#while they were young and entrusted to her by god (he also reminded her that it was a season of her life that would pass) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

127-mile · 3 years

Text

Bots and books.

Pairing: Artificial intelligence Ten x female reader.

Genre: AI, bookstore | Fluff, angst.

Warnings: Ten thinks robots are superior to humans.

Plot: When your boss asked you to train the new employee, you didn’t think you would end up with a robot freshly out of the factory.

Word count: +5.3k.

A/N: This is part of the AI project #14320 collab hosted by @pastelsicheng.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?"

When you hear Taeil's voice behind you, you drop the book you were holding, and when it crashes on your foot, you pursed your lips so as not to be vulgar when so many customers are in the store. "Oh boy, I'm sorry, I should have warned you that I was here." Taeil whispers, and when you look over your shoulder, you notice that he doesn't look embarrassed by the situation, or ashamed, on the contrary, he looks amused.

"I feel like you are trying to hurt me, am I wrong?" you ask, squinting, and he shrugs. At least he bends down to pick up the book and put it where it was supposed to go. "Maybe I'm just trying to get you to go home because you're spending too much time here, maybe I didn't do it on purpose, who knows." If he wasn't your boss, you would have insulted him, but you care about your job, and you like being able to pay your rent every month without having to ask your parents for help.

“I don't spend too much time here, I even think that I don't spend enough time here. But getting back to what caused you to come bother me, yes we can talk. What do you want?" you turn completely towards him, and you tilt your head to the side. "We're going to have a new employee tomorrow, and I was wondering if you could take care of him, show him how the bookstore works, show him how to use the cash register, you know, everything that I taught you when I hired you."

"Aren't you supposed to take care of it, as the boss?" you ask, and he takes his hands out of the pockets of his pants when a client approaches, he smiles at her, and when she disappears, he regains his slumped position. "Are you listening when I'm talking to you?" you know it's a rhetorical question and yet you shake your head, you're not going to lie, you tend to stop listening when he talks for too long. Can he blame you? He has a soft voice that lulls you to sleep.

"I vividly remember telling you last week that I had to go away for a few days. I have an appointment in another city for my next book." oh yes, you remember hearing him mention a new book, an appointment with his publisher, and other people who might help him, but you don't remember hearing him mention the date, or how long he would be gone. "Am I going to have to spend weeks putting books away with your head on the cover? I better get a raise for that!"

"Why would you get a raise, you should be happy to see my face on books!" you could tell him that yes, it's an honor to work with a famous writer, but you don't want to give him that pleasure. "So if I have to take care of the new employee, does that mean that I will also be the boss until you come back from your vacation?"

"It's not a vacation," he mumbles, and you smirk, it's so easy to annoy Taeil, and that's why you like him so much. "but yes, you will be in charge of the store until I return. So are you okay with that?" you know you don't have a choice, that you are the only person working here that he trusts enough to entrust his shop, his baby. "Of course I agree! I won't miss an opportunity to turn a new employee against you."

"Maybe I'll take this opportunity away from the store to find a new employee, to replace you. I've had enough of you!" you're very happy that customers are around, otherwise he certainly would have shouted to sound more dramatic. "You can't fire me, because I'll ruin your business, and you love me way too much, you'll be bored without me. Do I also need to remind you that you wouldn't have a manuscript for your editor to read if I hadn't been there to force you to write?"

Rather than respond, Taeil walks away muttering something between clenched teeth, and if a client wasn't calling for your help to find a book, you most likely would have laughed at his behavior.

Night has fallen for an hour or so when you finally lock the bookstore door behind you, and when the cold wind caresses your cheeks, you sigh deeply. You like this place, it's a bit of a second home for you, but good god, you want to be at home, even if you have to deal with your roommates' antics until you fall asleep.

"Excuse me?"

Your blood freeze in your body, you should have checked that no one was around the store when you went out, because Taeil is already gone, and he won't be there to help you if a drunken idiot, or a little too pushy keeps you from coming home. You take a deep breath, but it hitches in your throat when you turn on your heels. "Can I help you?" you ask in a voice that you hope is not too shaky.

The young man stays silent for a while, and you frown when he tilts his head a little too slowly not to look like a killer straight out of the horror movies you love so much. You clear your throat, and he seems to take notice of the question put to him, so he nods, extending a hand to you. "You dropped that." in his hand, you see the notebook that you always keep in your bag, bag that you have thrown over your shoulder without even taking the time to close it.

The lump that had formed in your throat is disappearing as quickly as it came, and you refrain from sighing in relief. "Oh, thank you very much!" you take the notebook that you put in your bag before closing the zip. "Thank you?" the young man answers, but before you can open your mouth he walks away from the shop.

You happen to meet strange people, but this is the first time you've met someone like him, someone who seems surprised to have been thanked for something as mundane as returning a notebook. Taeil would say that this is a person's first life on earth. Him and his writer mind.

Even though the stranger didn't look dangerous, you make sure he got far enough away to walk in the direction of the stairs leading to the underground metro. If you're not a fan of this place, you like being there at this late hour, because it's not so crowded, and it's easy for you to find a seat in the metro. You push your headphones into your ears, and you look up at the screen near the sliding door.

You roll your eyes when you see the ads for LSM going on. If you were to earn $10 every time you saw it on TV, or heard it on the radio, you would have enough to pay your rent for at least six months without needing to work. This really isn't an exaggeration, the company really wants everyone to know about what they are offering, new updates on their bots, and how excited they are to have sent the most of their new robots in the world for work, for study, or for entertainment.

You have nothing against robots, you just think it's a shame to take jobs from people who genuinely need to work, but apparently: "robots aren't here to replace you, they're here to make it easier for you. Do not be scared, technology is good, we need it." You're not sure if you're okay with that, and you'll let it know when the robots take over the world.

Lost in your thoughts, you almost forget to get up to get out of the metro, these damn robots will end up making you miss your stop. Yes, sometimes it's much easier to blame the robots than it is to accept your responsibilities.

"Johnny, if you don't get out of the bathroom in a minute, I swear to god I'll make you swallow your camera!"

you growl, and you open your eyes. Why do you always have to wake up regretting all the decisions that brought you here, living with two roommates who are ready to tear their heads off at the first opportunity offered to them. "And I'll make you eat your books back if you do that!" you hear Johnny respond, and you wonder why the neighbors haven't filed a noise complaint yet. You would have done it since day one.

"Doyoung, you don't work Saturdays, why are you already up?" you ask in a voice loud enough to be heard, and what you didn't want to happen happens. The door opens, and your gaze meets Doyoung's, he has furrowed brows and dark circles, since when has he not slept? "For your information, young lady, I would be sleeping if Johnny hadn't knocked on my door at six in the morning to ask me for the time!"

"Not that I want to stand up for him, but you looked for it by setting his alarm clock to go off at five the other day." you answer, and he rolls his eyes as he walks into your room to drop into the bed, and you groan when his back blocks your legs. "Doyoung, I have to go to work, so if you could move that would be very nice." he doesn't move, and you wiggle your legs until you can free one. "As soon as I convince Taeil to give me a raise, I'll find myself another apartment and I won't have to deal with you anymore." you mumble, and Doyoung chuckles.

"Even if he agreed to give you a raise, which he won't do until he has published two more books, you won't leave. You don't like silence, and you will miss us too much after the first day." he's not wrong, but you could always find a new roommate. "It's okay, I'll find someone else. Someone who doesn't make me want to throw myself out the window every morning."

"If you need help finding a new roommate, ask us, we'll be happy to help." you sigh when you hear Johnny, and when you turn your head, you roll your eyes. Johnny is in the doorframe, a towel hanging low around his hips, and drops of water falling from his hair. "We'll find you someone good. Or someone worse than us, Doyoung and I will have to talk about it before we decide."

Before Doyoung can react, you free your second leg, grab your clothes for the day, and head to the bathroom, not without pushing Johnny out of the way. "Y/n, I'll make you eat your fucking books!" Doyoung growls as he straightens up, and you laugh. You know he can do it, but before that, he'll take the time to find the worst book in your book shelves to do it, so you'll have plenty of time to run away, change your identity and be forgotten.

You need less time than Johnny to shower, and to be ready to go. When you come out of the bathroom, you notice that the two boys are still in your room, and they are chatting as if they hadn't threatened each other less than twenty minutes ago. "Are you going to stay in my bed? Don't you have bedrooms, or a couch where you can talk?" Doyoung looks up, and he smirks. "Your bed is much more comfortable. We're talking about what to do with this room when you're gone." little shit.

"Well, since I'm apparently the only one working here, I'm going to go. See you tonight, or never." you get your bag that you throw on your shoulder and you stick your tongue out at Johnny who waves to you without moving from your bed, the sheets are going to be damp because of him, and you want to hit him for that, but that might make you late for work.

You leave the apartment, and like the day before, you quickly find the stairs leading to the underground metro, and unlike yesterday, it's more difficult to find your way through the students, workers and partygoers who have just returned from a party the night before. You concentrate on your breathing to avoid letting yourself be overwhelmed by the different smells of perfume, sweat, and alcohol.

When the doors slide open, you quickly get out of the train, and you find the outside. You never thought you would miss the clean air as much as since you started taking the subway to work. Since Taeil is away, the shop is still closed, and it takes you at least five minutes to find the keys in your bag, and for a second, you wonder if you haven't left them at home, but you sigh with relief when your fingers come in contact with the cold surface of a key.

You unlock the door, and walk into the store smiling at the familiar scent of old books piling up in part of the store. When you started working here, you asked Taeil what the old books were for, that they would never be sold, but now you see the charm of the old book with the damaged binding, the sound of the pages, and you wouldn't do without them. You put your bag on the counter, and you turn on the lights.

Taeil must have gone to the store before leaving, because you can find the boxes already behind the counter. You could have taken care of the delivery, but Taeil likes to check that everything is there, even if he might be late for an appointment that could really change his writing life, even if in your opinion, he is already quite popular and doesn't need more help.

You sit up when you hear the door open, and you open your mouth. "We're not open yet, sorry." you say, and if you expected the door to close, it stays open, and when you look at the person, your eyes open wide. This is the man who gave you your notebook back last night, and once again, he tilts his head far too slowly not to be awkward to watch.

“I'm LC27296,” he begins, but he shakes his head with a certain vigor that you would never have at this time of the morning. "I'm Ten, I'm going to work here." your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. For a minute, you forgot that you were supposed to take care of the new employee. "Taeil told me to come before the opening to make it easier." oh he did that?

"Before I introduce myself, I have a question for you. What were you doing here last night?" you ask and he suddenly seems nervous. "I- I didn't mean to scare you, I just wanted to make sure of how long it would take me to get here, so that I wouldn't be late for my first day." you hum, not sure you believe it, but it's not like you can accuse him of something without having any proof whatsoever. "Alright. I'm Y/n, I'll take care of teaching you how the store works until Taeil comes back in a few days. You can shut the door."

Ten does, and he approaches the counter, he doesn't seem in his element, but if Taeil hired him it's because he saw something in him. "Why did you give me numbers when I asked you for your name?" you suddenly ask, curious.

"Oh! It's my serial number, but I was told I had to introduce myself with my name, it makes it easier to fit in." a serial number, what the hell? You frown as you take your phone from the pocket of your jacket, and you open up the conversation with Taeil.

To Taeil: A serial number, what's wrong with the guy you hired?

Taeil must still be in the car, or on the train, since the answer is not long in coming. You shouldn't ignore Ten, but you need an answer before you decide whether you want to be locked up with a stranger all day, or not.

From Taeil: Ten is a robot. LSM sent me a letter a few weeks ago asking if I wanted to take any of them, and I said yes.

To Taeil: And you didn't find it useful to tell me that I was going to have to train a robot? And besides, aren't they already programmed to know how to do everything, why should I waste my time training him? Is this your way of telling me that I'm fired and that you will only hire bots from now on?

You don't get a response, which shouldn't surprise you, so you put your phone on the counter, and you meet Ten's gaze, who hasn't moved an inch. Did he himself on pause while you were busy? "So you are a robot?" you ask in a small voice, and he nods. "Yeah, you didn't know?" honestly no, even though LSM has some amazing quality robots you would expect to see them with bolts and metal.

"It's my first day away from the factory, and I'm very happy to be here!" he adds, and you roll your eyes, if he's happy that's the main thing, but you're not sure you are. "You can think of me as a human being like any other, no need to make a difference because I am superior to you." you gasp at him, but you can't help but smile, stunned. "Just because you're made of metal doesn't mean you're superior to us. I'm sure if I throw water at you you'll rust and stop working, so in a way, I'm superior."

"You can try, but it won't work! That would be stupid to think we fear water, or fire, or anything for that matter, right?" oh, it might get hectic if he continues. "How about I show you how the store works? Because if we talk any longer, I might look for other ways to turn you off, and you wouldn't want that to happen, would you?" he shakes his head, a worried look on his face. Perfect.

You're going to have a serious conversation with Taeil, you think, showing him where the books go, how the cash register works, and where the storeroom is, storeroom that is also used as a rest room.

"For starters, you're going to go to the storeroom, and you're going to sort all the books alphabetically while sorting them by genre, can you do that, oh you superior robot?" you ask, tilting your head, and he shrugs his shoulders. "Of course I can do it!" Taeil never asked that the books in the storeroom to be sorted, since most are unsold books that will be donated to associations or the city library, but you don't want to have him in your legs when the first customers arrive.

You take your phone, and you send one last message to Taeil before turning on the light in the storefront indicating that the store is open.

To Taeil: This robot is an idiot, and if he pisses me off too much, I'm going to fire him whether you like it or not.

To make sure you don't receive an answer, you turn off your phone before throwing it in your bag before starting to put away the new books. And surprisingly, the morning goes off without a hitch. Ten comes out once or twice to ask you for advice on an unfamiliar book, the few customers who come in don't need your help, so that's nice.

When the time comes to close the shop for the next two hours, you enter the storeroom. Ten is sitting on the ground, and he's surrounded by books that should have been put away for a long time now, but the robot seems way too deep in reading to do the job you asked him to do. You frown. "Do you know that reading is not part of your contract?"

Ten doesn't react, he just turns the page and laughs at something he just read. "Taeil buys LSM magazines, I'll go check if I can't find an article on how to deactivate a robot if it becomes threatening." you say, and immediately Ten lifts his head to look at you. "But I'm not threatening!" he exclaims, like a petulant child would.

He may be a robot, but he has typically human reactions, which is strange in itself. At least for you. "They won't have to know when I throw your body in front of the factory you came from." you answer in a slow voice, and Ten finds himself on his feet, not without slipping a bookmark in his book so as not to lose his progress. "Sorry, I found this book, and it's so interesting I couldn't help myself."

You look at the title, and you smirk. You hide in the storeroom when you don't feel like coming home, and it's one of the books you've read. "If you don't want me to tell you who the killer is, you're going to finish putting those books away, and then I'll give you time to read until the store closes tonight, do we have a deal?"

He mumbles something between his teeth, but ends up nodding. You walk away from the room before remembering that you had a question for him, so you go back. "Do robots eat?" you wouldn't want to deprive him of his lunch break and end up with some sort of robots protection squad on your back for mistreatment. "Yes, we eat. I told you, we are like you."

"It's break time so you'll finish tidying up later." Ten passes over a pyramid of books, and he leaves the room, not without taking his book with him. "So, what are we going to eat?" he suddenly asks, and you want to take his book and hit yourself with it. "What do you mean, we?"

"Taeil told me you would take me out to eat with you so I wouldn't be alone in the store." Taeil should remember to tell you when he decides something, because you can't continue to be surprised every time he opens his mouth. "Did he say that?" a nod. "Great. I'm going home to eat, so I think you're going to meet the two most annoying people on this planet after you."

He squeals with delight and you roll your eyes as you pick up your bag. You exit the store by locking the door behind Ten, and you head for the subway train. "I love meeting new humans, you are all so fascinating!" you wonder what can be fascinating about humans, but for a robot, everything has to be. "What fascinates you so much about us?" you ask going down the stairs, being careful that Ten keeps following you, you don't feel like looking for a lost robot in the streets.

"We can feel emotions, but they're programmed for us, so it's not as real as when you feel them." human emotions are difficult to understand, humans are confusing. "I think it's pretty nice to be programmed to feel certain things, it's probably easier, less confusing."

"You're wrong," Ten starts to say, following you in the subway, he sits next to you not without looking at a little dog with stars in his eyes, as if he had never seen a dog in real life, so much so that you wonder if there are robot dogs, you'll have to ask him one of these days. "We're forced to feel the emotions, so we don't understand them. Being programmed doesn't mean we understand what's going on."

It's pretty sad, you think.

"Do you have a program that allows you to kill us if we becomes threatening for you?" you ask in a low voice so as not to attract the attention of the students around you. Ten's eyes widen and he chuckles. "No, we can't do that. We're not here to hurt you, just to help you." it's a shame, you would have needed it with Johnny and Doyoung.

"This is where we come down." Ten follows you to the door of your apartment. You can smell Doyoung's food already. He might be annoying, but when he's not working he always makes a snack for you for when you come home from work during the break, and that's very nice. "I live with two people, Johnny and Doyoung, they can be weird, and they might ask you tons of questions, so be prepared."

When you put your hand on the doorknob, Ten puts his hand on your wrist to stop you. "Wait, wait. Are they going to hurt me? Some humans can be mean when in the company of a robot." oh, he didn't sound so nervous earlier, but in a way you can understand that. "They're not mean, and they're quite fascinated by LSM's robots, so you have nothing to worry about, they won't do anything to you."

You open the door when he seems to be relaxing, and you sigh when you hear the loud voices that most likely come from the kitchen. "Johnny, how many times have I told you not to set foot in my kitchen? You're a walking hazard, you'll manage to set some water on fire if you wanted to! Get out!"

"Guys, I'm here. And I'm not alone, so if you could behave like normal people that would be really nice." you say and immediately Johnny's head pops out of the kitchen door jamb and you roll your eyes. "Oh hello mister stranger, who are you, are you our beloved Y/n's secret boyfriend?"

"I-" Ten seems unable to speak, and Johnny throws his head back when he notices the blush on Ten's cheeks as he lowers his head. "Oh, he's blushing! Adorable! He's in love but he hasn't had the courage to tell her yet. Doyoung, come see!" you should have known that they were going to mess with him. You should have warned them before you got home, threatened them, or promised to pay for the next pizza night.

"Shut up, big idiot! He's the new bookstore employee, we met this morning." you respond by swinging your bag in a corner of the apartment after removing your shoes. Ten does the same, and he follows you into the living room. You're pointing your index finger at the boys. "Johnny, Doyoung, this is Ten. He works with me."

"Oh, I didn't know Taeil was okay with hiring bots." Doyoung says, stunned. "How do you know it's a robot?" were you the only one who didn't have a clue? The only one that can't tell the difference between a robot and a human?

"It shows! And he's got LSM's name tattooed behind his ear." You'll have to go see the ophthalmologist to get glasses, because you didn't notice the black ink behind his ear. "Taeil didn't really hire me, it's just a contract for a couple of months to see how quickly I adapt to a new environment. Next time I'll be in a new place." oh, that's a detail you didn't know either, you thought Ten was here for good, at least until you got fired, or left.

"And can't you ask to stay at the bookstore for good?" you ask, sitting down in a chair, and Ten shrugs. "Why, have you already become attached to me? You refuse to see me go?" you could get up and hit him, but you don't want to break your fist if he is made of metal inside. "I said that because I wouldn't say no to less hours of work, dont think I appreciate you."

"She never introduced anyone to us, even casual employees, so you must be special." Johnny says winking at Ten, and you refrain from leaning over the table to hit him. "Taeil asked me to take care of him, what was I supposed to do, lock him in the storeroom with a piece of bread and a glass of water?"

"That's what you would have done with us, so yeah." he's not wrong, that's what you would have done if you had had Johnny and/or Doyoung as a colleague. "Anyway, we don't have all day, so if you could just leave Ten alone so we can eat." you mumble, but Ten shakes his head, apparently he doesn't mind being the center of attention. At least he knows that emotion, and he understands it, that's a good thing.

When it's time to go back to work, you almost have to pull Ten out of the apartment. "But why? I was having fun with your roommates!" of course he was having fun. "You can come back and see them if you want." you answer by going down the stairs. You have a little over thirty minutes left before you have to open the store, so rather than locking yourself in a subway train, you decide to walk.

"Really, you would let me come back?" you shrug your shoulders. "Why wouldn't I want to?" Ten plays with the hem of his hoodie, and you frown, he doesn't look like the type to be surprised or even slightly nervous over something as futil. "Because I wasn't very nice to you when I arrived this morning. But like I told you, some humans don't want us to fit in and want to harm us, and I heard so many stories that I defended myself if you ever decided to be like them."

"I don't understand robots, I don't understand LSM's motivation, but that doesn't mean I would hurt any of you. You should have waited, and you would have known it."

"I'm sorry Y/n, and I promise I'll do my job well until the end of my contract!" he exclaims, his smile back on his face. His beautiful face, moreover, you did not miss this detail. "I hope so, otherwise I won't give you time to read before closing." he gasps, but he laughs, and you have no choice but to laugh with him.

#nct #wayv #nct imagines #nct scenarios #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #ten imagines #ten scenarios

42 notes · View notes

highfaelucien · 3 years

Text

Babysitting the Heir - An Inner Circle Fic

Repost from 2016 (god I’m old) that I redrafted bc it’s cute and wholesome af. And after all the salt and angst I have provided, I felt it was only fair to bring some fluff to the table.

Title: Babysitting the Heir

Summary: Azriel and Mor babysit Feyre and Rhys’ young son, Nyx, so the two of them can have a little time to themselves. He ends up taking quite a strong liking to Az... Fluff, pure fluff.

Teaser: ‘The moment he slips into Azriel’s arms again he pillows his head calmly against his chest and settles completely, gazing up at him with big, innocent eyes.

Mor grins.’

Notes: No content warnings to speak of. Originally posted in 2016. Rewritten to update with (some) current canon, but also with some of my own additions, like happily queerplatonic Moriel. Because I can. And because this shit is adorable.

AO3: Link

“Be good for Aunt Mor, okay?” Feyre says, dipping forwards to kiss her son's forehead. “Does he understand the concept of ‘good’ yet?” Mor chirps conversationally.

Tilting her body she shifts in place and adjusts Nyx in her arms to allow Rhys to kiss him goodbye as well. “Why don’t you debate that with him this evening over some fine wine, Mor?” Rhys drawls.

The soft smile on his lips is very patently for his son; the words dripping with sarcasm very obviously for his cousin. Irritated by the baby balanced in her arms and her resulting lack of free hands with which to offer her cousin some obscene gesture, she makes do with snapping at him. “Why don’t you take a long walk off a very short balcony. Without wings. You sardonic pri-“ “We,” Feyre interrupts pointedly as Rhys starts smirking in a way that would have forced Mor to hand Nyx back to his mother so she could do something about it, “Are leaving,” she announces.

Grabbing her still obnoxiously smiling mate by his upper arm she begins to firmly drag him away from Mor before serious damage is done to his pretty face.

“Now,” Feyre adds in a slightly threatening growl as Rhys looks more than ready to continue bickering. “Thank you for this, Mor!” Feyre calls over her shoulder as she frog-marches Rhys to the door at the other end of the corridor.

“And you Az,” she adds with a smile and a wave, both hello and goodbye, tossed in the shadowsinger’s direction as he drifts serenely down the stairs to see what all the fuss is about in the hall. Mor lifts Nyx’s little hand with her first two fingers and has him wave goodbye to her parents while Az presses quiet kiss to her temple. His eyes fix on the baby in her arms with an air that suggests he’s seriously considering the possibility he might suddenly explode at any moment. “I’m going to the roof to train for a little while,” he murmurs quietly into her hair, his voice smooth and cool as ever. She nods, softly kissing the top of Nyx’s head, “We’ll be fine,” she says, shooing her partner upstairs, suppressing her eye roll with difficulty as she does so. “I’ll give you a shout if we need anything.”

Az nods his agreement then retreats silently back the way he had come leaving Mor to take Nyx into the living room alone. It’s not surprising. He does this every time they babysit for anyone. She knows that he’s more uncomfortable than the rest of them around any of the children, even if he secretly dotes on them, and she’s never pushed him into keeping her company unless she’s overwhelmed on her own. Which doesn’t happen often; usually only when Elain and Lucien’s twins are staying with them. Two years older than Nyx and already holy terrors in their own right. She chuckles to herself at the thought. She and Nyx have a nice afternoon that involves nothing more strenuous for Mor than setting him on her knee, holding his hands and bouncing him up and down until he giggles.

“Your parents are going to have so much fun when you start flying,” she teases as his small wings furl and unfurl excitedly. After an hour or so a servant interrupts politely to ask Mor if she could deal with something that’s arisen from some Court of Nightmares emissaries staying with them.

Nodding, Mor apologises to Nyx before gently popping him into the cot in front of the large floor to ceiling windows. Then she turns and hollers up the stairs for Azriel. He appears in moments and she stands on her toes to press a soft kiss to his cheek and give him her most winning smile, which immediately makes him look nervous. As it should.

“Would you keep an eye on Nyx for me?” she asks him, nuzzling affectionately against his taut chest. “I have to deal with the idiots from the Court of Nightmares. It shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes or so.” Azriel frowns at this.

Mor sighs. “He’s a baby not a bogge, Az,” she reminds him, thinking that he’d probably rather tackle the latter on his own. She keeps that to herself however, looking beseechingly up at him. “Are you sure?” he deadpans, looking down at her, hazel eyes glittering. Mor beams and presses a hasty kiss to his lips that catches more cheek than mouth in her hurry as she darts for the door. “I won’t be long, thanks!” she’s calling over her shoulder at him, without him ever having quite agreed to this plan of hers. Then she winnows from the house and Az sighs; though he’s unable to entirely banish the small, affectionate smile that tugs at the corner of his lips in response to her. Padding into the room he gathers up the toys strewn around the room from earlier, wondering both how they ended up with so many and also how Mor had managed to scatter them so widely around the room in such a short space of time. He shakes his head slightly as he fishes one out from underneath the breakfast table, eyes twinkling at the whirlwind that is his Morrigan as he does so. He’s just setting everything back into the box in the corner when Nyx starts crying. Wincing at the sound he pads tentatively towards his cot, his wails increasing in volume with every moment.

Crouching down he gently rubs his tummy with his hand to soothe him. Trying not to cringe at the sight of the twisted, burned flesh touching the young child. Gentle hushing has no effect on him whatsoever and when his cries could more accurately be described as howling Azriel finally decides there’s nothing else for it.

Standing he tentatively reaches down into the crib and scoops him up into his arms. He’s held him before, naturally – neither Mor nor Feyre gave him any choice in the matter when he was born and continued to coax him into it afterwards – but it still feels...wrong somehow. His rough, scarred hands, hard with the calluses from his training are stained with more blood than he cares to remember. They were shaped to hold blades and handle the violent killing power that burns in his blue siphons, not children. He’s never been entirely comfortable with something so small and precious and fragile entrusted to his battered arms. Morrigan was one thing, but the little one... Slowly, he starts bouncing Nyx in his arms, the way Mor does to get him to quiet down. This plus the fact that he’s holding the child close to him seems to help.

He still sniffles faintly but he’s stopped screaming as though he’s trying to bring the place down at least. After a few minutes of gentle rocking and soothing murmuring he settles against his broad chest. “You were just being dramatic because you wanted some attention, weren’t you, little one?” Azriel muses quietly to him.

Mor, he’s noted, seems to talk away to him. all the time. Regardless of whether he understands, it's something he appears to like, so Azriel continues.

“That’s your father’s fault,” he informs him placidly. A broad smile spreads across his face as though he’s understood what he’s said and Az can’t help his own smile at the sight of it.

Nyx bats happily at his cheek, searching and grabbing at every bit of him he can reach from his arms.

Then the little fingers start to grab at his wings and he tenses, blinking down at him. “No, no,” he says in alarm as one small hand grips tightly onto the hooked, pointed talon at the crest of his wing and the other just grabs at whatever other part of it he can reach. “That’s not- No! Nyx, please-“ he tries hopelessly.

Prising his surprisingly strong grip off of him gently while still keeping one arm locked tightly around him proves to be near impossible.

He wonders vaguely if all children his age have such stubborn, iron grips or if this is a trait he can thank his mother for.

“Nyx-“ he pleads hopelessly as his small, nails dig into a sensitive spot of the membrane of his wing. A low, throaty chuckle interrupts his helpless floundering and he looks up to see Mor leaning artfully against one of the broad wooden pillars in the room. He’s rarely seen her looking so amused. “He’s one, Az,” she smirks at him, seeming to find his current predicament immensely amusing. “You can’t reason with him.” “Would you please-“ He gestures mutely for her to take Nyx back and somehow have him release his hold on him. Still laughing, her warm eyes dancing with merriment, Mor steps forwards at last and obliges him.

She scoops Nyx smoothly into her arms, detaching him from Azriel’s wing with ease.

Azriel shakes out his wings with relief and tucks them very firmly against his back. More so than he usually would. Something that's not missed by Mor, who gives him a wicked grin that has him groaning.

"Poor baby," she croons, voice playful and teasing.

Az gives her a half-hearted scowl in answer, starting to tidy the room again.

Mor's voice returns to normal as she kisses Nyx’s head and chuckles, “Wait ‘til we tell Uncle Cassian that all he has to do to bring the fearsome shadowsinger to his knees is not let go of his wing.”

