraleni.”

“Madini!”

The voices sound nearly identical, giving the illusion that Madini could possibly be talking to herself. One voice is angered, apparently appalled, the other voice trying to calm the first and speaking like this is usual business. They speak in their tongue all while two pairs of paws (one being reluctant) work on binding the boy. Elbows, knees and feet tied tight together, Nortrom is pulled away from the wall and returned to it with his back against it and pushed to the floor. He is faced with the shadow silhouettes of two nearly identical felines. The only difference being their dress and demeanors. They speak to each other, the one that must be Madini trying to reason with the other, and eventually being successful. The twin gives up, only glancing the boy a blank look before stepping out of the room.

“Do not be upset. It is only to make sure you do not get lost again.” ***

He laughed, chuckled, even joked about it. It was his looks. A bald dirty keen trying to help out a child. He must’ve been scary from the start. Of course a lady, feline or not, would be more trustworthy than himself. He may have goofed up once or twice, flustered by the sudden question and not knowing east from west. He was put on the spot! He’s not that foolish…

The feeling continues to linger. It’s a feeling many others have felt, for example, what a child may feel when they see a friend run off to go play with another friend and getting left behind. Perhaps it was silly to get worked up over it, but Rizzrack couldn’t help it. What makes him feel even worse is the last memory will consist of a very miserable looking boy who definitely did not intend to make the keen feel bad. Knowing already how the boy reacts over small mistakes or accidents, Rizzrack can only imagine that he left the boy in tears. Oh no.

“He probably hates me! Probably never wants to see me again. Never ever. But I probably made him feel bad so…” The keen sighs down to his suit. “It’s okay. He’ll get home and be safe… hopefully.” Rizzrack, caught up in his thoughts, slows the suit to a stop and the engine drops into a low idle, but thoughts about the boy refuse to leave his mind. Will he be home safe? Will his parents be happy to see him? Judging how jumpy he was previously… What if they’ll yell at him or punish him for being lost? Even worse, what if they’ll beat him? Thinking on and on about it, he’s suddenly reminded of someone else with a harsh upbringing. Silencer. Rizzrack shakes his head at the thought, imagining that poor boy growing up to be a bitter man like that one. Just get the bad thoughts out of your head, he’s a young timid child. The world can’t be harsh to him. He probably just has strict parents, don’t think too much of it.

The thoughts only keep coming, thoughts about how the child was almost kidnapped, how he could fall to harm, hurt, scared, crying….

Screaming…

“Great, now I’m hearing things.”

Nortromthesilencer

It didn’t matter how he fought, the awkward angle and pulling was just too much and soon able to wrench his hands behind his back, binding them tightly. He winced, biting hard on the cleave of fabric as his shoulders were contorted painfully, rough rope digging into his skin against his will.

Turned around and pushed back, Nortrom let out a sharp exhale as he hit the wall, sliding to the ground and pulling his knees into his chest in fear. He cowed, eyes pleading with them not to do this, tears dotting the bottom on his eyelashes as he shook. Oh gods, what had he gotten himself into?

He tries one more time to cry for help, something, anything. Most likely no one is around to hear…

***

Their last mark had been a bust, and damn were they sour about it. Refusing to walk away empty handed this day, a pathetic looking trio skulked about the dust laden town in looks for their next target. As fate would have it, the nearest shop or storage haven would be owned by a certain cat-like woman, with a target of her own.

Rizzrack

Lijuni why do you let your sister play around in such undesirable practice? She steps about outside to ponder her thoughts in the visibly empty town.. all save for the figures approaching. She remembers them, as not too long ago during a nightly walk she observed them stalking a small caravan along a trail. Suspecting the trio intending foul deeds, she returns inside to see her sister Madini crouched down beside the boy, gently patting his hair and clicking her tongue softly to calm him.

“Madini, lēbochi yimet’alu.”

Her ears perk and her attention is seized away from the boy. Could it be the same bandits earlier that the keen mentioned? If so, they’ll no doubt want the boy and may pay a small sum to take him. If he was their hostage, the ransom they seek will far outweigh the expense made to regain their lost captive. The boy will be back with his family, the bandits will have their gold, and she will have her share. Perfect.

“Lijuni, tewe.” Madini rises from her spot and approaches her twin, stopping the other from barricading the door with crates. They speak more, with Lijuni growing powerless to persuade her sister away from this idea, and Madini pushing her aside to keep an eye on the boy while she steps out.

Immediately she catches sight of the party, and with graceful steps she walks from the wooden porch and approaches them with utmost confidence.

“Se ‘ami newi, my friends. How tired you are. Seek shade within my shop. Look around while you rest. Perhaps I may have something that will interest you as well?” Her voice is smooth, welcoming, so sure that yes, they will find something they will like to get their hands on.

~*~*~*~*~

Did he drink enough? What if he gets sunburn? Or dehydrates? Gets heat exhaustion? Will Madini take care of him? What if she doesn’t know the signs of heat stroke and he dies? Or worse, what if she ignores his pleas for water? What if they get lost? Would she kill and eat him to survive? She’s a predator after all, with those sharp claws and animal eyes.

Images, terrible fantasies, any horror he could think of filled his mind more and more. Why was he feeling this way? He should feel sure knowing the boy is with someone who knows the area. But why does he have his doubts and worries? Does he really trust Madini? She never personally wronged him but…

The suit stops in its tracks. He won’t get over it, but maybe, just maybe if he goes back, maybe to give a proper farewell to the boy that he deserves and to keep good ties with Madini, maybe he’ll feel better. yeah, maybe he’ll feel better.

Timbersaw turns around, stepping back through the dusty dirt towards the town in the distance. It was hot now that the sun was only just now falling from high in the sky and he had no more water on his person, but the trip back won’t take too long and perhaps he could pay a little more gold for some of Madini’s water rations.

Nortromthesilencer

With every pat the child flinches away. Other children may enjoy such coddling, but Nortrom never had that sort of nurturing touch, and to him it felt very unfamiliar and served to make things worse. He whimpered, pulling himself even tighter into a ball.

There was more speaking, more movement, and more words that Nortrom didn’t understand take place. As they spoke he fiddled with his wrists, twisting and turning them, doing little but further rub raw his flesh and cause more pain. Eventually the source of their conversations was made known, a familiar trio stepping into the home.

Nortrom’s eyes widened and he froze. Oh no. No no no.

Upon seeing the child, thoughts of raiding the place anticipated and instead turned into a much more sadistic grin, the bandits stepping closer and chuckling between themselves. “Your right, you do have something that interests us, Kehehe…”

There were negotiations, multiple bartered offered, plans, and more being made over the boy as he could only sit and listen, his own self being nothing more than a commodity to be bickered over. If any looked his way during said discussions, his eyes begged, pleaded for them to reconsider, head shaking slowly. Legs having cramped he was no longer curled up, and in opening his posture he felt even more exposed to their leers and dire intentions. It took every ounce of strength for Nortrom not to blubber like a baby.

Rizzrack

Madini was quite proud of herself, finding buyers she could bargain with, pushing her limits to get as much gold out of it as possible. Lijuni could only stand by and watch the dealings silently. No sympathy was shown for the boy, eyes blind to the fear and tears so that she may not be stirred to interfere with her sister’s work. Finding an amount she’s willing to trade Nortrom for, Madini turns her attention back towards the boy. “I can only imagine the discipline and teaching that went into raising this boy. He is worth a very fine price.” Although she is not intentionally rough, her pulling and forcing him to his feet cause pain, maybe even draw a whimper from the boy. She beckons her sister over to help hold him, and with a paw out, she waits for their payment. “He is all yours.”

~*~*~

Nearly back into town, Rizzrack continues to talk away his worries, convincing himself that everything is fine. There’s no reason to think anything wrong. His intuition wasn’t always right.

Except when…

The suit pauses and the small-keen leans over the cockpit, having caught an interesting detail in the dirt road. Footprints. Not paw pads, but actual boots. Felines weren’t find of footwear, preferring their steps to leave little to no marks or sound on other surfaces. On top of that, these marks broke over his suit’s after he left town. Someone came after him, someone he doesn’t know.

Or does he?

Worried and once again thinking the worse, the suit starts forward again, picking up pace. It can only move so fast without the assistance of a nice trunk to be cut. However it’s not long before he approaches the shop, his eyes trailing the track of foot prints right up the steps.

“Madini? A-are you still here?”

The two felines within tense up and look towards the door. Not wanting to lose her chance, Madini becomes more demanding, nearly shoving her claws into one of the bandit’s face. “Pay now or you don’t get the boy!” she hisses.

Nortromthesilencer

Yanked to his feet and roughly dragged due to being bound, Nortrom gave a muffled yelp through the gag and attempted to hop along as not to fall over. Distracted by everything going on, he doesn’t hear the sound of a voice outside, instead feeling a sharp prick of alert claws digging into his arm where it held him up.

The trio did, however, hear Rizzrack’s voice. They may not recognize it, but could tell Madini was now rushing them because of whoever this was. The smaller, portlier, of the trio dug through his bags, scrounging up what was agreed, shushing the cat to ‘calm her titties’ and stop hurrying them.

With both feline’s attention occupied elsewhere and the men not looking directly at him, Nortrom felt he had little other choice but to take his chances and get the hell out of there. Jumping up he slammed down on Madini foot, the sudden pain forcing her to let go and shout. Another strong leap pushed the boy away from all others and towards the door, his shoulder hitting it hard but not buckling the wood. Expecting he couldn’t break it down, frantic small hands behind his back tried to push the knob around. Not being able to see what he was doing, and having his movement greatly restricted at the elbows, he only just cracked the door open before being grabbed once more.

“What the fuck do you think your doin’ lad?” He was forced forward by the hair, directly into another waiting fist to his gut. Nortrom crumpled forward, as far as he could while being held up painfully by his messy black hair, and groaned. Now their property, the bandits weren’t afraid to prove it to the child through force. A strong armed punch to the face rocked Nortrom forward, slamming into the door, forcing it wide open as he toppled to the ground, “You don’t fuckin’ misbehave, ya hear me?”

Coins were thrown Madini’s way finally, the tallest focused on Nortrom who lie on the ground. After a kick that rolled him onto the side coughing, blood dripping from his previously battered nose, the child tried to curl up into a ball once more and protect himself. About to drag the child up, both men now outside stopped when they saw the cast shadow of a very large, very clunky machine.

They panicked.

One got down to the ground near Nortrom, dragging him closer by the collar, wrapping his arm around the boy’s neck to hold him close as he drew a knife and held it threateningly, “You! Don’t you come any closer!” The edge drew lightly across Nortrom’s cheek, his head pulling away only to be blocked by the arm. He whimpered.

Rizzrack

Madini quickly overcomes her pain, the scattering coins calling to her to gather them from the floor. She does not turn her eyes to the men who beat the boy. preferring to remain ignorant of the pain she’s brought upon him. Instead, she picks up every last coin and slinks her way to the opposite side of the room past the crates and shelves beckoning to her sister to follow her out the window. Unknowing to her, Lijuni does not hear, too distracted by the panic, curious as to who may be outside. They sound familiar.

Within he could hear clattering, yelling, a screech, and the door shake before falling still. Rizzrack watches intently with held breath, focused as his suspicions pulled together and formed a narrative in his mind of what just went on behind that door. What other evidence could he need?

The boy fell through the door before him, battered and beaten. Following him to the ground were two men, recognized to be the bandits from before.

That is it. Overwhelmed by fury, Timbersaw lunges forward, sending metal claws over them and crushing through the wooden door and wall as if it were merely paper, a small demonstration of what he can do to the bandits with ease.

Timbersaw roars and the hand returns to trade it with the saw , but the blade hesitates at the verbal threat. The keen is silent, frozen in place by fear and rage. He can only stare , momentarily held back by his concern for the boy. It’s only then he realizes the damage already done to the poor child. Bound, blade to his face, eyes red from tears and blunt trauma, the sight causes Rizzrack’s blood to boil in his veins. It makes him absolutely sick. He hates himself for leaving the child behind. He takes in the sight of the bandits, and it takes him a good amount of restraint to not immediately throw a blade through their bodies at that very moment.

He hates them more.

Black smoke billows from the exhaust like dragon’s breath. Blades and saw teeth continue to whirl loudly, enough to cause discomfort to one’s hearing and down out most sounds to the keen. If he had heard the boy’s whimper, he would have completely lost it on the spot. Rizzrack falls silent, but everything in his face told them,

try me.

Nortromthesilencer

“Leave the kid behind, it’s not worth it!” Dashing out of the door way, the portly bandit cowers behind his comrades in fear of Rizzrack’s powerful display and revved up blades. The one holding Nortrom shakes his head, getting to his feet and dragging the boy along with him. Being shorter than the bandit, he’s forced up on his toes, struggling to keep up with the steps, breaths cut short by the arm around his neck.

“No. We gotta get back our money, and this is insurance. We drop the boy, no guarantee that freak won’t chase us and cut us down.” The Bandit tightened his grip and took some more slow steps back. Nortrom just softly sniffled, occasionally gulping air. That knife was close, too damned close. Both of the others looked at one another, not sure what to do, “You there! Turn off that machine or I carve him a new mouth!”

Breaking away from the others, one of the bandits stepped aside the house, attempting to shimmy out of Rizzrack’s view. From the splintered door he had grabbed a long piece of wood, thick and stable, and continued to act casually as he side stepped. Just trying to escape, nothing to see here, concentrate on the child… *WHAM!* When finally ignored, he lunged at the Timber-suit and slammed the wooden piece down against the main body. It left a scraped mark across the metal and wooden frame, but much greater damage was done to the makeshift club than Rizzrack’s pride and joy. This didn’t deter the bandit, who continued to whack and smack away at the suit in various places, intent on taking Rizzrack down.

