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demonslayedher · 3 years

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I lost a bet to myself and paid the price by making another demon sibling AU. Was originally just going to be headcanons and doodles, but I wound up writing the parts I felt like. The names of Tengen's siblings are entirely made up. This will come in two parts due to length.

Clicking each bone in his spine, Yogen stood to his full height, taller than Tengen remembered. It wasn't uncommon to go long periods of time without seeing his siblings when they were on their own missions, but Yogen shouldn't had changed that much. "I'll spare you. It wouldn't do for the Uzui clan not to have a head. Now you're the strongest one."

"...Yogen..."

"I wouldn't had been able to take you on, if not for the fact that you'd never have done it if you knew. You should thank me, Aniki. You know what I've spared you? Father was going to make us all have a fight to the death. You'd have done at least half of this."

"What have you done!?"

"I ate them," he laughed, something Tengen had never heard Yogen do in his adult voice. He had the most infectious laugh when they were children, and this rang with the same pleasure, however dissonant. "I was stunned too, at first. When I came to, I had eaten two of them, they were still warm in my mouth, their cells already nourishing mine. But you know what? I decided to eat the others. I was going to kill them anyway, what difference does it make that I should eat them?"

Tengen's face pearled back into a snarl, his eyes flaring.

"One, two, three... Eizen got away before I could bite him, though. That whelp would had done nothing for me. The one I really wanted to eat was the strongest," he said, his glowing white eyes shifting down to their father's fresh corpse. "And now, even he's nothing to me."

Tengen could stand no more of this. "Yogen!!" he screamed and gripped one of the swords at his back, and charged at Yogen all in one motion. A hard sickle burst out of the flesh of Yogen's arm and caught it, but when Tengen pulled his other sword down through Yogen's shoulder and chest, the sound of ripping sinews what different than it should had been. A look over to the injury revealed that the shoulder was repairing itself before Tengen's eyes. When had he learned any technique like that?

The momentary lapse in focus caught him, Yogen swiped up against Tengen's forearm. It felt too varied to had been spiked knuckles--those were his fingertips, he had grown claws. Tengen drew a sword up to lop off Yogen's forearm, and then his brother let out a shrill scream as his features lit up and revealed how contorted they had become. Yogen didn't look human anymore with how his veins bulged and burned. Burned? From what? Tengen took a look over his shoulder to the sun rising and casting light through the wide open door, and when he looked back, Yogen was gone.

---

Tengen watched the flames consume the house and the bodies of his slain family. He had combed it for any trace of Yogen, but his brother left none. Hope though he did that the flames may consume Yogen too, he knew in his gut that he was still out there.

Behind him, Suma sneezed in a gust of smoke that wafted into her face. Hinatsuru handed her a handkerchief, as she and Makio were already covering their faces in case of poison. Tengen didn't bother, he was resistent to most ninja poisons, and the scratches down his forearm were already less swollen. "You three should go back to your homes."

"No!" insisted Suma.

"We're already members of the Uzui clan," said Hinatsuru.

"Your revenge is ours," added Makio.

Hinatsuru made the most important point, they were already seen as his property. He could hear whispers and feel them all being watched; the other ninja clans knew what had befallen the most powerful family, and the Uzui name was now shunned. Even if Tengen wanted to stay, he had no place in the village, and neither did anything that belonged to him. The only thing left for him now was to track his brother down and drag him to hell.

Someone else was approaching, and Tengen reached for one sword. Uneven footsteps. One didn't have the splat of a foot, it was the thunk of wood--a cane, or two canes? A leisurely, but determined pace. Self-assuredness, even for entering ninja territory. A robust heartbeat. Who was coming?

"Well, is that what you all look like? I feel like I've wandered into one of those storybooks," said an old man. He had one missing leg, a full head of hair and moustache to rival it, a grin, and a telltale scar lining the underside of his left eye. "I had always left your kind alone, but I couldn't when I felt the presence of a demon over here."

"Who are you?" Tengen asked, stetching one arm before his wives while the other hand stayed at his weapon.