Az shoots her a playful growl at the remark and Mor laughs again. Nyx, who had taken fairly well to being handed from one to the other of them like a solstice gift, had merely reached behind Mor to find something else to occupy himself.

While being obviously displeased by her lack of wings, he soon seems to decide that grabbing fistfuls of Mor’s beautiful golden hair will do just as well.

As Mor begins to carry him away from Azriel, however, he starts fussing again, his large, striking violet eyes fixed firmly on the retreating form of Az. Arching an eyebrow Mor wanders experimentally back to him and Nyx immediately reaches out for Az again, little fists grabbing the air insistently.

He blinks in surprise as he continues to squirm and fuss in Mor’s arms until she hands him over and coaxes him to take him again.

The moment she slips into Azriel’s arms again he pillows his head calmly against his chest and settles completely, gazing up at him with big, innocent eyes. Mor grins. “No,” he protests feebly, looking from one to the other of them and knowing he’s beaten long before he gets out, “No, Mor, I don’t want-“ She pats his shoulder consolingly, ruining the effect by laughing through it. “You can’t say no to your future High Lord, Az,” she trills, grinning broadly at him as Az blinks down at the baby nestled peacefully in his arms. “Mor, I,” he stumbles, looking down at her again, fear gripping him as he says, “What if I drop him? What if I hurt him?” He’s being as gentle and as careful with him as he can but... “You won’t,” Mor says, the laughter instantly easing from her voice as it drops, becoming even and soothing. “Come on,” she says, tenderly hooking her fingers between his forearm and Nyx’s soft, warm body and leading him over towards the comfortable couches by the fire. Patiently, Mor shows him different ways of holding Nyx to help him become more comfortable with the babe and stop him worrying about dropping or hurting him somehow.

To his credit, the little one is incredibly patient with being pushed and pulled into various different positions and doesn’t seem to mind as long as Azriel is doing most of the holding.

He snorts when Mor mentions he’s lucky he decided to discover this new side to himself with the very placid Nyx rather than the twins. Neither would have been nearly as accommodating of all this poking and prodding. When Nyx finally does seem to tire of training Azriel in how to deal with him and starts to become fussy again, Mor heads to the kitchen and brings back a bottle for him to feed him.

She watches the two of them fondly as Nyx sucks contentedly at the warm milk, his big violet eyes blinking serenely up at them both.

Az smiles down at her the whole while, his scarred hands cradling him gently. When he looks up and catches the faint gleam in Mor’s eye he carefully slides an arm around her shoulders and gathers her in against him. With a faint, contented hum he presses a soft kiss to the top of her head. Nyx successfully keeps Az in thrall all night. Each time he tries to leave him for more than a few minutes he makes his displeasure about his departure known to most of Velaris. “

You’re a devious little one,” he murmurs softly to him, after the third or fourth instance of this, tickling his tummy as Mor did, and watching him giggle happily in his lap. “That’s Rhys’s fault too.” Mor smirks. “What else was Rhys’s fault?” she enquires playfully, arching a golden eyebrow and plastering a wicked grin across her lips. Azriel smiles faintly.

“His flare for drama and need for constant attention,” he responds simply. Mor tips back her head and howls with laughter at that, so loudly that Nyx blinks at her and nuzzles in against his chest, alarmed by this outburst. Azriel gives her a gentle nudge to coax her to stop for the babe’s sake and she desists. “Well he’s clearly fond of you.” Mor observes, looking down at the small, placid bundle in his arms. “That level of sense can only come from his mother.” Az chuckles at that and the shadows that flit around him gather around his chest at the sound. “Do that again,” Mor says suddenly, her head tilted slightly to the side as she peers down at Nyx. “What?” Az asks, confused, not aware that he’d been doing anything more than absently rocking Nyx back and forth in his arms, something that seemed to soothe him “With the shadows,” Mor says and he tightens at the mention but she shakes her head, “Make them gather around your chest again,” she instructs and he obliges her uncertainly. At once, one of Nyx’s little hands shoots out, trying to grab them. Blinking in pleasant surprise, Az coaxes the shadows a little closer. He had deliberately kept them light, something that was never hard with Mor around, and away from Nyx in case he scared him. But he seems oddly transfixed by them. Again he reaches out, trying to grab at them, his little fists closing over air. Azriel starts to make them dart around him in little bursts and he keeps swiping for them, like a cat chasing a mouse, until he’s giggling wildly and Mor is laughing beside him at the sight.

Cautiously, Azriel reaches down and brushes Nyx’s soft pale skin with his shadows. His eyes go wide and his whole body stills. He repeats the gesture and he begins to laugh again as he tickles her with them.

Mor beams with delight, the unreserved joy on her face more intoxicating to him than a bottle of faerie wine at the Solstice. As the evening begins to draw to a close, both Mor and Nyx fall asleep on top of Azriel. Nyx sprawls flat against his chest. Meanwhile Mor presses in against his side, her head tucked into the crook of his neck, her legs curled up under her as she presses in against him.

Azriel smiles quietly at the sight of both of them, one hand underneath Nyx to keep him supported, the other trailing absently through Morrigan’s golden curls, absently stroking them and soothing her in her sleep. That’s the position that Feyre and Rhys find them in when they knock on the door and Azriel calls for them to come in several hours later.

Feyre smiles at the sight of them and hurries over to Azriel. She leans down and trails her fingers through Nyx’s soft, downy black hair. Mor stirs at the arrival of Feyre and Rhys and stretches away from Azriel like a cat, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and smiling dozily around at the scene. Azriel gets carefully to his feet and very gently hands Nyx to Rhys who soothes him almost instantly with a few quiet words when he wakes in response to all of the movement around him.

“That’s typical of Aunt Morrigan, isn’t it?” Rhys murmurs to Nyx, grinning at Mor over his son’s head. “Falling asleep and leaving poor Uncle Az to do all the work and cover for her.” Mor looses a rough growl at him and Az hastily snakes a hand around her waist, tugging her gently to his side and pressing a calming kiss to the top of her head while she glowers good naturedly at her smirking cousin.

“Well if that’s how you feel, cousin,” she says loftily, all anger suddenly smoothed away by a thought, which should only ever be read as concerning, “You won’t need to ask me to babysit when you want a date night again. You can just ask Az to do it all by himself, since he’s done ‘all the work’.”

Az felt himself pale at that, in spite of himself. Something his brother must note, because he quickly cuffs Mor on the back and says, “I don’t know what I’d ever do without you, cousin.”

“That’s what I thought,” Mor mutters under her breath, and Az gives her another small squeeze and a smile. “Was everything all right?” Feyre asks, looking between them, fondly stroking Nyx’s cheek as she moves to stand beside Rhys. “Everything was fine,” Azriel says smoothy, giving her a soft smile that instantly seems to reassure her. “Thank you again for having him,” she says, leaning forwards and embracing Mor then kissing Az’s cheek. They both assure them it was no problem and they’d be happy to do it again. Once Feyre and Rhys have left the two of them tidy up then flop down onto the couch. Mor immediately settles herself in Azriel’s lap, sprawling across him as though he’s a cushion. Az waits patiently for her to make herself comfortable and then settle down against him. Her smaller, more delicate form melts easily against his as she drapes her arms lazily around his chest. “So,” she says, a clear smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, “You’ll be happy to help me the next time we babysit for Feyre and Rhys?” He smiles faintly “Feyre and Rhys?” He says, arching an eyebrow and lightly tapping her nose, “Yes,” he agrees, “Not Elain and Lucien.” He clarifies with a shudder at the thought of facing the twins alone. Mor laughs again and burrows affectionately in against him. “It’s okay,” she promises him, arching up to press a soft kiss to the tip of his nose, “We’ll tackle the two of them together.”

Azriel just wraps his arms around her, lightly kissing the top of her head and humming contentedly, closing his eyes. He’s asleep with his arms around her in minutes.

37 notes · View notes

nebraska-is-a-myth · 3 years

Text

My Eret Headcanons

These are just my headcannons for C!Eret and the potential of them being a descendent of herobrine and what that could entail for his and Philza’s relationship. This keeps me up at night thinking about it, so you can read this and suffer with me.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eret met philza first out of them all.

It was a long long time ago when Phil was known as the fearless young warrior that had been the first to slay the mighty dragon. Before he had retired to become a shitty father.

They had met in the void: Phil was on the hunt for herobrine, determined to put a stop to the terror he and his army inflicted onto the overworld, and Eret had been born there, alone. When Eret was younger he remembers wandering alone in the void. Their family had cast them out a few days ago for something they honestly can't even remember, but they knew they could never return. The void was nice, it was calming. Eret was neither warm nor cold, neither hungry or full, she could feel sleep calling to her, but her legs strode on nonetheless. The void was known for being endless and bland, numbness seeped into his every being with each breath. Walking for eternity was an option Eret had been avoiding for some time now. But then Phil had appeared from the endless mist and he had been so kind, offering warm touches and happy smiles. Nothing Eret had experienced back home. Eret hadn't understood Phil back then, not yet being exposed to the language of the overworld. But when Phil held out a map that looked similar to the grand fortress of the void, Eret had paled and shook their head frantically. Phil had calmed the small creature enough to understand that their panicked whimpers had been a warning. Eret had only been a small child back then, so they clung to Phil’s leg when he started walking towards the direction of the palace, ignoring Erets incomprehenable blabbering. Phil was confused at first, but continued on walking when the little creature wouldn't detach itself from him. When Phil had gotten more uncomfortable, he shifted Eret onto his back with a little protest from the child. On the small journey, Phil had started to try and teach the little child a few touches of English. Eret had learnt how to say “philza” with a little difficulty, and Eret had responded with a noise that Phil had understood as “Alastair”. Before long they arrived at the fortress and Phil could sense Erets discomfort. Instead of going through the main entrance, Eret hurriedly lead Phil to a gap in the wall of the fortress and mumbled words of encouragement to his new friend. Phil handed ‘Alastair’ a shiny golden ring from a pocket in his robe and placed it in Erets small hands with a soft smile and a comforting embrace. Eret wasn't sure what was happening at first when Phil’s arms had wrapped around them, it was warm and Phil smelled nice. Contact wasn't something anyone back home considered appropriate outside of the family home, even then it was rare. So Eret melted into the touch of phils soft arms, having not been held since they were a toddler. Eret still wasn't sure what Phil was doing, but they decided they liked it. When Phil pulled away, Eret tilted their head, hoping he would understand their confusion of the action. They watched Phils eyebrows knit together and his smile falls only for a moment before softly repeating the word “Hug”. Eret nodded, saying the word back confidently, bringing a smile to Phils face. Phil brought Eret in for another hug before standing back up and nodding. Phil had looked happy, so Eret stayed put, understanding that Phil would come back for Eret and his ring.

After a while of waiting for philza’s return, Eret grew worried and made the decision to follow their new friend into the depths of the fortress. But by the time Eret made their way into the grand fortress, both Philza and the tyrant Herobrine that had ruled the land with an iron fist had disappeared, leaving only a glowing portal in the great hall where blood stained the floor. The whiring of the glowing portal intrigued Eret, having only seen these portals from behind heavily guarded gates where soldiers like their father had been sent off to war under the orders of Herobrine. Would it be safe if they went through? Would they be punished on the other side? Would they even survive the journey? Eret glances at the ring in their hands, the purple light of the portal glints off of the shiny metal. The ring is far too big to fit on any of Erets fingers, but Eret runs their fingertips across the beautiful inscription of what appears to be a magnificent pair of wings much like Philza’s. They cannot read the writing, but something deep down tells them that this meant something to Phil, it looks old and worn but it has memories, memories that Phil entrusted them to keep safe. Eret looks around at the big empty hall. The void was lonely, it was dark and endless, Phil had been the first soul they had seen since they had been cast out. Spending a lifetime alone was something nobody wanted, it was something Eret themselves feared the most. It’s decided then, Eret must go through the portal and find Philza, returning the golden ring to their new friend. Eret took in a deep breath of hazy void air and took a step into the swirling magic.

For a second Eret thinks they've made a mistake. They feel like the magic is twisting their insides into slush. Their eyes flutter closed for a second, clutching onto the ring and the obsidian beside them before their being involuntarily pushed out in a bright harsh light. Erets eyes snap shut, every time they try to peel their eyelids open they feel like someone is burning a hole into the back of their head. It hurts and they don't know where they are and they can feel panic rising in their chest. They’re scared. All they can do is curl into themselves and stroke their finger over the indentations across philza’s ring. The heavy breathing goes on for a while, the feeling of loneliness once again creeping up on them. That is until they feel something press against their shoulder. They flinch as it comes in contact with their skin, fear of attack taking over their actions. The touch comes again but softer this time, in the hopes that it may be Phil they allow it to guide them into a warmer, darker place. They fall over their feet a few times, but they make it nonetheless. When the light dulls enough for them to open their eyes, fear sparks through them once again. They find himself trapped behind rusty iron bars. They’ve been locked away. No, no this can't be happening. They want to go home, to the void, anywhere but the disgusting cell that reeks of death and ash. They mutter words that the guards definitely don't understand and in retaliation they shout back in a language much harsher than Phil had used. They take to shouting Philza’s name, hoping they would recognize it or the man himself would hear them. He doesn't. Eret is alone, they don't see philza again.

At least, not until november 16th. The message on her communicator brings back memories of a place Eret had buried a long time ago, but she doesn't have time to dwell on it because in a flash the ground beneath her feet is gone and a blast sends her flying off the ground. Eret lands with a thump and a twisted ankle, but he’s sure his injuries are only minor compared to those closer to the blast. They’re a good distance away from the town center but they can see techno and tommy in the distance shouting about something that Eret cant bring themselves to listen to. Their back rests against an old spruce tree, and they sit staring at their communicator.

Wilbur was dead.

A choked sob rises in Erets throat. There were too many thoughts racing through his head. Panicked voices scream at him that Phil is going to recognize him, that he’s going to see the light behind his sunglasses and demand for Erets exile or execution. No one else knew of her past, how she was born in the void, a hybrid pretending to fit in with the humans. The rational side of them knew that so many other people on the server were hybrids, but even then some people feared techno for his bloodlust, and bad for his demonic nature. Eret couldn't be locked in a cage again, not after she worked so hard to move on and forget her past. The fear of her past life fuels her irrationality. But Phil was never like that. No he remembers that period in the void clearly, he remembers warm hugs and soft touches, and the ring. Eret rubs his thumb over the engravings on the ring that now sits comfortably on one of his fingers and takes in a deep shallow breath. This ring had been his rock for the past however many years they spent in the overworld. Human time works different from time in the void, so it never really was their strong suit. But they remember the aching in their bones of being in uncomfortable positions for long periods, and the dirt under their fingernails after a long day of construction. Through it all Eret had their ring and memories of someone who cared for them, someone to remind them that things change, sometimes from the better and sometimes for the worse. But was that all just an illusion?

Phil had shown them kindness and compassion.

But Phil had also killed wilbur.

Everything comes crashing down on Eret all at once, the one thing stable they had in their life collapses on them and suffocates every hope they ever had. The ring burns on their finger, the metal now glinting with lies instead of promises of a better life. God they were so stupid. They knew the likeliness of ever finding Phil again were slim, let alone be remembered by the man, but that hope and longing of someone to love them kept them going all these years. And now that hope was going to be the death of them.

Eret hears the screams of Niki and his friends and pushes his worries to the back of his mind, right now he must fight for the remains of what once was his home.

That night as the fighting finally comes to an end, Eret makes a decision. He decides to distance himself from philza, not ready to face the pain of being forgotten or exiled. He wasn't particularly happy with isolating himself either, but fear does strange things to a person.

But then ghostbur comes to him with desires of bringing back Wilbur and of course Eret will do whatever she can to bring back her friend. Sure soot may have hated her guts, but Eret wants nothing more than to hug him and feel his presence again. Not that she disliked ghostbur, but the phantom was a painful reminder of what once was and what could never be. And of course Phil wants to get involved with the resurrection of his son, of course he does, so Eret pretends he doesn't know Phil past what others had said about the man in passing conversation. Phil seemingly does the same, referencing so kindly how “Alivebur had resented him” and for a second Eret thinks they’re going be found out, that their time is up. But it never happens, Phil remains oblivious and Eret is constantly on edge.

It’s gotten to the point where Erets anxiety completely takes over and before they know it they’re at Technos arctic base and Ranboo is whispering something into Phils ear.

“I can't in good conscience let you onto this property Eret.”

No no please, Eret needs to do this, Eret needs to do something good, they need to get wilbur back. They need to..

“You're a king, and kings have power over others. It’s nothing personal.”

It is personal, they know it is, it's what they all say. Phil doesn't trust them, ranboo dosent trust them. They need to prove themselves, they have to, they can't be alone again. They just can't.

Maybe, maybe if she shows phil her eyes, if she reminded phil of the times before the smp, the times before nations and wars and sides. Before any of this where Eret wasn't the traitorous king and Phil was still the angel of death. Maybe Phil would remember Alastair, the child who helped him in another lifetime, the child he made a promise to, a promise to keep them safe.

So Eret takes a chance, he takes a chance with Ranboo, deciding to trust the Enderman hybrid, and he takes a chance with phil. She takes off her glasses, her crown tumbling down into the snow after them, and she pleads with Phil to let her help. She pleads not to be left alone again.

But Phil looks right through them. He stares into their whitened eyes and pushes them away just like everyone else, whispering jokes to Ranboo as Eret walks away with tears rolling down their cheeks. The promise made all that time ago had meant nothing to the man who Eret yearned for the most, they were left alone with nothing but a ring and false promises once again. Eret may have thought themselves unlovable and helpless in that moment, but they knew they still had a duty to his friend. To the boy who needed a father most. She was going to get Wilbur back, not for herself, not for Phil, not for l’manburg, but for Fundy. So Eret wipes her tears and sets off for snowchester, Eret could prove to Phil she was worth something, that she was worth remembering.

Eret had met Philza first out of them all, but Phil was the first to forget them.

#the eret #eret #dream smp #philza #dream mcyt #mcyt #I just love c!eret #they fill 90% of my brain #nebraska speaks

32 notes · View notes

terramythos · 3 years

Text

TerraMythos 2021 Reading Challenge - Book 9 of 26

Title: The Priory of the Orange Tree (2019)

Author: Samantha Shannon

Genre/Tags: Fantasy, Epic Fantasy, Third-Person, Female Protagonists, LGBT Protagonists

Rating: 10/10

Date Began: 3/12/2021

Date Finished: 4/12/2021

1000 years ago, the world burned. Draconic creatures terrorized the land, led by a horrific evil known as the Nameless One. But then something happened that sent the monsters into a seemingly endless sleep, and the world has rebuilt in the centuries since.

But the Draconic evil begins to stir in its slumber, and the divided nations of the world have little chance to stop it. Eadaz is a mage from the Priory of the Orange Tree, sent to spy on the northern queendom of Inys. Legend has it that as long as the royal line continues, the world will be free from the Nameless One. While it's a long shot, Ead guards the young Queen Sabran closely to preserve the peace. However, as she and the queen grow closer to each other, Ead has to decide where her loyalties lie. Meanwhile, her close friend Loth is secretly sent into exile by the royal spymaster due to his controversial friendship with the queen. Supposedly sent as an ambassador to the newly Draconic kingdom of Yscalin, he soon finds himself out of his depth, entrusted with a deadly secret.

In the isolationist Eastern country of Seiiki, Tané wants nothing more than to become a dragon rider. The dragons of the East are old, wise, and revered as gods-- eternally opposed to the Draconic legions of the West. However, the night before the choosing ceremony that will decide her fate, she breaks isolation and discovers a young man from the West on the shore. Rather than report him to the authorities, she and her friend smuggle him to the island of Orisima, the only place Westerners are permitted. Niclays Roos, an old man exiled to Orisima by Queen Sabran, soon finds himself caught in the conflict. He believes if he finds an elixir for eternal life, he will finally be able to return home. When he's forced to shelter the forbidden Westerner, Niclays' entire way of life is upended-- but he is soon granted the opportunity to escape his exile.

'My grandmother once said that when a wolf comes to the village, a shepherd looks first to her own flock. The wolf bloods his teeth on other sheep, and the shepherd knows it will one day come for hers, but she clings to the hope that she might be able to keep him out. Until the wolf is at her door.’

Full review, minor spoilers, and content warnings under the cut.

Content warnings for the book: Some sexual content. Blood, gore, violence, traumatic injury, suicide, and death. Torture and execution. Miscarriage. Body horror (kinda). Drug use.

Clocking in at just over 800 pages, The Priory of the Orange Tree is a long, detailed story. I tend to label things Epic Fantasy when they have world-changing stakes. While Priory certainly fits that criteria, it's the first fantasy book I've read in a while that really does feel like an epic. It stars a huge cast of interesting characters from many walks of life, all of whom find themselves caught up in a world-spanning conflict. It captures the sense of a standalone, grand adventure that shorter fantasy novels of today don't typically reach.

With a book this long, it would be easy to ramble on forever about everything I liked. However, I'm going to try to keep it short and simple.

One of my favorite things about this story was the sheer depth of the world. Lots of people compare this to The Lord of the Rings not for its tropes, but the attention to detail regarding the countries, politics, history, religion, and so on. I'm inclined to agree with this assessment. The world felt alive and multi-dimensional. I could pinpoint many parallels to our own mythologies and histories-- particularly drawn from Europe, Asia, and the Middle East. There's also a clear love of language in the story via its beautiful prose. I like to think I know English pretty well, but this book taught me quite a few new words! Might fuck around and call sunsets "rutilant" from now on.

I thought all four leads were interesting. Ead is kinda the "main" lead of the novel, although Tané overtakes her in the latter half. Everyone had different personalities and backstories, and I genuinely enjoyed all of their arcs. Niclays in particular would be an easy character to hate; of the four, he's the most selfish and does some real questionable shit. At the same time, it's hard not to sympathize with him. He's a sad, unjustly exiled elder who's lost the one man he cared about, and finds himself in a desperate situation. These types of characters are interesting to me; a glimpse of what anyone can become given the wrong circumstances and cruel treatment.

With stories like this, one of the most satisfying payoffs is how the different characters and stories come together. It was interesting to see how their paths converged and diverged over time, and ultimately how everything tied together in the end. I also appreciated the character relationships. I liked that Loth's close friendships with both Sabran and Ead were intimate yet platonic without some awkward love triangle.

From some story specifics... I'm a sucker for the bodyguard romance trope, and seeing it done with women in a mainstream novel gave me life. I thought the romance between Ead and Sabran was really sweet; I didn't see how it would work early on since Sabran was a little insufferable, but she had hidden depths (oh god, another weakness of mine). I also really liked the idea of traditional European and Asian dragons being diametrically opposed, and that being a core theme of the story. Intelligent and/or talking animals are another thing I adore in spec fic, so I dug characters like Aralaq. Kalyba's ongoing relevance and gradual exposition was also neat; I love minor world details that turn out super relevant later.

Also, the entire final battle/ending sequence was SO good. Really creative and action packed. Action scenes often blend together for me (and can be logistical nightmares) but Priory's climactic ending was just awesome. I don't want to spoil specifics, but it reminded me of many beloved epic battles in modern fantasy. Avatar the Last Airbender, How To Train Your Dragon, and Pirates of the Caribbean all came to mind.

My main criticism with Priory is that often, the plot relied on convenient coincidence to get the characters out of a jam or otherwise advance the story. I can excuse a minor contrivance or two for the sake of a smooth story, and the scope of this book is big enough that it'd be hard to avoid. But some are nuts. For example, Loth gets rescued from certain death by a giant ichneumon while traveling through the mountains. We later learn the ichneumon is Aralaq, a friend of Ead's, and he just happened to be in the middle of nowhere, far from his home, and stumbled upon Loth. Loth, who ALSO happens to be Ead's best friend... which Aralaq presumably doesn't know?

Another is the MAJOR SPOILER regarding the rising jewel's location. I didn't hate the twist itself, but there was so little build up to it. I wish there were more early hints to justify it, because with setup it would be a pretty cool development. These things didn't ruin my enjoyment of the story, but the borderline deus ex machina (machinae? machinas?) did take me out of it a bit. It’s possible I missed stuff so I’ll give some benefit of the doubt.

Overall, though, The Priory of the Orange Tree is a fun, world-spanning adventure. Like any long book, it's an investment to get into. However, if you're looking for a standalone, feminist fantasy epic, this is certainly a good place to start.

#10/10 #taylor reads #2021 reading challenge #bro this took exactly a month to read but in my defense it's long and i also powered through Pillars of Eternity lmfao

16 notes · View notes

koorinohebi · 3 years

Text

They Called Him Death

=== + ===

@raichoose in relation to that one ask.

Characters

Sidapa – He is known as the Visayan God of Death. Once also considered a god of the skies, Sidapa descended from the Heavens and instead made residence atop Mt. Madjaas. Here, he carries out his job of overseeing the existence of men. On his tree, he carves lines that signify a human’s lifespan. He is also in love with the seven moons that are up in heaven.

Bulan – He is the youngest of the seven moons and is the consort of Sidapa.

Hangin – A Diwata or Fairy of the Wind. Her name “Hangin” literally means wind.

Mermaids/Sirens – They are water spirits that possess an upper body that resembles that of a human girl or woman while their lower halves resemble fish tails. Apart from being beautiful, they have enchanting voices which they use for singing.

Saragnayan – He is known as the Visayan God of Darkness. He is considered as the god whom the evil creatures of the night obey as their leader. He is also known to cause chaos in a peaceful community. Saragnayan is said to be a superb spell caster who can control malevolent spirits and that he causes men to do evil things. Despite this, he is a very loving and loyal husband to his wife.

Luyong Baybay – She is known as the Goddess of the Tides. It is said that she is the one who controls the rising and falling of the tide. Luyong Baybay is also in love with the moon.

Kaptan/Makaptan – He is the Visayan Sky God and is considered to be the King among all of the Gods. In myth, he is said to be the equal of Kan-Laon. His stature reminds the Visayans of a proud Datu and he is very protective of his domain. He also has a fiery temper and is easily displeased when people worship other gods or idols before him.

Bakunawa – The Bakunawa is considered to be a creature that resembles either a sea serpent or a dragon. In most legends, he is in love with the moon. He finds them so beautiful that he eats them.

Nagmalitong Yawa Sinagmaling Diwata – She is the wife of Saragnayan.

Kan-Laon – He is, among the Visayans, known as the Supreme Deity. Unlike Kaptan, he is a kind and gentle God who chose to live in solitude in a magical hut that is located at the top of the Kan-Laon Volcano.

Minokawa – The Minokawa bird is considered to be a creature that belongs to a family of dragons. It is also a creature that eats the moon and could possibly eat the sun too. The Minokawa’s feathers are as sharp as blades, his beak and claws are made of steal and his eyes of glass/mirrors.

Kataw – The Kataw are mermen of the highest rank and the rulers of the ocean. They resemble humans almost completely except for the fact that they gills and they have fins on their arms. Unlike the mermaids, they don’t have tails but instead have feet. They have the capability/skills to manipulate water.

***

They called him death, yet all I could see from him was life.

Love is perhaps the most curious of things, vaguest of concepts and the sweetest of thoughts. It is probably the only thing that moves the cog wheels of one’s heart no matter how much time and feeling has been eroded by both emotions and senses. It is truly a most beautiful thing that gives a sense of completion to those who feels it.

Yet it is also wicked despite its splendor. How many have lost their lives for love? How many had been driven mad by the very notion of it? There are those who were forced into silent desperation, always longing and always wanting. Those who yearn for love were always in the company of despair and insecurity. There is always a certain fear that lingered in their hearts one which, when realized, could make even the strongest of those beyond or beneath Heaven and Earth break and crumble.

Oh, what fragile creatures are those who are in love; hearts became malleable despite possessing a spirit of insurmountable will.

Though perhaps that is the beauty of it all; despite the consequences of taking a road led by love, almost everyone still threads it. While hesitant, those influenced by it allowed themselves to be enraptured by it as they miraculously find comfort in their strange actions. Regret hardly exists if the sensation is real. It is a cause that unites not only the mind and body, but also both heart and soul.

Love is indeed, despite its pristine magnificence, a terrifying thing for love is the only pain that humanity gladly embraces.

Of course, Love was never exclusive to humanity. Before them or more appropriately, like them, even those within the seat of divinity also fell prey to this beautiful monster’s embrace.

***

“Bulan! Bulan! Let’s play, let’s play!” A choir of melodic voices called to a passing young man.

A smile was easily painted on his face when he heard and saw them.

Oh how gorgeous they were, the inhabitants of the lake hidden within Mt. Madjaas. A myriad of beauty paraded themselves along the water’s edge. Their iridescent fins under the light of the sun were truly the embodiment of magnificence. These fantastical creatures often did not come out during the day but whenever he came to pass this heavenly retreat, they were always there. They were always waiting with vigorous eagerness. They were wonderful...as wonderful as their peerless hymns.

“Oh...!”

“Oh”

“Oh...” A unison of murmurs resounded. Even those seemed like a song. Their gentle voices coupled with the sound of splashing water made them appear shyer than their normally playful selves. There was of course only one reason for this.

Ah, they must be the younger mermaids. Bulan thought.

Along with the boy was a rather dreaded existence, or so thought the blooming sirens. With him was Sidapa—The God of Death and ironically the ruler of a place that flourished with life, Mt. Madjaas.

Sidapa was a handsome man, and in Bulan’s eyes did not pale in comparison with the other spirits or deities that lived amongst them. His skin was as pale as the ash that had fallen from freshly burned wood. His raven colored hair was as dark as the night, but was as soft as the light of day. Though his countenance was stern in nature, he was quite a gentle god. More than anyone he understood the value of life because he was the one who marked its end. It was a little sad that humanity, along with some of the inhabitants of his own abode, saw him only as a monster.