Rizzrack

Timbersaw remains in place, focus never leaving the blade. He leans forward to follow as they drag Nortrom, the keen within fuming and muttering curses under his breath. They give a demand, and if it were any other situation, Rizzrack would have very likely just went after them, but any wrong move and… He doesn’t want to think about it, but he knows he won’t be able to live with himself if that happened. Hands tight on the lever, he takes a breath and prepares to try to negotiate.

“The machine stays on.” The bandit is stubborn, but Rizzrack himself refuses to budge. “You let him go, and I don’t kill you. How about that?”

Wait a second. Weren’t there thr-

CLUNK CLUNK CLUNK

Timbersaw’s top spins around to face the bandit. Claw raises high and swipes, but misses the take down. Claw readies again for another swing, but this time the keen gasps as a shadow begins to fall over him. The reactive armor is activating, and he can’t stop it. “No, no no! STOP!”

Finding no reason to ever need to design the automatic defense system with an emergency stop and only a simple locking mechanism, the dome continues to close. He scrambles first for the lock, but in a panic, he then leaps out of his seat and grasps the rim with his hands, but it’s a futile attempt. It closes, nearly slicing his fingers with the sharp teeth as he pulls away and is left with only small gaps to look from. He’s trapped.

Trapped. And now at the will of the bandits.

Timbersaw does not move. In fact, the engine ceases and armor stays shut for as long as the other bandit beats it.

“Okay! Okay! It’s off!” Frustration and fear wavers his voice. He’s desperate now. There’s little he can see, little he can do. He may as well be their second captive. “Let him go and I’ll give you all the gold I have. Please.” His pitiful pleas reverb beneath the metal dome. He pants and gasps. It’s getting hot in here.

Nortromthesilencer

Not only are the bandits confused, but Nortrom as well. Seeing the suit clam shut and Rizzrack suddenly acquiesce to their demands stops all parties watching on, wondering if this is some elaborate ruse or a technical error.

Wooden plank still in hand, the closest reacts with one last smack against the arm of the machine before pulling back slightly, looking to the others and shrugging.

“Just how much gold are we talkin’?” Machine now off, the tallest relaxes his grip slightly, arms lowering so that Nortrom can touch the ground better. The child gasps, catching his breath in wavering pants and soft sobs. Were he not tied he might be able to do something, to help in some way. Instead, he can barely move without falling over. How pitiful. Nortrom figures that if he was going to be abused no matter where he was, he would much rather it be back at the cantonment where he was familiar and sheltered.

“You actually trust that pink freak to do it?”

“Shuddap. As long as we get paid, and live, I don’t care who has the kid. A pack of cannibals could buy him for all I care.” More steps back, this time dragging Nortrom along instead of forcing him to hop. He didn’t trust that this wasn’t a trick by the keen, and would rather run the hell away. Too bad it was hard to run with the kid in tow. “If you got enough gold, leave it on the ground and back up. It better pay us even or no deal!”

Rizzrack

“O-okay, okay!”

He fumbles through the cramped confines of his suit. It feels so much smaller than usual. His eyes sting from the sweat that drops down. It keeps getting hotter. Hold yourself together, stay calm. He finds his gold and can only hope he has enough. Please let it be enough.

The keen’s hands pat around the dome above him. It won’t budge open any time soon, and forcing it open will only keep him stuck longer like tugging at a finger trap. He starts to take the gold coins from the pouch, flicking them between the dome’s teeth and out to the ground. “H-here!” It’s a mess, like throwing corn to chickens. Once the pouch is empty, he continues to plead. The suit stays where it stands, off.

“That’s all I have!”

Nortromthesilencer

Motioning to the portly one, hands still fixed in place holding the child, the other frowns at how much of a burden this all was. Still hiding, the other didn’t move. No way was he getting closer to that– that– THING! With a resigned sigh, the closest rolled his eyes and threw down his plank of wood, going about collecting and counting the gold. Minutes passed under the hot sun, and then, “It’s more than we paid. Not a lot, but it’s something.”

The tallest nodded. “Fine, you have a deal, freak.” Pulling himself from around Nortrom’s neck, he let the kid get his own balance before taking the knife to his bindings. First the elbows, then the knees. Then the feet, and finally the hands. He held Nortrom with one hand by the arm, wondering if they could indeed trust that this Keen wouldn’t come after them once he had the kid back.

Internally, Nortrom’s mind was racing. His captor was hesitating and not letting go; Were they even going to free him, or was this all a show before forcing him to run off? More time ticked by, the standoff feeling as though it had gone on forever. His pulse raced, sweat collecting across his tunic and soaking into the thin fabric, nerves elevated to the small gusts of wind that passed. As his thoughts grew more frantic, he became more desperate. More seconds. More waiting. No. He wasn’t going to let them run off with him, damnit! He was stronger than that!

Twisting in place, the boy lifted the hand that held him to his face and bit down hard. The skin broke as he pulled away, bloody muscles and tendons ripping, gore gathering across Nortrom’s face. The pain forced a scream from the bandit, other hand dropping the knife to grab his injury. Nortrom ducked down to the ground to avoid any retaliation, scrambling to grab the knife as he skittered forward in the space between them and Rizzrack. While one bandit reeled in pain, another kept hiding, and the third approached fast.

Nortrom threw the knife.

He may not have been a mage. He may have failed casting any spells and been mocked incessantly for it, but what he lacked in arcane power he made up for in other studies and training. Nortrom didn’t have magic but he did have damned good aim. A bit too good…

The knife landed with a sickening crunch, blade embedded deep into the attacker’s forehead. It took some time for his body to connect with what was happening, frame lurching forward a few unstable steps, blood seeping from around the hilt and out of his nose, arms limply pulled at his sides. One step. Two steps. By the third his nervous system had caught up, the rest of his muscles going limp and sending him crashing to the ground. Dust puffed up where he landed, settling in messy piles across his clothing, clinging to the sanguine leakage from his face.

The adrenaline was dropping fast. Nortrom fell on his behind, kicking back away a couple of paces before freezing, eyes wide, only now realizing what he had just done. His jaw dropped. After everything that had just happened to him, and now this, the boy broke down and started to bawl.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack can only look helplessly from the gap of the armor, but even that granted the keen little vision of what goes on on outside. The bright light entering into the dark suit blinds him and he can only hope to listen. Scratching sounds, the click of currency, their acceptence. The keen sighs, trembling, anxious to know if they’ll follow through. Cutting sounds, it seems like it.

Then a scream.

His blood runs cold. What’s going on!? The sounds of a scuffle has the keen’s nose practically pressed through the small gap. What is happening? There’s a crack… a thud… silence…

Then sobbing.

Sobbing.

What did they do??

The suit twitches, claw fingers flex… then it moves.

Timbersaw charges forward, metal foot stomping down beside the child nearly crushing him, the other foot moving inches above and over his head before landing back down upon the skull of the fallen bandit with a gooey crunch. Blind rage guides the mecha to the gold-holding bandit slack-jawed by his partner’s demise. With a shriek his arms fly up in fear as the last thing he sees are metal claws closing in.

Timbersaw lifts the cretin by the head. There is no mercy, no second thought to his actions. He hangs the struggling body close and lets the midsection blades do the work. Blood spatters all around, showering the dry dust with the red rain it thirsts for. The earth is not the only thing bathed. That’s two down, one to go. Tossing away the shredded remains, Timbersaw swings the saw arm forward. He will FIND that last bandit. It detaches. Like a glowing disc from hell it whirs through the air and chews through the wooden shop, leaving a disaster only a tornado could match.

Lijuni never left. She only watched, She regret staying. The feline ducked, nearly missing a beheading. The other bandit was not so lucky. She scrambled and screeched, clawing and bounding for protection. The structure cracked and within moments it all fell. Crashing wood drowns out the screams until all that’s left is the buzzing of the sawblade. It returns to the arm it comes from, but the pilot is far from satisfied. Tearing through the wreckage, the limp body of the feline is salvaged. Lijuni is held up to the still-closed armor of the suit, but she is seen all the same.

“If it weren’t for you, none of this would have happened at ALL!”

The first slam.

Her body is flung back down, wheezed gasps unheard beneath the cracking and splintering debris. Her body rises again to meet her reflection in the blood that coats the armored dome.

“N-e’eh, pl-” “Do you know WHAT YOU’VE DONE!?” Her body is flung down again. Spears of wood pierce her body, puncturing lungs, stabbing organs. She is a fighter, but her struggles to escape the grip are too weak and meaningless. She rises again, and falls again, rises, falls… the pain grows distant, the sky dark…

Saws and teeth come to a halt. Timbersaw is motionless, painted with blood and holding a fur bag of broken bones. The claws open, releasing the corpse and only then does the armor finally begin to open. Rizzrack is revealed. Condensation drips from within and back onto his dry skin. His usually pink-tipped nose and ears are flushed a vibrant red. His pupils were dilated, quick to contract from the bright light. Delirious, he slumps over the dashboard, grasping at something unseen. Slowly coming to his senses, he struggles out of the suit, practically dropping to the ground into the mess of feline blood.

….

“I’m so sorry.”

Rizzrack looks down to the bloody boy. With shuddering breathe he can only whisper out one last apology before dropping to his knees and wailing into his palms.

Nortromthesilencer

The carnage was all around him, physically inescapable. Nortrom remained kneeling on the ground, tears filling his eyes but not sobbing any longer. He had cried himself out, throat raw, blood drying over his jaw and from his nose. Where he was punched his eye was swollen half shut, bruised, and very much out of place with the vacant wide eyed stare that looked onward. Not at the blood, the death, or the destruction, but past it.

The boy may have been there, on the ground, in the middle of it all, but he wasn’t there mentally, retreated inwards and dissociating from it all, a quiet place, a silent place. He came here often to escape the pain and neglect, yet as of this point he knew not where he would go. The adult knew. The adult understood. The child, not so much.

He didn’t hear Rizzrack coming to his side, the Keen’s tears, or the gradual crashing of the building as it’s remaining supports give out. No, he heard nothing. It was peaceful here, not thinking about the fact he had just murdered someone. It was silent, there were no bodies. There was no blood. There was only himself, alone.

A familiar place. His place.

Rizzrack

The keen rocks back and forth. Between gasps and sobs he cried his mantra. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry” Pulling his hands away from his face, he looks back up to the boy. His state, it’s familiar. Not something he’s seen, but felt. Actually, it’s not even a feeling. It’s an absence of it, a numbness. When everything becomes too much to take in. When you’ve realized your world’s come crashing down, reduced to a small workshop crushed beneath the weight of vines and roots, and life as you know it is gone… You end up looking like that.

Destroyed. Traumatized.

Another sob and his heart goes out to the boy. Rizzrack drags his knees as he brings himself closer to the child. Slowly but without hesitation he brings his arms to embrace the child’s shoulders. At least he doesn’t have to be alone. Don’t let him be alone. His touch is gentle. Hands pet the child’s back, finding no other way to bring comfort.

When was the last time he cried like this? Not too long ago,after learning of the pain Silencer went through in his childhood… Why must the world be cruel to such youth?But something occurs to the keen that did not before. He slowly pulls away from the boy and looks to his eye. A familiar blue… His hair raven black…and that place…

Hazhadal Barrens. Rizzrack knew he recognized that name. That’s where the Silencer was raised with a strict upbringing. An upbringing that could cause a child to be so meek, so disciplined.

His breath is shallow, a result of being absorbed and lost within his thoughts. He snaps out of it, once again facing the boy before him. Eyeing his features, a theory burns in his mind, a crazy one he can’t ignore.

Is it possible?

The voice is soft, unsure, but desperate to know.

…

“Nortrom?”

Nortromthesilencer

Hearing that name snapped the boy out of his trance with a jolt. He gasped, breathing so shallow before and now his lungs craving, no, demanding to be filled. He looked about, again seeing the vile display before him, this time noting the keen. Was it his voice? Pushing himself up more with his hands, the boy looked at Rizzrack with fear and fought the urge to back away. To run.

“Ho–How… How do you know my…?” Was knowing who he was the cause of all of this? Trust was in short supply, and Nortrom didn’t wish to give away what he had left so easily. Not again.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack is… He’s not sure what to think. He really wasn’t expecting his thoughts to be confirmed, and now here he is with this kid who might just be the Silencer. How?

He might sound crazy, maybe he is. His hands grasp the boy’s shoulders. “Nortrom, I… This is so…” He take a breath and sighs, letting go of the boy so that his hands may instead go to his head while he tries to make sense of things. “I know your name because… because you look like a frie-… someone I know.” His arms fall back to his sides, still finding the thought to be utterly ridiculous. “You just reminded me of him. Hah, I didn’t think I’d be seeing the Silencer again in any way. I had to go away. Do you know why? Because I did something terrible to him. Ahaha…”

A twisted, pained smile as he whispered that end to himself. The boy doesn’t need to know any more horrors. “Because I thought I was doing something right. And now? I only wanted you safe.” His voice trails off in a whimper but the keen is determined to keep himself together.

Nortromthesilencer

Now he was both terrified and even more confused. Nortrom pushed back, refusing Rizzrack’s attempted comfort and placing a short gap between them. Able to take in the sights without being completely lost, he took a deep breath and got to his feet. It smelt disgusting, burnt, dusty, and… familiar. It still smelt familiar.