"You didn't chop its head off, did you, ninja boy? It's long gone by now, you know. It'll hide from daylight. Be even more trouble to find if it's one of your folk."

"How do you know about us?" Makio shot back.

"How do you children not know about demons? Aye," the old man huffed to himself as he set down a stool he carried. He planted his rump on it, then folded his arms. "The name's Kuwajima Jigoro, former Roaring Pillar of the Demon Slayer Corp. I figured this would be out of your expertise, so I've come to help."

Tengen felt in his gut he could trust that. He dropped to one knee and bowed his head, his wives all doing likewise behind him. Jigoro seemed to enjoy that, but insisted they do not. Instead of bowing, he'd appreciate the ladies rubbing his shoulders to display their gratitude, he said.

While Hinatsuru and Makio set about at each arm, Suma kneeled at his remaining foot with a gasp. "Aren't old people not supposed to be this beefy?"

"Can it, Suma!" chided Makio.

Hinatsuru said nothing, but could feel something was different in this man, not only in his physique. Whatever he had to say was going to change their lives more than the previous night already had. They all listened carefully as Jigoro orated about the existence of demons, how they eat humans, how they are near impossible to kill, but also the methods of those who hunt them, with specialized blades and an organization to support them. As he began describing Breath, however, Tengen stopped him. "I already know all that, that's ninjutsu basics. That's not giving me anything I don’t already have."

"Oh? I figured as much. Always made me curious about you pups. So you you've got the basics of Breath technique, huh?"

"It's beyond basic," he shot him an annoyed frown.

"I'll be the judge of that. See that tree over there? That's probably about the strength of the usual demon neck. Go hog wild on it." As much as showing off was against the ninja code, Tengen wasn't in the mood to argue and made short work of that tree, the only sound being the pop of it seperating into two halves. Jigoro gave him a clap, then stood with his cane. "Good accuracy. Spot on. Now you pick one out for me. Take some mercy, though, I'm only working at half-strength." He balanced on his foot and his peg, plopping the end of his cane in his palm to show off that he meant to use it in place of a sword. Tengen hated when other people tried to be show-offs, so he pointed to a tree a few rings thicker than the one he had cut.

The old man eyed it, then slid his good foot through the dirt, and as he leaned forward, clouds of steam rose from his lips. "Breath of Thunder, Fifth Form. Heat Lightning."

The sound hit Tengen so hard that he covered his ears, and the old man was gone--on the other side of the tree, which was not only cleanly chopped, but split itself in half vertically as it fell. A rarity, Tengen's jaw dropped. Jigoro looked back with a fierce grin, knowing he'd have left them all impressed.

Rather than one knee, Tengen planted his palms and face to the ground. "Please teach me this technique, Master."

"When did I ever say I wanted a student like you? You already said you know Breath technique, don't you?"

"You won't teach him?" Suma sat straight up, little tears in the corners of her eyes.

"I only want students with talents I can mold. You're already set your ways and would just try to make Thunder Breathing into what you want. You can't fill a full tea cup, as they say."

Tengen wanted to insist he's do anything to take his revenge, but the old man was right. As he was, he wouldn't be able to unlearn everything he always knew, it was as much a part of him as every experience and memory, like every scar, such as the ones running down his left arm.

"The true nature of Thunder Breathing would escape you, you'd get too caught up in how powerful it looks. You're too flashy!"

His cheeks flushed. "Say that again."

"You're too... flashy? I don't think a ninja should find that a compliment."

"You can't tell him all that and then not train him!" insisted Makio. "Please! There's got to be something you can do! Tengen-sama works really hard!"

"Tengen-sama works harder than anyone!"

"Please, Master. Tengen-sama can think flexibly, please give him a chance."

"I won't! I can already tell he's not the sort of student I'm looking for!" he barked back, and Suma burst out into sobs, while Hinatsuru hid delicate tears and Makio's face turned dark red. Jigoro flinched at the sight of the upset girls, then looked back to Tengen. "I--I didn't come out here to leave you high and dry, you know. I already told you about the Corp, didn't I? That's where you really need to go. I can't teach you Thunder Breathing, but if you really think you can pick up something new, there's an old scroll I've got of an off-shoot Breath. Someone like you might be able to pull it off. What do you say, ninja boy? How about I give that to you and you teach yourself Sound Breathing?"