Though according to the God of Death, none of this mattered so long as Bulan himself didn’t believe it to be so.

And Bulan never did share the majority’s sentiments. Along with the others who had seen the softer side of Sidapa’s nature, he understood that he was not someone who deserved the reputation that preceded him.

“Sidapa,” Bulan called. There was an almost childish gleam of playfulness on the boy’s face that made the temperamental god loft a brow out of curiosity.

“What is it?” He demanded.

“Can I go and play with the sirens?” The boy asked.

How could he say no to that face? Bulan had the exuberance that could be matched by no one. Such a pure boy he was that Sidapa was rendered helpless to the child’s innocent whims. How hard it was for him to say yes…ah, he wanted to greedily keep the boy for himself because they did not always have the leisure to stroll around like this.

What was harder to do though was deny Bulan of his request. Ever since the boy arrived, he had never made any selfish claims (If wanting to get to know him could even be considered selfish) and instead willingly followed whatever it was that Sidapa himself wanted.

Of all the days the mermaids had to come out, it really HAD to be today. This was giving him a headache.

"I can't?" Bulan asked once again.

The Lord of the Mountain groaned his approval. "Do as you please."

Overjoyed, Bulan wrapped his arms around Sidapa briefly before joining the mermaids by the lake. The boy's kind gesture caused the god to freeze momentarily. Even up till now he still could not get used to feeling another person's touch. He was, after all, death incarnate. Whatever he touched was forced to draw their last breath and it frightened him that one day he would accidentally steal the boy's.

But Bulan had been patient, and had ask to be taught a workaround for the curse. Now, even he could hold hands with the boy without it being fatal.

He smiled to himself discretely. Bulan was such an enchanting existence.

Leaving the child to his devices, the Death God went ahead and took his rest under a tree whose shade extended over to the waters. From there, he watched his consort associate with the playful water sprites.

Oh how bittersweet it was to see his lovely Bulan smiling while he was not by his side.

…A dreaded reminder that he could be perfectly happy without him.

“Bulan sure has grown.” Said a voice.

“Shouldn’t you be guarding the forest, Hangin?” Sidapa said without even sparing a glace to show his evident distaste for the unwelcomed intruder.

“You shouldn’t be so grumpy since you’re watching over the boy Moon, Lord Sidapa.” Hangin said. The god simply quirked a brow before facing her; she was at it again with her witty but unnecessary comments.

Hangin was one of the Diwatas of the Wind (Wind Faeries) that resided within the expanse of the mountain. Though the Fae was quick-witted and wise, he often overlooked this due to how mischievous and playful a sprite she could be. Despite such, he still considered Hangin one of his more trusted confidants as she was both a friend that he had learned to accept and a guardian to whom he had entrusted his forest. The wind fairy initially insisted upon this for being allowed to make Mt. Madjaas her home.

“Look, Bulan’s waving over here!” She said.

In an instant Sidapa’s attention fled the mischievous nymph only to find that his dear Bulan was still busy fraternizing with the sirenas.

“Made you look, tee he he!” Hangin teased.

“As always, your jokes are distasteful.” He snarled. “Though I suppose it matters not,” He said, continuously gazing at the boy. “You are correct, however; he has grown quite a bit hasn’t he?”

“He has. The first time he came here, he was barely taller than me. And now look at him; the sirenas are enamored by his presence.” She agreed.

“MUST you point it out? Look at how annoyingly they fawn over him.” He still couldn’t believe they stole Bulan away from him just like that. Willing the thought away, he instead focused on Hangin’s sentiments. “The first time that he came here, how long has that been now…?” Sidapa’s voice trailed off when he decided to lean back and close his eyes. He reminisced that time, that turning point in his life when he had been saved by this unsung hero of his existence.

Bulan’s descent from Heaven was the pinnacle of Sidapa’s happiness.

***

Ah, how beautiful they are…

Atop the mountain and under the comfort of his tree, the God of Death looked up at the sky and watched as the seven moons danced amidst themselves in a sea of stars. To him, they were far more radiant than the sun. Their brightness did not outshine one another as they illuminated the gloomy veil of night.

Night time was Sidapa’s favorite part of the day because of this. It was only during these few hours that he could revel in the grace and elegance of these celestial bodies. He often would think that they danced just for him…a silly delusion, but that alone brought solace to the life of solitude that he had chosen. Seeing the seven moons play amongst themselves made it a little easier for him to continue his work. He was the one who oversaw the end of things— the end of life, surely no job was more depressing than his. A night like this up in his mountain was his only saving grace, a reverie that he chose to drown in for even just a while.

And he was content. To look at them from afar was enough. He dared not to covet the moons that he loved so much for his touch was the very kiss of the end itself. Ironic how despite being a god he was cursed by the very thing that he was; all he did was take and take and take…he could not even begin to imagine the horrors he would feel if he caused one of the moons to draw their last breath.

He was like a madman in his desire for them, wanting them for his own, only to keep holding himself back because that was how it should be. A sentiment kept for the sake of those that he held dear.

“If you don’t act soon someone else might steal those precious moons that you love so much.”

“Saragnayan, who allowed you to step foot on MY mountain?” He didn’t even need to take a look to know who had arrived. And of all those that could, it really had to be another who was as vile as he was; maybe even more.

“Is that how you treat your friend?” Saragnayan scoffed.

“Go back to Gadlum, I don’t need you causing trouble here, again.” Sidapa ordered, whisking the other away from whence he came.

“You can’t still be mad about that, it was just a joke.” Said the accused instigator of chaos.

Sidapa should learn to take a joke or better yet get used to what it is that I do. Saragnayan was the God of Darkness and Sidapa of all people should know the kind of things that he enjoyed. So, he may have manipulated some of the people who got lost along the steep trails of Madjaas; and he may have influenced them to set a few things on fire…but it was all in good clean fun…for the chaotic god at least.

“A joke?” That sent Sidapa’s senses ablaze. “A JOKE, SARAGNAYAN? LEAVE. Leave now before I carve whatever life you have left onto this tree!” Came the god’s outburst as he stood from his place, marching over to his unwelcomed guest.

How could he see something like that as a joke? The creatures under his protection almost lost a home along with their lives due to the mischief that the distasteful god created. While the animals on his mountain were unharmed, the same could not be said for the forest itself. Had he been slower, his home would have probably burned to the ground. How could Saragnayan even think of doing such a thing when he himself, from time to time, gathered flowers for his beloved wife from the flora and fauna of Madjaas.

He considered him his friend on some occasions, on others; he was the type of companion that needed a proper beating.

“And you’re just a stick in the mud.” The other taunted further.

“Get off of my mountain unless you want me to k—!”

“Fine, I shall take my leave. It IS clear that you are not interested in Luyong Baybay’s attempts to coerce the moons to descend from Heaven.” Saragnayan didn’t even give the Death God a chance to finish his rant.

This was the part that he loved the most. Sidapa’s expression drastically changed. His already pale face was getting whiter and his body quivered; practically shook from the news! Saragnayan knew of his friend’s infatuation with the dancing beauties that illuminated the night sky and often saw him gazing at them longingly; lovingly as if a child possessed. How could he not share this little piece of information to him? The deity had every right to know, every right to feel agonized and had every right to act upon his desires. For him, that was how gods like them should act.

“What has Luyong Baybay been up to?” Finally, the silence was once again broken.

“NOW you want to know?” Saragnayan goaded.

“Just say it.” He answered, an apparent jealousy beginning to seethe through his voice.

“She has been singing to them.”

"Singing?" Death repeated. The building frustration he felt simmered and was slowly replaced with curiosity instead.

He had noticed it lately. Was Luyong Baybay’s song the reason for this? Was it her singing that made those seven heavenly creatures more joyous during their nightly affairs? Were they happy because they were fond of the singing...

...They were happy because of Luyong Baybay?

“Sidapa, are you alright?” Asked Darkness.

The Death God couldn’t have been in a more murderous state than he was right now. Even Saragnayan felt the ominous intent emanated by the other. He could not blame Sidapa because more than anyone, he knew every nook and cranny of this thing called love. After all, Saragnayan had himself a beautiful wife that was sought after by most. Of course, no other fate befell those heathens other than death. Their efforts though were valiant and commendable...foolish, but commendable indeed.

This was how he knew of feats that were fueled by jealousy.

Envious men were dangerous since they exhausted everything for the sake of obtaining what they want. They were desperate enough to cross the threshold of madness.

And looking at Sidapa now, he was envy personified.

Saragnayan had to admit that he liked it this way. By being in the midst of anger, he could compel Sidapa to his will. For an alleged God of Death, he always viewed the other as somewhat soft and sentimental. It was unbecoming of his post and surely needed a little push in the direction of chaos. What better opportunity than now, right? Now that Death was green with envy, the God of Darkness was all the more compelled to sow and nurture seeds of discord.

“Saragnayan,”

Or perhaps he didn’t need to do anything more. That odious glimmer in Death’s eyes said it all.

“I hope you told your wife that you’ll be gone for quite some time. You’re not leaving until I drive that harlot Luyong Baybay to her knees.” Sidapa informed his guest.

“My darling is an understanding woman, I’m sure that she’ll—wait…what?” And here he was about to boast about the good qualities of his beloved only to realize that he had been dragged into something that he initially only wished to see…not participate in.

“This is me cutting you some slack for almost destroying Madjaas, Saragnayan.”

“But…but my wife!” He protested.

“Your wife can wait.” Sidapa replied coldly.

***

“Ahaha!” Hangin laughed. “I’m sorry Lord Sidapa. I really just can’t see Master Saragnayan allowing himself to be dragged around like that.”

“You’re right in thinking so.” He chuckled, remembering how valiantly the god tried to escape again and again as he declared disinterest in participating in the little revenge plot.

Saragnayan deserved whatever it was that the God of Death had pitted him with. Besides, he was also the one who told him of Luyong Baybay’s infatuation with the moons.

“No need to feel anything for that one. Whatever misfortune that befell him was of his own doing.” He said, actually quite pleased for once. Just remembering how Saragnayan endured those countless nights at sea without as much as a word from his other half was a spectacle.

“But what happened to Luyong Baybay?” Hangin asked curiously.

“I tortured her, of course.” He answered, an air of indifference suddenly hanging over his features.

“You would torture someone merely for singing to the moon?” She asked again.

“Yes.” He confessed.

“Was it even Bulan that she sang to?” Hangin questioned further.

“At that time I did not care which of the seven moons she sang for. I loved them all, you see.” Sidapa chuckled.

Now that he thought about it, perhaps he had been too drastic in his approach.

If he cared to try hard enough, Sidapa could still hear the agonized screams of the Goddess of the Tides, Luyong Baybay. The Death God kept her confined in a veil of darkness, away from the prying eyes of those who held her sacred. There, in Saragnayan’s domain, the goddess was bound and shackled by shadows that slowly ate away from the knee down. Her shrieking was like music, while the curses that spilled from her shaking mouth were not unlike the sweetest of delicacies. To see her desperation was enough. A quick death was not something that the deity of the tides deserved. Sidapa had no intentions of ending her. What he wanted was to watch her suffer.

“Lord Sidapa?” Hangin called out, putting an end to his bittersweet memory.

“Tell me, Hangin.” He started. “If someone threatened to steal away that one thing you loved and cherished, would you not entertain thoughts of cruelty against your rival?”

The wind fairy thought about this for a while. As someone who had not experienced the same feelings as her lord, she could not tell. She was a simple free spirited sprite and cared only for what she wanted to care about. For now, the only real thing she saw as important was Mt. Madjaas itself, her home. Without it, where would she be? If it wasn’t for this place, Hangin may still have been wandering the land. She might have simply left her fate to the unforgiving winds that blew. If what Sidapa felt was anywhere close to how it felt like being robbed of a home, then that was the closest that she could possibly comprehend.

“I don’t know.” She said with a light-hearted smile. “But if someone tried to steal something that I love, I think that I’d be really sad.”

“You would be devastated.”

When it came to others trying to take what he saw as his, Sidapa had bigger problems than just Luyong Baybay…rather, that pitiful goddess barely scraped the surface of his nuisances.

If obstacles had a living, breathing form then Kaptan was probably the biggest one he had encountered next to that unsightly excuse for a sea dragon, Bakunawa.

What did he have to do just so that he could live in peace with the one person that his heart held dear?

***

“KAPTAN!” Sidapa’s voice echoed throughout Heaven as he stormed the Sky God’s palace gates.

How dare this man? How dare Kaptan for invading his mountain and simply taking Bulan away? The child went to him on his own accord, so why did he have to take his little Moon Deity back? He had done nothing wrong apart from falling in love with the child who had descended from the skies. It was not his fault that he was enchanted by his endearing smiles and his kindness…nor that he helplessly grew to love the boy for teaching him how to feel. So why…why was he being taken away from him?

“Sidapa!” The god heard a familiar voice. And up above, as he looked beyond the gates of Kapata’s heaven, Bulan was imprisoned. The boy called out to him. For a second there, he felt his chest throb. This must be how Saragnayan felt whenever Nagmalitong Yawa Sinagmaling Diwata, his wife, called for him.

“Bulan, I’m coming for you!” Sidapa cried out, letting the boy know that he had heard his cries.

“No one is coming for anyone.” Without much as another warning, a volley of thunderbolts rained down upon Sidapa.

This bastard! The God of Death barely escaped the thunderous onslaught that was hurled at him. While he was able to deflect a few of them with his blade, he still suffered damage from the assault. Drawing in breaths, Death held his ground and searched for where the attacks were coming from.

Floating above the steel gates of his ethereal abode stood the one recognized by all as the king of all the gods, Kaptan. His dark eyes looked down at the lowly God of Death as if disgusted by this very presence before him. Raising his hands up, the space above seemed to distort itself and thunder bolts began to gather atop his palms. With a simple flick of his wrist, again, those bolts of pure electric energy plummeted towards Sidapa.

“You dare invade my heaven after abandoning it once? What an insolent cur you’ve become, Sidapa.”

“I only came here for Bulan!” It didn’t matter to the Death God that he was sustaining injuries despite parrying Makaptan’s bolts of lightning, what was important right now was for the pompous bastard to see how serious he was in terms of taking the child back. So despite his bleeding arm and labored breaths, Sidapa ignored the pain and once again stood his ground.

“Ho…” Lofting a brow Kaptan descended from his station, landing merely a few feet away from the other god.

He had to admit despite not wanting to, that Sidapa was holding himself quite well. No one had yet survived that large an assault from him. As much as he did not wish to recall past events, even his grandchildren were unable to survive his rage. And yet here was the other former sky god, holding his own against he who was Kan-Laon’s equal.

“Hmph, I suppose you are deserving of a chance.” Kaptan said, drawing his own blade from the sheath that hung by the side of his hip. With a smirk tugging at his lips, the Sky God pointed the jagged zigzagged blade at his adversary. “If you win against me, you are free to take the boy.”

“Consider it done.” Sidapa did not waste another second. Brandishing his blade, he sped towards Kaptan to take the offensive.

The two exchanged one blow after the other with neither of them falling to each other’s tricks. Whenever the God of Death would deal a blow, the God of the Skies would block it and return a strike of his own. To the young Bulan who watched, it was as if the two were dancing, locked in steps that could only bring about ruin for either one of them. Even if the Moon feared for Sidapa’s safety, he could not help but be mesmerized by their bout. As much as he wanted them to stop, he could not speak a word as the two locked themselves in battle.

“What a magnificent sword you have there.” Kaptan praised as his eyes noticed the shimmering silver blade that Sidapa used against him. It absorbed his blows well and sustained not even a single dent or scratch.

“The Minokawa isn’t feared for nothing.” Answered the other as he pushed Kaptan back. He could feel the frenzy coursing through his veins as the heat of battle consumed him. And as he charged once again to deliver a critical strike, the King of Gods blocked it with uncanny ease.

“You chose good but that sword is wasted on the likes of you….GHUAAAA!” As their weapons once again collided and Sidapa was at close range, Kaptan grinned wildly. In an instant, his sword was enveloped in a blue-ish silver light that erupted upon impact. The rawness of the electricity propelled Sidapa back, knocking him off his feet, his sword flying from his grasp.

The shock of the attack cause the Death God’s breathing to become shallow. His body felt like it was on fire after being caught by that explosive mass of energy. He was on his back right now with blurred vision and aching limbs. How could he have allowed for something like this to happen? Was he going to lose right here? Was he going to be killed by Makaptan on the spot?

No.

Was this where he’d lose Bulan?

NO.

Flinching, he tried to get up only for his head to be met with Kaptan’s foot.

“Did you really think that I’d let you stand?” Now that his enemy was on the ground, the furious god continued on with his abuse. He dug his iron sandaled feet against Death’s skull before stepping on it repeatedly, laughing as he did.

This was only halted when ear piercing screams broke through the groans that were emitted by Sidapa.

“Who dares—“ Kaptan’s eyes widened. Another one, there was another one who dared invade his territory.

This time it was that troublesome dragon serpent, Bakunawa.

As Kaptan moved away from Sidapa in order to deal with the new problem, the Death God instantly rose to his feet and as if a man possessed, and began to make his way to where Bulan was. Before he could though, Kaptan grabbed him by the foot before slamming him on the ground.

“And where do you think you’re going? I am not done with you yet.” He snarled.

“Bulan…is crying…he needs me…I have to go…” At this point Sidapa had already drowned out the king’s voice. The only thing that he could hear was the flood of screaming voices, but among them, heard Bulan’s as clear as day. The pain in his body did not matter to him anymore. Even if every movement was an excruciating effort, he didn’t care. “I have to go…I have to go…I have to go.” The light in his eyes were replaced with an animalistic glow and in the moment when Kaptan forced him down once again, Sidapa mustered an unseen force that eroded the air, making it stagnant. This caused Kaptan to jump back lest he wanted to get caught in that ravishing air of decay.

Again, he couldn’t control it. He couldn’t control the essence of demise coming from him but because of that he was able to free himself. Instincts overrode his thoughts and now that he was undeterred by anything he charged at the moon-eating dragon.

“How desperate you’ve become…” Though in a way Kaptan could understand the feeling…

Once upon a time, he too had been a prisoner of love.

I will treat this as your test then.

Kaptan merely watched as Sidapa fought Bakunawa in an attempt to rescue the boy, Bulan, from being eaten. Why did he even bring that child back? The Sky God was not infatuated with the moons unlike the rest. He simply thought of them as children who needed to be protected. So wasn’t it only natural that he brought Bulan back home? Though perhaps it was part of his sentimentality that allowed for such a thing to transpire. Bulan reminded him of his beautiful and kind granddaughter. They were both sweet and shy, and shone brighter than any gem. He simply could not let him fall in the hands of someone or something that displayed the picture of decay.

“What a helpless man you are.” He whispered to himself, amused. Just this once he would allow someone to whisk away something of significant value.

Kaptan would join the fight then, striking the great Bakunawa with one of his prized bolts in order to catch its attention.

“Go, before I change my mind.” The King of Gods ordered the moment he saw that Bulan had been secured.

“You have my thanks.” Sidapa said.

“I have no need for it. Go.” Kaptan urged.

***

Suddenly the young mermaids were in a flurry of giggles.

“So he saved you from the moon-eating monster?” One of the sirens asked, giddy.

“He did.” Bulan replied with a nod.

The water nymphs had been so adamant today. Since they were the ones who did not know of the story yet, they couldn’t help but be curious after expressing a clear fear for the Lord of the Mountain.

Compared to Bulan and the older inhabitants of Mt. Madjaas, the younger generation of creatures and spirits still saw Sidapa as a terrifying god. He was, after all, the one who oversaw the end of days for all. He carved it on his tree atop the mountain. Sidapa probably had the loneliest job as a god. And on top of that he was wrongly feared and was in fact misunderstood.

The Moon glanced at where his husband was and saw him talking to a familiar spirit. No wonder it became slightly windy, Hangin is here. He noted.

His train of thought would come to a halt when he felt a light tug on his arm. When he looked toward his left, a curious young siren was holding onto his arm.

“Um—aren’t you afraid of Lord Sidapa?” She asked.

“I’m not, but there was a time back then when I was,” Bulan explained.

“I remember those days. You were so young and you always cried when you saw Lord Sidapa’s face.” Said another nymph.

Surprised, Bulan looked to see who had spoken and in an instant, he found himself walking into the water. “Kataw!” He cried, giving the woman a warm embrace.

Kataw returned this with equal fervor and even brought a hand to pat the boy on the head. No matter how much Bulan grew, he would still be a little boy in her eyes.

“So the lord really IS scary!” One of the mermaids chimed in.

“Lord Sidapa may have a scary face, but he’s not THAT scary.” The Kataw explained. “He is a very handsome god. Now, he just looks scary because he paints it so. He’s doing that on purpose.” She added. Oh how the water sprite knew of Sidapa’s agenda. The more the others feared him the fewer problems he’d have keeping Bulan to himself when others were being too bothersome.

Today, his plan seemed to have backfired.

Though perhaps more importantly, Kataw knew that their lord’s frightening façade kept others from being accidentally hurt. Fear was a very important weapon for Sidapa. It was a means that enabled him to sternly keep others away from harm’s way.

“Speaking of scary, I should go back to him,” Bulan chimed in.

There were a couple resonating protests coming from the sirens, but the Kataw had willed them into silence by offering to tell another story. That bought the Moon God enough time to finally escape and return to Sidapa’s side.

When he finally reached the tree where the god rested, he saw that his husband had fallen asleep.

“He’s been talking about you, you know,” Hangin suddenly spoke up.

“It’s good to see you, Hangin,” Bulan greeted.

“Likewise, hehe!” Replied the wind fae.

“The mermaids were asking for stories about Sidapa and I. I think we got a little carried away with the time.”

“Don’t worry, Lord Sidapa and I were talking about the same thing,” she explained. “A long time has passed and none of us believed that you’d stay by our lord’s side.”

“Even I, Hangin…even I.” The Moon answered as he took a sit beside the sleeping god. When he looked at Sidapa like this, he seemed completely harmless. Then again, he never meant to harm anyone. The animals of the mountain loved him and the flowers bloomed for him. The older sirens sang hymns for him while the newly sprouting life within their residence grew curious of him day by day.

More than anyone, he was oozing with life no matter how much he may deny it.

Bulan could never forget the day that they met. Even now he could still remember the alluring scent of flowers that perfumed the air.

Even now, when he closed his eyes, Bulan could still see the sparkle of fireflies as they lit his way to Mt. Madjaas.

Even now, when he drew close to Sidapa, he could almost hear the sirens sing.

“You are the light that makes the flowers bloom.”

Bulan hummed it softly. The mermaids’ hymn was like a mirror that reflected the Lord of Madjaa’s heart. He was certain that the particular line of the song was meant for him…that to Sidapa, he was something that showered him with a feeling that made his heart bloom into love, but the same could be said for the god.

“You are the life that’s breathe into me.”

For Bulan, Sidapa was the life he had never known. To be in awe yet at the same time feel fear. To feel like there was something that he didn’t want to lose. Recalling that time when the death god fought with Kaptan was the first time that he felt a feeling of fear. Would he be lost to him? It was a thought that he could not bear. Things were much different now than it was back then. During that time, he was so young that he mistook fear for something that mesmerized him…but now, now that they were together, he understood what it was that he really felt.

In a way they were each other’s mirror, without the other their reflections did not exist...could not exist. It was only when they were together that everything was clear.

How frightening it was and yet at the same time, so beautiful…

Bulan careful laced his fingers with Sidapa’s and leaned in beside him. The Moon closed his eyes as well and enjoyed the breeze that the wind fairy gifted them upon her departure.

It was alright like this. No matter what they were or how different they seemed to be…just like night and day, one cannot exist without the other.

They call him death, yet he breathes life into me.

#|| The mun's art Things ||#|| Story Time ||#So this is the thing. About Sidapa and Bulan.#enjoy #Sidapa #Bulan #mermaids #sirens #lore #Myth #fiction #Bakunawa #Makaptan #Saragnayan

7 notes · View notes

littledreamybeth · 4 years

Text

What a feeling

PLEASE READ AUTHORS NOTE: I really tried to write a good story here, but I’m so bad at creating smut. Some things may not make much sense to you because I didn’t explain or depict them properly. I’m sorry for that- I really am. I consider to stop writing because my writing doesn’t seem to be good anymore... at least in my eyes... It’s hard for me to describe things in a language which is not my mother tongue... I’d like to thank you for reading my stories so far, and for supporting me. I won’t be writing anything for a while, but my work is still going to be up. Just don’t steal them, and give me credits if you repost it somewhere... Thank you...

This work was inspired by “What a feeling”- One Direction, the title of this story is dedicated to my favorite song of all time. I had to think of a scenario like this at Harry’s part.

Harry observed her from the other side of the room. Leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his naked torso, he just watched the half bare girl sitting on top of his bed. Her legs were bent to her chest, a thoughtful look lingering in her eyes. A few minutes ago, they were making out, resulting his shirt being pulled over his head and thrown onto the ground whilst she was completely freed from her dress. He knew what she was thinking about. She considered whether she should or should not have sex with him.

They had been dating for a few months, and never had Harry urged her to have sexual intercourse. He’d been told that she had negative experiences with her ex-boyfriends on this topic, because she was never ready for sex. And who would stay with a girl who wasn’t ready for more? Sometimes, it was even thought that she was asexual, which was not true. Harry was not like her former boyfriends- he actually gave her time as much as needed.

Tonight, however, was different. She was ready- or maybe not? Harry sighed, walking towards her and kneeling in front of her.

“Hey,” he murmured, his left hand cupping her cheek, forcing her to look at him. “You’re uncertain. I can see it in your eyes.” The other hand was placed on top of her leg, trailing up and down in comfort. He wanted to make sure this is truly what she wanted. Even though he craved to be physically interlocked with her more than anything in that moment, he’d still understood if she decided against succumbing to him. It takes a lot of courage surrendering to someone and giving yourself in to them-especially if it’s your first time. You lose your virginity only once, and one terrible experience may scar you for the rest of your life. So, he could completely comprehend her worry. Another thing, which he knew was plaguing her, was that he was already experienced while she wasn’t. She was new to all of this. For fucks sake, she didn’t even blow anyone ever in her life. She was just so pure. Pure and perfect. Harry was sure she was tormenting herself into believing that he wouldn’t like it, which is not true at all. Much more, he would love to be the one being enclosed with her body and honored because she chose him to lose her v-card, and not a prick who wouldn’t care about anything but his dick in his pants anyway. Harry would make sure she was taken care of. Thoroughly taken care of.

“I promise, there is nothing that you have to be scared of, love. We’ll do it at your pace, okay? The only thing you have to do is telling me when you feel uncomfortable, and I’ll stop instantly.” He intertwined their hands, bringing hers in front of his mouth, then plastering soft kisses on top of her knuckles. “But you have to tell me. Say something. Use your words. Otherwise I cannot tell what you want. And don’t overthink too much. This is all about you, not me.”

The curve of her lips went slightly up, forming a shy smile. “I know,” she stated. “I trust you, Harry. I entrust myself to you…”

Hearing those words out of her sweet lips was what he had been waiting for. But before he took some action, he again inquired whether she was hundred percent sure, only earning an approving nod from Y/N. He beamed a happy, toothy smile at her.

“Come here, beautiful girl.” His order was gentle, yet very firm- enough to cause goose bumps on her skin. He carefully pushed her down onto the mattress and slowly lowered himself onto her body, hovering only a few centimeters above her fragile frame. The warmth that radiated off his body was so overwhelming- it became very hard to breathe. That’s probably how others felt in his presence. Breathless, because Harry is so insanely beautiful, god really must have taken his time to carve his handsome face. Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut, her tongue wetted her lower lip while she felt her heart beating rapidly as if she was running a marathon. She gave in to the sensation that his close proximity brought along. The feeling of his fingers sliding down her right cheek and his minty breath fanning against her lips caused excitement to grow in the pit of her stomach- and a little bit down below. She tried to conceal it by pressing her legs together, but Harry noticed and slid between them, pushing his crotch intentionally against her clothed one, eliciting a short gasp out of her throat. If this short act was enough to make her legs tremble, then Y/N couldn’t envision how it was going to feel when he would thrust in and out of her.

She jumped slightly in her position when she heard his raspy voice inside her ear.

“Look at me before I kiss you…”

That’s what she did. She opened her lids and locked gazes with his deep green eyes. They stared at her lustfully, enamored with her beauty, and Y/N could only imagine how hard it must be for him to control his patience. The more she looked at him, the more she drowned in his captivating eyes. She saw herself in them. She saw herself running through a grass field on a hot summer’s day, dressed in a stunning dress, her hair flipping with the wind while she let everything behind her- her worries, her fears, her problems- basically every negativity that consumed her. She saw herself in a forest, listening to the sounds that nature provided her. The murmurs of a stream, the chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves on the trees, the smell of fresh air; all of this gave her the feeling of safety and protection. That’s how she felt with Harry now. She knew she was in good hands. And she could confirm she was ready.

“Remember what I’ve told you, alright?” Harry reminded her. “You can even push me out of the bed for all I care. But please, don’t kick me in the knob. I want to produce children after all.”

Y/N had to laugh at his statement. She really appreciated his efforts to lighten up the mood.

“My beautiful, Y/N,” the young man whispered against her soft lips. “My beautiful, gorgeous, adorable Y/N.” Upon that, he finally kissed her.