Turning his back to the keen, he looked at the body of the man he killed. Now crushed, the initial image of a knife sticking out from his skull remained. Nortrom did that. It would be dishonorable to the man, to the event, if he denied that fact. Nortrom knew he couldn’t hide from what had happened, and now given some time to process it, he didn’t want to.

“Nortrom. My name is Nortrom, of Aeol Drias,” Yes the Keen knew this now, but it felt more formal to give an actual introduction when before he denied to give his name. After all of this, there was no point in protecting his identity, “And I am a murderer.” He stood up straight, strong, defiant. Nortrom took a swiveling step and faced Rizzrack head on, wiping the blood and tears from his face.

“I did it to protect myself. That doesn’t make me a bad person, does it?”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack reached out, afraid to lose him again. But the child did not run. He stands tall and faces the reality about him. The keen looks up at Nortrom, unseeing of it. He no longer sees an innocent child, and his statement sends a chill down his spine. On his knees he pleads for him to renounce his statement. “No, don’t say that!“ He stammers through his horror.

“Killing monsters isn’t murder. You’re not a bad person.”

The grim surroundings burn into the keen like glares from a damning crowd. He knows what he did, but refuses to believe it is murder. He never murdered anyone. He never will.

Nortromthesilencer

While facing reality may have been his intent, Nortrom still found himself paralyzed by it all the more he thought on it. Standing there, looking at the keen, the blood, the ground, he couldn’t bring himself to move.

“Why did you come back?” It looked so very surreal, this young boy unflinching as death and decay rotted the very air around them, holding tight in a transfixing gaze his ability to move. The child huffed, lifting his tunic from his belt to continue to wipe his face. It stung.

“Thank you though. I’m sorry I doubted you; I just wanted to go home.” Another small sniffle. Nortrom forced his eyes shut and took several deep breaths. He couldn’t allow himself to cry any more.

“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

Rizzrack

“I came back because I was-” His explanation is interrupted by the thanks, and Rizzrack finds it unneeded to restart and instead let Nortrom speak. “Don’t apologize.” He feels he should be one the doing that. He made the boy doubt, he made the boy afraid, he left the boy behind against his own intuition. This was more his fault than anyone else’s. Here comes the guilt again. Well, it never left in the first place. It always lingered, and now it’s a new wound over a scab.

Rizzrack stands to his feet. His knees wobble, as earlier’s rampage and the heat of the day leaves him exhausted and burnt out. He wants nothing more than to ease the boy, tell him it’s alright, but Nortrom seems to be handling it well on his own. A feat that awes the keen. “Like you yourself said, you were only protecting yourself. Now let’s get out of here.” Finding nothing else to say, he turns away back towards his suit and makes what feels to be a long walk. His eyes stay straight ahead and above the wreckage, but do what he may to avoid the sight, he can’t avoid the blood upon the Timbersaw.

Rizzrack returns, this time careful to avoid stepping in head gore.

“I don’t expect you to trust me, but I”ll be honest. I’m afraid. I don’t want to be… I don’t want you to be alone.”

Nortromthesilencer

Nortrom flinches as the timbersuit walked up to him. Could he really trust this keen? Yes they returned and seemed very much willing to help, but they also murdered and proved to be lost. He sighed. Not like he could judge, the blood was on his hands too.

Rubbing his wrists where the ropes cut his skin raw and red, the boy looked down. In an effort to not cry again, he focused on everything else he was feeling instead, mindful of what was going on in his body. The pain of the rope burns, the torn corners of his mouth where the cloth had been cleaved tight, the bruised eye that stung with every blink, and the deep rumble in his gut.

“I’m hungry.”

Nortrom looked up at Rizzrack as he pilot the suit, showing his intent to follow the keen. It was obvious he wasn’t as stable as he let on, the inner turmoil fighting as he pushed it back.

“Can we leave? I don’t want to stay here any longer, sir.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack looks down to the boy just as exhausted as he. “Yes.” He wipes his glove across his face, smearing dirt with the thin film of sweat he can still manage to produce. It feels as if steam is blowing from his ears. Any more longer out here and there could be many more consequences to follow. They need water. They need food. There is a river to the north from where Rizzrack had traveled from and did not expect to be traveling back through any time soon. It was not very far from the Silencer’s home and at that point the keen realizes that’s the home he needs to go to.

“Don’t panic. I’m going to carry you.”

Quite suddenly the claw comes down. It does not grab the boy roughly, it just merely nudges him onto the flat of the saw blade with unmoving teeth. Parallel to the Timbersaw’s mid-drift it acts as a makeshift bench. Something similar to what it did not too long ago. Once adjusted, the suit begins its walk.

“Now let’s get out of here.”

The boy may only notice once they leave the town that they aren’t exactly going west towards the supposed location of the Hazhadal Barrens. The keen suspects this. “I will take you home, I promise that. But…” he sighs, licking his lips and finding himself to be quite parched. “But we need to get to the closest river, and that’s thirty miles north of here… fifty kilometers… quite a ways.”

The suit speed picks up speed and could quite easily match the pace of a jogging human, maybe even surpass it. Even so, at that rate it will take at the very least a couple of hours to reach the destination. Rizzrack can only hope that despite the bumpy ride, perhaps the boy could find a moment of rest.

At least the light breeze is somewhat soothing.

Nortromthesilencer

Don’t panic? This machine of death and blades, so close and now picking him up, and the Keen tells him not to panic? The look on Nortrom’s face betrays his previously calm demeanor, hands gripping white knuckled to the claw and eyes staring at the previously spinning blades. Even sitting down the boy is tense, knowing what this damned machine was capable of now. It wasn’t so much awe inspiring any more as it was terrifying.

“That’s quite a detour…” One last look back before leaving that hellish scene behind, the scene of victim-hood. That scene of the crime; Many crimes. Nortrom leaned back against the body of the suit, his head above the lip where the control panel was. He made sure not to let his head lull in Rizzrack’s way as they traveled. Feeling exausted, the boy yawned. He knew sleep wasn’t an option, nerves still on edge, no matter now tired he was.

“Um… Could I ask you a question sir? Why– Er, No… Do most people out here try to take advantage of others?” That wasn’t the greatest wording, especially for Nortrom. He hummed, thinking of a better way to put his thoughts, “Let me try again: What do I keep doing wrong so that everyone wants to hurt me? This can’t be normal.”

Rizzrack

It was quiet for a while. Rizzrack finding it hard to initiate any small talk. He didn’t have the energy or breath to talk. The boy wants an answer however. “Because they’re evil monsters.” The boy reworded his question and Rizzrack feels obligated to try and give a more meaningful answer.

“You’re right. It’s not normal. Sometimes bad things happen to us. On purpose or on accident, but no matter how it happens, there’s a why, there’s always a reason. That reason isn’t you, but it is you. Does that make sense?” He pauses to think of a better way to express the thought. “There are people who only want to gain things for themselves. They see their victim and think to themselves ‘how can I abuse this innocent being to my own advantage?’ They lure you in with promises of love, promises of protection. Then they slowly begin to take from you while fooling you into believing it’s for a good cause. Then when you begin to doubt their kindness, they twist your words on you and make you out to be wrong. They take more and more until the blood loss leaves you dizzy and weak, then when there’s nothing left to be gained of you, they try to kill you because you’re worthless to them! Hahah! Isn’t that something??”

Throughout the speech his voice gradually grew in volume. So caught up was he within his own memories and experiences that the end of it all, he was cackling breathlessly. Taking a moment to recover, he makes a small apology and blames it on the heat.

“You can’t trust everyone. Sometimes you can only trust yourself, and that’s where your intuition comes in. I don’t always listen to mine, and look what happens, bad things happen.”

Nortromthesilencer

He listens intently to the rant, legs stretched out at an angle down the blade. Occasionally the boy nods, understanding, feeling that he’s heard a very similar speech some time before.

“My intuition,” he idly commented at the end, looking up at the sky above, “is that you’re not a bad person despite all of this. You don’t know me but you want to help. I don’t know you but even if you’re kinda strange, you seem nice.”

Nicer than most, anyways. Nicer than the other children. Nicer than his teachers. Nicer than those cat people or bandits. Nortrom didn’t know how to word it, or what to say due to a real lack of experience of people being nice to him, but he appreciated it all the same.

“It’s getting darker, sir. How much longer do you think until the sun sets?”

Rizzrack

“Oh!” He nearly squeaks, surprised. “I’m touched… I think.”

It’s a compliment that calms him from working himself up by his own thoughts. At least the boy is honest, and Rizzrack is once again reminded of who this child really is. There is sadness, but along with it there is a little more appreciation for the Silencer.

The keen remains quiet until the boy speaks up again. “Hmm?” He wasn’t aware of it until it’s pointed out. Based on how much lower the sun is, it must be the start of evening. It felt like only minutes ago it was the afternoon. “Er….”

It’s been so long since he last used a clock. For years and years the ability to tell time never relied on a visual of marks or numbers, but instead on a feeling and how long it took to perform certain tasks or to travel from one place to another. He knew they would reach the river and clean up with plenty of time to spare before the sun vanished. The keen hums and glances at the odometer on his dashboard. “I would say two hours, give or take.”

They had already traveled far enough that Rizzrack knew that they were getting close. The change of the landscape from mostly dry dirt and scare vegetation to much more scattered green confirmed those feelings. Metal feet kick through small shrubs as they stop at the edge of water.

Beautiful, cool, flowing water.

Lowering the blade so that the boy may get down easily, Rizzrack himself lacks the patience to deny his tongue of water any longer. Crawling down from his suit as fast as he can, he tosses aside his helmet and practically goes face first into the river.

blblbblbl

He raises his head and dunks it repeatedly, alternating between gasps of breath and gulps of water. Finally satisfied he pulls back out of the river to catch his breath while slinging off his gloves so that he could wipe water and dirt from his face.

“Aaah…” He looks back to the kid. He nearly forgot about him. “Hey. Nortrom, come. Get a drink. Then let’s get you cleaned up, you’re a mess.”

Nortromthesilencer

The air feels lighter, more humid, as they get closer. The boy remains awake in silent contemplation, the sights and sounds all new to him and something to enjoy. It’s a much needed calming after such a stressful afternoon.

Nortrom hops off the blade at a much more leisure pace than Rizzrack, walking to the water’s edge. Taking his his boots and leg wrappings off, the boy sits on an elevated rock on the bank and dips his toes in. The kiss of cold water made him gasp in surprise, having to try again little by little until he got used to the feeling. As he let his feet splash, Nortrom bent forward and washed his hands before taking some water in them, cupping it to his face and enjoying the crisp taste.

Spending some time just watching, drinking, and waiting, he finally could forget all about what had happened and instead focus on what was happening. He was lost, he didn’t know how he got here, and he didn’t know how to get back. Nortrom sighed, leaning forward again to stare at his reflection. There was blood on his face still, eye discoloured and puffy, and something else, something stirring in his memories…

“Mirror…” The word was said without thought, something about it felt memorable, the tug of recollection just out of reach, “A mirror! I remember a mirror, that’s how I got here!” Excitement bounced his feet, splashing away the reflection as he turned to grin at Rizzrack with a uncharacteristic look of elation. He was proud that he remembered something, even if it was so little. But what else?

“I– I remember a mirror. Something happened, and I woke up near where you found me.” Nortrom scrunched his face and grunted, a childlike gesture of wracking his brain for more clues, “Hmmgh… I can’t remember why though…”

Rizzrack

Giving the boy his personal space to care for himself, Rizzrack continued to clean his face and go for another drink. This time he cups his hands to bring water to his mouth instead of dunking his head to drink. Nortrom’s enthusiastic exclamation surprises him and the keen momentarily splutters and coughs, fearing for just a brief moment that the boy got hurt.

He looks to him. “Hem.. M-mirror?” he squeaks, still clearing his throat around the word. Another cough. “Some sort of magic mirror?” he doesn’t know much about the Silencer, even less about him as a child, but Rizzrack does know based on their little mishap with a hexing staff that Nortrom can have unexpected results with enchanted objects. “Can you remember where the mirror was? Or if there were any people?”

Nortromthesilencer

More scrunching of the face, it looking very comical with his already injured face. Becoming frustrated by the fact nothing was coming to him, the boy pouted. “I don’t know. Let me think.”

Nortrom slips his shirt off, dunking it in the water and using it to clean himself off. Taking a smooth rock from the water, he then starts to clean the blood and dirt from his shirt with it, back and forth, a typical laundry routine.

“Hm… I remember wooden walls.” That detail me have been mundane to most, but Nortrom was raised in a cantonment built mostly of sandstone and granite, so pure wooden walls like that of a cabin would stand out to the child, “It was quiet. I don’t… No, I don’t recall any voices.”

His head was starting to hurt thinking so hard about this, and he imitated the Keen by dunking his head under the water a few times. Up and drying himself off, the child spoke under his breath, “Maybe I actually managed to cast a spell…?”

Rizzrack

A spell? The keen lets out a few chuckles. “Hah, Nortrom, you cast a sp-” He stops himself to rethink his words. Adult Nortrom is about as magically gifted as Rizzrack himself. But just because that’s a fact the keen is aware of, he shouldn’t talk down the kid. He doesn’t know. “It’s.. it’s possible! It sounds like you’re really close to solving this mystery.” Finding it shameful to gaze at people bathing (as he himself would dislike being watched), Rizzrack grabs his helmet and turns his eyes down to the water to take care of getting something to eat. Pecking under rocks with his fingers, he begins fishing out crawfish and tossing them into his bucket helm.

“So if it was a spell, what do you think it was for?”

Nortromthesilencer

Even though Rizzrack cut off his jab mid-word, Nortrom heard it, and knew full well what he was going to say. At that moment he didn’t wonder why Rizzrack would have known he had issues with casting, but instead remembered every other time he was mocked, doubted, jeered at, and belittled for being unable to use magic. The boy shrunk in his own frame, going silent. Of course it was ridiculous to think he could have ever cast something.

He didn’t answer the Keen’s other question, instead silently finishing cleaning himself off without a word or change of expression. What a foolish thought. Casting a spell. You? In your dreams. The boy’s mirthful grin was gone. He knew better.

Rizzrack

As Rizzrack was not looking directly at the boy, he only thought the silence was due to him being deep in thought. He continues digging through the bed, waiting for an answer. But the silence is unusually long. The child’s chatter is gone. Realizing that his laughter was probably the biggest tell-tale of it, he makes another attempt to salvage the moment. “Whatever the spell was, it definitely did something…?”

It finally dawns on him that the damage was done and once again he is acquainted with regret and guilt. Just be quiet Rizzrack you’ll just make things worse. After collecting a few of the little snappy critters, he sifts water in and out of the helmet to get rid of any mud they may have been covered in.

Silence. Silence. Silence.

He thinks about it, and thinks about it. Children can be cruel too.

Uncommon were the days where he as a child was able to join the other young keen on the streets. Showing off their toys, bragging about inventions their mothers may have created and holding contests about who’s father was smarter.

“My dad can count all the sand grains on the beach!” “Oh yeah? MY dad can count all the stars in space!!” “And Rizzrack’s dad can count all the rocks on his shovel!” “HEY!”

It may have been in jest, but the mere fact that his father grew up an orphan working the mines was far from brag-worthy. In fact, it was the equivalent of amounting to nothing. No family trade to continue, no master to be an apprentice to. An uneducated fool to many of the neighbors, but Rizzrack knew his father was wise in his own way.

Silence still.

“Nortrom.” Rizzrack sets the helm aside and wades over to the boy. “Look, you… You may not see it, but you are special. You’re terrible with magic. It’s not because of you… but it’s also because of you. How do I go about explaining this? Okay, I don’t get magic either. Not everyone does. That’s why I have technology. We find our strength through weakness. And you, you have something, something FAR more amazing that I’ve never seen come from anyone else! The strength you will find within you is just… It’s beyond my comprehension, really.” The keen sighs. “I”m sorry I laughed it’s just… I know you. The older you. And honestly? I‘m jealous. You’re smarter than me, stronger than me, taller than me… You’re the Silencer.”

Nortromthesilencer

Perhaps it was stress, built up and festering under the skin, a disgusting wound just waiting to burst. Perhaps it was from hunger. Perhaps he was tired. Most likely all three, but Nortrom remained silent only this time with his shoulders occasionally twitching. A few more seconds and his breaths could be heard, a quiet sniffle giving away the fact that yes, he was crying.

“What are you even talking about??” large blue eyes looked at the Keen now, wet and red, a slow draw of tears trailing down his cheeks as he accusingly store at the keen, “How do you know me?!? How do you know all this!?” Nortrom lurched forward, falling closer to Rizzrack and supporting himself up with his hands to lay in a crawling position on the stony ground. He looked up, trembling, voice wavering in panicked breaths, “What do you mean you know me?”

None of this made sense. Being here in the first place, barely remembering what had happened before, the Keen’s familiarity with name his lack of spellmanship, and now saying that they knew him as an adult? How? He was here, 10 years old, and that was the truth. How could anyone know him in another instance of time? What was even going on?

Nortrom grabbed his own head, burrying his eyes in his palms and keeling.

“I want to go home!”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack didn’t know how the boy would react, but he didn’t imagine it to be like this. This isn’t want he wanted. Trying not to panic, he desperately pats the air down. “C-calm down! Please don’t cry I’m just-This is hard to explain but I ca-” Seeing the boy fall, he follows down onto a knee. His hands are out but he does not touch the boy in fear of getting another bad reaction from it. It hurt Rizzrack to see this. He can’t do anything right for him. Nothing at all. The hurt, the confusion, the frustration. Oh, the frustration. He’s getting tired, and his patience suddenly vanishes as he hits the bottom of the pity bucket. Sympathy drains. He would never imagine himself to be this way with youth, yet here he goes.

He grabs the boy’s shoulders and roughly pushes him back to sit on his heels. His own tear filled eyes looked into the boy’s as he yells out in exasperation.

“Grow up!”

Nortromthesilencer

Panic sets in, a response to protect himself when expecting to be harmed, hit, or abused in some way. He’s felt it all too many times before, the loss of patience of another before they lashed out and took out their frustrations and stress on him. Nortrom forcefully shoved the keen away and sprung to his feet, “Get away from me!”

Jumping to his feet and forgetting about what had been removed previously, shoes, wraps, and tunic, the boy puts a few feet distance between him and Rizzrack. “Why? Because you know me as a grown up? Because I’m obviously a useless burden like this?!?” He looks hurt, angry, sad, and a mixture of so many feelings that even Nortrom doesn’t know what the hell is going on.

Gritting his teeth, he turns and runs away from Rizzrack and into the brush, shouting out one last thing, “FINE!”

The Keen wanted him to grow up? Fine, grown up’s don’t need help. Nortrom kept running, the river long past and the greenery getting thicker. His feet stung from the thistles and stones, and his lungs were heaving as he went. The boy wasn’t sure for how long he kept going, only knowing that he wasn’t going to stop until he couldn’t move any longer. Stupid Mirror. Stupid Keen. Stupid self… Mostly that last one, this was all his fault and he knew it.

Tripping over a bump in the ground from his feet growing numb, the boy lands hard and rolls, stopping on his side. He doesn’t move, instead gripping tight to his sides as he heaves and gasps for air from running for so long. The efforts made to wash himself were all but wasted now, mud caking up and down his body and trousers, but Nortrom didn’t care. It didn’t matter, nothing mattered, he didn’t matter.

Grow up, the boy thought bitterly, I wish I could. Then maybe people wouldn’t hurt me.

Rizzrack

He didn’t expect the boy to retaliate. Rizzrack fell back and submerged. The keen isn’t fond of water, not used to frequently bathing and when he did he was reluctant to ever go underwater. He flails and splashes about before finally sitting up in the shallow water. He gasps, frantically brushing water from his face and nose until he finally calms and catches his breath. That’s when he sees the boy is gone and a nice trail of wet footprints telling of where he ran off to.

He wanted to yell out, he wanted to retort and call him out for being so childish. Rizzrack slaps down the water angrily with his hands. Fine! I don’t care! I just wanted to help! He’s going to have to accept that he won’t ever become mage! Brat!! The keen rises from the water and steps out of the river. Everything is dripping as he never bothered to take anything but the gloves off. He walks past the boy’s belongings and goes over to his helmet to angrily place it on his head.

A shower of water and sharp pinchers greets him. He slaps the shellfish away, finding any feeling of hunger to have vanished as he goes to retrieve his gloves, slipping one after the other and then flapping about as he bitched and moaned under breath.

“I tried to apologize! I tried to help! I saved him! Ungrateful!” No longer did he view Nortrom as the child he is now, but instead saw him as the man he knows he is. “I’m telling him the truth! I’m being honest! I did everything I could for him! Why… why when I was his age, I didn’t have anyone! It was just me! And… and you!” He points to the Timbersuit off by the shrubs. It lowly purrs, saying nothing. “I tried to give him what I didn’t have! I tried to care for him! I tried to help him! I did it all to no benefit for myself! What… what did I do wrong!?” He paces about, palms tapping his forehead as he wracked his brain for an answer.

He treated him like someone he wasn’t. Silencer is who he could become, but isn’t who he already is. He is just a child, and although he has so much still to learn about the world, he wasn’t ready for all of that to hit him in one moment. It was too much. The cruelty of strangers wasn’t just a lesson taught to young Nortrom by the bandits alone. Rizzrack is just as guilty as harming him, and now the keen thinks he knows where he went wrong.

Rizzrack wished he never said his name. Rizzrack wished he never looked into his eyes. He wished he never left the boy behind, that he never went into that town, that the container of fuel never fell and broke. So many things. So many regrets. Sobbing at the edge of a river and feeling regret doesn’t do anything, however. He looks over to Nortrom’s abandoned clothing. His heart aches. He cares, and he wishes he didn’t.

Fabric and shoes are bundled up and tossed into the suit. Rizzrack follows and heavy metal steps crunch through the brush and out into the dusk-painted landscape. As much as he regret first saying the name, he knew he had to call it out. “Nortrom!” He went so long calling him by Silencer out of spite ever since the man took offense to being called ‘Nortie’. Ever since then, keeping the relationship as something impersonal and unfriendly to convince Rizzrack to keep any fond feelings or positive thoughts out of the picture was the only reason he persisted. It didn’t work for very long.

“Nortrom!!” The wet footprints were gone now, having vanished into the dry earth some distance back. Rizzrack has no idea where he may have run, and can only hope he kept to one direction. Maybe the boy had no idea where he wanted to go. Maybe he just wanted to get away. The blood crusted suit continues on, the pilot desperately still crying out to the boy.

Nortromthesilencer

One the ground, wet, muddy, and sore, Nortrom is quick to learn just how cold it is outside without shoes or a shirt. His grip on his sides tightens and he curls up, crying becoming nothing more than a pathetic whimper and sniffle. He doesn’t hear the calls at first, and when the first hint of his name is carried on the wind the boy cringes. Maybe if he stays quiet he’ll be left alone. Maybe if he stays here he’ll just disappear and no one will miss him. The sad oddity of a 10 year old thinking about his own death and wanting to die was lost on Nortrom, too caught up in self hate. They said he was a burden, so why would they care if he vanished?

Rizzrack didn’t relent. The voice got louder, and Nortrom knew he was getting closer. Nortrom groaned and rolled on to his back, arms splayed out, legs apart, a carpet of flesh and mud on the ground. Maybe if he was lucky that giant robot saw thing would step on him and crush him, putting an end to this.

Silencer. What a joke. He was probably mocking me for failing as a mage, who would call someone ‘silencer’ anyways?

Rizzrack

The ground crunches beneath every step the suit takes until it comes to a halt. The keen is silent, making out the form of the boy laying upon the earth in the dim glow of the evening. Lucky thing, for if he looked any smaller, likely wouldn’t have seen him. With a shuddering breath the keen is relieved. He shuts off his suit. It’s silent, save for the soft chirping of crickets, the gentle breeze through blades of grass and the light brush of feet across the ground. A short figure stands besides the boy with arms full.

“You… you left your clothes. It’s cold out here at night. You’ll need these.”

Nortromthesilencer

Drat, his plan was foiled. Nortrom rolls on to the opposite side of the keen and culls up defiantly, “Good. Maybe I’ll freeze out here.” A few seconds pass, and guilt eats at the boy, so used to obeying authority and not protesting. He rolls back again, this time to face the keen, “… Thank you, sir.” It sounded soft and reluctant, but Nortrom couldn’t bring himself to be any more of a dick to the closest thing to an adult around here.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack made no move but to only look down upon the boy and sigh. He could only wait. His brows creased, expression like a father who patiently waits for his toddler to grow tired of pouting. It’s quick, and he hands the articles over one by one as they’re placed back on. “You really don’t have to call me sir. You can just call me Rizzrack.” Handing over the last piece, he sits on the ground across the patch and faces Nortrom. His breath shudders, signifying that he too had got done crying as well not too long ago.

This is a quite familiar setting.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you. I shouldn’t have lost my patience.” His voice cracks somewhere in there, so he attempts to speak softer. “I’m just a crazy little keen who said a whole lot of things you didn’t need to hear or know. If I were in your place I would have been just as scared. Maybe more.”

Nortromthesilencer

Nortrom was ashamed of losing control like that, and hid his eyes from the keen even after getting dressed. He sits cross legged, head cast downward, hands in his lap.

“I’m sorry for acting immature, si— er, Rizzrack.” About now would be the time he would be hit, yelled at, and locked away for disobeying and being beligerant, yet Nortrom for once in his life assumes that won’t be the case. He dips his head even further, an apologetic gesture, a pathetic gesture.

“I’ve caused you nothing but trouble. I don’t know what’s going on, or why, but I do know that if this were a test I’ve failed terribly.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack remains quiet, hesitant and unsure of just what to say without it being some other dumb utterance that could upset the boy again. It’s surprisingly hard to comfort someone, to be the mature support that a child needs when he himself is just as troubled. “Well, if there has to be someone who failed today, it’s me, not you. I’ve failed.” He sighs, stressed and worried the boy may still be fearful of him and his intentions. “But I can’t give up despite that.” Rizzrack looks to the child, eyes pleading, voice sincere. “Can you trust me to take you home? Believe me when I promise you to take you where you belong.”

Nortromthesilencer

He’s hesitant to trust anyone, always have been always will be. Now it’s even harder, but as the boy rises to his feet he nods. Hunger be damned, Nortrom was used to going nights without food as punishment, and he could handle it.

“I’ll accept, as I have nothing else to rely on.” Did he trust Rizzrack? No, not really. Was there any better alternative? Also no. It was one of those cases where the boy may as well go with the flow and accept things for how they are.

Looking even worse for wear now than before, albeit with less blood and more mud, the boy shivered. Night had set upon them fast, and with it the creeping shadows grew ominous. “I’ll follow your lead, s– Rizzrack.” Old habits are hard to break.