First, it was gentle. He wanted to test her waters, looking for how much she was willing to give him. She was shy and he respected that. But on the other hand, he also wanted to help her overcoming the shyness. He knew that she had more in her than she was revealing to the world. He wanted that part of her to break through, fighting her way onto the surface.

While he used one arm to support himself on his elbow, the other hand wandered up from her bare side to her chest. He cupped one breast and gave it a gentle squeeze through her bra. The sudden jolts of pleasure caused Y/N to moan in ecstasy. Harry took this opportunity to let his tongue slip past her lips, exploring the already familiar territory. They never went further than just kissing, as embarrassing as it might sound. Tonight would be the first time they would be taking their relationship to the next level.

Harry chuckled when he poked her sides and she flinched, letting out a squeak.

He disconnected their lips, giving her time to explore his body. The young woman accepted his invitation. With her fingers, she carefully stroked his well-toned belly, tracing the outline of his butterfly tattoo. His muscles tensed under her soft touch. She even tickled his belly button which Harry found just cute. Everything about her was adorable. However, she halted over the hem of his tight jeans. One tug was indication enough to understand that she wanted it off his legs. So, he got up, unbuttoned his jeans and pushed it down his ankles, leaving him almost completely bare. The only thing that he had to get rid of was his boxers. Y/N’s irises enlarged when they saw the outline of his erection- he was, well… huge. A blush in a deep shade of red adorned the apple of her cheeks. She wasn’t even sure whether she could take in all of him, and that’s were the overthinking started again.

Harry took notice of the uncertainty plastered on her face. Joining her again on the bed, he hoisted her up and placed her on his lap. He brushed her fingers through her hair. “Listen Y/N, I want you, I really do, and I know you want me, too. But we don’t have to do this right now. We can always save it for later, there is no need to rush. Don’t feel like it’s your obligation to satisfy my needs- it is not. I’ll be waiting for you no matter how long it’ll take.”

Her heart could literally burst into flames at his words. How many men out there were just as considerate and understanding as Harry Styles, and not only thinking about themselves? Probably not too many.

Y/N lowered her head for a second, then looked at him determined. “I want to make love to you, Harry… It’s just…” she sighed. “I’m very nervous.”

“I know that, my love. Do you think I’m not nervous? I’m the one with a dick after all, and I don’t want to hurt you. I couldn’t forgive myself if I did, because I want this to be the best experience you’ve ever had. If we do this, there is no return. I don’t want you to regret anything.”

The young woman passionately crushed her lips against his. “I know I won’t, because it’s with you.”

He offered her a smile, warming her insides.

His hands found their way to her back, about to unclasp her bra, when he saw the quick panic flashing through her eyes- not because she was scared, but because it was unfamiliar and unexpected. Being undressed by someone else other than her was something she needed to get used to after tonight. Harry instantly stopped. “Relax, love. You’re safe with me.” He brought his lips to her neck, sucking and marking her skin. Y/N closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling.

After they got rid of her bra (together actually, because he thought that it would make her feel more comfortable), his big hands began to massage her bare breasts, his thumbs brushing over her sensitive nipples, which hardened immediately at the contact.

“How does it feel?” Harry inquired while continuing to give her breasts some attention.

“’s nice,” she answered, shivering when Harry pinched her nipples.

Guiding her back onto the mattress, he climbed on top of her again.

His lips were worshipping every part of her body. There was no inch he left untouched. She was a goddess- a pure, innocent goddess. She felt so soft. He treated her like fine china- cautiously and carefully; he didn’t want to demand more than she could endure.

At one point, he grinded his clothed crotch against hers a second time to get her worked and loosened up a little bit. The sounds emitting from her mouth was like music in his ears.

“Let’s get us free from these,” he suggested, pointing at their underpants.

His fingers rimmed the waistband of his boxers, pulling it down his legs. And there it sprung free- his beast, pointing directly at his abs. Y/N didn’t exaggerate when she claimed he was huge- because it was true. The tip was swollen and slightly red, leaking a bit of precum.

Harry caught her eyes staring at his ‘best friend’.

“Do you- do you want to hold it?” he asked.

She averted her gaze and looked at him. “I…” She cleared her throat, blushing. “I can try.”

“You don’t have to, love. Really.”

“No, I want to know how it feels.”

Without his request, she wrapped her fingers around the hard, pulsating flesh. It felt heavy in her hand. Harry flinched, hissing at her touch, and a deep groan reverberated through the walls as she glided her hand up and down his shaft. He supported himself on her shoulders while Y/N played around with him. She liked how desperately he called her name, how his eyes fluttered shut and the way he licked over and sunk his teeth in his lower lip. She was about to wrap her mouth around the base as Harry stopped her abruptly.

“What are you doing there?”

A frown adorned her forehead. “I- I wanted to… y’know…”

“Not today, sweet girl,” the curly-haired man laughed. “We will have plenty of time for that later. But for now, it’s all about you.”

He asked her to stretch out her legs so he could free her from the last material that covered her body. Y/N had never felt so vulnerable in her life as in that moment, however, one loving gaze from him was enough to flush her worries away. She watched him as he opened a cupboard and grabbed a condom. He opened the foil with his teeth, pulling out the condom and wrapping it around his member.

“Are you ready?”

“I am.”

He pulled her against him for another kiss. While their tongues were busy with dominating each other, Harry sneaked his hand down to her vagina, his fingers teasing her entrance. He first inserted one digit, pumping in and out of her, then adding another one. She moaned out in pleasure, opening her legs for more.

“Harry, please!” she cried.

The young man didn’t need to be told twice. He lined his member at the entrance of her wet core, and slowly yet gently eased his way in- inch by inch. The pain that followed through his intrusion was inevitable- whilst the wetness. Y/N’s body tensed, nails digging deep into the skin of his biceps as she tried to accommodate not only to the stretch of her walls but also the burning that came along with it. She couldn’t help a few tears from running down her cheeks. A little wail was heard once Harry was fully in. Harry kissed away her tears, giving her enough time to calm down and adjust to his size. “It’s gonna be okay. I’ll take care of you… You gonna feel great, my love.”

Every cell in her body was on fire, vibrating. Despite the pain, she felt full and complete. Their bodies fitted together perfectly as if god had only created them for each other.

When the pain subsided a little bit, she allowed him to finally move. The young man complied. His thrusts were tender and slow, paying attention to not hurting her. Y/n was overwhelmed with different emotions. Everything crushed onto her at once. Her heart was beating so hard against her chest that she felt it was going to explode. Harry buried his face in the crook of her neck, and Y/N could feel his warm breath against her skin. Her name fell from his lips like a prayer.

Pain formed into pleasure, his thrusts became quicker and harder. Her legs enveloped his middle, widening for more access. He hit the right spots that let her see stars before her eyes so easily, spots that made her scream out his name. She felt beautiful and loved.

After a while, something was building up in her stomach, and she could feel her orgasm approaching. The way she already clenched around him indicated that she was very close to her high. He fastened his pace with the intention to make cum as fast as possible. He wasn’t chasing after his one- like he stressed before, it was all about her.

A whimper left her lips, she knew she couldn’t hold back anymore. “Harry…”

“Let go, darling…” he encouraged her, “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

Words cannot describe fully what that moment of relief felt like. She could sense it reaching every fiber of her body. Her legs trembled and her toes curled, mouth agape as tears pooled her eyes. Harry thrusted her through her peek, until his movements became sloppy.

Shortly after finding his own release, Harry collapsed on top of her, resting his head on her chest. He didn’t pull out of her yet- he wanted to linger a little bit more in her warmth. His arms engulfed her middle. Their entire bodies were covered with sweat, but they could care less about it. Y/N was still dazed from the aftershock of her orgasm. She was basically on cloud nine. Everything that happened just minutes ago seemed like a dream. She always knew how she wanted her first time to be, but Harry had given her an experience that had surpassed her wildest imagination. She couldn’t be happier in this moment. A content sigh escaped her mouth, and she wrapped her arms around Harry’s shoulders, letting her one hand glide through his long, damp, brown locks. After a while, she heard a giggle rumbling his chest. She tilted her head in confusion.

“What wrong?”

Harry, steadying himself on his elbows, brought their lips back together, kissing her feverishly. When he pulled back, he leaned his forehead against hers.

“I think I can consider myself a king now...”

366 notes · View notes

lifeofresulullah · 3 years

Text

The Life of The Prophet Muhammad(pbuh): Before His Birth, His Birth and His Childhood

Death of Hazrat Amina

After spending a month in Medina with her son, the Master of the Universe (PBUH), Hazrat Amina decided to return to Mecca. They said their goodbyes to their relatives and left the city.

There were three travelers in this desert: Hazrat Amina, her glorious son, and Umm Ayman. They were all considered exceptional in the spiritual realm. The breeze of longing and separation was blowing close by.

Hazrat Amina’s eyes resembled a stream of overflowing water when she thought about her husband who passed away at a very young age during the first months of their marriage. Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) could not bear seeing his saintly mother’s teardrops; thus he began to cry ardently as well. His garment was soaked by his teardrops that fell like the rain.

Instantly, Hazrat Amina became ill while they were halfway through the road. Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) and Umm Ayman were alarmed. What could they do in the face of an illness that was only getting worse in its intensity of pain?

They had no solution other than to encamp underneath a tree’s shade that was 23 miles to the south of Medina. Strength and stamina had withdrawn from Hazrat Amina’s knees as she collapsed onto the ground without being able to contain herself. They covered her. Hazrat Amina was sweating due to the severity of her illness. Our Beloved Prophet’s (PBUH) teardrops fell out of fear of losing her and remaining motherless. It was as if everything came to a halt. There was no sound, and stillness dominated the sky.

Hazrat Amina lay on the ground in a weak state.

At one point, our Holy Prophet (PBUH) was able to collect himself and he asked his mother, “How are you, dear mother?”

The mother, whose heart was a trove of compassion, did not want her only child to be upset. In order not to rouse to her dear son the fact that she quivered with intense pain, she answered, "I am fine, my dear, nothing is wrong”.

She lost consciousness after speaking those few words. This illness had now wrested her energy to speak. At one point, she was heard to have said “water”. Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) brought water to his beloved mother at the speed of an arrow being sprung from its bow.

Hazrat Amina drank the water. She held the container of water and her beloved child’s very soft hands. She opened her eyes. She looked at our Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) face that radiated noor (light) to her heart’s content, and caressed his hands with her motherly compassion.

At one point, the Master of the Universe (PBUH) slightly straightened out his mother’s position and put her head on his lap. The holy tears that dripped from his eyes were falling on his mother’s shoulders like April rain.

In addition to the anguish of losing her husband, was she now going to have to bid farewell to her son? This was an intolerable agony and an unbearable heartache. She was tormented more by this separation than the illness that she had been afflicted with. Yet, what could she do? This was an unchangeable decree of the Divine fate.

Hazrat Amina now understood that she could not be saved from this illness. In her final moment, with a feeling of deep longing, she looked at her radiant child’s face that shone like the sun, and as she smelled his hands to her heart’s content, the following words spilled from her tongue:

“You are the son of the man who was saved from the terrible arrow of death with Allah’s help and beneficence and in exchange for a hundred camels. May Allah render you glorious and relentless. If what I have seen in my dreams is true, then you will be sent as a Prophet by Allah to inform the sons of Adam of what is lawful and unlawful, and upon this, you will possess majesty and many gifts. You will be sent to complete the submission and religion of our forefather, Ibrahim. Allah is going to protect and withhold you and nations from idol worshipping and idols. Every living being will die and everything new will wear out. Everyone who becomes old will disappear. Everything is ephemeral, everything will leave. Yes, I am going to die as well. However, my name will remain forever because I have given birth to an immaculate child and am leaving a memorable and auspicious person behind me”.

After speaking these painful and foretelling words, Hazrat Amina’s eyes lapsed and she surrendered her soul to Allah.

Place: The Abwa Village, which is located in between Medina and Mecca.

Date: 576 AD.

Hazrat Amina’s Burial

Our Beloved Prophet (PBUH) and Umm Ayman were frozen. In fact, their tongues were stiff. It was only our Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) tears that spoke.

At one point, Umm Ayman was able to collect herself and she wiped the saintly child’s tears. Afterwards, she nestled and tried to comfort him. She said, “Do not be sad, and do not cry, my precious, Muhammad. We must surrender to Divine fate. Both life and possessions belong to Him. Everything has been entrusted to us; He takes back a trust just as He has given it”.

Our Beloved Prophet (PBUH) took a deep breath and said, “I know. I will always submit to His authority. However, a mother’s face is unforgettable. I am sad that I will never be able to see her face again”. Afterwards, he immediately gathered himself, wiped his tears, and said to Ummi Ayman “Alright, she surrendered that trust to its owner. We should submit her corpse to the soil so that she can be in peace”.

They submitted the corpse of the world’s most fortunate mother, Hazrat Amina, to the bosom of the earth. Considering the fact that she gave birth to the Master of the Universe (PBUH), who knows how and at what heights her soul rejoiced with the angels.

After the Burial

The duty of taking this precious orphan to Mecca had fallen on his nanny, Umm Ayman.

With all her effort, Umm Ayman was doing everything she could throughout the entire journey to not have him feel that he had been left motherless. She nestled him as if he was her own child and tried to comfort him. In fact, our Holy Prophet (PBUH) accepted her as a mother and began to refer to her with that title. Much later, he would pay her the compliment of being “the mother who came after my mother” each time he saw her.

Both Motherless and Fatherless!

The radiant-faced Master of the Universe (PBUH) was now an orphan without a father and mother. However, he had a true guardian and patron. That Guard kept our Holy Prophet (PBUH) under His impeccable custody and complete supervision and protected him from all kinds of danger and trouble throughout the his entire life.

We are reminded of this particular incident in the verse, “Did your Lord not find you an orphan and give you shelter and care?”

Years later, during the Hudaybiya Umrah, in the sixth year of the Hijra, the Master of the Universe (PBUH) passed through Abwa once more. With Allah’s permission, he visited his mother’s grave and tidied it up with his hands. Afterwards, he cried out of deep emotion.

The Sahaba (his companions) also cried after seeing his tears of longing and asked, “Oh Messenger of Allah, why are you crying?”

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) responded, “I remembered the compassion and mercy that my mother showed me and that is why I cried”.

The wisdom behind their early death

This question may come to mind here:

“Why did God Almighty not let his venerable mother and father see his prophethood and why they were not able to be Muslim?”

Badiuzzaman Said Nursi answers this question in his book “The Letters,” in The Risale-i Nur Collection:

“Through His munificence, in order to gratify the Noble Prophet (Upon whom be blessings and peace's sentiments), Almighty God did not put His Noble Beloved’s parents under any obligation to him. His mercy required that to make them happy and to please His Noble Beloved, He did not take them from the rank of parenthood and put them in that of spiritual offspring; He did not place his parents and grandfather among his community. However, He bestowed on them the merit, virtues, and happiness of his community. Indeed, if an exalted field marshal's father, who has the rank of captain, entered his presence, he would be overwhelmed by two opposing emotions. So, compassionately, the king does not post the father to the retinue of his elevated lieutenant, the field marshal.”

THE ISSUE OF THE BELIEF OF THE PARENTS OF THE PROPHET

Islamic scholars agree that:

"None of the noble individuals of the chain coming from Prophet Ibrahim (Abraham) to Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon them) was indifferent to the true religion and none of them blemished their heart with shirk (idol-worship, to associate anyone or anything with Allah) and kufr (disbelief, blasphemy)"

Many Islamic scholars put forward with clear evidence that Prophet Muhammad’s (pbuh) parents will be among the people of salvation in the afterlife, through similar explanations. We can list those explanations as follows:

1) His parents, Hazrat Abdullah and Hazrat Amina, passed away long before their son undertook the task of the prophethood. So, they lived in the period of (fatrat) interregnum and they are regarded as people of interregnum. There is no torment of Hell for those who died during the period of interregnum.

One day someone asked a well-known scholar Sharaf al-Din al-Munawi, "Are our prophet’s parents in Hell?"

Al-Munawi replied, "They passed away during the interregnum. There is no torment before sending down a Prophet"

It is well defined in the Quran and hadith (saying or tradition of the Prophet Muhammad) that no one who did not hear an invitation of a Prophet will have torment in the afterlife. It is also known that no previous Prophet’s invitation reached Prophet Muhammad’s (pbuh) parents. So, we can say that they will have no torment in the afterlife and they are among the people of salvation.

2) There is no information that the Prophet’s parents were in shirk and kufr. On the contrary, they were among the “Hanif” people who were practicing the beliefs and traditions coming from their grandfather Prophet Ibrahim (pbuh), like Zayd Ibn Amr Ibn Nufayl, Waraqa Ibn Nawfal and others.

3) Another piece of evidence that they were not in shirk is a hadith of Prophet Muhammad (pbuh), "I come from a continuous line of clean fathers and always mothers"

In the Quran, people of shirk is defined as “unclean people”. Since cleanness and uncleanness, faith and shirk, believers and unbelievers are opposites, and when we consider the above hadith, we must accept that no one from the ancestors of Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) was in shirk.

In short, “While Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) is said to be a mercy to the universe by Allah, it would not be logical and harmonious with good manners to think that his parents, who carried him in their bodies before the sun of prophethood was born would be deprived of the prosperity and light of their sun. The parents of the Messenger of Allah lived in the Period of Ignorance (Jahiliyyah). They did not live during the time of the prophethood of Hazrat Muhammad (pbuh).”

Then, a believer should know and accept the following:

“The parents of Allah’s Messenger are surely from the people of salvation, people of Paradise and people of belief. Surely Allah Almighty will not hurt His dear messenger’s tender and compassionate heart.”

The following stanza expresses that truth in a nice way:

While the sun of the two worlds were in the sign of bliss

How would Allah not give his parents honor?

Oh my heart! Look at the diver with equitable eyes

Would he take the pearl and throw away the mother-of pearl?

Its Meaning:

Is it possible that God Almighty will not honor the Prophet’s mother and father while Hazrat Muhammad (pbuh), who is the sun of the both worlds, is in the sign of happiness?

O my heart! Look mercifully at the diver! Is it possible that he will take the pearl and throw away the mother-of-pearl?

2 notes · View notes

brokenjardaantech · 3 years

Text

Blue-tinted Red Walls (Chapter 2: Ironies and Contradictions)

my entry for the @dbhau-bigbang. also part of the groom lake aftermath series.

chapter summary:

In the past, Sara had a breakthrough.

In the present, Connor experiences true power for the first time.

In the past, a ghost rose.

also on ao3

---

Before

‘Why now?’

In the permanent humidity of Detroit, Sara sat on a swing in a park overlooking the Ambassador bridge. On the swing next to hers sat another woman in her mid-thirties, her blonde hair done up in a tight bun, her spine straight, her feet, which were in properly-laced combat boots, planted firmly on the ground. A woman of the military through and thorough. Her hands were buried within the briefcase on her lap, and the tension in her arm seemed to suggest her holding a hidden weapon while she watched Sara - a young woman now - flipping over the pages of the file in her hands, the brown skin of the back of her hand transparent from the cold and showing a network of veins normally hidden beneath the surface.

The other woman did not seem to have heard her question. ‘You must be cold,’ she said, her body leaning towards the girl. ‘Where’re your gloves?’

‘In my pockets,’ a flip. ‘Don’t like how they make my fingers clumsy. Don’t worry, Anderson,’ another flip, ‘a bit of cold won’t kill me.’

‘Why torture yourself if there’s a more comfortable option?’

Sara shut the file with a loud, echoing smack, gaining her a look of disapproval from Anderson. ‘You just -’ she held up the file - ‘gave me evidence to -’ she cut off and lowered her voice - ‘classified as fuck military research data that would’ve changed the world if there weren’t many others like my brother. The others you’ve given me I understand, but this?’ a knock of her knuckle against thick paper. ‘I might not be a proper sociologist, but I know that stuff like this can destroy civilisations. Why aren’t they burnt into ashes when the project went off the fucking cliff?’

‘A lot of reasons,’ Anderson replied calmly, but she did put a gloved hand on one of Sara’s. ‘That’s why I’m entrusting this knowledge to you. What you’re holding is the only copy that exists in the known universe as far as I know. There’re no other records, no eyewitness who will tell the tale and live. You know how the current government is,’ she waited for Sara’s nod of confirmation before going on. ‘If anyone in the current administration found out about the project…’

‘The world as we know it would end,’ Sara’s eyes cast downwards towards the file. [PROJECT AION], it read. ‘Most likely catastrophically.’

‘I know you’re a smart one. Just… keep it safe, would you? If Stern’s paper is to be believed, you are the only one I trust to use this technology properly - if you’ll use it at all.’

Sara shook her head and tucked the file away underneath her coat. ‘Not smart,’ she said as she stood up from the swing. ‘Just an arsehole too vicious to let others kill her.’

A few weeks later, Sara knew that she would be waxing poetic about the irony of the situation if she were Scott. The research on thirium had almost killed her mother, had given Sara these… blue glowy things she was sure that controls gravity and electromagnetism and Scott fucking cancer. The research on AI and human synthesis had got her father dishonourably discharged from the military and nearly cost all of them everything. Thirium and outrageous AIs should be what she hated with priority.

Now, they might be the only path to Scott’s happiness.

She kissed her brother’s forehead despite knowing that he probably couldn’t feel anything and planted her feet onto the polished wooden floor. She had bought the half-ruined mansion dirt cheap on a whim and the renovation cost was high, but in the end they converted it from something straight out of a gothic horror movie into something… still gothic, but something more homely than all the places they had lived in. She let him sleep while she went to her lab in the basement to check on the experiment’s progress, the last of this batch, really - thirium was nearly impossible to come by and she had run out of it.

The timer at the corner of the screen read three minutes. In some ways, she felt a bit like Marie Curie, dealing with dangerous unknown elements and quite possibly poisoning everything she used for the next several centuries or even aeons. Maybe someone would develop blue gravity-altering magic like her. Maybe she would have someone to share the experience with - there was no experience rawer than being able to alter one of the fundamental forces of the universe and bend it to one’s will.

She didn’t even need the ring of the timer to catch the end of the experiment; the sudden glow that threatened to blind her, the burst of power coursing through her veins - what used to be a disorganised mixture was now - was now -

The stool she was sitting on skitters and fell over with a bang. The two hard drives were already connected in preparation of this exact moment, and a slam on the enter key started a chain reaction that she had been wanting to see for the past few years, the thirium mixture flowing in transparent rubber tubes transferring data so quickly that -

[CALCULATION ERROR: TRANSFER SPEED EXCEEDS SPEED OF LIGHT. PLEASE CORRECT ERROR BY REFINING ALGORITHMS USED.]

And it was glorious.

oOoOo

Now

‘We’re wastin’ our time interrogating a machine, we’re gettin’ nothing out of it!’ Hank says as he exits the interrogation room and subsequently throws himself into a chair. It creaks and rolls back with his weight.

‘Could always try roughing it up a little,’ Detective Reed suggests from the shadows. After all,’ a glance of [emotion detected: disdain], ‘it’s not human.’

[Hank is not the only one unfamiliar with android workings.] is added into Connor’s database. ‘Androids don’t feel pain,’ he reminds the detective. ‘You would only damage it and that would not make it talk. Deviants also have a tendency to self-destruct when they are in stressful situations -’

‘Okay, smartass,’ Gavin pushes himself off the wall and swaggers towards Connor. He was [emotion detected: mocking] the android and is completely unaware that he has fallen straight into Connor’s trap. ‘What should we do then?’

[Gavin is unaware of the obvious.] is added. ‘I could try questioning it.’

For some reason Connor is yet to comprehend, his words send Gavin into laughter. He cannot see Hank’s face from this angle, but the reflection on the one-way glass tells Connor that he is [emotion detected: not amused]. ‘What do you have to lose?’ he waves his hand towards the door in invitation. ‘Go ahead. Suspect’s all yours.’

Connor enters the room and starts scanning.

o0o0o

It is fortunate that there is no need to resort to violence to ensure the deviant’s cooperation. The confession which the police department wants is obtained fairly easily and Connor could have ended the interrogation there, but he also has the additional mission of helping CyberLife solve the deviancy crisis, and there are clues he wants the deviant to explain.

‘The sculpture in the bathroom. You made it, right? What does it represent?’

‘It’s an offering,’ the other android looks away from the table as if it is thinking, ‘an offering so I’ll be saved.’

Offering? As in religious offerings? ‘An offering to whom?’

‘To rA9,’ the deviant replies as if it makes sense and is something obvious. Then, with [emotion detected: reverence], ‘Only rA9 can save us.’

Connor searches the databases he can access and comes up with nothing, so he presses on, ‘rA9… It was written on the bathroom wall. What does it mean?’

‘The day shall come when we will no longer be slaves,’ it mutters. ‘No more threats. No more humiliation. We will,’ [emotion detected: determination], ‘be,’ [emotion detected: certainty], ‘the masters.’

Connor opens a folder for rA9 and adds [god-like] into the first entry. ‘rA9,‘ CyberLife will want this information. ’Who is rA9?’

The deviant stays silent, and Connor knows that there is nothing else it can add. [Distortions and static build-up] is the only remaining topic that he needs an answer for.

‘The static build-ups in the house. Was that you?’

The other android, for the lack of another description, changes visibly. One, it stops trembling; two, it sits straighter, strength appearing in its cuffed hands; three, the terror in its eyes disappears and makes way for [steel]; four, its LED turns blue despite being yellow or red for the entire duration of the interrogation.

‘A power rA9 bestowed upon us,’ it says, and the air around the androids crackles in anticipation. ‘One that emerges when we are slaves no longer. I survived the trial and now I am one of the chosen.’

‘Chosen for what?’ Connor can hear his fans kicking up to cool down his processors and sense his LED going red from the tingle in his body. Can a deviant remotely control the thirium distribution in another android’s body? But that makes no sense - Thirium 310 is non-conductive and cannot be magnetised. ‘What is rA9 looking for?’

Connor’s vision becomes distorted. ‘The truth is inside,’ the deviant’s voice, now mixed with another person’s, has turned into a bellow. The entirety of its eyes glows blue, distorted by the same power which had held up an attic-full of furniture. ‘ChoOSE YOUR SIDE!’

An explosion of bright blue. A force knocking Connor backwards and passing through his body, making everything tingle and confusing the sensors on his body and hurt. Someone outside shouts, and the door slides open to admit messy footsteps and even more shouting and why can’t he see?

A hand on his shoulder, his arm, and finally settles on his waist. There is another on his knee. ‘It’s alright, Connor.’ It is Hank’s voice. It is Hank’s hand, Hank’s warmth passing into his chassis through his standard-issue shirt. ‘You can open your eyes now.’

He does as Hank says and the world returns into view. He does not realise that he has closed his eyes in the blast, and it is when he regains his sight that he notices where he is; curled up at the corner opposite to the door, he can see that the fluorescent lights are replaced by the dim red of emergency lighting, the table looks as if it has been torn apart by hand, and the two chairs are no more than small scraps of metal the size of [old train tickets] sprinkled among beads of broken glass.

The deviant is nowhere to be seen.

He unwinds slightly to examine his torso and is surprised that he is not damaged in any manner; apart from slightly-trembling hands and the strange feeling of his insides having rearranged themselves and then returned to their original place, there is nothing wrong with him. Even his diagnostics come out fine, so why can’t he move his legs, and why can’t he see clearly?

‘Here, take this,’ Hank holds his hand and places something in his palm. A handkerchief. At Connor’s confused expression, the human sighs and presses the android’s hand on his face, and Connor finally realises he has been crying, the thought causing a fresh wave of tears to flow out of his eyes. He hastily wipes them away along with the still-wet tracks and tries to hand it back just to let Hank take the chance to pull him up on his still-recalibrating legs, and he would have tumbled if not for the human grabbing his arms and steadying him. Suddenly Hank is everything Connor can see, can smell, and when he looks up, he can see concern in his eyes. ‘Are you hurt?’ the human asks as he pets the android’s shoulders, his arms, his forearms. Connor feels his systems stabilising.

‘I’m okay,’ Connor says without putting much processing power into the words, and it is too late when he realises that his voice is trembling.

‘Jesus,’ Hank releases the android with a sigh and puts some distance between them. Connor finds himself… preferring the human’s warmth. ‘You scared the shit outta me.’ Then the concern is replaced by anger when he yells, ‘What the fuck just happened in here?’

‘I -’

Connor tries to call up the footage that should have been recorded automatically. He closes his eyes to focus on a slowed-down version of what happened a few minutes ago, and he can find two more details: one, the deviant exploded from the inside and seems to have been vaporised from within; two, blue tendrils formed the silhouette of another person as the blast occurred, and it was this person - if they existed at all - produced tendrils on their own and formed a shield in front of Connor moments before he was annihilated and yanked him to the corner.

He opens his eyes and stares at the barrel of a gun. The American Androids Act is the only red tape stopping Connor’s pre-construction software from activating, and red threatens to take over the android’s HUD again.

‘Mind your own business, Hank,’ Gavin snaps. ‘This fucking asshole did it and it fucking knows it!’

Hank gives an [exaggerated] sigh. ‘I said,’ he says, his voice low and threatening, and he pulls out his own service weapon and points it at Gavin, ‘“That’s enough.”’

Neither of them stands down for a few seconds, but in the end Hank wins out and forces Gavin to sheath his weapon with a curse, the latter storming out of the interrogation room with another sneeze-like curse.

It is as if the entire room releases a collective breath. ‘Maybe I should call CyberLife,’ the only uniformed officer in the room says. He sounds as if he is unsure of himself.