Rizzrack

There is another sigh of relief from the keen. He gets up and does his best to brush away the clumps of dirt that stuck to his bottom and legs. He gets into the machine and it starts up again, familiar deep purr drowning out the songs of nocturnal insects. Rizzrack knows they still have quite a bit more traveling to do along the river until he’s back to familiar lands. He wants to get there has fast as possible , so just like before the timbersuit guides the boy to sit on the unspinning saw like a seat and begins the trip back north again.

The Timbersuit speaks in place for Rizzrack as it steps along the river following a thin trail nearly lost to the darkness of night. Rumbles, clanks and the occasional squeak of a joint fill in for ramblings and gripes of the keen who would normally jump at the opportunity to rant. Instead he is silent. He’s exhausted. Physically. Socially. So used to only having to worry about himself, Rizzrack is left running on empty. The thought of finally being alone is a very pleasing one.

The darkness of night settled long ago. Nothing but the stars and waxing moon light the field around them. There is more grass, full and green with scattered tree stumps across the plains and hills. Some spots of trees that were spared from being cut speckle a portion of hills that a few homes reside on. It’s all familiar even under the mysterious visage of darkness, and the keen finally mutters. “Almost there.” Words exhaled as if he were bearing a heavy load. He eyes in the distance a familiar cabin far from any other and knows that it is only a moment longer until he walks up the path to that door once again.

Nortromthesilencer

Despite all of his efforts, Nortrom can’t help but fall asleep as they travel. The hum of the timber suit, the hunger in his gut, the pain of wrists rubbed raw from rope and other injuries, the cool evening air: It all leads to the boy curling up on his side atop the flat of the blade and slumbering.

Up the mountain the suit plodded on, the pathway well groomed and maintained for ease of travel. Bordered by tall trees and ample brush for wildlife to hide, soft sounds of crickets and nocturnal creatures occasionally break the silence of the night. Soon a familiar stone fence pushed back the foliage, leading the rest of the way up to the clearing where Nortrom’s lodge resides, nestled on the cliff overlooking a small village.

It’s still, with no sign of the owner for very obvious reasons. Only the timbersuit disturbs this place, and were it not for the child in his possession there would be no indication that anything was amiss.

Rizzrack

They made it.

Timbersuit slightly bowed, the engine rumbles to a halt and the driver climbs down tiredly, careful not to startle the boy yet from his rest. Rizzrack approaches the door. It’s dark, but patting around looking for the lock and handle causes it to budge, telling that the door was left open. Pushed wider, the keen steps in to inspect the room. He sees no obvious signs that the place has been invaded from what he can make out in the darkness. No risk of getting jumped. Good. Door propped open, Rizzrack turns to the sleeping boy.

“Okay.” He readies himself, takes in a deep breath and exhales, and as gentle as a keen a tad smaller than a ten year old can, he scoops his arms beneath shoulders and knees and lifts him from the saw. Oh boy. Maneuvering his way in, he carries Nortrom over to the couch he last saw the man reclining against. He places him down and carefully pulls away. Whew. Such a good couch.

Rubbing the small of his back, the keen looks around. Of course there isn’t much one can see in the dark. Remembering a lantern nearby, he searches for it, finding it close to the door along with some matches.

Now with a portable light, he closes the door and turns his attention to the kitchen for some food. Having calmed his nerves during the travel, he finds himself quite famished. He can imagine Nortrom will be as well as soon as he awakes.

Nortromthesilencer

The boy stirs once on the couch, the awkward angle of being carried by a small Keen more than enough to awaken him. He yawns, groggy, and stretches with a groan.

Nothing is out of place on the main floor, even if the boy looking around doesn’t know it. Tidy as can be, the main room and kitchen looked barely lived in, but completely free of dust and cobwebs. Nortrom gets up and stretches again, turning to Rizzrack with half lidded, sleepy eyes, “Is this your home?”

His eyes trace ever wall and angle. There is something oddly familiar about this place…

Rizzrack

Rizzrack rummages around through drawers and cabinets, tracking flecks of dirt across the floor. It can be comparable to a maze for the keen, coming across assorted kitchen ware instead of anything edible. Finally understanding the organization of things, he’s managed to gather a bowl with an assortment of fruit, seeds and strips of jerky.

The voice slightly startles him, and he panics at the question. “It’s y-… No, not exactly. But-” The keen hopes that being honest is the right thing. He walks over, lantern in one hand, bowl in the other. “I don’t think there would be any objections to me making myself home. As long as I keep the place tidy.” So much for keeping the floor clean. Rizzrack hands the bowl over to Nortrom before picking out a strip of meat for himself. He glances about chewing, and it’s then he realizes… He’s gotta go. Despite being so thirsty, he drank enough water to make it through him.

“Eat as much as you want. I’ve gotta take care of business really quick. I’ll be back, don’t worry.” Placing the lantern down so that Nortrom wouldn’t be left in the dark, Rizzrack steps outside to find a suitable spot to relieve himself in.

Nortromthesilencer

Food! Sweet, glorious, nourishing food! Nortrom is more than happy to begin to eat, his resolve of ignoring hunger gone the moment he smells the dried meats and other goodies. Manners are out the window, and the boy stuffs a large apple in his mouth and bites down greedily. He nods at Rizzrack, still remembering to not talk with his mouth full at least.

The small apple was no match for Nortrom’s mighty jaws. Taking a handful of seeds and a strip of meat, he looks curiously at the home. If this wasn’t Rizzrack’s home, than who was the owner and why were they gone? Nortrom stood up and explored the main floor: closets, bathing room, kitchen, and all. He noted stairs going up, and a large hatch in the hall, much too large for him to open alone, and decided the stairs were the best route for more adventure.

Lantern in hand, the boy ascended the wooden steps. The first room was tiny, and looked out of place with the rest of the tidy home. Loose sheets and books were strewn about, pillows thrown into a corner, papers with crude drawings messily tossed about. Whoever stayed in this room didn’t care much for organization. Moving on, another storage closet, and finally what looked to be the master bedroom. It’s was massive, the large four post bed near the entrance, wooden dressers and shelves lining the walls, a few desks, and… What was that? Against the wall there was a strange twine wrapped sculpture with a few open cut boxes and platforms placed at seemingly random points. It was damaged, the twine ripped and torn on the base of the main stand. What an odd looking thing.

In the dark the boy didn’t notice that not all was in place and neat, and he nearly fell over tripping on a loose black cloth that hung out of a flat case lying open on the ground. Kneeling to get a better look, it was then Nortrom noticed his lantern reflecting off something else partially obscured by this black cover.

A mirror. THE mirror.

He jumped back in shock, the strange words and jumbles of information Rizzrack had spoken off echoing in his head. How could he know this place if he had never been here? Something strange was going on, surely. Nortrom rushed back downstairs, leaving the open case and mirror where he found them, and called out looking for Rizzrack.

“Rizzrack, Rizzrack! I found the mirror- or I think I did! It’s just like I recall, come quick!” The panicked wonder and excitement was marred by an underlying fear in his voice.

Rizzrack

Head hanging back, eyes closed, Rizzrack looks to have almost fallen asleep standing, having already finished moments earlier. Swaying on the spot, it takes someone calling his name to snap him back to alertness.

“O-oh! Alright I’m on my way!”

Seconds later he’s run to the door and steps through, still slipping his gloves back on. “I’m here, I’m here. Where is it?” Curiosity peaks. When the mirror was first mentioned, Rizzrack didn’t think of it as a possible cause to Nortrom’s current state. He actually didn’t think such a thing existed, just something the boy thought up of as he tried so hard to recollect memories. But now? Maybe he can see just what happened, or how it happened, why… and if it could happen again.

“Show me, b-but let’s not touch it or anything yet, okay?”

Nortromthesilencer

He nodded, still overcome with excitement as he led the keen upstairs and into the master bedroom. There, on the floor where he left it, was a wooden box with runes carved along it’s edges, lid flipped open. Out of it a black satin like sheet led, curled over the edge and on to the wooden planks where it loosely wrapped around half of an ornate, silver framed, oval, mirror.

“This is what I saw– er– remember, sir. The wooden walls, the black sheet, the silver mirror; Everything!”

Nortrom set the lantern down on the ground, angling it to illuminate the room better as he looked around for some other source of light they could use. There was a torch scone by the balcony door, and the boy grabbed it and brought it over. “Here, this may help.” Rizzrack told him not to touch the mirror, and so the boy waited and watched instead.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack follows Nortrom up the stairs, finding the very act of climbing steps through a home to be… Nostalgic in a sense. Cautiously the keen follows Nortrom in, looking about at the belongings and studies before finally looking at what the boy is excited to show him. “So, this must be… Hmm.” Rizzrack grabs the torch and lights it. Holding it firmly in both hands he stares at Nortrom and waits for him to do something.

Oh, I’m the adult here. Well then.

“Uh…” Unsure and hesitant he looks to the mirror facing up. What if it pulls some other funny stuff? Step by step, inching closer, he gradually peers over at the mirror being sure to not let his reflection be seen by himself. “Do you remember saying any spells or incantations? Or touching it?” With a single finger he begins to inch the fabric off the mirror to show off more of its frame. Nothing quite happens yet, so to test the waters he waves a hand quickly over the top of it.

Nortromthesilencer

“I, hm…” The boy thought, the mirror reflected. Nothing happened as the mirror was revealed, safe for a greater reflection of light and flame off it’s now exposed surface. The hand shows as one would expect, and for all intents and purposes it’s just a mirror.

“I was holding it, looking at it but it wasn’t me. I mean, the reflection wasn’t right but I could be remembering wrong because that doesn’t make any sense.” Nortrom huffs to himself, realizing how silly it all sounded. Kneeling on the ground, he grows impatient and pulls the cloth all the way off, folding it neatly into the box but still not touching the mirror itself, “It’s just a mirror. I don’t see anything special about it.”

Rizzrack

“Well that’s the thing with weird magic stuff. They look like your typical book, you open it and then suddenly there’s five golems chasing you.” Still slightly suspicious of the mirror, he quickly taps it with the leather covered tip of his finger. Nothing still.

He slowly picks it up in one hand and begins rotating it around to inspect it, maybe even find something like instructions. This mirror has GOT to have been responsible for this. He even looked for cracks, recalling the mishap that hexing staff had caused. Then again, maybe the boy IS right. It hasn’t done anything to make him believe it’s magical. Rizzrack hums a note of disappointment and believes now that it is in fact just some ordinary mirror. He holds it over to Nortrom and decides that perhaps maybe there is something in the box.

Nortromthesilencer

Hesitant to take the mirror, Nortrom gives Rizzrack a concerned frown, looking for approval. The keen passing it over is good enough, and he takes the mirror in both hands just like he remembered. The edges are etched with ornate detail and flourishes, making this mirror look like something a Lord might have in his manor, but still there’s no sign of anything strange.

The boy watches Rizzrack explore the case, but finally works up the nerve to look directly at himself in the mirror. The light may be low but he can still make out his features, the black hair, the injuries, the blue eyes, the… wait. Something wrong. Nortrom can’t bring himself to look away no matter how hard he tries, and is unable to say a word or motion that this is the case. He’s stuck, transfixed staring at this mirror, trapped in his own body and knowing that this is the case. The boy’s mind spins, panicking, trying to use every thing he can to pull away and instead he just kneels there, calm, looking.

The reflection ripples ever so slightly. With each blurring motion it shifts, the boy’s face changing bit by bit. His features harden, lines becoming more defined, older. His eyes brighten with a soft glow, deep set and tired. His hair grows longer, his jaw more square. The boy is terrified now, his body shaking from fear. Once the image has completely changed to what he perceives as a completely different person (Or was it really?) he pulls back with a gasp.

Panting for air, Nortrom is quick to place the mirror down and back away. The image on the mirror hasn’t moved with him, acting more like a picture frame than a reflective surface. Still panting, he points in exasperation to this oddity taking place, hoping Rizzrack pays attention.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack is completely unaware of what goes on behind him. The silly keen is much too occupied pecking around the fabric and wood of the box. No etchings, no scrolls, no writings in blood. He sighs, feeling they were no closer to solving this mystery. He scratches the back of his neck while pondering about the next step to take when sounds of shuffling catch his attention. It sounded quick and abrupt so he turns and sees a very bewildered boy pointing down to the mirror. He assumes the boy dropped the mirror and is panicking, fearing he may have broken it.

“Nortrom, it’s okay it’s okay! It’s just a silly mirr-YEIP!” Hand reaching to pick up the object quickly recoils back. Nortrom’s older visage burned into the reflection completely catches Rizzrack off guard.

“D-Do you see that too?!” He points to it, looking like a pink midget parody of the boy. “The mirror IS responsible!”

Nortromthesilencer

“I– Who is that? What is that?” Eyes darting between Rizzrack and the mirror, Nortrom gets to his feet and scratches his hair, dumbfounded. “Why would that have to do with all of this? I’ve never been here bef–” His word cuts with a violent jerk, the boy choking back a harsh breath. His hands flex, confusion drawing into a pained grimace and another lurching jolt. Nortrom’s hands gripped at his clothing, looking for something to hold on to as the pain intensified.

“It hurts! What, what is going on?!?” The child’s knees buckled and he fell forward, form crunching low and arms moving over his head. It hurt, oh god did it hurt. He felt like his body was being torn in two, mind being ripped from his head and flung around the room, innards twisting and turning in ways that shouldn’t be possible. Forcing himself out of his confined ball, he looked up at Rizzrack in agony, tears rolling down his face, “Rizzrack! Help, it hurts!”