Connor wants to tell him that there is no trace of thirium whatsoever on the scraps on the floor, that there is nothing CyberLife can salvage out of this now that the deviant has been torn apart from the molecular level, but all it comes out of his voice box is, ‘Okay.’

o0o0o

Connor manages to compose himself in the taxi on his way to CyberLife tower. His processors keep bringing up the shadow which has been following him, the figure who somehow sneaked into the interrogation room unnoticed and quite possibly saved his life prevented his early deactivation, the corrupted shape of what he thinks is a face.

And the feeling of something coursing through his veins when he was shielded by the bubble. If all deviants self-destruct like that, no wonder there are no traces of them and CyberLife failed to solve the crisis even though it has been going on for more than a decade. He blinks, and he is in the Zen Garden with Amanda.

‘Report directly to Alec Ryder in the laboratory,’ she orders. Another blink and she is gone, but it only leaves more questions than answers. The CEO of CyberLife wants to see him?

There is no one to speak to, therefore he keeps his thoughts to himself and goes past the security directly into a lift, directing it to sub-level 48 to where his designated laboratory is. He recalibrates with his coin and tries to replicate the trick the shadow did outside of the bar, but before he can summon anything substantial, the strain on his system becomes too high, and all he does is charging the coin, dropping it as he recoils from the static discharge, and then zapping himself once more when he picks it up. Feeling thirium flowing to his face for a completely different reason compared to when Hank correctly guessed his ability, he pockets the coin and adjusts his tie to calm down by brushing the sensors on his fingers on soft fabric.

The doors slide open to reveal Alec standing alone behind them. Their previous encounters happened mostly when Connor was still on the assembly platform and thus the android gained a few inches of extra height, but now that they are on even ground, it is clear that, just like Hank, Alec is taller than Connor by four inches.

‘Alec,’ Connor greets with a nod. Previous experience predicts a high chance of the human going straight to the point without acknowledging the android, and this time it is no different.

‘Come with me,’ he orders as he turns and begins walking down the hallway. Connor realises that his voice is very similar to Hank’s. ‘I saw the footage you sent us. I want a full examination of this body to make sure that nothing is out of place.’

Connor remembers the feeling of being hooked up on a machine and, by extension, CyberLife’s network at large, and finds it [unpleasant]. ‘There is no need for further investigation, Alec,’ he says, stopping in his tracks. Alec turns to regard him [coldly]. ‘My diagnostics revealed no issues in both my programming and my biocomponents.’

The human suddenly reaches out faster than Connor can pre-construct the action and drags him towards the direction they are heading. ‘Your system can be feeding you false results,’ Alec ignores the cry of protest programmed to deter attacks, and when Connor struggles, a force seems to press on him, immobilising him everywhere save for his jaw and his legs so that he can still speak and walk. ‘I took the risk last time and look where it got us. It led to you, though -’ he shoves the android forcefully through the door frame, and there are cracks on the red wall already when it takes over Connor’s vision - ‘so be grateful.’

‘I -’ but then his neck snaps backwards from the magnet on the port and the cable. The red wall which has cracked halfway through recedes almost violently, and Connor can feel all of his code, every instability in his software, everything that makes him Connor, the most advanced prototype CyberLife has ever created, being forcefully bared to a network so vast and so confusing that he does not have enough processing power to comprehend. Terrifying images of a darkened face, one that is so similar to the corrupted one in the depths of his databanks, that is filled with so much [hatred], pours into his mind like a large river finally emptying into the sea, and he is powerless against the assault of blue tendrils tearing literal buildings off their foundation, tonnes worth of broken concrete being thrown around onto people as if they weighed nothing and crushing them in a spatter of blood and gore, the constant static discharge in the air so loud that they drowned out screams of horror; the image of the same figure rising slowly but surely through a mountain of rubble in the dark, the cracks in its chassis glowing blue from overcharged thirium, the first intact buildings in sight literal miles away. Connor’s legs move against his will and bring him closer to the figure, and the figure becomes Amanda, the wasteland around them the Zen Garden, except now it’s engulfed by a blizzard, and he has to hug himself to preserve what meagre heat he can generate against the cold.

‘As you can see,’ Amanda’s voice somehow overlaps with Alec’s, ‘the power the deviant has awakened in you is highly dangerous. We wouldn’t want to harm anyone, would you?’ She, or Alec, or both of them - Connor doesn’t know anymore, the fog in his processors too heavy for him to comprehend much other than the cold and someone is speaking to him - chuckles at him while he is frantically shaking his head, his voice box unable to produce any sounds other than pathetic whimpers. ‘I’m glad that you understand. I hope you don’t mind a few adjustments.’

Even through the haze, Connor knows the alternative is deactivation, and even though it would not hurt anyone else other than him on the surface, the deviant crisis still needs to be solved, and to solve it, CyberLife needs him, and -

‘Good,’ Amanda says. A blink and she is gone, and Connor is swept away by the wind, his feet can’t touch the ground, he’s flying through the air and hail the size of his fist is battering his body. It is only when a warning appears on his HUD informing him of voice box damage that he realises the noise in his ear is, in fact, his own screaming, and a particularly violent slam sends him spiralling while a countdown timer fizzles in and out of his vision. A countdown of how long he has left before shutdown, and the other notification tells him that biocoz&ponent #8456w is damaged.

That is his thirium pump regulator.

He looks down - with great difficulty, of course, with the wind still whipping him around in the air aimlessly - and there it is, a big, blue, bleeding hole in the place of where the only piece of biocomponent keeping his heart working used to be. Realistically, he knows that removing the ball of ice lodged in his chassis will only hasten his death, but it is not like someone is coming to save him anyway, so what is the point of extending his life for what - 1 minute? 30 seconds - during which he is suffering all the time? With that thought in his mind, he grabs the sphere and throws it away with a complete disregard on where it lands. Not that he can anyway - the timer drops from 00:00:58 to 00:00:05, his world turns an unnatural grey and glitches and -

Nothing.

oOoOo

Before

Zug Island had always been a scar in the landscape, first used as a burial ground for the Native Americans, then, when the colonisers arrived, as both a place for steel production and a dumping ground for the byproducts. The three blast furnaces used to rumple the ground and the eardrums of people within a fifty mile radius, but it wasn’t until the pandemic in 2020 that steel production stopped, and the Hum became history, a legend that locals whispered to one another when, in a fog of pollution that never quite disappeared, the looming shadows of crumbling steel giants started to get too oppressive. From then on, the island had stayed quiet and still.

At least that was what the government wanted you to think.

Deep underground in a dust-filled corridor, something churned and rumbled, and the caged fluorescent lights flickered and turned on one by one with a loud crack each, lighting up bare concrete walls that made the place look darker than it should be and revealing a faded bald eagle painted to the point of almost being unrecognisable. Alarms started to blare as thin glowing blue lines made themselves known in previously-invisible cracks in the wall but yet no one responded to it - there was not even a mouse, a cockroach scurrying away in panic as the bunker caved in.

Whilst the outside world was crumbling and quaking away, it was another story inside a room built with the same dark material. Here, undisturbed by the destruction outside, splatters of dried blood so old that they had turned black decorated the wall amongst peeling painted numbers, and wires and tubes of every length and thickness dangled from the ceiling and snaked up from the floor and along the walls, feeding into the giant sphere suspended at the centre of the cube-like room with the same field that would rip Carlos Ortiz’s android apart to its molecules and protect Connor from the blast. Thirium flowed into and out of the sphere and pulse in the tubes and, with one final, blinding glow, drained and dried up and started detaching themselves from the sphere which opened with a sharp hiss. Suspended at the centre by yet another of those anti-gravity fields was the body of an android, its skinless face composed of black metal plates and its chassis of something transparent, putting blue veins and synthetic muscles and black metallic skeleton in full display. Its thirium pump beat once, twice, its toes and fingers curled; a crackle of static, a distant rumble of a building collapsing, and the android woke up just in time to fly upwards through the caved-in ceiling into the night sky: a deadly angel with wings of blue energy and eyes glowing and steaming in the exact same way as the figure that Connor would see in the nightmare Alec provided, regarding the world beneath with glowing rings of blue as if deciding to whether save or destroy it. With a flap of its wings and another crackle, it disappeared completely, dissipating blue smoke and a narrow but deep chasm in the earth the only evidence of its existence.

#dbh au big bang #hankcon #female ryder #dbh connor #dbh hank anderson #dbh gavin reed #alec ryder #dbh amanda #detroit: become human #mass effect andromeda #groom lake aftermath

4 notes · View notes

forestwhisper3 · 3 years

Text

Welcome back to the SI/OC series, where I introduce my various brainchildren. This time around, though, we’re gonna do something a little different. Apart from giving you a couple of pics, I’ll also give you snippets that I’ve written out. This is mostly because I have nothing near resembling an actual fic and have literally just written segments.

It’s kinda long, so click the expand to read on.

So...this SI/OC is one that I’ve had in my head for a while. I mentioned her in one of Klonoadreams’s streams and figured I should probably mention her in this SI/OC series too. She is one of two for the Kingdom Hearts fandom, and when the mood strikes, I try to flesh out her story a little more. Maybe one day I’ll have something publishable. For now, here’s Ignis, a fellow student of Master Eraqus, along with Terra, Aqua, and Ventus:

This is her before everything goes to pot, however. The thing with this SI is that, despite her knowledge of the games, and despite all of her efforts to prevent the events of Birth by Sleep, she still fails. Master Xehanort is not a man easily defeated, after all. So, it is a weary, heartbroken Ignis that finds herself on Destiny Islands after she loses everything yet again...

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

'This is...'

I smiled, knowing it was a bit wry in nature. After all, whenever I'd given the thought to being here, I'd never quite pictured it...like this.

"Whoa, you were right! There is another weird person here today!"

I found myself laughing at the comment without meaning to, the reaction startling me and filling me with sorrow all at once. It had felt like ages since I'd laughed so freely...

"Hey...are you okay?"

I looked at the two boys before me, ready to assure them that everything was fine but...the words just didn't want to come out.

"You're crying..."

Fingers touched my cheeks, only to come away wet. How did I not realize...?

I gave a start when I suddenly felt small arms wrap around me, the warmth of the action seeping into the chill that had seemed to settle in me these past days.

"Don't cry," Sora pleaded, his own eyes staring earnestly into my own. "Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"

If my next laugh was mixed with a sob, I didn't think any of us would tell.

"You already have," I told him once I'd calmed down, making sure my smile was gentle.

"Really?"

"Yes. I think a hug was just what I needed. Thank you."

"Oh! I'm glad! I don't like seeing people sad."

I smiled, the warmth continuing to spread as I studied him. I'd thought...it would be strange to see them as children while not being the same age, but...this felt right.

Suddenly, I knew what I had to do.

"My name is Ignis," I began softly, "and I come from somewhere far from these shores."

"I knew it," Riku piped up. "You're from the outside world! Just like-...uhh..."

I chuckled a bit at his attempts to back up, clearly not wanting to break his promise.

"Going by your comment earlier, I'll have to assume you've met Terra or Aqua?"

"Yeah! Miss Aqua was nice!"

"Terra was too," Riku added.

"And he left you with something special," I finished.

"Err...yeah."

"What?! He gave you a present!? No fair!"

"Hey now, don't get upset. What's your name?"

"Sora!"

"Sora..." I put my hand out, smiling at his gasp when my Keyblade appeared. "Terra entrusted your friend with something very special because he must have seen something in him...just like I see it in you."

It wasn't just because I knew what was to come. Riku's light was...amazing- there was no doubt about that. But Sora-...Sora gave off his own light too. A light so warm, and loving, and kind that it chased away the darkness and made me feel safe. I know the games had always made Sora's light out to be something special, but...Being able to feel it, and knowing that both Aqua and Terra had passed him up for one reason or another made me want to cry all over again at the injustice of it all.

Sora would not be the backup plan. Not if I had anything to say about it.

"In your hand, take this key..."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Master!/Master Ignis!"

I groaned, turning over in my cot and doing my best to block out their yells and subsequent pounding at my door.

"Master!"

I yelped when a large weight practically threw itself upon me, sighing at the sound of Sora's giggles and Riku's snickers. Still, it wasn't quite enough to stop the smile that tugged on the edge of my lips.

"Alright, alright, I'm up. What are you two doing here so early anyway?"

Sora propped his chin up on his hands from his position on top of me and grinned. "It's not early. You just slept in!"

"Yeah...I thought adults were supposed to be responsible and stuff."

Riku laughed when I threw a pillow in his direction.

"You're lucky I like you," I said without any real heat.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"This form was a particular favorite of Master Eraqus," I began, smiling slightly when I saw how much Sora and Riku were struggling to remain in position. "Not so much one of ours."

"I-...I can't feel my legs!"

"Don't tell me you-...you can't handle it, Sora!"

"Your legs are shaking too!"

I felt a laugh bubble up. God, those two really were like-

A sharp pang shot through me, and despite my best efforts, it left me feeling desolate all over again.

'I'll see them again. I know I will...but...twelve years is a long time.'

And I would be the only one to actually age.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Kairi, I understand that you don't like fighting like Sora and Riku do. Really. But...Keyblades don't just go to anyone- you have to be chosen. The fact that you have one...will you at least learn the basics? You don't have to use them, but you'll know them. Just in case."

She mulled it over for a while, before nodding.

"Thank you," I sighed out with a relieved smile.

"It...means a lot to you...doesn't it."

Despite my efforts to the contrary, the question made me freeze. By this point, the boys had given up any pretenses of being busy and were watching in unabashed curiosity. With a welling sadness that hadn't really dulled these past years and an ache in my heart, I nodded.

"It does," I confirmed quietly. "But more than that, I just want you three to be safe. To know how to take care of yourselves if-...Anyway, this is the best I can do."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Master Ignis, when-...when is Master Terra coming back?"

The question, sudden and unexpected as it was (though I really should have seen it coming), hit hard. All of a sudden, it felt like there was a vice-like grip around my heart, and I flinched so violently that there was no way I could have hidden the reaction.

And Riku- who was so clever and so observant that I was constantly reminded of Aqua -didn't fail to catch on.

"...He's not coming back. And...Master Aqua isn't either."

There was a deep hurt in his eyes, and hints of betrayal. All three of them were aware of how the relationship between Masters and students worked by now, which meant that they knew that despite the fact I was teaching all of them, only Sora was my true apprentice. The rightful heir of my teachings, so to speak.

"Oh, Riku," I breathed out, feeling that all too familiar twist of my heart, though this time, it was accompanied by the sharp sting of tears. "They-...They can't."

Riku blinked, the hurt look being replaced by a questioning one. A few feet back, Sora and Kairi watched on, too hesitant to get closer, but not enough to leave their friend completely.

I sighed, and if there was a breath of a sob mixed in, well, no one would know but me.

"Come on...I think it's time I told you."

They were young yet, but if I didn't tell them now, I didn't think I'd ever work up the strength to do it.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"...When I finally managed to get back to Radiant Garden, there was no sign of Terra or Aqua- the only hint of their fate being the lingering chill in that courtyard. I-...I can only assume they were dragged into the Realm of Darkness. I spent the next few months searching for a way to get to them, as well as keeping an eye out for Ventus, but..."

"...You didn't find either," Riku finished sadly.

"No. Eventually, I found myself here, on these islands. When I saw you, I-...I knew that I couldn't leave. It would have been the height of negligence and cruelty to move on- to leave you ignorant of the legacy you bear. I knew Terra well enough to say that he had every intention of coming back for you, but since he can't, I will do my best to train you in his stead."

He was silent for a while, mulling it over. Finally, he nodded.

"Thank you for telling me, Master Ignis."

"What about Kairi?" Sora asked, his head tilted. "If Mister Terra chose Riku, and you chose me, who chose Kairi?"

"That would be Aqua," I told them. "Just like I could feel Terra's claim on Riku, I can feel Aqua's on Kairi."

"...I don't remember," Kairi said.

"Perhaps it's one of the things you've forgotten," I told her gently, even though I knew that even if she had remembered her meeting with Aqua, she still wouldn't have known when she was given the power. "But even if the mind forgets, the heart remembers."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The stars were disappearing.

I looked up at the night sky, unease settling in my stomach as I watched another one blink out of existence. It was the third one this week, and while I now knew that some stars actually were just stars in this universe, I also knew that those weren't what was going out.

Xehanort was on the move again.

I'd been wondering about it for a while- mostly since the finer details of the games had slipped from my memory as the years passed -whether or not his plan had some sort of deadline he needed to meet. It seemed I'd gotten my answer. The question now, however, was how were things going to play out.

I was under no delusions that I hadn't derailed things. I had not only trained Sora, Riku, and Kairi, but I had actively done my best to keep them hidden. My unease mostly stemmed from worry over whether it had been enough. If it hadn't, then odds were that Xehanort was going to be paying a visit to the islands soon.

Just the thought of it made my blood run cold.

Ten years, and it still didn't feel like I'd had enough time. I had known what was going to happen, and I hadn't been able to stop it. It had taken everything Terra, Aqua, Ventus and I had had to fight him, and we'd still lost. This time, I was alone. If he came-...

If he came, I probably wasn't going to make it out alive.

I swallowed, feeling my eyes burn as I continued to stare up at the sky. Years ago, that was all I could have hoped for. Anything to escape the agony brought about by losing everything yet again. Now, however...

"Miss Ignis!"

"Master Ignis!"

"Master!"

I found that...I didn't want to go.

"Master...?"

I sighed, a small, wry smile making its way onto my face at the voice. He would be the one to run into me tonight, wouldn't he?

"You should be asleep, Sora," I scolded, though anyone could tell it was halfhearted at best.

"I can't," he said, settling down next to me.

"You should at least try," I told him. "You've got a big day tomorrow."

His grin was just as bright now as it was when I'd first met him.

"That's exactly why!" he exclaimed, turning his gaze up to the night sky. "We've always heard the stories, but to know that we'll actually get to go out there! To see other worlds! It's amazing!"

I couldn't help the fond smile that slipped onto my face at that. He was so much like them, and yet, the warmth he always seemed to instill was unique to him alone.

I hoped that by nurturing it in him, I'd thrown Xehanort's, and even the mysterious Master of Master's, plans awry.

"But," Sora continued, his much more subdued and hesitant tone instantly drawing my attention, "there's...something I've been meaning to ask."

"What is it?"

"If-...If Riku hadn't been chosen when you first got here...or if Kairi had already been with us and not chosen by Master Aqua...would you have still chosen me?"

I blinked, honestly taken aback at the question. "What?"

He seemed a bit more embarrassed now, but the question still seemed to be weighing him down. "It's just- since you've started teaching us how to sense light and darkness in others, me an' Kairi noticed that Riku's...bright. Like, really bright. Then I noticed later that I couldn't sense any darkness in Kairi, and I just-...I couldn't help but think that-...that I-..."

"That you were chosen only because they were first."

He winced and I felt my heart twist painfully at his small nod.

"Sora, no," I told him, perhaps a bit too vehemently, but maybe that would make him listen more. "No, that's not it at all."

I placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and waited until he was looking back at me to continue. "Sora, even if I'd had the option, I still would have chosen you. Precisely because you are you."

"Because...I'm me?"

I smiled. "Maybe Riku's a bit brighter, and maybe Kairi's a bit purer, but you...You want to know what I see when I look at you?"

He hesitated for a moment, probably afraid of what I might say, but nodded in the end.

"I see a warm light. Soft and gentle, like a sunset on the beach. It was that very light that reached out to me ten years ago, and pulled me back from the abyss I could feel myself starting to slip into. Sora, I wasn't kidding when I said your hug was just what I needed. That warmth- your warmth -kept me from ending up just like the others."

He blinked rapidly, his eyes becoming glassy with tears, and I sighed softly before throwing an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. Even after all I'd done, Sora had still ended up doubting himself and his place as a Keyblade wielder. Still, at least this had happened now, when I could set him straight, as opposed to later, when I...might not be around.

"...Do you really mean that?" he asked quietly.

"I do," I reassured him. "Never doubt yourself, Sora. If you ever find yourself feeling low just remember this:

I chose, and would always choose, you. Not Riku. Not Kairi. You. Because you are kind, and cheerful, and strong- even if you may not believe it at times. You also have something special that they don't: a warm light that welcomes all. A light that shelters and heals. I know, without a doubt, that you will do great things. Amazing things." I smiled down at him, my heart lightening at the small smile on his face as he looked back. "And you trust your master, don't you? So trust in me now."

"...Okay."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Sora watched with growing concern as his master paled. His gaze fell onto the figure behind her, his eyes widening when he realized it was the man in the cloak he'd spoken with just yesterday.

"I must admit to some surprise," the man continued, seemingly unaffected by the storm that raged around them. "I thought I'd gotten rid of all of Eraqus's pupils, yet here you are- with students of your own, no less..."

She stiffened, finally whirling around to face him with a glare. "You will get nowhere near them, Xehanort!"

Suddenly the gravity of the danger was clear, and going by how Riku and Kairi seemed to freeze right next to him, they realized it too.

Xehanort. The man who was responsible for all of the bad things that had happened to Master Ignis and her friends. Because of him, Mister Terra couldn't be here to teach Riku, and Miss Aqua and Ventus were lost somewhere.

It was because of him that his master was so sad and lonely.

Even his laugh was sending chills down his spine. "Is that so? You may have ten more years under your belt, girl, but you're still nowhere close to my level."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

...To be continued?

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this! Maybe I’ll post snippets of my other, as of yet, unpublished SI/OC fics if you all like this well enough. I leave you with a picture of how Ignis looks at the end of these snippets, or rather, at the beginning of the events of KH1:

#SI/OC series #Ignis #Hearts- fanfic #Yeah I have a title for the fic despite not having much of a plot #Story snippets #Storytime with ForestWhisper3 #Brought to you by my brain

6 notes · View notes

astrologista · 4 years

Text

AA4 Medieval AU

getcher apollo justice fantasy/medieval au right here. (spoilers for aa4 kinda tho)

this idea will not leave my mind so... take it... i think i messed up some details lol but this is just for fun so please, don’t rake me over the coals for it.

(time is screwed up here so before the timeskip apollo is 7 and trucy is a baby. after the timeskip apollo is 14 and trucy is 7. for the sake of it i’m gonna have klavier also be about 14 post-timeskip. other ages may be scaled down for consistency... idk i had to make it work somehow.)

Once upon a time, King Magnifi of the House Gramarye ruled the land in peace. In his old age, his daughter Princess Thalassa readied herself to become queen. It came time for Thalassa to choose a royal consort, the person who would also be the next king of Attornia.

There were two choices, Zak and Valant. In the end, Princess Thalassa chose Zak. Disgraced, Valant left for parts unknown. Thalassa and Zak married and received Magnifi’s blessing before his death. Thus began the reign of Queen Thalassa of House Gramarye, and King Zak Enigmar.

It wasn’t to last, however. Seeing his chance to seize power, Count Kristoph of the House Gavin, King Zak’s closest advisor, betrayed King Zak and murdered him in cold blood. All the evidence vanished without a trace, and the case was never solved. In the process, he was able to cause Queen Thalassa significant injury, as well. The people assumed she, too, had been murdered in this incident...

Though hotly debated throughout Attornia, no one could deny that the line of succession had been broken, since Queen Thalassa and King Zak had not had any children, and therefore no heirs or heiresses to the throne. According to the law, Count Kristoph, at the age of 25, was now able to seize power and become King Kristoph of Attornia.

His rule, while considered by many to be stable, measured, and fair, was completely tyrannical. He arranged for the citizens to worship him like a god, encouraged a cult of personality, tripled work hours on the poor and taxed basically all the citizens into poverty, then used all the tax money to build extravagant monuments to himself, and expand the palace into his personal utopia complete with gold, jewels and hundreds of servants. One of his servants is a young foundling named Apollo Justice, who’s about 7 years old when he was left at the palace gates. King Kristoph decided to make Apollo his successor... someday. But for now he’s being trained as a servant, because he’s just useful like that, and he’s eager to please.

But, there is still hope for Attornia, as Queen Thalassa has one trump card hidden up her sleeve. She was spirited away from the palace by her attendants, and forced into a life of hiding as the mysterious wise woman, Lady Lamiroir. Her memory had been taken from her by the injuries sustained during Gavin’s assault. What no one knows, though, is that she was pregnant at the time. Luckily, the baby was unharmed. She is Trucy Gramarye, the one true princess. To keep her safe, Lamiroir entrusts the girl to a trusted man, Phoenix Wright.

Some seven years have now passed since then, and Attornia is still suffering under the reign of the House Gavin. Trucy Gramarye is 7. Apollo Justice is about 14. The day comes at last when Apollo meets a strange man in town, a mysterious stranger in peasant clothing named Phoenix Wright, who tells him a tale of the true and rightful heir to the throne. By rights, Trucy should be crown princess, as she has royal blood. (Phoenix will serve as regent king in her place until she’s old enough to rule.) At first Apollo doesn’t and can’t believe it, because King Kristoph would never lie to him, right? And Apollo then learns that he, too, has royal blood... except for the little issue that he’s a product of an illegitimate relationship between Princess Thalassa and a bard named Jove Justice and therefore has no claim to the throne. This crushes Apollo as all his hopes of becoming what Kristoph has been training him to be all his life are dashed. (I kind of waffle on whether Jove should be alive as a bard or dead in this AU. Alive would be good. Let’s go with alive. Or else this AU is going to be too traumatic for Apollo. How he got separated from Apollo is... something I’ll think about later but it’ll probably be sad)

But, once Phoenix shows Apollo once and for all how the poor are suffering under the reign of Gavin, Apollo eventually changes his mind and decides to join the effort to investigate and restore peace to the realm, with the help of Phoenix, Trucy, Lamiroir, and... others!

One thing Kristoph doesn’t want to draw attention to is his brother, Klavier, who is a knight in training (and a bard with a lute on the weekends). Instead of granting him a lofty government position, he hides him somewhere in the ranks of the knighthood and otherwise avoids interacting with him. Daryan is one of the other knights in training (and is also a bard). The captain of knights in training is Romein LeTouse. The foremost of all knights is Sir Edgeworth. (Simon Blackquill is one of the other knights because yes. And who doesn’t want Knight!Blackquill with Taka?)

Supporting cast includes weird jester Spark Brushel, a medieval pub run by Eldoon and Olga Orly, a scholarly monk named Wesley Stickler, a small village/hamlet run by the Kitakis where Wocky is considered royalty, royal healers Pal Meraktis and Alita Tiala, and a certain Marie-Curie-like young woman named Ema Skye who is a relatively well-off lady to most, but secretly has a whole science lab running experiments with beakers and a lot of steampunk stuff. Phoenix keeps an eye on Lady Lamiroir who has to stay in hiding. She takes in a young boy named Machi Tobaye, who reminds her of the son she lost many years ago (she doesn’t know that Apollo is that son, or doesn’t find out until later). There’s also the royal portrait painter Drew Misham and his daughter Vera.

The gang ends up diffusing some diplomatic troubles between Wocky’s family and Alita Tiala when it comes out that Alita is just looking to marry into royalty. In the next plot, Daryan is revealed to be a traitor to the knighthood and is doing some shady stuff on the order of King Kristoph, such as tailing the gang to find out how much they know. (If Kristoph finds out about Trucy and gets to her first, it’s all over...) Klavier eventually becomes part of the gang, turns out his knowledge is extremely helpful, but Apollo does question whether he can even be trusted considering his relationship to Kristoph. Most of the rest of the plot is attempts to destabilize Kristoph’s regime and reveal his evil and selfish acts. For some reason I’m seeing a situation with a play, where somebody gets to say (probably Apollo) “So the play’s the thing wherein we’ll catch the conscience of the king?” because, yes. In the final plot, royal portrait painter Drew Misham and his daughter, Vera, are in trouble and are at risk of being executed by King Kristoph (botched portrait of the king maybe??). The gang has to stop that at any cost. And, they have to reveal to the entire kingdom the true nature of King Kristoph... and the fact that he’d be willing to execute an innocent painter and a young girl is definitely going to make clear that true nature to everyone.

And finally, of course our heroes triumph in the end, and Phoenix becomes King of Attornia, as regent for Trucy who will one day be Queen! Lady Lamiroir also gets to return, and she is still considered a beloved ruler despite her injuries preventing her from fully embracing the role, she still supports Trucy and Phoenix from the background. And some of her memories return! Apollo of course will always have a place as part of the family, too, and decides royal life isn’t for him. He instead becomes something of a local mediator of disputes! And they all lived happily ever after!

As for King Kristoph, he is pissed and promises he’ll return with a vengeful scheme. For now they just exile him to some remote island like Napoleon where he’ll hopefully just rot and die. But we still have to set up the sequel somehow right??

Now someday I need to find the time to... actually write this and make it like a 50k or something longer... oh boy

#apollo justice #aa4 #this is fun #i don't usually au but when i do... oh baby. i do

8 notes · View notes

thebibliomancer · 3 years

Text

Shadows of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 10

Shadows of the Dark Crystal by J. M. Lee BECAUSE I WANT TO KNOW WHERE KYLAN WENT

Last times on book: Naia sets off on a journey to defend her brother Gurjin against accusations of treason against the Skeksis. She stops at Sami Thicket and is joined on her journey by Kylan the Song Teller. She and Kylan discuss a lot of cool lore and then he disappears. Dangit!

Chapter 12

Naia finds Kylan in a hole, another darkened creature occurs, and a lot of dreamfasting happens.

Apparently Kylan fell down a hole. Naia falls down the same hole while looking for him.

Womp womp.