Another jolt of pain extorts a yelp and the boy falls forward, head pressed to the ground on his knees, rocking back and forth as he cried out for the torment to stop.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack stammers, trying to figure out how to safely explain to the boy he’s looking at the older version of himself. Before he can even form a coherent word, the boy’s cries of pain alert him to panic. What’s happening? He’s just as confused as Nortrom is.

He quickly crawls over to the boy, trying to look under him, trying to see if something were harming him. But there seems to be no outer source causing. Instead, something within, and Rizzrack feels completely powerless to stop it. Here he is, this poor child who has already gone through more pain than anyone should in a day let alone their life, crying out for help to a keen who can’t do anything at all.

“I-I want to but I can’t I-” his own hands grip the brim of his helm in helpless horror. No, there must be something, there MUST be something! Pained pleas, tears of suffering, desperate begging… It quickly overwhelms Rizzrack. He embraces the boy in one last attempt to stop the pain, and that’s when he eyes the mirror. That damned thing, the cause of all this pain! He hated it. Absolutely hated it. And anything Rizzrack hated, he destroyed no matter what.

Lunging for the mirror, he grips it with both hands, fingers pressed so tight the frame of it crackled. Then with arms over head, mirror raised high, he brings it down and smashes it back down into the box from whence it came.

“FUCK you!”

A slam of the lid follows suit, and the trembling keen turns back towards the child. Well… Rizzrack expected to turn back and see a child

Nortromthesilencer

The shattering shower of glass brought with it a flickering light, each shard a spotlight that condensed where the child was blinded him from the outside world. Blinded by light, blinded by pain, blinded by how own hands over his eyes as he screamed, the massive arcane force that erupted from that spot blew papers and sheets from their rest, snuffed the lights, and knocked the child flat on his back.

Well, sort of.

By the time he hit the ground, it was no child. The contorting pain materialized from the light, dissolving over his body and in an instant reforming into a much larger frame. It only took seconds for everything to settle down as though nothing had happened, save the mess of papers and now grown man splayed out on the ground in casual attire. As for the rest of the room, it was dark as once before.

Nortrom groaned, lips curled in a sneer. His head was pounding, akin to the one time he found himself hung over and swore never to do that again. Keeping his eyes shut he rubbed his hands down his face a few times, skin stretching, massaging, in hopes it would help relieve some of his grogginess. Slowly he opened his eyes, the pale blue glow easily seen in the dark of the night. Night? Just how long had he been out? Last time Nortrom remembered it was early morning…

Rizzrack

Rizzrack was quiet, silent, listening to the familiar grunts of a grumpy man. The glow of eyes is unsettling. Rizzrack knows very well that, despite darkness masking all, there is no longer a child there. Still coping with the overload of emotions moments earlier, he remains still with held breath. After what nearly felt like a minute, he slowly takes in a deep breath and makes his presence known with a cautious whisper.

“Nortrom?

Nortromthesilencer

The voice from the silence made Nortrom jump to a sitting position, only to immediately regret getting up so fast and bend forward, holding himself up by a hand as he waited for the dizzy spell to pass. He sighed, shaking his head, an odd after feeling lingering, heavy, hazy, and definitely not comfortable.

“Rizzrack? What the hell are you doing here?” Slowly looking towards the balcony window, the Silencer grunted in annoyance, “What time is it? Actually, better yet, what day?” He had to know how long it had been.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack flinches, still programed to react to Nortrom’s pain with concern. He grows aware that Nortrom may not remember anything at all, and the thought of trying to explain anything without sounding crazy (hah) seems like a waste of time. Despite those thoughts, Rizzrack digs around for the matches he grabbed earlier. Finding the lantern where he last saw it, he lights it and finds the man sitting and quite frankly, still looking terrible.

“Uh, it’s… About three in the morning. A Tuesday morning.”

All a complete guess, well, the time is a guess. The day of the week is based on Rizzrack’s own calendar as he hasn’t seen an official one in years. He could be right. He could be wrong. Who knows? What he does know Nortrom is not going to be happy to see him, his room in a mess and… Oh, the mirror. Rizzrack hopes that wasn’t important.

“Does anything hurt?” He’s still concerned. Every second looking at the Silencer that passes, his heart sinks more and more, but despite it all, he is happy to know that Nortrom isn’t hurting anymore.

It feels so strange.

Nortromthesilencer

“Three in the…? Ah fuck…” The whole day was gone. Great. That’s exactly what he didn’t need to hear, but had to accept it all the same.

Nortrom squinted as the light was shone, piercing in the darkness uncomfortably. He got to his feet, a bit wobbly at first, and reached up to the hanging brazier from the ceiling beams above. The spring flint tied to it’s frame served it’s roll well, allowing the man to light the coals and illuminate the room fully.

“Hurt? How about everything? I swear, that’s the last time I believe the reports when they say that something is inert…” He grumbles to himself, bitter about this whole situation. Artifact retrieval? Sure, a common task and something he’s done many times. Most, however, were correct in their handling procedures and expectant of the way his powers behaved oddly around magic. This time, not so much. Stretching his shoulders, Nortrom vowed to punch whoever wrote that damned report.

“I feel like my head’s being accosted by a small siege engine. Ugh. Rizzrack, you haven’t seen a silver framed mirror around here, have you?”

He looked around, the arcane binding case still by his feet, closed roughly with the protective drapery stuck out of the edges, and wondered if he actually managed to seal the damned thing before blacking out. Squatting down, Nortrom started to notice something else, the small flecks of glass hinting at something more. A sudden look of worry marred his features, and he bolted to open the case.

Shards. Lots and lots of shards and a bent silver frame. The colour drained from his face. “… I am in so much trouble…”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack said nothing when asked about the mirror. He watched Nortrom walk over to the box, his heart speeding up with every step. He was glad he could walk again without casts but at the same time… The look on Nortrom’s face was nearly enough to get Rizzrack to jump over the balcony and run. He won’t say what happened, but his looks we’re a dead give away to anyone that he knew what happened. After all, the keen looked guiltier than a dog covered in pillow feathers. He set the lantern down in a safe spot upon a desk. Just in case.

“It was… I’m sure it was already broken to begin with. Heh… Anywhoo, um, it’s… Good to see you’re alive and well at least. With great use of your legs again. So I’m just gonna go…. Okay?” He squeaks as he begins to step his way to the bedroom door.

Nortromthesilencer

His head darted from the mirror to the keen, expression piercing, worried, ready to stop Rizzrack if he attempted to run, “Wait. You still haven’t explained why the hell you’re in my house.” Something was up. He knew it.

Throwing his hands up and running them roughly through his hair with a very loud groan, Nortrom knew he was going to hear hell from this. He kicked the case in frustration, mumbling to himself ways he could explain this. “No, no… No matter how I spin this I’m in deep shit…” He was supposed to bring back an inert, thought lost, artifact, retrieved from the depth of an abandoned ruin. Instead, he shattered it before transit.

His hands gripped as his hair, tugging a bit, frustrated. “Rizzrack, what the hell happened here?”

Rizzrack

Remember, you can run! He’s upset, he’s not gonna listen, and you’ll permanently get on his bad side.

Rizzrack is nearly at the door but he can’t find that last push to get out.

You broke the man’s legs before, if he gave you a chance after that, then surely he will after you explain everything and this broken mirror.

“Okay okay! I’ll explain everything! But it’s a long story and you’ve got to hear me out on this.”

He tells Nortrom of how he found a young boy out in the middle of nowhere being attacked by bandits. He tells Nortrom of how he saved the boy, how they travelled to a town to get fuel so he could take the child home, how the child got recaptured, how they escaped….

“So we get to the river, there’s a bit of a misunderstanding between us, hence, heh why I’m all muddy. Anyways long story short I apologized, the little boy apologized, we had a nice quiet trip back to home–your home, then he found the mirror. Then that… That damned thing…” He snarls. “He touched it and that thing was hurting him and I, I didn’t know how to stop it except by smashing it. So I did it, I smashed it. Alright?” He sighs, no longer looking ready to run, but instead intent on setting everything straight and approaches Nortrom closer, ready to tell him the rest. “But…” Suddenly his throat tightens on him and he chokes on his words.

Oh God no.

His hands go up to his face, covering his mouth but failing to cover the tears that begin to well in his eyes. “That poor boy is gone now, and now you’re here. B-but so many terrible things happened… to him…to you…that poor child was you.” Rizzrack can barely hold himself together as he looks up to Nortrom, barely sputtering out his words between choking sobs. The little keen is so distraught. “Why DID they hurt you? You didn’t deserve ANY of that!” The last few seconds he spent with the boy is burned in his mind. His pleading cries, his pain. His eyes connect with that glowing blue gaze, and he fears that somewhere in there, he is still hurting greatly.

And there is nothing Rizzrack can do to help.

The day’s events have obviously taken their toll on the small-keen. He begins to pace about, sobbing and muttering fragments of sentences. Poor child, poor Nortrom. He recalls a particular moment after he discovered the identity of the child, and Rizzrack can only curse the name of Aeol Drias repeatedly.

Nortromthesilencer

Nortrom listened intently, becoming more confused as the story went on. How peculiar! So the mirror had some sort of chronology altering affect on him, changing his form and pulling from his past memories to recreate what he once was. Nortrom hummed in curiosity, brows furrowed as he thought.

Hearing Rizzrack’s fervored passion for the trials and tribulations that his child self faced, the Silencer sighed and tilted his head sympathetically, “Rizzrack, it sounds like you’ve been through a lot today. I admit, I’m still not completely sure what happened, but I do know you need some rest. If you want you can sleep here, I’ll get a quilt and some pillows from the closet, and the couch should be more than big enough.” Truth was that Nortrom too was exhausted and needed time to think this all over, and knew he would have more questions for the keen in the morning.

“I think we both need some rest. I’ll deal with the mirror tomorrow.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack could not speak a reply. Face in elbows to hide his tears, the small-keen could only nod in agreement that yes, he would like to rest. The desire for comfort exceeds his wants for the safety of his suit. There is a little quivering peep of “thanks” before Rizzrack turns to leave, making a straight bee-line for the couch. He won’t delay himself from sleep any longer.

Hands first, knees follow. He crawls onto the couch. Face into the crevice between backrest and armrest, the rest of himself curls up into a little ball, quite similar to how he could sleep within his suit. The only article of wear removed from his body is his bucket helmet, which sits just below his feet also on the couch. Crusted boots, stale gloves, Nortrom’s couch won’t be making it out of this encounter spotless. Already content to be laying down and finally hiding from it all, he closes his eyes.

The shudderings and sniffles gradually leave to leave only the slow and steady sounds of rhythmic respiration.

Nortromthesilencer

Glad that his offer was accepted (as it would mean not having to hunt the Keen down at a later date), Nortrom followed his downstairs and grabbed a thick blanket from the linen closet as well as a spare down pillow. He set the pillow beside the curled up Rizzrack so that he could grab it as he pleased, and unfurled the blanket over top the poor Keen. He looked pathetic, curled up, crying, and now tucked away in his little blanket cocoon. The tired Silencer wished to follow suit, and head back upstairs to get the torches doused.

Torch snuffed, Keen put to bed, it was time to zonk out. Flopping down on the bed with little care for clothing, Nortrom was lost in slumber mere seconds later. For once his sleep was uneventful, no dreams to recall, only the dead silence of night. He awoke early, as usual, and checked on the mirror now that the sun was starting to rise and illuminate the room.

It was unsalvageable. Nortrom expected as much, but had to be sure. Careful to not miss any shards, he tucked them into the black satin cloth and set it all gently in the case. Not making a sound he tip toed downstairs with the broken bundle. Rizzrack was curled up, still snoozing away, with Stig contently loafing in the morning sun that grazed one of the many windowsills. Assuming he had time before the keen awoke, Nortrom decided to quickly use the teleport route to Aeol Drias and get the whole mirror fiasco over with as soon as possible.

***

The sun was overhead, time well past noon. Nortrom groaned as he shut the door, careful not to bend his shoulders too far or touch his back to anything as he walked. Even with the fresh bandaging wrapped about his upper torso, the brushing of his loose shirt stung the freshly torn nerves. As expected, the Factol’s were pissed. This was a mistake he made in handling an artifact, something irreplaceable and deemed important to the order, and it was only fair that he be punished as such.

Walking with an awkward gait from the lashing injuries across his back, still fresh, still lightly soaking the bandages in a soft red, Nortrom grabbed the pitcher of water on the kitchen counter and poured himself something to drink. By this point the man had forgotten he had let Rizzrack stay the night, and instead focused more on thoughts of what he could have done better to prevent this all from happening. There were no doubts in Nortrom’s mind that this was his fault ultimately.

Rizzrack

He awoke. For what may have been the tenth time. He can’t remember what keeps waking him. Maybe he’s just not used to sleeping this way. Once again he turned to his opposite side, facing outside the couch and pulls the quilt over his head. He had to keep reminding himself of where he was, where his suit was, and of course to not panic. Everything will be fine.

The door opens. A stranger? A visitor? It’s Nortrom. He figures he must have not heard him left in the first place. Where did he go to? Rizzrack peers beneath the covers, watching him make his way into the kitchen. Why is he walking like that? Why is he making that face? Is he upset? It would be understandable. Rizzrack mimics the expression, trying to understand this new situation. Should he stay quiet? He waits for Nortrom to turn the other way and takes this opportunity to sit up, tossing aside the quilt and finding his helmet (now on the floor) he places it back upon his head. He eyes the door, looks back to the man, then steps down from the couch and makes his way over towards him.