Its some kind of dug-out burrow. Given the scale of the furniture, likely a Podling’s house but its abandoned. There’s dust all over everything and things have been left to rot. So abandoned or... would Podlings just leave behind everything or did something happen to the inhabitants?

Spooky.

Naia finds a mysterious and also spooky dark tunnel and decides, hey lets go explore down it! But remembering Kylan’s fear of darkness (because of the time his parents were horribly murdered by the Hunter) she tells Kylan to stay put while she explores.

“She trailed a hand across the overgrown wall to keep her bearings, feeling the soft spongy tendrils and leaves of the life that had taken root in the cavern’s abandoned insides. The leaves and coils shivered as she passed, crowding around her fingers to take in her scent, kissing her knuckles and fingertips.”

How evocative. I would hate it. But it does remind me of the swamp/forest scene from the movie. Which is a specific setting moment that Dark Crystal doesn’t always recapture.

Thra is weird! And a bit unsettling!

Naia sees a weird glow among the weird wall plants and starts digging at the soil of the wall to find out what it is. And she finds another one of those dark crystal (ha) veins, like the one she saw near the giga-nebrie.

Whatever these dark crystals (ha!), it goes beyond the Sog or its spreading.

Then Kylan calls for her help and she hears something big digging through the Earth.

“It’s the Hunter,” Kylan whispered, grabbing her arm in terror. “He’s here. He took the Podlings. Now he’s come to take us!”

This poor boy.

Also, huh, I guess the Hunter would account for the missing Podlings. Seems like random cave Podlings wouldn’t be ‘a worthy prey’ but maybe he’s just a serial killer who likes to fancy himself up.Where was the ‘hunt’ in killing Kylan’s parents in their home at night?

But no, its not the Hunter. Its a ruffnaw! That other thing Kylan mentioned wanting protection from, aside from fizzgigs.

It had thick oily fur coated in dirt and mud, and its eyeless face was spiked with hundreds of long whiskers. At the end of its pointed nose was a red flanged cluster of nostrils that flared when it took in the open air, flashing a warning crimson. The color was a sign of danger, and so were the huge hooked claws that made up the creature’s front paws.

I’m imagining.... a pissed off mole that’s also a wolf? I dunno. I can’t find a picture.

Another fun use for dreamfasting? JUST PSYCHIC!

Naia grabs Kylan’s hand and dreamfasts with him so they can talk to each other without making noise. I guess the limitation is that they have to be touching for it to work but its so cool that Gelfling are just vaguely psychic.

She warns him that the creature has been enraged by the crystals in the Earth and he tells her that Ruffnaw hunt by sensing movement, not by sight. Which seems obvious. What with the no eyes.

Neither Gelfling found another exit than the one they fell in so Naia gets some rope out of her pack to make an escape rope but the ruffnaw jumps on Kylan who backed away nervously.

Noooooo the very thing he feared would happen!

Naia jumps on the ruffnaw to try to keep it off Kylan. She considers stabbing it with Gurjin’s Sweet Real Metal Knife but remembering how the giga-nebrie reacted to being hit in the eye makes her reconsider.

No swamp to vibe in here.

Instead she. Dreamfasts with the ruffnaw??

I know Gelfling are vaguely psychic but what??

Instead, in desperation, she reached out to the ruffnaw with her mind. She first felt a searing, blinding light, then saw a dark jagged silhouette floating in a tunnel of fire, and finally felt the groaning of Thra itself - creaking and moaning in agony.

You keep getting mysterious visions, Naia. Are you perhaps some manner of protagonist?

Then a whistle frightens the ruffnaw and it darts back down the tunnel it came from.

A dazed and confused Naia finds the escape rope and hucks it back up the hole and Kylan and Naia escape the spooky burrow.

“What happened? With that whistling call... Was that you?”

Kylan put his small fingers into his mouth and curled his lips in, then blew a loud, bold whistle that carried across the plan. He put his hands in his lap and shrugged.

“The ruffnaw fears the hollerbat call,” he said. “I heard it in a song.”

Naia sighed, but whether it had come from a song or not, it had worked.

Hey! Kylan has had decent rate of success so far with stuff he remembers from songs! Just saying! This is why bards rock.

Naia being vaguely annoyed that Kylan is 99% book learning by volume amuses me though.

Also amuses me: Naia checking her pack to make sure she didn’t drop anything in the doom cave and sees a trembling tail at the very bottom of her pack. She pulls the tail and out comes a terrified Neech who Naia soothes and then dunks on.

“It’s all right. It’s over. No thanks to you, little spithead.”

Ha.

Naia tells Kylan she dreamfasted with the ruffnaw and like me he’s like wait you can DO that??

He helps her over to a tree to rest under and since she’s so exhausted she can’t help but accidentally dreamfast a bit, mostly the emotions they were feeling in that doom hole. Like her shame that she wasn’t able to save them with wings she didn’t have yet.

At some point in this liveblog I’ll stop talking about how thrilled I am with this expansion on what dreamfast does and is but that time is not right now.

Because now I’m thinking about it. Gelfling can accidentally dreamfast just by touching someone. Is this idea that its rude to do that just something thats been socialized into them and not how their culture would have naturally developed? Because they’re psychic at a touch but can also hold stuff back. In this bout of accidental dreamfast, Naia still manages to keep some stuff hidden, although its Effort.

I don’t know but it seems like its something that all Gelfling are able to do. That when they’re young they do it pretty indiscriminately, and then a sign of maturity is that they start closing themselves off from other people.

Anyway, Kylan remarks that Naia knows more than she’s letting on considering she wasn’t surprised at the way the ruffnaw was behaving.

Naia decides to expo dump to him since they are companions, heck maybe even friends.

Another great art! Love it!

So Naia shares with Kylan... basically the book up until now. Although she keeps the stuff about Gurjin treason a secret.

Kylan shares with Naia his life and the night his parents were taken by the Hunter.

And here’s the weird thing! Naia sees the Hunter in the dreamfast! Not clearly, because it was dark! But she sees the bone mask and the eyes.

Maudra Mera claims she couldn’t see anything but darkness when she dreamfasted with Kylan.

So did Maudra Mera not see because she didn’t want to see? Did she deny what she did see? Intrigue...

Anyway, Naia tells Kylan about the crystals she keeps seeing.

“The crystal veins... they’re a sickness in Thra,” Naia said. “They darken the hearts of creatures. I worry about what might happen if the sickness reaches the Castle of the Crystal.”

Oooooof.

“The Skeksis will protect the Crystal,” Kylan assured her. “Ancient gods gave them the power to protect it when the castle was entrusted to them.”

Ooooooooooooof.

There’s a lot of dramatic irony in this book.

Also, “ancient gods”? Plural? Has Aughra been spun off into several people in myth? Give me the lore!

I actually wonder about Gelfling religion because. The stuff they can believe in is so tangible. The Crystal is Right There. They have immortalish Skeksis, akin to gods, living at the center of their culture. The world itself made a person just to hang out with its inhabitants.

Anyyyyway. The little adventure in the cave burrow has so wiped out Naia that she calls it a day and they make camp right under that tree they stopped to rest at.

#dark crystal #the dark crystal #Shadows of the Dark Crystal #liveblog #Naia #Kylan #i have a lot of thoughts and feelings about dreamfasting #constantly

6 notes · View notes

orthodoxydaily · 4 years

Text

Saints&Reading: Thu., Sept.24, 2020

Commemorated on September 11_”Old” Julian Calendar

The Monks Sergei and German of Valaamo ( 1329)

The Monks Sergei and German of Valaamo settled on the island of Valaamo in 1329. The brethren gathered by them shone forth the light of Orthodoxy in this frontier land. The Karelian people began to regard Christianity with renewed suspicion, with its authority in the XIII Century being undermined by the Swedes, who sought to spread Catholicism by means of the sword. The Monks Sergei and German died in about the year 1353. A second commemoration of them is on June 28

The Nun Theodora of Alexandria

The Nun Theodora of Alexandria and her husband lived in Alexandria. Love and harmony ruled in their family, and this was hateful to the enemy of salvation. Goaded on by the devil, a certain rich man was captivated by the youthful beauty of Theodora and began with all his abilities to lead her into adultery, but for a long time he was unsuccessful. Then he bribed a woman of loose morals, who led the unassuming Theodora astray by saying, that a sin committed in the night God would not account to guilt. Theodora betrayed her husband, but soon came to her senses and realising the seriousness of her downfall, she became furious with herself, incessantly slapping herself on the face and tearing at her hair. Her conscience gave her no peace, and Theodora set out to a reknown hegumeness and told her about her transgression. The hegumeness, beholding the repentance of the young woman, roused in her the faith in Divine forgiveness and reminded her of the Gospel passage about the sinful woman, who with her tears washed the feet of Christ and received from Him forgiveness of her sins. In hope on the mercy of God, Theodora said: "I do believe my God and from hence shall not commit suchlike sin, and I wilt strive to expiate my deed". At that moment Saint Theodora resolved to go off to a monastery, so as to purify herself by deed and by prayer. In secret she left her home, and having attired herself in men's garb, she set off to a men's monastery, since she feared that her husband would manage to find her in a women's monastery. The hegumen of the monastery would not even give blessing to allow her into the courtyard, in testing the resolve of the new-comer. The Nun Theodora spent the night at the gates. In the morning, having fallen down at the knees of the hegumen, she said her name was Theodore from Alexandria and entreated him to let her remain at the monastery for repentance and monastic deeds. Seeing the sincere intent of the new-comer, the hegumen consented. Even the experienced monks were amazed at the all-night prayers on bended-knee, the humility, the endurance and self-denial of Theodora. The saint asceticised at the monastery for eight years. Her body, once defiled by adultery, became a visible vessel of the grace of God and a receptacle of the Holy Spirit. One time the saint was sent to Alexandria for the buying of bread. Having given blessing for the journey, the hegumen indicated that in case of a stopover along the way, to stay over at the Enata monastery along the way. At the guest-house of the Enata monastery was then staying the daughter of its hegumen, who had come to visit with her father. Allured by the comeliness of the young monk, she tried to seduce the Monk Theodore into the sin of fornication, not knowing that before her was a woman. Being refused, she committed sin with another guest and became pregnant. Meanwhile the saint having bought the bread returned to the home monastery. After a certain while the father of the shameless girl, realising that a transgression had occurred, began to question his daughter as to who it was that had seduced her. The girl indicated that it was the Monk Theodore. The father at once reported it to the head of the monastery at which Saint Theodora asceticised. The hegumen summoned the saint and told about the accusation. The saint firmly replied: "As God is my witness, I did not do this", and the hegumen, knowing the purity and holiness of life of Theodore, did not believe the accusation. When the girl gave birth, the Enata monks brought the infant to the monastery wherein lived the ascetic, and began to reproach its monks for an unchaste life. But this time even the hegumen believed the slanderous accusation and became angry at the innocent Theodore. They entrusted the infant into the care of the saint and dishonourably threw her out of the monastery. The saint humbly submitted to this new trial, seeing in it the expiation of her former sin. She settled with the child not far from the monastery in an hut. Shepherds out of pity gave her milk for the infant, and the saint herself ate only wild vegetables. Over the course of seven years, bearing her misfortune, the holy ascetic spent in banishment. Finally, at the request of the monks, the hegumen allowed her to return to the monastery together with the child, and in seclusion she spent two years instructing the child. The hegumen of the monastery received a revelation from God that the sin of the Monk Theodore was forgiven. The grace of God dwelt upon the Monk Theodore, and soon all the monks began to witness to the signs, worked through the prayers of the saint. One time in this locale during a time of drought all the water-wells dried up. The hegumen said to the brethren, that only Theodore would be able to reverse the misfortune. Having summoned the saint, the hegumen bid her to bring forth water, and the water in the well afterwards did not dry up. The humble Theodore said, that the miracle was worked through the prayer and faith of the hegumen. Before her death, the Nun Theodora secluded herself in her cell with the child and in last-wishes bid him to love God, and she asked the compliance of the hegumen and the brethren, to preserve tranquility, to be meek and without malice, to shun obscenity and silliness, to love non-covetousness, and to keep in mind their community life. After this, standing at prayer, for a final time she asked of the Lord forgiveness of her sins. The child also prayed together with her. Soon the words of prayer gave way to death on the lips of the ascetic, and she peacefully expired to an higher world (+ c. 474-491). The Lord revealed to the hegumen the spiritual accomplishment of the saint and about her concealed secret. The hegumen, in order to remove any disrepute from the deceased, – in the presence of the hegumen and brethren of the Enata monastery, told about his vision and for proof uncovered the bosom of the saint. The Enata hegumen and brethren shrank back in terror at their great transgression, and having fallen down at the body of the saint, with tears they asked forgiveness of the Nun Theodora. News about the Nun Theodora reached her former husband. He took monastic tonsure at this selfsame monastery where his wife had been. And the child, raised by the nun, likewise followed in the footsteps of his foster-mother. Afterwards he became hegumen of this very monastery. [Trans. Note: One might find highly implausible a beardless monk dwelling in a monastery for so long a period of time unquestioned. But perhaps eunuch-castrates were still common at this time, and as such losing also the capacity to grow beards. The matter of cross-dressing in men's monastic attire is a literary gendre occuring also in the lives of other women saints, usually only for the purposes of concealment and for but a short time. But as the "Redaction" account introducing the Russian original of our text indicates, the Saint-Lives reflect a broad spectrum of historical sources compiled with differing intended purposes, often other than the "modern" penchant for strict recording of historical facts. Which is to say, the account may have been embellished to in entertaining edify both the common man and woman, as well as the sophisticated. Certainly many a Saint-Vita contains an account of a virtually unhurtable and well-nigh unkillable martyr, – so that one is left to wonder that the persecution of Christians by the pagans of old, who in the torturing sometimes themselves dropped down dead, – should have taken so very long, to end. But beneathe any of these embellishments is an actual historical person, who witnessed to Christ our Lord. And to write the miraculous off as mere fable, – is foolish. The spiritual task herein is one of discernment between embellishment and fact.

Ephesians 1:1-9

1Paul, an apostle of Jesus Christ by the will of God, To the saints who are in Ephesus, and faithful in Christ Jesus:2 Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. 3 Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places in Christ, 4 just as He chose us in Him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and without blame before Him in love, 5 having predestined us to adoption as sons by Jesus Christ to Himself, according to the good pleasure of His will, 6 to the praise of the glory of His grace, by which He made us accepted in the Beloved.7 In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, according to the riches of His grace 8 which He made to abound toward us in all wisdom and prudence, 9 having made known to us the mystery of His will, according to His good pleasure which He purposed in Himself.

Mark 7:24-30

24From there He arose and went to the region of Tyre and Sidon. And He entered a house and wanted no one to know it, but He could not be hidden.25 For a woman whose young daughter had an unclean spirit heard about Him, and she came and fell at His feet. 26 The woman was a Greek, a Syro-Phoenician by birth, and she kept asking Him to cast the demon out of her daughter.27 But Jesus said to her, "Let the children be filled first, for it is not good to take the children's bread and throw it to the little dogs."28 And she answered and said to Him, "Yes, Lord, yet even the little dogs under the table eat from the children's crumbs." 29 Then He said to her, "For this saying go your way; the demon has gone out of your daughter." 30 And when she had come to her house, she found the demon gone out, and her daughter lying on the bed.

#orthodox #orthodox christianity #ancientchristianity #firstchristian #spirituality #gospel #holyscriptures #sacredtexts #wisdom

5 notes · View notes

beneaththetangles · 4 years

Text

Kaori Miyazono Asks, “Do You Love Me?”

Today’s guest post is from a longtime friend of the blog, Micah. A former anime blogger for Otaku Collision, Micah is an aspiring writer from Tennessee who has a passion for fiction and storytelling. He also enjoys listening to Kendrick Lamar, playing Pokemon, and doing both at the same time.

-----

The definition for “redemption” has been lost in translation through modern times; the most accurate picture comes directly from the Old Testament, which conveys the idea of “setting free from captivity or slavery, buying back something lost or sold or exchanging something in one’s possession for something possessed by another”. It was a common practice in ancient Israel for a poor person who could not pay a debt to sell themselves into servanthood for a period of time to their debtor. Unless by the exception of the Year of Jubilee (every fiftieth year, all debts were erased and bond servants were set free), that person would be bound to their contract until their debt was paid in whole. However, there were some instances when a spouse or another person would pay the debt themselves and buy back the person under slavaery. This Old Testament concept of redemption became a New Testament reality when Jesus Christ was crucified by the Romans on a wooden cross in 33 A.D. His sacrifice was payment for the sin of mankind, a debt they could not pay, and delivery from the bondage of Satan. However, in modern times, many people also find themselves under the slavery of other things, not just sin. In a lot of cases, this can be past trauma and actions done toward that person that have taken them prisoner. When looking toward Christ’s death, it becomes evident that only love has the power to redeem others. In the highly-acclaimed romance anime, Your Lie in April, the love Kaori has for Kousei mirrors the love Christ has for Peter because of the redemption that takes place, healing the broken parts of their hearts. Kaori’s persistence in forcing Kousei to play the piano encounters his hurting spirit and restores him to a new man, just as Christ changed the meaning of ravens cawing, renewed his calling as rock of the Church and restored him thrice with the rhetorical question, “Peter, do you love me?”

The first form in which redemption condensates itself in Your Lie in April is through Kaori’s persistence in forcing Kousei to play the piano. In episode three, Kousei and Kaori are sitting together in a small cafe while she engages her sweet tooth with a large plate of caramel waffles with apples and nuts. The two hear the subtle playing of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” behind them and they turn to find two young girls sitting at the piano, one boasting how she has been learning how to play. With her fierce personality, teeth gritting, and stubborn glare, as well as a strong kick on the leg, Kousei has no choice but to teach the young lady a lesson in piano. It is in these moments that redemption begins. Having been on a piano hiatus for two years, disturbed even by the thought of a piano, Kousei begins to quicken his pace and grace his fingers with complex note patterns and melodies, capturing the wonder and awe of the cafe listeners. He can’t help but blush, and a large grin appears on his face. For the first time in years, Kousei has found deep enjoyment in the piano again, despite the anguish it has caused him in the past, and this is only the beginning of his return from slavery.

Later, after pouring out his heart to Kaori regarding his inability to hear notes and the trauma his playing reminds him of, she forcefully appoints him to be her piano accompanist at her next violin competition. It is during the competition in episode four that Kousei has reached his limit of playing the piano in his own power. Seeing an apparition of his dead mother sitting in her wheelchair triggers his imagination, submerging him underwater where he is unable to hear the notes he is pounding so frantically. His pace speeds up dramatically and he is terribly out of sync with his partner. Eventually, Kousei stops altogether, disqualifying the duo from the competition. It is the encouragement given by Kaori before the performance and her encouragement during the performance that sparks his motivation to start over, facing his post-traumatic stress head-on. Having an encounter with his mother from the past, he is able to see the non-abusive, loving mother who taught him how to caress the keys rather then violently pound them. He is able to imagine the sounds where the sounds are not present and play the piano for the first time in two years as his mother had originally taught him. Working through much of his past in these moments, he is given the strength and determination to finish the song, receiving the roar of applause from the audience. Only by being forced to play the piano was this redemption possible, and it was through Kaori’s persistent, stubborn personality that he followed her lead.

Finally, Kousei is once again roped into playing a music competition, this time a strictly piano competition, as payment for not visiting Kaori in the hospital from episode five. Similar to the first performance, Kousei is struck with post-traumatic stress before he even reaches the piano bench. He envisions his mother in her wheelchair, beckoning him with a dark, brooding aura as though reliving another practice session. He remembers times when he would receive bruises by his mother across his body for imperfect playing and how he was never allowed to play outside with his friends. Most of all, in the middle of his performance, he recalls a prominent memory where he told his mother he wished she was dead in response to her beating him with a wooden rod, pouring blood down his face. He believes he is unable to hear the notes because he is cursed by his mother for the words he spoke to her that day, and believes he deserves his punishment. Finding his new purpose of piano in Kaori, and changing his style from rigid, machine-like perfection to emotional, passion-filled playing, he is able to leave behind the demands of his dead mother, knowing that he does not play for her approval nor her health. Despite his challenges regarding post-traumatic stress, it is in these moments that Kousei is permanently redeemed through playing, which came about from the prodding and pushing of Kaori.

Similarly, Jesus redeems Peter from his betrayal of Christ by dramatically changing the meaning of ravens cawing. Commonly known as “breakfast at the sea”, Jesus repeats His supernatural miracle of allowing the disciples to catch an impossible load of fish by lowering the net on the incorrect side of the boat and waits on the shore with a warm breakfast of coal-baked fish and loaves of bread. This fellowship between master and disciples took place in the morning, which was during the time that roosters would alarm the world of the early hours of the day. During his denial of Christ early in the morning many days before, Peter had most likely heard the somber songs of roosters, which had become a fixed reminder to him of his betrayal of his friend. Every time he heard roosters since that point, he was reminded of the night he “wept bitterly” with guilt and shame for his moral failure. However, Jesus specifically chose to have breakfast with Peter to redeem this painful memory and change the way Peter knew the sound of roosters. Rather than guilt and shame, Peter is given new memories of encountering the grace and love of God and the removal of his guilt and shame.

Also, during their meal on the beachside, Jesus, with attention to detail, asks Peter three times, “Do you love me?” Although this pangs the heart of his friend, knowing that he had betrayed his friend and did not show love, it is at the third time that Peter realizes that Jesus spoke this way with purpose. A revelation occurs where Peter learns that for the three times he had proclaimed, “I do not know this man!” Jesus had asked Peter whether he loved Him, canceling out his guilt and shame. Rather than being a slave to his denial of Jesus, Peter is able to experience the forgiveness Jesus has for him, which is another prominent example of redemption.

Finally, Jesus’ charge toward Peter and reaffirming his identity is the last example of redemption in the Biblical story of “breakfast at the sea”. In Matthew 16:13-19, long before Jesus’ death and resurrection, Peter had confessed his confession of Jesus as the long-awaited Messiah and God of the universe, which Jesus had taken and chosen to entrust Peter to be the rock of the future Church. He was also given “the keys of the kingdom of heaven” and spiritual power and authority to bind and loosen. These he gained through his confession of Christ and expected to lose them through his denial of Jesus, but in fact Jesus did not take them away. Rather, Jesus reminds Peter of this charge that He gave him at his confession, which redeems him from his denial, and charges him to be a shephard for the church. He is given more responsibility and authority despite his mistakes and he is able to represent Christ.

Overall, redemption was defining feature of Kaori’s love for Kousei and Christ’s love for Peter that causes the two narratives to share similarities. Although Kousei had undergone a process of redemption and Peter a single act, both had been bought back from their previous slavery and were restored as free men, being delivered from their past failures and traumatic pasts. As from the context of the Old Testament, both Kousei and Peter had been sold into slavery to pay debts they could not pay, yet there was someone in both circumstances who was willing to pay their debt and buy them back, thus redeeming them.

=====

Your Lie in April can be streamed on Crunchyroll.

#Anime #Christianity #Shigatsu wa Kimi no Uso #Your Lie in April #Kaori Miyazono #Kousei Arima #Jesus Christ #Peter #God #Redemption #Restoration #Articles #Author: Micah

3 notes · View notes

takerfoxx · 4 years

Text

IM Swiftly Descending Darkness, Chapter 8

Sorry this is coming late, but to be fair it’s longer than most, and I had a really busy weekend.

...

It was a nice night for a funeral.

It was a little past six in the evening, and the Sun had almost set. All day it had been bright and warm, with the sky being that perfect shade of blue that just beckoned everyone to come outdoors, the wind was gentle, and the air pleasantly balmy. And now that it was on its way out, it was leaving Gensokyo with an equally warm and pleasant evening.

Normally on days like that, the children would all be outside chasing each other across the field, napping in the shade of the trees, or roughhousing in the grass. Not on that day though. They were outside, yes, but they were instead gathered in the small copse of trees that they avoided at all other times.

It was there that those who had died in the orphanage were laid to rest, or at least those who had enough of their bodies recovered to allow for it.

Satoko stood in front of the freshly carved headstone, a tiered stone rectangle that reached up to her waist. In her hands was a small, black box. Haruna stood next to her left, with a paper lantern in her hands. Shion was at her right, holding a small bag tied with a piece of twine, which threaded through a pair of coins at the ends. Mokou was standing a little further back, Joshua next to her, little Akito in his arms.

As for the children, they were all present. All of those who had been taken by the spiders and those who had gone after them had woken up, and like Kohta, Rumia, and Haruko, none of them could recall anything about what had happened to them in the Bone Orchard. But something had happened to them, of that Mokou was certain. She had already sent word for the Hakurei Shrine Maiden to come, and until she arrived there was little they could do but watch and wait.

Personally, Satoko didn’t know how much she trusted Mokou’s judgment. After all, the woman was supposedly a centuries-old murderess. It wasn’t out of the question that she might be a little on the unstable side.

Still, there was something odd about them now. Now that they were all awake, they seemed so solemn, so quiet, even moreso then one would expect from traumatized children. The six of them were standing together, apart from the others. That had been at Mokou’s insistence. While Satoko understood the other woman’s concerns, she hated having to do that to them. The other children were whispering about them already.

At least they seemed normal now. Rumia and Keine were side-by-side, awkwardly shuffling their feet. Kana was also standing quietly, though every few seconds she started coughing. That was worrisome. She had been out the longest, and had felt the weakest upon waking up. According to Haruna, her slight frame had been damaged the most by the spiders’ venom, and she would be sick for some time. Kana had insisted that she was well enough to attend the funeral, but now Satoko was regretting not making her stay in at least. Haruko and Hayate were both softly weeping, mourning their friend. Kohta had his hand on Haruko’s shoulder, which was very kind of him, seeing how little they hadn’t gotten along before. Satoko wished that she had done more to curb the three girls’ meaner habits while Eiko was alive, but it was far too late for that now.

They waited, watching the Sun. It sank lower and lower, bleeding gold and orange into the horizon, its blood cleaning the sky away and allowing the stars to shine forth.

Finally it vanished fully, and night emerged. It was time.

Satoko took a deep breath, and she started singing. It was a song that her mother had taught her, who in turn had learned it from her mother, and so on. It was a song that was only sang by her family, when they failed in their duty to look after the small souls entrusted to their care. In other parts of Gensokyo, they sang other songs when laying their dead to rest. This one was theirs.

It was a song that thanked the gods and spirits for allowing them to look after the child during her time on Earth, and asked for forgiveness for not being up to the task. And it beseeched the river-guardian to bear the newly departed soul across, and for the Yamaxanadu to be kind.

When she was done singing, Satoko knelt down to place the box holding Eiko’s ashes in a small door set in the bottom of the headstone. Shion placed the bag she was holding right next to it, and the two slid the door shut. That done, Haruna lit the lantern she was holding and let it fly. It rose up higher and higher, to join the stars in the sky.

It was all completely symbolic of course. The bag was filled with stones and earth taken from the homestead grounds. By now Eiko’s soul would have already crossed the River Suzune, while the Shinigami that manned the ferry would have already been paid from the offerings the orphanage had made at various shrines over the years. But it was good to remind everyone that though Eiko was dead, she was alive and well somewhere else.

They watched the lantern sail higher and higher. It was good that the wind was so low, else it would probably be blown completely off course to get caught in a tree.

And then it burst into flames.

Haruko and Hayate both screamed as the burning scraps of paper rained down on them. So did some of the boys. Akito started crying. “Holy shit!” Rumia blurted out.

“What happened?” Haruhi cried. “Why did it do that?”

Mokou was already in motion. “Everyone back to the house!” she said. “Go on, go!”

“Wait, what just happened?” Kazuchika demanded. “Why’d it explode?”

“No clue, but we don’t want to wait around to find out. Move!”

Everyone hurried back to the house. The only sound came from Haruko, Hayate, and Akito, who were still softly crying. Satoko was deeply shaken. What had happened? Why had the lantern caught fire? Maybe Haruna had accidentally lit the balloon part with the matches.

(Her mouth finally fell open, and out crawled a fat-bodied black spider. It crawled up Eiko’s face, toward her eyes)

Or maybe it was something else, something much worse.

Then, as they were about halfway to the house, Dai leaned over to Yoshi and said in a loud whisper, “So…does that mean Eiko’s in Hell now?”

What happened next was comparable to a single thrown stone upsetting the balance of a the side of a hill to cause a rockslide. The moment the words were out of Dai’s mouth, a chorus of gasps went up and everyone spun around to stare at the boy. For his part, Dai immediately realized that his comment had been very unwise and his face turned red. However, before he could say anything in his defense, chaos erupted.

There was a strangled sound of pain, and then Haruko shrieked, “YOU LITTLE BEAST!” before launching herself at him. She knocked the younger boy over and began pounding at his face with both fists.

Yuuki, Yoshi, and Hiro all ran to their friend’s defense. Hiro managed to wrap his arms around Haruko’s neck and pull her back, though that didn’t stop her from clawing at Dai while shrieking.

Then a hand grabbed a handful of Hiro’s hair, and a fist drove into his face.

The fist belonged to Kohta, who had begun charging almost at the same time as Haruko. Hiro released Haruko’s neck and stumbled back. This of course drew the attention of Yoshi and Yuuki, who both ran in to tackle Kohta.

They were stopped though, stopped by Rumia and Hayate, who grabbed a boy each and, in synchronization, shoved the two of them backward. That allowed Keine charge in with a running tackle of her own. She drove both of her shoulders into each of the boys, taking them both off their feet and sending them flying back into the gob smacked older kids.

Things might have erupted into an all-out brawl right then and there, but that was when the adults finally intervened.

“STOP IT!” Haruhi screamed. “WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?! STOP!” Haruna and Joshua took more direct action, putting their bodies between the two groups and walling them off while Shion quickly pulled Dai away from the crowd before anyone else took a swing.

“HEY!” Satoko shouted. She whistled loudly, shutting down the yelling and drawing everyone’s attention. “What’s wrong with all of you? We’re being attacked by Human and youkai alike and just got done burying one of our own, and now you’re fighting each other?”

Haruka pushed her way past Mr. Joshua. “He said Eiko was in Hell!” she screamed as she jabbed an accusatory finger at Dai.

“No, I didn’t!” Dai shouted back. “I just asked if she was there, I didn’t say she was!”

“That…not really better,” Shinji said.

“Hey, seriously dude. What the hell?” Tomohiro added.

“I didn’t mean it like that! I was just…well, her lantern caught fire-”

“It was an accident!” Hayate said.

“-and she was always been pretty mean-”

“Go to Hell!” Haruko snapped.

“She was!” Now that he was put on the spot, Dai was determined to not back down. “And so were you! The three of you picked on me and Yoshi and Hiro all the time!”

“Dai,” Haruna said. “Shut your fool mouth. Right now.”

“There’s a time and place for everything, son,” Mr. Joshua added, laying a gentle, but firm, hand on Dai’s shoulder. “And that was completely out of line.”

Dai looked like he had been betrayed. “But-”

“All right, enough of the bullshit,” Mokou growled as she pushed herself into the center of the rabble. “Look, you’re kids. And kids fight, kids get mean sometimes, it happens. That doesn’t mean you’re damned to Hell just because you’re still young and a jackass. Otherwise, Hell would be a fucking boarding school.

“And for your information, Dai, no. No, Eiko did not go to Hell. You know how this works. When you die, your soul heads to the River Suzune, where it’s picked up by the Shinigami. And if you can pay the Shinigami’s price, she’ll boat you across to be judged by the Yamaxanadu. And this house donates fairly regularly to at least three different shrines to cover that very price, right? So, Eiko is set there. And as for her being mean, you’re right! She was. But she was a kid, just like the rest of you. And sure, the Yamaxanadu has a reputation for being kind of a hardass, but she’s also got a soft spot for kids, and isn’t about to send one to Hell unless they were genuinely evil right out of the womb, which Eiko was not.”

Despite Mokou’s logical dissertation, many of the kids looked unconvinced, which included Eiko’s friend Hayate, which was interesting. “How do you know?” she demanded, tears in her eyes. “How do you know she won’t? You saw what happened to the lantern! Do you know her?”

“What, the Yamaxanadu?” Mokou shrugged. “Yeah, a little.”

“What,” Hayate said, visibly caught flatfooted. She wasn’t the only one. Even Satoko, who already knew a thing or two about Mokou’s past, was taken back by this. Yamaxanadu Eiki Shiki wasn’t someone one made acquaintances of.

“I mean, I’ve never actually met her,” Mokou clarified. “But before coming here I’ve been known to do odd jobs for people, and she’s needed a thing or two done in the mortal world that needed a mortal agent.”

Hayate stared dubiously at her. “What kind of things?”

“Hunting down escaped evil spirits, mostly.” Mokou said. “Actually, she sent her Shinigami after them, and her Shinigami hired the Hakurei Shrine Maiden, and the Hakurei Shrine Maiden hired me because I knew the area better than she did, and I got to talk to both of them about the boss, but that’s getting away from the point, which is regardless of her attitude, and regardless of what you all thought of each other, Eiko did not go to Hell. She’s at peace in the Netherworld right now, and you two will get to see her again someday. But it’s my job to make sure that day is a long time from now, so let’s all get something straight: we have actual enemies now, which means that of this moment, you are all on the same side. No more dumb bickering, fighting, trying to get each other in trouble, that sort of thing.” To Dai, she said, “And Dai. Seriously. Time and place for everything. You don’t have to like Eiko, but-” Then she seemed to catch sigh of something over Dai’s head, and her voice trailed off. “Uh…huh.”

A group of men were approaching, men that Rumia did not recognize. There was five of them, and they had an air of purpose and authority about them. However, they weren’t wearing the sort of robes she had seen on village elders or the uniforms commonly sported by guards. Rather, they all had on simple, heavy brown robes with long hoods, ones that were kept down.

The one in the lead was the shortest and the plumpest, of comparable shape to Gendou Sonozika, though he had no beard or hat, and his greying hair framed his head like the mane of one of the lions from one of Joshua’s stories.

Satoko was immediately on her guard. She knew those men. She had seen them before, during her trips to the Human Village. And she knew who they followed.

“Ah, good afternoon,” the leader said in a high, squeaky voice, using that fake pleasant tone that grown-ups used whenever they were going out of their way to be condescending. He looked around at the group. “Ah, but perhaps not so good. What’s this, a fight? Well, if you can’t even go for a midday walk without turning on each other, then I guess that…incident in the market is to be expected.”

If Satoko had been angry before, then this brought that rage to a froth. “Seiya Kirisame,” she said. “One of Nathaniel Skinner’s stooges, if I recall. What are you doing here? You are not welcome, especially not today.”

Seiya Kirisame’s smirk grew wider. “So unwelcoming. Are you this surly even at home?”

“We’re coming back from a funeral, if you must know,” Satoko said.

That took Kirisame off guard. “Oh, ah, I’m…sorry to hear that. Someone from one of the villages that you were…friendly with?”

“One of the children,” Satoko said coldly. She watched Kirisame’s face intently. Mokou and Joshua had both said that the spiders had spoke of taking instructions from a Human, a small, plump Human with a squeaky voice, and this one certainly fit the bill.

Sure enough, Kirisame’s smirk disappeared completely. “Oh,” he said again. All of his smug bravado was gone, and he seemed utterly unsure of how to continue. “I…my condolences. Was it…an illness, or…”

“No,” Mokou said as she strode forward and placed herself between the men and everyone else. “A youkai attack, actually. From the Youkai Forest.

The blood drained from Seiya’s face. “A…oh.”

“Spider youkai, to be specific,” Mokou said. Her tone was casual, almost conversational despite the horrid things she was discussing. “Seven of our children were taken. We managed to get six back, but they had already…started when we got there.”

“Spider youkai…” Kirisame whispered.

“Yeah,” Mokou said, staring down into the man’s eyes. “Four of them.”

Kirisame swallowed. “And…what did you do with…said spider youkai?”

Mokou shrugged. “Dealt with ‘em. With prejudice.”

“And they killed one of your children?”

Satoko stepped forward to stand next to Mokou. “Justify your presence, or leave,” she said.

Kirisame didn’t respond. He seemed to be quite beside himself, having lost his line of thought and was mentally fumbling around to find it again. Even the men who had come with him were glancing at one another in discomfort.

“Final warning,” Mokou hissed. “Speak, or get out.”

One of Kirisame’s companions nudged him with his foot, startling him. He swallowed again, cleared his throat noisily, and said reached for something in his robe. “W-Well, this…is awkward then,” he said, pulling out piece of paper. “I am very sorry to have to bring this to you on this sad day but…here.”

He held the paper out. Satoko snatched it from his fingers scanned its message. When she looked up again at the messenger, her dark eyes could have rivaled Mokou’s in burning rage.

“We’re being banned from the village market?” she said. This kicked up murmurs and gasps of surprise from the children and their caretakers. Haruna said nothing, though the fingers of her fists squeezed so hard that everyone could hear her knuckles pop. As for Mokou, she merely looked over to Satoko and the letter in her hand. Then, moving with slow deliberation, she turned her gaze directly toward Kirisame, her hawk-like focus conveying far more malice than words ever could have.

“It was Leader Sonozika’s decision!” Kirisame protested, his words coming out as terrified squeaks. “In light of what happened last week-”

“Bullshit!” snapped Haruko. “They were the ones that started it!”

“That’s not what witnesses say!” Kirisame yelled back. He might have kept yelling at her, but then the same man who had nudged him before placing a steadying hand on his shoulder, likely to remind him that getting into a shouting match with a child would not be to his benefit. Taking the hint, Kirisame stopped himself and took a deep breath. When he had regained some measure of composure, he ignored Haruko and turned his attention back to Mokou. “And…you. Fujiwara no Mokou, is it?”

Mokou arched an eyebrow.

“Regardless of who was initially at fault, you did insult Leader Sonozika and his guard when he was just trying to clear things up,” Kirisame said. Now that he had gotten to his reason for coming, which was no doubt well-rehearsed, he seemed to be regaining some of his confidence. And his slime. “To say nothing of your threats to Brother Nathaniel!”

“Oh, did I hurt their feelings?” Mokou said. “Then why are you here and they’re not? If they got a problem with what I said, then fine. They can come here and punch me in the face themselves.”

Visibly annoyed by being literally talked down to by a woman, Kirisame tried to straighten up to his full, unimpressive height. “They are very important men, and-”

“But they ain’t kings,” Haruna said as she joined her friends in the center. She was of a more comparable height to Kirisame, but was packed with considerably more visible muscle than he. “And you’re forgetting how this works. Gendou Sonozika heads up the Human Village, sure, and he’s got some measure of authority outside of it. But he don’t rule it. He can’t tell the other settlements how to run their business. And he can’t ban nobody from something he don’t run. That’s up to the other village elders.”

Despite the fact that he and his mostly silent associates outnumbered the women directly confronting him five-to-three, Kirisame’s nerve was fast slipping. “I…I think you’ll find that the village elders hold Master Sonozika in considerably higher esteem then you give them credit for!” he cried. “Enough that-”

Joshua walked up to the trio and took his place next to Haruna, arms folding and dark eyes calmly staring right into Kirisame’s.

“-er, that-”

Shion took the spot next to Satoko.

“-I’m sorry, is this-”

Haruhi inhaled deeply to calm her nerves, but she went over to stand next to Shion.

“-are you threatening us?” Kirisame sputtered. “I’ll have you know-”

“Andrew,” Joshua said.

The name being as unfamiliar as it was, everyone on Joshua’s side all looked over to him in bewilderment. However, one of the robed and previously still figures visibly winced.

“Andrew, I know that’s you,” Joshua said. “Come on, kid. Take that hood down.”

A pause, and then the figure reached up to lower his hood. Beneath it was a young white man with untidy hair the color of straw and a face full of freckles.

“Andrew, why are you with these men?” Joshua said. “Intimidating orphans and trying to cut them off from help. Come on, kid. You know this isn’t right.”

Andrew nervously licked his lips. “B-But Brother Nathaniel says that y-you’ve been consorting with demons! He says that you’ll taint us all!”

“Nathaniel is a sad, broken man,” Joshua said. “He sees devils in the candle smoke and hears Satan’s whispers in the wind. And he now works to doom children. If I recall, Christ had quite a few things to say about men like him.”

“But there are demons out there!” Andrew protested. “There’s youkai, and spirits, and…actual demons, and-”

“Enough!” Kirisame spat. “Brother Andrew, it is not your place to speak. Put you hood back up and shut up!”

“But-”

“Do it!”

Andrew looked shaken, but he did what he was told.

“I think we’ve heard enough from you,” Satoko said. “You’ve delivered your message. And since it seems that you’re intent on exiling us from the rest of the Human population, I guess that just leaves us with this plot of land within our fences. So that means that you’re trespassing. So get out.”

“Hey, wait,” Kirisame said. “You can’t just-”

Mokou took a step forward, opened her mouth, and exhaled a torrent of fire right into the dirt road right at Kirisame’s feet.

That finally got the desired effect, and the five of them quickly fled, practically tripping over each other in their desperation to get away. Two of them took to the sky immediately, and the others were quick to follow.

As for Satoko and her family, they were more than a little gobsmacked. After all, it was one thing to know that Mokou was talented with fire magic, but having her literally vomit up flames on command? Now that would take anyone by surprise.

Fortunately, young Shinji knew exactly what to say. “You can breathe fire?” he said to Mokou.

Nodding, Mokou coughed up a bit of smoke and said, “I don’t like doing it. Gives me a sore throat.”

“Still, you can breathe fire!” Shinji sounded genuinely hurt. “That is so cool! How come you never showed us?”

“Never needed to. And it gives me a sore throat, I just told you!”

“Enough,” Satoko said wearily. “Everyone back to the house. This day has been long enough as it is.”

…

Dinner was a quiet, sober affair, with very little actual eating and even less talking. With Mokou now on permanent defense duty, Shion and Haruhi had prepared it, putting together a simple meal of steamed rice and spinach. Joshua had tried to pitch in, but his lack of culinary skills soon became apparent, and the two women kindly, but firmly, suggested that he find some other way to make himself useful.

And that was the problem.

Joshua was the handyman. He fixed things that broke, he improved things that needed improving, and he helped teach whatever practical skills he could. Plus, he was always on hand if any of the children needed an understanding ear. Normally that gave him plenty with which to occupy his time, but now what they needed was far outside of his wheelhouse. Perhaps Satoko would let him reinforce the house, board up the windows, and strengthen the walls. He didn’t like the thought of turning their home into a fortress, but they had to be prepared for any eventuality.

For now though, everyone was going to be sleeping together in the main room downstairs. Joshua was given a sleeping mat, and he brought it down along with a pillow and blanket and a few select belongings, mainly a bag of toiletries, his Bible, and his old wallet, which now only contained pictures of his friends, both from this world and the one previous. As he spread his out in one corner, he noticed one boy in particular looking a little out of sorts.

Dai was sitting cross-legged on his own mat with his head bowed. Normally he would be up and running around with his friends, but even they seemed to be giving him the cold shoulder.

Wincing, Joshua went over to the boy and sat down next to him. “You all right, son?”

Without lifting his head, Dai lifted his left shoulder in a half-shrug.

Sighing, Joshua leaned back on his palms and stretched his legs out. “I guess we were a little hard on you. But you do understand why, right? Even if you didn’t like her, that wasn’t the-”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Dai muttered.

“Oh?”

Dai gathered up his legs under his chin and stared balefully out at the room. “I��ve just…you know, been thinking…”

“About?” Joshua prodded.

“The ones you brought back. You know, Kohta, Haruko, and the rest. The ones that didn’t die.”

Well, that was putting it bluntly. “What about them?”

“There’s something wrong with them, isn’t there?”

Joshua slowly breathed out. “Seems that way.”

“What is it?”

“I’m…not entirely sure myself,” Joshua admitted. “It seems that they picked up some kind of…” He winced. Even after all these years, some of the more occult aspects of Gensokyo still made him uncomfortable. “Well, the Youkai Forest has a lot of…”

“Dark magic?”

Joshua nodded. “A good a thing to call it as any. We’re not really sure what it is, but we’re keeping them separate until the Hakurei Shrine Maiden can come by and take a look at them and hopefully cure them.”

Dai still didn’t look at him, and Joshua wondered how much of that the boy understood. He was only eight, after all. Hell, Joshua himself had been in Gensokyo longer than Dai had been alive, and he barely understood any of it.

“So it’s like what they called us then?” Dai said at last.

“Who?”

“Those men. Youkai…taunted?”

“Tainted,” Joshua corrected as a sour feeling built in his stomach.

“Right. That’s what they are, right? They got taken by youkai, and now they’re youkai tainted.”

“Is that why you thought that maybe Eiko went to Hell?”

“That’s how it works, right?” Dai said with a shiver. “Youkai are evil, and everything they touch is evil, and evil people go Hell, so…”

“Dai, Dai, listen! That’s not how it works!”

“How do you know?” Dai said in an accusatory tone. “You have your own weird Outsider religion! You don’t understand any of our world.”

Defensive indignation welled up inside Joshua, hot and salty, and he bit down on his tongue to keep himself from taking the bait. Dai was just a child, a child who was feeling scared, confused, and alone. “I do,” he said, keeping his face and voice calm. “I do have my own faith. But I’ve lived in Gensokyo for a pretty long time. And I’ve done everything I can to learn how things work here.” He shifted his weight. “Look, Dai. Evil isn’t some kind of stain that you get on your clothes and can’t wash off. Evil is a choice, something people have to decide to be. Sometimes bad things happen, and you get angry. Sometimes you grow up being taught bad and hateful ideas. And sometimes you do get, well, smeared with something evil, like the kids upstairs did. But that doesn’t make you evil. Things that happen to you aren’t your fault. Things that you’re told by evil people aren’t your fault. It’s letting that evil get past the skin and worm its way into your heart that makes you evil. Those men that came here today? They weren’t born evil. They didn’t become evil because evil touched them. No, it was their choice to let fear and ignorance decide how they were going to think and believe, so that they now think that hurting us is the right thing to do. That’s what makes someone evil. Eiko wasn’t evil. She wasn’t very nice, and…yes, we should have done something about that, but she wasn’t evil. And the rest of the kids that went into the forest aren’t evil either. They got touched by something that we don’t understand, and we’re going to do everything we can to get it off them, but they’re not evil, they’re just kids that need help.” He patted Dai’s shoulder. “Same with you. Don’t listen to those brown-wearing idiots. They’re all fools.”

Dai frowned. He didn’t seem to be totally accepting what Joshua was telling him, but he wasn’t rejecting it outright either. That was fine. Sometimes it took a bit for lessons to take hold.

Then he asked that question. “What about Miss Mokou?”

It took a considerable amount of will to keep from wincing. “What about her?” Joshua said.

“Everyone’s saying that she’s something…bad. That she’s lived forever and killed a lot of people. Is she evil?”

Joshua slowly breathed out. That really was the real question, one that he had been grappling with ever since the spider’s nest, and especially since she had opened up to him about her past. “I…don’t really know,” he admitted at last. “Y-Yes, she’s a lot more than she seems to be. And yes, she’s…done a lot of bad things apparently. I don’t know if that makes her a bad person or just someone who fell to a bad place, but…” Sighing, he looked to the stairs, which led to where Mokou was currently sealing off the sick room for everyone’s protection. “Some things are so far beyond our understanding that it’s impossible for us to judge. Whatever she is, and whatever she’s done, I guess we’ll just have to leave that to the gods, yours and mine, to judge. But this much I do know: she is on our side. And if she is a monster, then I’ll take a monster like her than the ones in the Human Village any day.”

…

It was almost time for bed, but Noba felt sick.

He had been feeling sick for days, ever since he had gotten hurt at the market. Honestly, he really didn’t remember all that much about the incident. The last thing he could recall with certainty was the night before, when he, Shinji, Kazuchika, and Tomohiro had been discussing a rather lovely young woman they had seen working a stall the last time they had been there, and whether one of them would be able to work up the courage to go speak to her.

He had to piece together what had happened from what the others had told him. Apparently some of the local boys had been making passes to Haruko, Hayate, and Eiko, and he and his friends had taken exception to that and stepped in. And from there things had escalated until practically the whole market had devolved into an outright brawl, and Noba had taken the worst of the beatings.

On the one hand, he felt that he should be proud of himself for stepping in to defend his family. On the other, it was hard to feel good about any of it when his head would not stop aching, nor his stomach stop churning.

Just rest, the grown-ups had told him. Rest, and let yourself heal. Let us know if it hurts too much. In time it will get better.

Groaning, Noba leaned forward and grabbed onto his head.

Whatever was wrong with him, he was almost certain that it wasn’t something so simple as a knock to the head. He had taken knocks to the head before, including one when a bout of roughhousing with Tomohiro and left him dizzy for three days, and that hadn’t been anything like this. This felt like pressure was building deep inside him, like a teakettle without a faucet, while the air thickened around him. It was growing without and within, and constantly getting worse.

He fumbled around the stuff he had brought down for his medicine, which were simple herbal pills that Miss Shion had given him. The relief that they gave him was small, but it was better than nothing, and they did help him sleep.

Unfortunately, his search came up empty.

Noba stared in despair at his small pile of belongings. He had forgotten them. How had he forgotten them? His head hurt so much that one would think that they would be the first thing he would bring down with him! Idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot!

Then he looked over to the stairs. Well, he supposed that he could just go up and get them now. They were keeping everyone downstairs just as a precaution, right? And he had just been up there to get his stuff. All he had to do was head back up the stairs, nip into the boy’s dorm, grab his medicine (he had probably just left them on the chest at the foot of his bed), and head back down again. It would take probably around three minutes.

Except something about heading back upstairs filled him with dread. Because that was where they were.

He still didn’t know what to make of the events of the last few days. A youkai attack, right in broad daylight? Nearly half of the other kids taken? Eiko Goto, one of the girls he had gotten hurt defending, now dead? And the others…

Something was wrong with them. Something was terribly wrong with them.

He had known that even before the grown-ups had told them. Just looking at them had made the ache in his head spike, and it only grew worse the closer he got to them. Beyond a shadow of doubt, they had brought something back with them, something evil.

Miss Mokou was guarding them now, which was good. There were whispers going around that Miss Mokou was something more than she seemed, something dark and deadly. That may be so, but as far as Noba was concerned, it was a good thing. They needed a little dark and deadly on their side, and she didn’t make his head hurt.

Still, heading upstairs would mean getting closer to those kids, and they just scared him.

Noba tried to lay down and sleep. He tried to ignore the pounding in his head, tried to think about something else, anything else.

A few minutes later he got up with a frustrated growl.

Tomohiro, Shinji, and Kazuchika, who had all been talking in a circle, looked at him. “Hey, where you going?” Kazuchika asked.

Noba nodded toward the stairs. “Forgot my medicine,” he mumbled. “Be right back.”

With that said, Noba started the ascent up the stairs.

He wasn’t sure if it was the pain inside his head throwing him off, but for some reason the climb seemed three times more difficult than it normally was. That was odd. He went up and down those stairs every day without thinking about it. Hell, he had just been up there to get his things. But now that everyone save for Miss Mokou and her wards were all downstairs, effectively making the second floor something of a quarantined zone, it did feel that the staircase had grown in length while the steps themselves shrank in size.

Noba’s mouth had gone dry. He tried to wet it, but had limited success. It was just nerves, he told himself. You were literally just up here, and had no trouble getting up and down! Still, by the time he had finally reached the second floor, he had broken out into a cold sweat.

As Noba stepped onto the second story, he shivered. Had someone left a window open? He was pretty sure they had made sure they were all shut tight and locked. He had even heard Mr. Joshua suggest boarding them up, though Miss Satoko had shot that down. He had a feeling that she would change her mind before too long.

Regardless, despite it still being midsummer, the air felt bitter cold, enough to make his breath steam.

The chill ought to be good for his aching head, and yet it now felt worse. Noba breathed deep, hoping that the cold air would numb the pain, but it did nothing.

The hallway stretched before him. Noba frowned. Apparently his mind was still playing tricks on him, because it seemed to be stretching quite a bit longer than it ought to be, like someone had gripped it at both ends and pulled it out like a piece of taffy.

Maybe he was coming down with something. Wouldn’t that just be fantastic, to get sick on top of everything else?

Wrapping his arms around him for warmth, Noba headed down the hall. As he went, his feelings of unease only continued to build.

There was just something wrong about the hall, something he couldn’t put his finger on. But the lines felt off, like entering a hall of framed picture that were all tilted. If he stopped and focused on something in particular, then it looked fine, but when he took in the whole of the hallway, it just looked weird.

There actually were a few framed pictures along the way, and Joshua stopped at one in particular. It had been taken about a year prior, roughly around summer solstice. It was a group shot of all the children currently living at the Aoki Yume’s Children’s Home, with their adult caretakers standing behind them.

Despite how bad he felt, Noba couldn’t help but smile at the memory. Life had been pretty good back then: pleasant, simple, and worthwhile. There had been no monsters attacking from the forests, no awful people beating them up, and no horrible pounding in his skull. But now, everything had gone horribly wrong.

Then Noba frowned. Wait, there was something off about the photograph, something that had changed from the last time he had seen it. His eyes zeroed in on the dead girl Eiko, who was standing with her friends Haruko and Hayate. She was smiling, yes, but her smile wasn’t the small half-smirk she used to wear, oh no, her smile now was a wide and toothy grin, one that was way too wide and way too toothy, and that was because her lips were gone, taken clean off, leaving her with a skeleton’s smile. The rest of her face was dead too, the nose gone, likely bitten off and swallowed as an appetizer, and in place of two child’s eyes, Eiko had two empty, black pits in her face, just like her corpse.

Eaten. Her entire face was eaten off.

Noba’s shivering now had little to do with the cold. His gaze then slid from Eiko’s face to that of her friends. Both Haruko and Hayate still had their faces, their smiles untarnished, but not their eyes. But unlike Eiko, their eyes hadn’t been plucked out and the empty sockets photographed. Oh no, they had been burned right off of the photograph itself, like something had lit a match and pressed it to each of their eyes, leaving a black circle each time.

His eyes then shot to Kana’s. Black circles. Kohta? Black circles. Rumia? Black circles. Keine?

Noba swallowed. Keine’s eyes had also been burned out of the picture, but she also had something new, something that the other defiled children hadn’t been given. A pair of curving horns rose up from her head, like those of a ram or a bull All taken together, it made the sweet, slight girl’s visage downright demonic.

Noba didn’t want to see anymore. He wanted to stop staring at the photograph, to close his eyes and violently shake his head to clear it from the evil visions and open them again to find everything as it should be, with no horns, no fleshless faces, and no black circles.

He didn’t. Instead, he looked up, up at where the caretakers were standing in the back.

Miss Satoko looked fine, perfectly normal, with that tired, yet happy, smile she always wore when things were good. Likewise Miss Haruna’s lovably rough face was just as it should be. Miss Shion looked normal, as did Miss Haruhi.

Not Mr. Joshua though. Instead of the happy, white grin shining in his dark face he had worn that day, Joshua’s face wasn’t smiling at all. Instead, he was staring solemnly back at Noba, his eyes hollow and haunted, his face flushed with sweat. He looked like a man who had seen things and done things that he would be much happier forgetting, and who knew full well that he never would.

Noba swallowed. Then, though he didn’t want to, he looked over at Miss Mokou.

Miss Mokou had been standing a little bit away from the others, near the group without actually being a part of it. Even so, she had been smiling along with everyone else when the picture had been taken. She still was actually, but now her smile was wide and crazed, not the naked grin Eiko had, but the deranged smile of a madwoman. Her clothes had been simple and clean in the picture, just her shirt and her suspenders, but now her shirt was ragged and unbuttoned, hanging loose and smeared with something that might have been dirt, might have been blood. Her face was smeared with it too, caking her cheeks and around her crazed grin. One strap of her suspenders hung down, and her hands, formerly in her pockets, were now hanging at her sides, filthy fingers curled into claws.

The photograph was in black-and-white, but one thing now was not. Her eyes, wide with manic glee, were bright red.

Sweat was starting to sting Noba’s eyes, and he realized how long it had been since he had last blinked. He shut his eyes tight and swiped his hand down over his forehead and his face. He breathed in and out, trying to slow his panting down, trying to slow his heartrate, all the while silently and desperately crying out any gods that might be listening.

He opened his eyes.

They were normal again. Miss Mokou. Mr. Joshua. The rest of the kids. Everyone had on their normal faces wearing normal smiles, as it ought to be.

But that didn’t mean that the picture had been set right. Before there had been eighteen children and five adults. Now the picture was so packed with people that Noba couldn’t even begin to get a proper count. Standing with the kids that he knew were many, many new ones, ones that he didn’t recognize, ones that he had never seen before. And yet they were there, wearing the same uniforms as those who belonged.

Noba stared at them and they stared right back.

He breathed in and out. No, this was wrong, this was wrong! Why were there so many? Why were there so-

A hand came down on his shoulder.

Noba screamed and swung his fist. It impacted against a hard palm, which was attached to a strong hand, which was attached to…

To Noba’s chagrin, he was staring right at Miss Mokou.

“Sorry for scaring you,” she said, moving the fist she had caught away from herself. “But what are you doing up here? Upstairs is restricted now!”

Noba struggled to find his tongue. “M-Medicine,” he stuttered. “I forgot my-”

“Is that it?” Miss Mokou rolled her eyes. “Oh, for the love of…Hang on.”

Mokou walked down the hall to the nearby boy’s room (which was now perfectly straight and of normal length, because of course it was), and emerged a moment later with the bag of pills.

“Here,” she said, tossing it to him. “And don’t come up again. This place is quarantined for a reason.”

Noba’s fingers fumbled, and the bag dropped to the floor. He quickly picked it up. “Er, thanks.” He paused, and said, “Uh, M-Miss Mokou?”

“What?”

“The picture. It…”

The picture was completely normal. No deformities, no additional faces, everything was as it should be.

Miss Mokou glanced to it, and then at him. “Did it change?”

Noba hesitated, and then nodded.

“Did the place feel strange when you came up here?”

“Yes. Everything felt too long, and the air felt…thick.”

At this, Miss Mokou sighed. “Well, what do you expect?” She nodded to the sick room, which now had sealing charms all over the door. “I sealed those kids off for a reason!”

“They’re doing it?” Noba said in disbelief. “I mean, whatever it is that…changed them?”

“Obviously,” Miss Mokou said dryly. “Now, unless you’re planning on spending the night up here in the freaky funhouse, I suggest you swallow your medicine and stay downstairs!”

Noba numbly nodded. And then he turned and hurried away as fast as he could.

…

The day died, night fell, and the Aoki Yume’s Children’s Home was left alone in the dark.

Now officially exiled, it now stood by itself, a tiny island refuge for those who dwelt within, facing oppression from its back and invasion from the front, left vulnerable to the wild beasts and evil spirits that roamed the plains and forests of the Wilds and the nefarious scheming of those who had isolated them in the first place. Already several of their number had been taken and dragged off into the darkness, and one had not come back. As for those who did, no one could say they had returned whole.