“Nortrom?” Rizzrack approaches the corner of the counter and rests his fingers and chin upon it, keeping the rest of himself hidden. “Thanks for letting me sleep here.” He backs his face away from the counter, but hands remain upon it. “Look I… sorry again about the mirror. If there’s any way I can make that up to you…”

He spies something on the back of Nortrom’s shirt. Something that could be easily glanced over. A small, reddish spot. The keen’s brows crease with worry as the sight raises within his mind certain thoughts. “… Are you okay?”

Nortromthesilencer

He flinched at the voice, remembering second later that yes he allowed Rizzrack to sleep there the night. Nortorm huffed a small, entertained, chuckle at his reaction before continuing on grabbing a plate and stove rack from the cupboards. “Good morning, or should I say afternoon?” He shrugs, wincing and immediately regretting the action.

Figuring it would be best to be polite, he poured a second glass of water for the keen and set it before him, then took a large swig of his own. God he needed that. “I’m fine. And I already spoke with my superiors about the mirror. It’s been dealt with.”

Nortrom went to the small stove and lit the flame, placing the rack topper above and waiting for it to heat. He turned to Rizzrack, trying his best to act casual, “Hungry?” Sure it wouldn’t be anything special, but right now Nortrom craved something substantial, and he knew he had a thick cut of venison in cold storage that would fit his needs very well.

Starting to walk down the hall to gather what he needed, the man stopped, “Rizzrack, I– Hm. If you don’t mind, I would like to discuss the other day. I have questions.”

Rizzrack

His worry never leaves him despite Nortrom’s cheery greeting (which Rizzrack finds uncharacteristic of him). He takes the cup and sips it, nose bumping the opposite side of the rim. It’s a typical experience when drinking from something other than a bottle. He says nothing and once again just settles to accept that what is done is done, and the mirror will now only be a thing of the past.

At being asked if he was hungry, his mouth immediately waters and he perks up. “Yes. Yes yes I am very hungry. heh.” He’s distracted momentarily from his worries, now peering over at Nortom and curious to see what he may possibly be looking for to make.

“O-oh, sure.” Oh boy, question time. These sort of things could go either way, but Rizzrack can’t find any reason for this discussion to go negatively. After all, it’s not only his hunger he hopes to satiate. His curiosity had desires as well, and he hopes to learn of some more things to answer his questions. Taking that as a cue, Rizzrack places the cup back down upon the counter and walks after Nortrom.

“So! Interrogation time…” he claps his hands together, the gloves making a muffled and dusty slap. “Ask anything you want, just don’t go Good Guard Bad Guard on me, hehheh.”

Nortrom’s odd gait does not escape his notice.

Nortromthesilencer

“Heh, right. It’s more the fact that I can’t remember any of the events you spoke of yesterday,” Kicking aside the rug at the end of the hallway, Nortrom reveals a large wooden hatch with an iron ring fit into the floor. He pulls it open, both the hatch and him making pained sounds, and descends the steps. Even with how dark it was in the storage, the Silencer didn’t bother to light the torch scone as he knew exactly where he left the meat hanging, a large leg of venison, and also a crate that was mostly empty of vegetables. He threw the leg on top of the crate and took the whole thing in one lift, again wincing in pain as he did so, and walked back up the stone steps.

“You said I was child? How did you know it was me in the first place? Did I have any recollection of my current life, or was I fully regressed back?” It was awkward walking with such a large bundle in arm, but he managed to make it to the kitchen and plop the whole thing down on the counter. A cutting board and large knife were also set aside, and soon he was butchering the meat. (May I not that Nortrom didn’t know a damned thing about proper butchering and only cut based on his hunting experience from years of living alone. He was sure any professional chef would smack him upside the head for improper technique and ruining such fresh cuts of meat with his awkward angles and poor separation.)

“Though, all in all, you did get me back here. What the hell is with things recently and you being stuck dragging me back home?” He forced an awkward laugh, still hacking away at the deer leg.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack nods and waits at the top of the entrance, peering down into the darkness. He’s fine not following all the way through.

“Yes. I didn’t know it was you at first. You were polite, well-mannered, I can say I was impressed! I can’t say I agree with all of that resulting in you being timid and fearful. You had mentioned the Hazhadal Barrens and then I noticed you look like a, well, young version of you. It just added up.” He rambles on as the Silencer returns and heads back to the kitchen. The small-keen continues to trail after him. “I could actually be fooled into believing I somehow ended up in the past. You had no idea about your future self. Heh, in fact, when I tried to tell you, it was too much and you freaked out on me.” Rizzrack shrugs. “I can’t really blame you for that reaction. You had a terrible day getting kidnapped and beaten up…” Rizzrack wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to go further into detail with that event. Even just thinking about it brought about feelings of anger. He’s practically seeing red.

Wait a second.

Instead of joining Nortrom in a bout of awkward chuckles, Rizzrack is silent. He takes off his glove carefully. He stares at the man’s back while he cuts away. There are specks of red on the fabric that congregates just below his shoulders. He reaches up as high as he can and lightly presses his hand to Nortrom’s back. Please don’t be blood.

Nortromthesilencer

Still listening but not saying anything as he concentrated on not cutting himself, Nortrom nodded. A few nice steaks later, the man is about to turn around when he suddenly feels pressure against the recently torn skin of his back and yelps, jumping with a hiss from both being startled and in pain. Whipping around to look at what had just happened, he spies the small keen and exhales with a dramatic huff, “What the hell are you doing?!?” The anger subsides into a slumped sigh, and huffilly the man grabs two large steaks and takes them to the stove top. “I said I’m fine. It will heal, and I’ll change the bandages out in a bit.”

He didn’t enjoy the intrusion, or the method Rizzrack used to confirm his suspicions. going back and forth to throw random vegetables on the stove top grill as well, the man growls. “Fine, look, I’ll level with you here: This is twice now you’ve been privy to information about me and my past that I don’t exactly share with others,” He hovered a hand over the grill to check the temperatures then went back to set out some plates, “I’m none too pleased with that fact.”

Nortrom pushed the crate to the end of the counter, wiping down where it was with a cloth. Resting his elbows on the table in a leaning position, chin on his hands, the man sighed again. His eyes trailed from the stove to Rizzrack, efforts to hide his anxiety and what went on while Rizzrack was sleeping, gone.

“My superiors were not pleased that the mirror was broken. It was only natural that I be disciplined for such a failure. My mission was the bring back the artifact in tact. I did not. It’s nothing to worry about and dealt with.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack stepped back, honestly having expected to be punted after it became apparent there was quite an injury under there. “I suspected you’re hiding something! I want to know what happened. Who hurt you?” His tone was firm and demanding and unwavering. He felt completely entitled to know.

The keen repositions himself, moving to the opposite side of Nortrom now, attempting to get face to face with him and still demanding to know.

Stern expression becomes concerned. “Just because of that? But it wasn’t your fault! You told them I broke it, right? Then they should have been understanding!” He huffs and clenches his hands into fists at his sides. “This isn’t dealt with at all. In fact I should be dealing with it! I should go there and give them a piece of my mind, that’s what I should do.” He grumbles, unaware of how ridiculous he sounds.

Nortromthesilencer

Nortrom rolled his eyes, “Oh don’t be absurd.” He pulled the meat from the rack, cutting it open to check. It was bloody and pink in the middle, just how he liked it. Not knowing if Rizzrack liked his steaks this rare or not, he plated them anyways.

“It’s completely my fault, and foolish to think I don’t deserve some form of disciplinary action for failing at my duties. I mishandled the artifact, leading to it’s activation. There is no one to blame here by myself.”

Nortorm grabbed each plate and went to the table, placing them down. A large venison steak with roasted vegis awaited the pair.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack finds it fruitless getting anywhere with Nortrom on this subject and settles with dropping it. What a shame. He opens his mouth to begin another conversation, but he becomes distracted watching Nortrom carry two plates to the table with the most delicious looking cuts of meat he’s seen in ages.

Hungry.

SO HUNGRY.

He walks over to one of the plates set down and looks to Nortrom as if to confirm that one was for him. Yes. Gloves are set on the table and he grasps the portion of meat with his hands and quite greedily begins to tear into it. He’s not even sitting. No time to sit, only time to eat. He gets more ravenous, forgetting whatever manners he may have as he bites off as much as he can without choking.

“Mmffmf hnk yu. mmfff.” He finishes his mouthful. “I haven’t had anything this good in who knows how long!” Easy to say when one lives off insects, fish and the occasional fowl. Another bite of meat is taken, and the veggies are continued to be left ignored.

Nortromthesilencer

While the man raises a brow at Rizzrack’s ravenous display, he isn’t put off by it and instead cuts himself a few large pieces and also enjoys finally eating something of substance.

“Good? I heated meat. Most people would call my cooking abysmal, so I admit I’m now curious as to what the hell you normally eat.” It couldn’t be much if this randomly charred pile of roots and meat counted as ‘good’ by any standard but his own.

Feeling it best not to disturb the keen as he eats, Nortrom is content in silently devouring his own plate and glass of water. Time passes with neither saying a word, the only sound is of them chewing and tearing away. After feeling full and taking the final mouthful of water from his glass, Nortrom sets it down with a loud and content sigh before looking once more at the keen, more seriously this time.

“I’m hoping you won’t go and speak of certain things to others that you may have seen or heard of about me, Rizzrack. Given the fact you’ve been painted a very jaded and incomplete picture, I’ll answer your questions, but it’s not because I feel any sort of kinship here. It’s because I don’t want you getting the wrong impression about things.”

Rizzrack

The meat soon vanished into the small-keen. Rizzrack picks around at the left over veggies on his plate, inspecting them. Deeming only SOME of them to be suitable for consumption, he decides to eat just one. If only to not be rude. He’s quite full now.

Chewing the last mouthful, he rests his elbows upon the table and clasps his fingers together to give his chin something softer than wood to rest on. “Do you think I’m that kind of person?” He pauses, remembering not too long ago he made it almost a routine to put up signs around the local town that slandered the Silencer. “I mean, whatever sort of things I did say were obviously not true.” He takes a few seconds to slip his gloves back on before returning back to his previous pose. “How was I supposed to know this… Fold… was responsible for such terrible acts?” His brows rise as he remembers. “By the way, did you get that locket to its intended recipient?” One hand moves to prop his cheek. “I hope so. I… I really thought you were just looting the bodies. I know now though, and I think I can say I don’t like The Fold either.”

Nortromthesilencer

Fingers tapping on the edge of the table, Nortrom frowns. “I doubt you share what transpired at Augury Bay with any real detail with most, as it wasn’t a pleasant time for you. I will say most of my life fits that theme, and would still appreciate it kept to yourself.” The man reclined in his seat, folding his arms behind his head. Pressure being put on his back, he flinched, leaning back forward almost immediately. That was a bad move that also alerted him to the fact that bandages would have to be swapped soon, as his shirt was getting ruined.

“Mmhm. Unfortunately when he pried the locket open, the picture inside was destroyed, but the sentiment of the piece remained. What ill fated timing for her to visit during– well. It’s too late to ruminate on that. What happened, happened. As for the Fold, do not think me innocent either. My role is a soldier and sort of inquisitor: I fight. I kill. I interrogate. I torture. Though, I can at least say I have not slaughtered a village merely for being neutral in the conflict,” He chuckled, as despite the dark occurrence there was a morbid humour in it to the Silencer that he doubted Rizzrack would share, “I was bred, in all technicalities, to commit genocide.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack gives a questioning nod of agreement. He did at first, way back when he sought help and comfort. Bits and pieces of events dressed with tears as he struggled to share his horrors. Of course, the first few merely attempted to correct his accounts into a different narrative. Outside of his own kind, others merely pitied him, seeing him as a confused and traumatized victim of war like many others. Over time his attempts at telling the whole story grew shorter and shorter, until eventually it only became a single sentence summary he’d blurt out before proceeding with a cutting spree. He nods firmly now. The small-keen deems himself a better audience than those he hoped would listen to himself. Nortrom should count himself lucky.

A disappointed sigh, but the locket will be treasured regardless he supposes. Rizzrack continues to listen, his brows furrow and he shifts on the spot uncomfortably as Nortrom lists off his duties. It’s not something he agrees with, but because of recent events, a new light is shed on conflict and war to the keen that he was unfamiliar with. It’s not exactly black and white, but at least Rizzrack knows he prefers the lesser of two evils. It’s Nortrom’s last statement that gets the keen to finally speak up.

“You’re telling me your purpose is to kill? Nortrom, the Timbersuit is made to kill. You can see it in the design. Are you telling me you were born with a glaive and shield in your hands?”

Nortromthesilencer

The comparison makes the Silencer laugh, albeit lightly. He shakes his head, “Yes and no… It was ordained well before I was born what my duty would be; Two-hundred years before hand actually. I was crafted, made over seven generations of selective breeding according to a prophesied pedigree to be the ‘worlds greatest battle mage’,” He scoffs as he speaks the title, finding his this whole breeding thing to be ridiculous, “A creation to smite the Fold. From birth I was trained to this task. Alas, it was not a mage they got, but a child without a drop of magic. You can imagine how upset that made many.” With a sigh Nortrom shakes his head and lets it droop over-dramatically.

Lifting himself back the man stood, clearing the plates as he still spoke, “You, on the other hand, are a clean slate. While your past may have taken much from you, your future is unsure as you have yet to create it. Any place, any journey, any task: Fate is yours to command. But I? Just as your timber suit is a tool for your destruction, as I am theirs. My life has been decided for me, and because I owe my order everything: They created me, raised me, educated me, fed me, clothed me, and gave me purpose; I am forever in their debt.”