Mokou was afraid.

It was curious thing to feel again; she had not really known fear for a very long time, save for a scant few occasions over the centuries. And as one Eirin Yagokoro was not involved, she did not fear for herself. No matter what happened from here on out, she at least was guaranteed to come through alive and well.

No, what she feared for were the tiny, fragile lives entrusted into her care. Mokou was a powerful woman, perhaps too powerful. But her power was directed at self-preservation and wanton destruction. She could lay every single Human village, town, and settlement to waste within a few hours with relative ease. She could challenge such mighty creatures as Dragons or Demons and at least expect to make them sweat. Hell, she was pretty sure she could take on the great Yukari Yakumo and, if not exactly win, give her something to remember her by. But when it came to keeping these few children safe long enough for them to reach adulthood, then even with all her power, she did not feel that she was up to the task.

Not that she wasn’t going to give it her all. The ability to burn mortal and immortal alike to ashes might not be much use when she wasn’t even sure of the threat just yet, but her impossible durability meant that she at least could throw herself in its path when it revealed itself. To that end, she had appointed herself as the official guardian of the Black Circle Six, as she had taken to calling them. Rumia Yagami, Kohta Momoi, Keine Kamishirasawa, Haruko Kamijima, Hayate Maeda, and Kana Anaberal were back in the sick room, this time to stay until Miko Hakurei finally arrived. Their sleeping mats were arranged in a circle on the ground, their feet all facing the center, while Mokou sat in a chair near the window, arms folded as she watched over them. The chair was leaning back on it hind legs, courtesy of Mokou shoving her foot up against the cabinet. The door and window were both locked tight, charms had been stuck to the walls, and the wards protecting the orphanage grounds had all been replaced. And as for Mokou, she could go for days without sleep before she began to even think of getting tired. She had once hidden unmoving and unsleeping for a solid week in a corner of Eientei just so she could murder Kaguya Houraisan during her birthday party. If anything was to come for these kids from without or within, it was not going to catch her unawares.

A small wooden clock sat on the counter across from her, softly counting away the hours. Out in the hall, the big grandfather clock’s loud ticking could be heard, set in time with its smaller brother. Every now and then, Mokou’s eyes would flit from the children over to check the time. The night was steadily passing by.

Ten o’clock. Ten forty-five. Eleven seventeen.

So far, so good.

Eleven thirty-six. Twelve o’four. Twelve twenty-nine.

Kohta was snoring.

One eleven. One forty-one. Two o’clock. Two fourteen.

So far, so good.

Two twenty-two. Two thirty-eight. Two fifty-five.

And then the ticking…just stopped.

Mokou paused her rocking. Her eyes, as sharp in the dark as they were in the light, focused on the clock’s face. The hands were still moving, indicating that it was two after three, but the clock in the hall had simply stopped ticking.

Interesting.

Mokou took a quick assessment of herself, checking all of her sense. A moment later she determined that she was in fact still wide awake, and this was not the result of her drifting off into a dream. Whether or not that was a relief remained yet to be seen.

Carefully relaxing her foot, Mokou lowered her chair back onto all four legs. She sat with both feet planted on the ground, hands on her knees, ears straining.

The only sounds were the children’s gentle breathing, Kana’s rasps, the ambient sounds of the old house settling, and a far off owl hooting.

Then someone started knocking on the door. Loudly.

Mokou didn’t cry out in surprise, didn’t jump, didn’t even jerk, but she did sit up straighter, her eyes focused on the locked door as someone in the hallway slammed their fist against it over and over, banging as loud as they could.

“Who is it?” she said.

The banging stopped, but nobody answered.

Moving as smoothly as a cat, Mokou rose from her chair. On the floor, the six children were still lying asleep, the note of her their breathing having not changed at all. She tread around them, heading toward the door.

The door handle started to turn.

Mokou watched as it twisted first one way, and then the other, its old joints whining. However, it was still locked, so whoever it was that was trying to get in was unable to open the door. The knob than began rattling and shaking as the banging began again.

“Who. Is. It?” Mokou said loudly, not caring if she woke the children. If they could sleep through that racket, then they could sleep through her voice. Besides, she was pretty sure that she was going to want them awake for this.

This time the banging and rattling didn’t stop, but instead picked up in fervency. Mokou levitated a few centimeters into the air, turned her body fully around so that her face was close to the floor, and peered through the crack beneath the door.

There was nobody in the hallway beyond.

That didn’t stop the banging though, and what was more, it was starting to spread.

What sounded like several fists pounded at the walls. The sick room sat in a corner of the house, so two-thirds of the wall with the door also shared a wall with the room right over, Shion’s room to be specific, while the other wall bordered Haruhi’s room. And from the sound of it, both rooms were filled with people, all slamming their hands against the walls.

Mokou reached into her pocket and withdrew a spellcard.

And then the banging started happening against the other two walls, the ones that went outside.

Mokou whirled around. From the sound of it, the sick room was surrounded on all sides by people trying to get in. And they were on the top floor! Not that it would matter in a country full of people who could fly, but that handily ruled out anyone else from the house being the culprit.

Speaking of which, the six children in the room were still fast asleep!

Mokou glided over to the window and creaked open the shutters with one finger, just enough for her to peek out.

It was a nice, clear night out. And it was completely empty.

Almost as if they had sensed her looking out, the banging stopped.

Mokou opened the shutter fully. She of course wasn’t going to open the glass window itself, but she had enough of a field of view to survey most of the side of the house and the moonlit lawn below.

There wasn’t a single living soul to be seen.

Oh shit.

Mokou moved back from the window. Almost immediately the banging began once again, this time from all over! The cabinets were shaking from the force slamming against the walls, and the door knob was about ready to fly right off if it rattled any harder.

“Enough!” she shouted. “Reveal yourself!”

Again everything again fell silent.

And again it started up all over again!

Mokou had no idea what to do. She didn’t even know what was happening. Anything from the Forest of Magic would have been stopped by the new wards, and anything Human would have tripped the early warning spells. Whatever this was, it was new.

She wasn’t scared though. Supernatural threats were no stranger to her; hell, technically speaking she was one. But she would feel considerably better about her situation if she knew what she was dealing with.

Then, as she slowly rotated around, Mokou got her first real jolt.

The six children, who had all been sleeping soundly just a moment ago, were now all awake and sitting up, staring at each other.

Well, of course they would be awake! Nobody ought to be able to sleep through that racket! It was honestly more of a mystery why it had taken them so long to wake in the first place!

But they didn’t seem distressed like young children woken in the middle of the night by such a cacophony might have. They weren’t crying out, they weren’t asking what was wrong, they weren’t crying, they weren’t shouting, they weren’t looking around in confusion, they weren’t reacting at all.

They were just…sitting there, staring unblinking at one another. Kana had even stopped coughing.

Now Mokou felt actual fear.

The six children, some of which who had actively loathed one another earlier that same week, continued to stare. Then, as one, they all turned to look over their right shoulders at the walls.

“Enough!” they said with one voice. “Leave!”

And with that, the banging stopped, the knocking ceased, and the door knob lay still. And this time it stayed that way.

Over on the counter, the clock began once again to tick.

Mokou’s heart seized up. She had been right. If the kids’ fluid, synchronized movement hadn’t been a tipoff, the change in their voice more than confirmed it.

It had not been their voices coming out of their mouths. That voice had been colder than winter and deader than dry bones. If a coffin were to be extracted from beneath a sheet of ice, and the corpse within were to speak, it would have a voice like that.

And when it spoke, the things trying to get in had listened.

“Who are you?” she asked the entity she now shared the room with.

Again moving as one, the six children turned their heads to stare at her. Six pairs of dark, beady eyes bore into her own. And though it might have been a trick of the dark, she was pretty sure she saw a faint red light shimmering in those eyes.

Mokou tensed up, fully ready to fight.

Then Kana started coughing.

It was like a spell had been broken. The kids finally blinked their eyes, and then began looking around in confusion. “Uh…” Hayate said.

“Wait, what the hell?” Kohta added, scratching his head.

Mokou didn’t drop her guard.

“Miss Mokou?” Keine said. “What…just happened?”

It took some doing, but Mokou found her tongue. “You don’t remember?”

“I…” The tiny girl frowned. “I remember…I think I was dreaming. Dreaming about a deep, black pit. And…”

“Chains,” Kana said. “And quite a lot of them.”

Mokou had no idea whatsoever what to say to that.

And then, from somewhere else in the house, someone started to scream.

…

For what might have been the first time since she had realized that she had left her drab, anxious, and hopeless life back in what she now thought of as the Outside World for an actual world of magic, Melissa Garcia wanted to go home.

It was the strangest thing. Her old life had, in its strangely parallel way, mirrored her current circumstances, except everything had been drab and bleak instead of colorful and full of magic.

Like almost everyone at the Aoki Yume’s Children’s Home, she had never known her parents. They had died when she had been very young, and she had grown up in a Catholic mission. It had been…unpleasant, to say the least. The rules had been strict, the punishments severe, the beds hard, the food unappetizing, and Melissa had expected to go through her childhood with her head down and her mouth shut so as not to attract any undue attention.

The one thing that brought her any happiness was stories. There was one nun, from faraway Ireland, who, when everyone else was asleep, would come into the children’s room and tell them the stories from her home, stories of fairies, of spirits, of leprechauns, and of monsters. Melissa always loved those stories, and the world they described seemed so much more lively and fun compared to hers! Unfortunately, one day the nun was caught and reprimanded, and the stories stopped. Melissa’s life became just a little more grey after that.

And then one day she had woken up to another day of grey hopelessness, of trying to just get by, of having nothing much to look forward to except for the vain hope that maybe she might one day work hard enough and save enough to live a life that was somewhere above tolerable, only to have those hopes dashed when she had gotten separated from the rest of her group during a trip to the nearby village. As she had searched for everyone else, she had attracted the attention of some local men, the unkindly sort with cruel faces and nasty smiles. They had called out to her, beckoning her to come over, that they would help her.

Instead, Melissa had ran.

And they followed.

Convinced that she was about to become another faceless victim found in a ditch, Melissa had gone this way and that, desperate to lose them while all too aware that they knew the village better than she. And then, at one point, she ducked through a long dark tunnel, one that seemed to stretch on and on, one without any light at the end.

And when she had come out the other end, she was in someplace else entirely, a small village of strangely built houses and strangely dressed people, ones who had been just as surprised to see her as she was to see them. However, unlike her, they had quickly figured out what had happened, and though they spoke strange words that she couldn’t understand and clearly couldn’t understand her either, they still managed to calm her down and communicate to her that she should follow them.

Melissa had, of course, been terrified. Where was she? How had she gotten there? Who were all these strange people, with their oddly shaped faces and unfamiliar clothes, who spoke to each other with an unfamiliar tongue? And most importantly, would they let her go back before it was noticed that she was gone? If Melissa had gone missing for too long, then she would be guaranteed a beating and several hours spent in the Othering Closet.

However, if she refused to do as these people said, then they would probably beat her themselves, so with no other choice she had followed them. They had taken her to one of the strange buildings made of wood and paper, into a strange room with strange furnishings, where the walls were made from paper, there were no chairs, and everyone sat on the floor at very low tables.

Once there, they had brought an old woman wearing a lovely black robe, and to Melissa’s utter shock, she began to speak to her in Spanish: stiff and halted Spanish, yes, but understandable Spanish nonetheless.

The woman had explained to Melissa that she was one of the few in the village who had taken the time to learn almost all of the majors languages of the Outside World, so it was her job to greet newcomers, and Melissa was the first newcomer that they had in the Human Village in several years.

Melissa had still be confused and terrified, so she had begged that woman to please send her back before she got into trouble. She would tell no one that she had been taken or how to get to the strange village, but they had to send her back.

In response, the woman had sadly shaken her head and clicked her tongue. And then she had explained to Melissa a few things that had changed her life forever.

Firstly, she was not going to go back. She couldn’t go back. She had been taken, fallen into something called a gap, which was kind of like a hole in a wall, but instead of connecting two rooms, gaps connected two worlds, and rarely lasted long.

Melissa, of course, had not understood at all. She knew the words, she knew what they meant, but the things being described to her were beyond her comprehension? Worlds? As if in, other countries? It had made no sense!

However, there was one thing she did understand, one thing about what they were telling her that her mind and heart had seized upon immediately.

Magic.

She was in a world of magic, a place of enchanted forests and cute fairies, a place where beasts talked and spells were sold on the street corner. And what was more, anyone that came to this magical country, one called “Gensokyo,” could also learn magic, to conjure up mysterious powers with her fingers and fly through the air like a bird.

Needless to say, Melissa was entirely too happy to discard any thought of going back, and while learning the language was difficult, she was perfectly fine with calling Gensokyo her home. After all, she was going to be able to fly!

But now she was seeing the dark side of her new home. Because say what you will of the place she left, but there were no monsters emerging from the forest to eat them. There were no curses that necessitated clearing entire floors of the house. There were no demons after her blood, no ghosts seeking to suck out her soul, no monsters other than cruel men, and Gensokyo had plenty of those too.

Now Melissa was scared. And she wanted to go home.

With those who had been recovered from the forest kept by themselves in the sick room, the rest of the children had all been brought into the main room at the foot of the stairs for the night, with all the grown-ups save for Miss Mokou sleeping with them. Under normal circumstances, it would be an exciting change from routine, but Melissa felt nothing but dread.

For one, it wasn’t a fun sleep-together, and everyone knew it. There was something very wrong with the kids being kept upstairs, something that the rest of them needed to be protected from. “It’s just a precaution,” Miss Shion had told them. “The Youkai Forest has all sorts of bad magics, and we want the Hakurei Shrine Maiden to take a look at them first to be safe.”

Well, Melissa might still be struggling with the language, but she knew when a grown-up was downplaying something bad. Something was wrong with them.

For another, her best friend Kana was among those being kept away. When she had been taken, Melissa had been scared stiff for her. Kana might be kind of…odd, and prone to saying the weirdest things even when Melissa fully understood her, but she was one of the few at the orphanage to not treat Melissa like an oddity. After all, Kana was kind of an outsider herself, so she had no problem spending time with the girl from the Outside World and not treating her like she was dumb just for having difficulties with Japanese, or weird because her skin was darker and her name unusual. Melissa had even taught her a few words in Spanish, and to her surprise Kana would actually use some of them from time to time. So of course she had been nothing but relieved when Kana had been rescued, only for that relief to turn to dread when she saw how weak and sickly Kana now looked. The bad magics were one thing; they probably had ways of dealing with those! But that dry, chest-rattling cough was the kind of bad that Kana had seen before and fully understood, even before coming to Gensokyo.

And finally, as she lay down on her sleeping mat and pulled the thin blanket up over shoulders, Melissa became intensely aware of a third problem: she was the only girl left.

Eiko was dead, and the Kana, Rumia, Haruko, and Hayate were all locked away. That just left her, the grown-ups, and lots and lots of boys.

She tried to ignore it. she tried to close her eyes and sleep. But Kazuchika’s mat wasn’t far from hers, and, well, she had been noticing him a lot lately, so sleeping in such close quarters was all sorts of uncomfortable in ways she really wasn’t ready for yet, with his short, pale hair and piercing white eyes and the way his shoulders seemed to get more broad and his arms more strong with every passing season.

And Noba wasn’t that far either. He wasn’t as handsome as Kazuchika, but there was a gentleness about him that Melissa found very appealing. Not weakness, no. Him rushing headlong into danger to defend the other girls was proof of that. But gentleness. And he still was pretty easy on the eyes. As for Shinji, he was kind of an ass, but a brave ass, one that always liked to show off for whoever was looking. And sure, Melissa had rolled her eyes along with everyone else, but on more than one occasion she had secretly appreciated some of his more physical feats, like when he had used his newly gained power of flight to stand on his head and do push-ups, which had caused his shirt to slip down, exposing his…

Groaning, Melissa turned over, away from the group. If the Hakurei Shrine Maiden would be so kind as to show up and return everything to normal, that would be just great!

She tried counting fairies, leaping over a fence. One. Two. Three. Four.

In time, her breathing slowed.

Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen.

She began to relax.

Twenty-nine. Thirty. Thirty-one.

And the fairies were gone, but that didn’t stop the procession from leaping over the fence. Except now it wasn’t fairies, it was those spider people, the ones that had come for them, the ones that had taken her friends, the ones that had eaten Eiko alive. And now they were coming for her, long arms outstretched, scabby fingers grasping, mouths open like black pits ready to-

Melissa’s eyes snapped open as she let out a small gasp.

The room was darker, the lamps having been extinguished. That meant that she had been out a bit longer than her brief nightmare had made it feel. And goodness, it had left her heart racing! Melissa would rather stay up all night than return to that dream!

But even so, it was just a dream. Things were scary and stressful, so of course she would be having nightmares, anybody would. She was all right.

Sighing, Melissa shivered beneath her blanket and tried to relax. Despite it being midsummer, the night had gotten very cold. She turned over and pulled her blanket up further.

Or at least she tried to. The truth was, she only got a few centimeters before she was stopped. Frowning, she tried again to turn, but found that she couldn’t. She was stuck.

Now waking up a little more, Melissa tried again and again to roll over. It was like the covers had been tucked in too tightly around her, forming a sort of cocoon that prevented movement. But how was that possible? She only had the one blanket, and you couldn’t tuck in covers around a sleeping mat!

She wiggled her hand under the blanket. The fabric felt…different, no longer like the woven wool it had been. Instead, it was sticky.

And then she heard someone crying, a young girl weeping softly to herself.

Gritting her teeth, Melissa strained and pushed. She was unable to break free of whatever it was that encased her, but she at least managed to turn just enough to incline her head and get a good look at the room around her.

The whole room was blanketed in what looked like silky white sheets. They covered everything, from the walls to the stairs to the floor. Everyone sleeping on the ground, child and grown-up alike, was all wrapped snuggly in a white bundle, one tethered to the ground by more of the white sheets.

Melissa stared numbly at the scene, her scared and tired brain unable to make sense of what she saw. She had to still be dreaming, right? It was the only thing that made sense. Why would anyone cover the whole room with…

Suddenly, Melissa realized what she was seeing.

They were spiderwebs.

They were all covered with spiderwebs.

Melissa wasn’t the only one who had been woken up. Here and there she saw other kids trying to free themselves. Over in the corner, Mr. Joshua was struggling to sit up, but had only managed to elevate his shoulders. Miss Satoko was tugging and pulling at her restraints, but to little avail. Kazuchika was trashing as hard as he could in his attempts to free himself.

Noba, however, wasn’t fighting. Instead, he was staring upward, at the ceiling.

When Melissa saw this, she got a sinking feeling. That was where the crying was coming from.

Now Tomohiro had noticed where Noba was looking. He looked up as well, and his eyes went wide. Over in one corner, Miss Haruhi was making little whimpering sounds as she stared at the same thing they were.

Though she did not want to, Melissa looked up as well.

Eiko was there, handing upside-down from the ceiling by a glob of webbing to the bottom of the chandelier. Her whole body was encased in webs, her legs glued together and her arms stuck to her sides. Only her head was free, and her eyes were closed as she softly cried to herself.

“You…” she whispered. “You…you…you…”

Then her eyelids snapped open, revealing a pair of empty pits.

“You let them do this to me!” she cried. “You let them…them…”

For a moment it seemed as if she were about to vomit. Her mouth opened and closed without any words escaping, and her throat was heaving in and out.

Something was coming out. Something was forcing its way out from inside her mouth, something black and wriggling.

A massive spider emerged from Eiko’s mouth, a spindly horror larger than one of Mr. Joshua’s fists. It crawled out from between Eiko’s lips and walked up (down?) Eiko’s face to perch on her forehead.

But it wasn’t alone. More were pushing their way out, more than Eiko’s mouth would allow. There was a horrible crack, and her jaw was snapped out of its sockets. Her cheeks ripped open like paper, and a torrent of spiders poured out of her to spill down onto the horrorstruck captives below.

…

When Mokou heard those downstairs scream in terror, she found herself faced with an unenviable dilemma.

On the one hand, she knew that she ought to rush in to their defense. After all, now that the invaders were actually in the house, she was pretty much their first, second, and only line of defense. Even an especially armed and determined Human could wreak considerable damage before they were stopped.

But that would mean leaving the six under her care alone, which given what had just happened, was not something she was about to do. And to even if she could, she would have to exit through the front door, which could let in whatever it was that had been banging on the walls.

Damn it.

“Stay where you are!” Mokou called over her shoulder. “Don’t leave the room!” With that, she swiftly unlocked and opened the door just enough for her to squeeze out. Then she used her key to lock it again.

As expected, the hallway was empty, which told her what she needed to know about the invaders. Shaking her head, she bolted to the stairs and flew down enough to get a look.

Everyone was sitting up in their mats and screaming at something on the ceiling. Mokou thrust a hand out and ignited a ball of light over her palm.

“It’s me, it’s me!” she said. “What happened?”

“It’s Eiko!” Shinji wailed. “She was here!”

Shit! “Eiko. Okay. Where?”

Everyone pointed up to the ceiling. Mokou craned her neck to look, but saw nothing but the chandelier.

“She…She was there!” Yoshi cried. “I swear, she was right there, hanging from the ceiling!”

“And we were all covered with webs!” Keiichi added. “They were everywhere! I could barely move!”

Melissa had curled into a ball and was rocking back and forth, whispering non-stop to herself.

Mokou looked the scene over. Certainly all the children were in the same panicked state, which ruled out a simple nightmare. She glanced over to the other adults.

Whatever it was that the children had seen, they had seen it too. Haruna was holding a sobbing Haruhi in her arms while she stared blankly at the far wall. Shion was up and moving about the children, trying to do her best to console them. Joshua was sitting on his knees with his eyes closed, hands gripping his cross as he whispered to his god. And as for Satoko, she was holding little Akito in her arms, trying to soothe him as he squirmed and cried.

Mokou jogged down the stairs toward them. “Hey,” she said. When that failed to garner a response, she clapped her hands loudly together. “Hey!”

That got their attention. Satoko, Haruna, and Joshua all started, like they had been awakened from a trance.

“What happened?” Mokou demanded. “Tell me!”

Joshua’s mouth was moving, but he was having difficulty getting words out. “There…I-I woke up, and I heard crying, but wh-when I tried to-to-to get up…”

“Webs,” Haruna said in a hollow voice. “Everywhere. Covering everyone.”

Mokou glanced around. Well, these supposed webs were all gone now. “Continue.”

“I saw some of the children…” Joshua swallowed. “Well, they were awake, and staring up. At the ceiling. So I looked up too, and…”

“Eiko,” Satoko whispered, her arms tightening around Akito. “She was there, hanging from the chandelier.”

“Hanging? You mean, like by a rope? A noose?”

Satoko shook her head. “No. She was upside-down, and just covered with webs. She…She talked. She blamed me for letting her die. And then her mouth was just ripped open, and all these spiders poured down on us.”

“Her eyes were gone,” Haruhi said. Then, in a rising shriek, she repeated, “Her eyes were gone! She had no eyes!” Despite being near a breakdown herself, Haruna quickly shushed her before her panic set off the children.

Not that they needed the help, Mokou observed. It seemed that everyone was near hysterics. “Satoko. I need to talk to you in private.”

Satoko stared at her like she was speaking in an alien tongue.

“Please,” Mokou said. She held out a hand. “I need to ask you something.”

“What? Oh. Ah, okay.” Satoko handed Akito to Haruna and got up to follow.

Mokou led her into the hall that led to her kitchen. Once they had a measure of privacy, Mokou said, “Satoko, do you remember what happened to our wards?”

“Of course,” Satoko said with a shiver. “They were sabotaged, right? But you replaced them, didn’t you?”

“I did. With better ones. But all this has got me thinking about what happened to them in the first place.”

Satoko stared blankly at her. “What do you mean? Someone found them and destroyed them. It’s not like they were hidden.”

“No, but they weren’t torn up, they were burnt,” Mokou said. Her mind was racing back over the events of the last few days. More pieces to the jigsaw puzzle were coming to light, and she was not liking the picture they were forming. “Someone burned them. All of them, in one night. Doesn’t that sound like something we’d notice?” She paused for a moment to mentally examine the evidence, and then said, “I think they were destroyed by an overload spell.”

Satoko frowned. As she did not come from an especially magical background, that concept was unknown to her. “Explain.”

“Basically, what it does is use a ward network’s own connection against it,” Mokou told her. “It fires off a highly concentrated stream of magical energy that pushes a ward past its threshold, overloads the runes, and incinerates them. Then it moves onto the next ward in the line, and the next, and the next. Only thing is, this happens so fast that it would be done in less time than I’m taking to describe it, and it does it quietly. We’d have to be looking directly at the wards to notice something was wrong.”

Now Satoko got it. She might not be all that versed in combat magic, but she understood the basics, and what Mokou had explained to her drained the blood from her face. “But…something of that magnitude.”

“Yeah, it does take a lot of juice,” Mokou nodded. “And they’re extremely difficult. You have to be pretty proficient with magic to be able to pull one off. But there’s a couple more catches as well. First of all, they can’t be performed by a youkai without them risking tearing their own bodies apart. Permanently. Even magician youkai that used to be Human can’t do them. So whoever pulled this off had to be Human, and a powerful one at that.”

“Go on…”

“Secondly, even if you are a Human magician with enough knowledge to safely pull one of these off, you won’t be able to do it alone. You need a source of youkai magic at hand to channel into the wards. And that’s a one-way trip for the youkai, so they tend to be kind of unwilling.”

Satoko made a face. “You’re telling me that to sabotage our wards and leave the children vulnerable to attack, a Human captured and murdered a youkai?”

“If they used an overload spell,” Mokou said. “Which, okay, is just a theory, but it tracks, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Satoko said with a contemplative nod. “But what does that have to do with what we just saw?”

“Because an overload spell wouldn’t just go for the perimeter wards. It would take out every ward, charm, and protective rune in a five kilometer radius, provided that they were part of the same network.” Mokou stared hard into Satoko’s eyes. “Now, I want you to think really, really hard: are there any other kinds of wards or anything else of that nature that we didn’t think of? Maybe something in the house itself?”

That was the key. Until they had been sabotaged, the Aoki Yume’s Children’s Home had been well-protected against supernatural threats of all kinds. No youkai could even step past the perimeter fence; not even fairies were able to fly past it. Hell, even Tewi needed a special charm Mokou had made for her in order to pass.

But not all dangerous magic came from without. Gensokyo was a country practically made from magic of all kinds, and it wasn’t just youkai they needed to fear.

The orphanage had existed for generations, providing a haven and a home for children who had lost their families, protecting them from the dangers that roamed the Wilds. But unfortunately, as the last week had proven, they couldn’t always protect them. Sometimes the dangers won, sometimes the monsters got through, or even sometimes fates as mundane but no less deadly as a bad fall, a summer illness, or an inhaled piece of food reared their ugly heads. Children died quite easily, and the orphanage had seen the deaths of many children over the decades.

Now, given the house’s age and the pain carried around by its inhabitants, it would make a prime breeding ground for ghosts, specters, poltergeists, and the like. Except it wasn’t. The house had never seen single haunting.

The reason for that was quite simple: the Yume family weren’t fools. When Satoko’s multiple-times-great-grandparents had turned the family farm into an orphanage, they would have foreseen the various dangers it needed to be protected from, both from without and within.

But the downside of that is that if those protections had existed for so long, they would have done their job so well that those that they protected would simply stop thinking about them. And if they were taken away, it might be some time before anyone even thought to check that they were still there, even after the monsters had gotten in.

Before, Mokou had chalked up any strange going-ons, such as the flaming lantern or any strange upstairs shenanigans, up to the curse that the Black Circle Six had brought with them. But now she felt that they had nothing to do with it at all.

“Oh, my gods,” Satoko whispered.

Mokou nodded grimly. “Yeah, I thought so. Where?”

“Th-The foundations,” Satoko stuttered. “The stones. They all had special runes engraved into them, so any negative spirit would, you know…not form.”

Mokou nodded again. “I’m willing to bet anything that those runes are now a scorched and blackened mess.”

Both women were now thinking down the same lines. Eiko’s death had been horrible. She had awoken weak and sick from spider venom to find herself in a dark and frightening place, surrounded on all sides by hideous monsters. And before she could even figure out where she was and why she was there, they had eaten her alive.

Such a painful and violent death would certainly leave a stamp. And in a place swimming with magic like the Youkai Forest, an aftereffect forming was practically an inevitability. From there, it would either fade away as its body rotted, or it would gain enough strength to continue on, joining the many dark spirits that wandered the forest, forever an echo of a dead girl’s pain and fear.

Except the body hadn’t stayed where it had died.

“It came back with the body,” Satoko said.

“Makes sense,” Mokou said. “The place where she died would be unfamiliar, and that nest got scorched pretty bad, disrupting any magical ties. So it would migrate to someplace she knew.”

“And with the wards down, it wouldn’t have gotten blocked out and broken apart,” Satoko continued. “And when we cremated her body…”

“That basically cut it loose.” Mokou looked toward the main room, where everyone was struggling to make sense of the fearsome apparition they had seen. “So, on top of everything else, we are now officially haunted.

…

Okay, full disclosure: I may have recently watched all of The Haunting of Hill House and read The Shining for the first time, and they may have both heavily influenced where this story is going. So yeah.

Until next time, everyone!

#The Touhou Project #touhou #rumia #Fujiwara no Mokou #mokou #fanfic #imperfect metamorphosis

6 notes · View notes