A dipped in sink like wash basin lies set into the back counter, and Nortrom places the dishes within and grabs a nearby cloth, washing them down. He sighs, the cold water raising goose-bumps on his arms while the rippling, sloshing, feel of the suds calm his nerves from speaking about all of this.

“So yes, in a way I was born with a glaive in my hands and blood on my boots.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack listens, recalling at the river how the young Nortrom took it much more negatively than expected when the keen laughed at the thought of him casting a spell. Imagine, being held to such high expectations and being essentially turning out to be a dud to everyone? “Well they shouldn’t have taken their disappointment out on you. Still, looks like you showed them, hm? I bet you left them…. speechless!” The small-keen laughs at his own shitty joke before quieting back down. Rizzrack doesn’t know very much of the arcane world, but he does know Silencer’s ability is a bit uncanny. They must’ve felt like complete fools for punishing the poor boy.

He moves from his leaning spot over to the chair Nortrom left and decides to keep the seat in use, preferring to stay near the man but not in his way as he washed. “Nortrom, have you ever thought that maybe… I dunno..” He rests his arm horizontally on the table and props his head with his hand. “I’m guessing that to you, they’re the closest thing you’d call family, right? Parents do all those things, but do they expect you to pay them back? No! They want you to grow and follow your own dreams! My family made harvesters, I wanted to make toys. Did they stop me? Maybe my uncle b-but that’s not the point. The point is, you don’t owe them anything. You just think you need them.” Rizzrack crosses his arms and nods, feeling confident with his points. “As a matter of fact, I think it’s quite the opposite. They need you!”

Rizzrack begins to get a little too excited, having transitioned from sitting to standing on his little improvised soap-box. “Demand better treatment! Better pay! Compensation for the pain they’ve put you through! Or else you’ll leave them, THEN they’ll be sorry!”

Nortromthesilencer

“Your passion is admirable, but no, a parent has a child to build a family. I was ‘crafted’ not birthed, the intent was never to be more than a tool of war. Besides, it’s not as bad as that all sounds, I actually enjoy many part of my job.”

One final pass to dry the dishes, and Nortrom leans against the counter facing Rizzrack, “And I do get paid well. You see this? How I live?” He extends an arm, paying notice to how barren and plain his home was, “I choose to live this way because I enjoy the simplicity. Financially, I’m quite well off, even if my home doesn’t display luxury.” It was true; Nortrom had been paid since graduation, and never spent the money on much. Instead he saved, hording it in a sense, but not because of greed but due to the exact opposite: There was nothing he wanted to splurge on. Now he was one of the richest men in Aeol Drias yet none would know based on how he acted or lived.

“There’s also something quite therapeutic about interrogating someone. After a long, stressful, week of battle, the control you have during torture is… cathartic.” A morbid smirk painted his lips. Soon he shook it away, not wanting to drag Rizzrack into his other hidden side, the side of sadism.

Nortrom shoved himself off the counter and decided to finally do something about these bandages that weren’t stopping much. He stepped out toward the hall, pulling his shirt off and revealing the wraps around his torso and the myriad of scars peeking out from under them. While the bleeding strips were new, many marks on his skin told much older tales, some painful, some memorable, all now permanent reminders etched into himself.

“Wait, you said you wanted to be a toy maker? Is that why you wanted to work on those spinning things before? Hm, what a contrast, from making toys to the timbersuit!”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack looks unsettled by the grin. He gives a nervous chuckle before sitting back down and passing it off as Nortrom’s strange sense of humor. He watches the man step off, observes him taking off the shirt and takes notice of the stained wraps. He winces at the sight. He himself has scars, but are mere nicks in comparison to Nortrom’s. Those fresh lines will just be another layer upon his body.

Rizzrack turns away and focuses on his fidgeting hands at the table while he waits for the Silencer to tend to himself. He only pipes up again after Nortrom speaks. “Y-yes, I did.” He confirms bashfully. His mouth does a poor job resisting the urge to form a smile. “Heh, cutting things is what I do, but not the only thing I do! I’ve gotta make gold somehow.” He returns to resting his chin on the table while his feet swing about idly. “It is. I honestly never would have expected it. My Uncle tried to teach me to design and build machines, just like him. It never really felt like my thing. My creations were far from practical. The first prototype I designed was deemed a failure for having ‘too many legs and not enough wheels.’ Needless to say, my plans were left to gather dust in the workshop, but as you can see I eventually made use of them.” He adds as he waves a hand to where the Timbersuit is parked outside.

The small-keen sighs as solemn thoughts approach. “Every day I wonder what things would be like if I had-” he flinches as the rest of the words stop at the edge of his tongue. It’s a thought that plagues him, that eats away at his strength and power and renders him to feeling at fault. It’s a thought that hurts no matter how he looks at it, and the only way to avoid the pain is to avoid the thought.

But perhaps now he can face it? Rizzrack attempts to start over, but chokes on the same word. “I-I’m sorry I… Nevermind. I almost let myself get off track.” He sits silently, but his mind refuses to drop the topic. “Nortrom, do you ever wish you could change the past? If you could, would you? If you knew you could make everything better?”

Nortromthesilencer

Rizzrack’s own fumbling words do not go unnoticed. Going down the hall, Nortrom too falls into silence as the keen fights for what to say, grabbing a small box from the closet and a couple of wash-clothes before returning. Then, Rizzrack tries once more but this time with a question. Nortrom hums, brows furrowed in thought. Would he?

“I– There are not many things I would attempt to change. What I’ve been through, it’s made me who I am. It’s shaped me, my personality, my skills, and more. To take that all back would be to erase myself entirely.” He sighs, carefully unwrapping himself and trying to not get blood on any of his furniture. Part way through Nortrom stops and stares at the ground, lost in thought. “Though, there is one thing I… No. To even think on it is pointless. What’s done is done, and dwelling on the past with hopeless potentials will only make it harder to move on.”

Even saying that, he wasn’t completely convinced. His expression remained lost, somewhere else, contemplating what could have been. The one person who needed saving most of all, the one person he would want to help above all else–

Nortrom snapped out of his trance when he felt the bandage loop come loose the rest of the way and fall on to the floor. He swore under his breath, bundling it up and making sure no stains were left on his floor. He carefully set them beside the washbasin, dipping a cloth in before reaching awkwardly to pat his back clean.

“The one thing I regret most of all, that will never leave my memory no matter how long time goes on, is not mine to change. Even if I could go back, there is no guarantee I could even right things. For all I know, my interference would only make it worse in the end.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack remains silent at the table as he dwells on Nortrom’s views. Why wouldn’t anyone go back to undo all the wrong that’s been done? Or to erase everything bad that’s happened? If the keen sacrificing his present self meant his family… everyone could still be alive to this day, he’d do it in a heartbeat. Nortrom wouldn’t go back for any benefit of himself, but he feels a hesitance he can empathize with when Nortrom considered it for another’s sake.

The keen’s restless legs fall still as he considers his next question. He has a hunch about who this person is, all based on Nortrom’s spilled secrets during his vulnerable stupor. He thinks it over, running various versions of questions through his head to see if Nortrom’s opinion stands firm, rewording them more and more until it comes out quite suddenly and blunt. “Do you think it’d be better if you never knew him, like how you never knew your parents?”

Nortromthesilencer

A few winces here, a grunt there, and some very strange stretches in an attempt to reach all of the wounds, but Nortrom manages to clean himself up for the most part. From the box, a first aid kit of sorts, he pulls out some disinfectant and gauze. In the middle of reaching around again to apply the disinfectant, he’s forced to stop by the Keen’s question. Nortrom makes a small, uncomfortable sound as he places the disinfectant back down.

“That–” He freezes mid breath, eyes darting to the side, uncomfortable, unsure. Would he be better off? “He… He caused a lot of issues, for me, for everyone. We were raised the same, expected to be the same, and hidden from one another all the same but he took things very differently. I… I regret not being able to help him when he needed it most. Had I never met him though? Had he never existed?”

Nortrom sighed, this was quite hard to talk about. His voice was losing it’s rough edge, almost cracking at the ends of his sentences while he spoke. Feeling a need to fiddle as his nerves always called for, he turned to the gauze and started to wrap himself back up while speaking, softer than before, “If I never met him, then hundreds, perhaps thousands would still be alive. Icarus would not have been driven to madness. My friends would not have been tortured. I would not have b–” Another pause, and a low hum. “I do not know the answer to that, Rizzrack. Through him I learnt more about myself than I ever had known before. Through him I finally knew family. The pain he caused was enormous, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss him. I’m sorry, I just can’t answer that.”

By this point his voice was wavering, each word taking astounding effort to form and say. Nortrom takes a shaky breath, and holds his jaw tightly clenched. He knew that to speak now would carry the risk of emotions overflowing, and that wasn’t something he wanted to show. Concentrating completely now on patching himself up, the Silencer remained silent once more.

Rizzrack

For the first time since Nortrom began tending to his wounds, Rizzrack looks to him, feeling his pain in a way. He doesn’t think he’ll ever understand why the man could love or care deeply for someone who hurt him so much. He can see Nortrom himself doesn’t understand as well. The keen is feeling quite sorry for bringing that up for him, having never seen the Silencer this open, this exposed. He sees something in common between them, and he pities him for it.

“We don’t have to talk about this anymore. You’ve shared a lot.” Though with everything shared between them, he can feel neither of them have gotten closer to the answers they seek. If Rizzrack must find some good to come from this however. “Hmm, you know, I’ve always felt alone. I never thought I’d meet someone who could understand me. It doesn’t seem to be the case anymore.” It’s comforting. It’s genuine. It’s not forced pity or guilty sympathy. He’s hopeful. “I hope you don’t feel so alone.”

Less and less did Rizzrack see Nortrom as some irritable hermit. He sees himself, he sees them both, hiding beneath their bubble, their armor, avoiding what they fear to face while retaining their facade of stoicism or bravery.

Nortromthesilencer

A tinge of guilt overcomes Nortrom when he hears this, and with his back turned to the keen, hands on the counter, he huffs. “I only shared such things with you so you could get a more complete picture and not jump to conclusions. Had you not been forced to encounter my ‘past state’, we would never be having this discussion.”

The box is arranged back and closed up, ready to be put away once more. Taking it in arm, he walks again down the hall, depositing the crate into the closet and closing the door. The force is harder than intended, the wood slamming as it latched, his nerves obviously on edge. With his hands running through his hair and massaging his scalp, Nortrom returns and stands at the room’s edge.

“People get close to me for only three reasons: To harm me, to use me, or to claim ownership of me. Anyone I get to know will either fall into this category, or get harmed in some way by being in my proximity. Don’t take personal offence, Rizzrack, but I’m not exactly ready to take any chances,” Sliding his arms down, he crosses them and leans against the nearest wall. The Silencer carries very little of his stern resolve normally seen, tired both emotionally and physically, in pain, and vulnerable. He’s conflicted, still not sure where Rizzrack actually stands with himself, or he to the keen, “It’s actually unfortunate that you had to be dragged into my past as such, though I feel this is my fault. I tried to offer you a different insight into your own issues, and in doing so opened the doors for further interactions. I really need to learn to keep to myself more.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack sighs. Perhaps that’s the case with Nortrom, but he can’t help but feel that maybe it all happened for a reason?

He flinches at the sound, and his thoughts turn. No Rizzrack. You know better, you know it’s not the case.

A desire to reach out to the man is snuffed by guilt and regret. Because perhaps still, if it weren’t for his meddling, the man wouldn’t have gotten hurt more.

“It’s fine, Nortrom.” He finally decides to hop down from the seat, turning quickly to wipe the wood of any dust he may have left behind. “If not your darkness, then it’s mine. Either way I’ll have to face unpleasant things. I”m not sure if I should thank you as I didn’t want to, but I guess it was necessary.” Adjusting his gloves he walks over to Nortrom. “Now not to be rude, but I think it’s best if I get going. You really look like you need your space. I think I need mine too.” His hand reaches out for a shake. “Thanks for the food, sorry for the trouble.”

Nortromthesilencer

He forces a smile, bending down slightly as to reach the hand offered. Taking it in a firm shake, Nortrom nods, “I believe we do. There was no trouble, Rizzrack. You take care, and perhaps more will come of this at a later date.”

There was a certain glimmer of hope that maybe Rizzrack would prove his track record wrong. The keen had certainly faced his share of hardship, and now knew much more about him than most. In all of his years, only one person came to mind as not following suit and causing him further suffering, and he would be amazed, and relieved, if that happened once more.

Standing back up straight and brushing the front of his chest, Nortrom yawns. Yup. Still tired, despite sleeping in.

“Safe travels, Rizzrack.”

Rizzrack

With a nod and a single wave, the small-keen turns, ensuring this time that yes the bucket helm is on his head before he steps out the door. The sound of the suit starting up can be heard, and after a minute of consistent rumbling, crunching steps can be heard taking off, and the noise grows distant. All that remains is the wafting scent of exhaust in the air, and tracked dirt within Nortrom’s home.

The Timbersuit wanders back towards the direction of the river. Rizzrack once again looks bothered, the stains of blood on the suit’s hull reminding him of the people he murde-..

He mutters to himself. He only rid the world of monsters. It’s one less thing to worry about. One less thing to plague his thoughts. There’s other, more important things to worry about, such as…

“Caw…caw…”

His thoughts are interrupted and his eyes glance to a broken and abandoned wooden fence, eyeing the group of crows gathered upon it. He swallows dryly.

...Such as finding a new, even further region to travel to.

He needs to get away from here before something worse comes.

#Compile

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