---

From there, Tengen took much the same course as in canon. When he became a Pillar and had his meeting with Oyakata-sama, he was upfront about his reasons for entering the Corp. Oyakata-sama appreciated his frankness and assured him that the entire Corp would support him if they found any information on Yogen, but Oyakata-sama was also keen on the undercurrent of Tengen's heart; that he was relieved to leave the murderous ways of ninja, and that he wanted to live an upright life. This finally gave words to something Tengen always felt, but thought he had no right to wish for. He and his wives were moved and they swore loyalty to Oyakata-sama.

However, as time went on, there were no clues whatsoever about Yogen. Around the time they all got antsy, Makio finally couldn't stand it anymore and suggested they may never find him. "Think about it," she said. "This Corp is full of strong swordsmen. Someone might had already chopped off his head long before we got here."

While that should had come as a relief, Tengen couldn't help but find the idea frustrating. That revenge was his to take. He could think of only one person stronger than him who might had done it, so he described Yogen to Himejima one day and asked if he remembered seeing a demon like that. Himejima plainly replied that he was blind.

As they began to accept that they may never have closure, Hinatsuru proposed that they be satisfied bagging an Upper Moon. That should be enough for them to earn their peace, she said, and as much as it grinded away at Tengen's heart, he agreed.

In the course of performing Tengen's Pillar duties, they closed in on what was likely an Upper Moon in Yoshiwara. Hinatsuru, Makio, and Suma slipped in, but when he lost contact, Tengen went looking for some female Corp members to sneak in and see what was up. That's when he reencountered the boy whose head he meant to spill at the last Pillar meeting, as well as his two annoying buddies. Inosuke would had been satisfyingly flamboyant, if not for the fact that he was gross. The other whelp was named Zenitsu.

"You write that 'Zen' with the kanji for virtue?"

"Yeah. What's it to you?"

"Nothing," Tengen replied, never saying anything of it ever again. It didn't take long for him to notice that Zenitsu had ears on par with his own.

The boys managed to get in, and soon the plan went awry. Tengen's first encounter with an Upper Moon broke out, and that went awry in the most horrifically flamboyant of ways. Tengen found himself unconscious, needing to stop his heart to keep the demon poison from spreading, as it was many times more potent than any ninja or demon poison he encountered before. There was fire in the wreckage nearby, he'd be consumed if he doesn't move soon. In the odd space where consciousness was returning to him, his hearing reached into a deeper plain, where he could hear the most carnal thoughts pounding though the bodies of those around him.

Tanjiro was panicking.

No scent! No scent! Upper Moon Five--where did--but--no scent! No scent!!

Tengen could hear Upper Moon Six, in both bodies, but he couldn't hear any other demon. It gave off no sound. He struggled to look in Tanjiro's direction, and was stunned by the sight of a demon partway sticking out of the shadow Tanjiro has cast, guarding Upper Moon Six with a kunai stuck in his arm.

"Sakage!" growled Upper Moon Six. That is not the demon's name. "I don't need you here! Were you intruding on my thoughts?"

"I didn't need to. I heard the cacophony from ages away. You wouldn't had seen wisteria coming anyway."

Upper Moon Six looked to the kunai, while Tanjiro panicked that the poison had no effect on the newly arrived demon.

"Quit with all the fuss. I'd appreciate it if you hurry up and silence that Pillar over there," he turned his glance to Tengen. His eyes had writing in them, but that was Yogen. "I can't be bothered."

Yogen disappeared into the shadow as suddenly as he appeared, and Tanjiro fell forward with a stumble. He'd be a sitting duck like that, Tengen had to go save him, he pushed himself off the ground to--but--but his arm was missing--the scars were torn off-----

---

Yogen had been quick to learn some of the ins and outs of being a demon, but not all the finer details. He gathered from the surrounding demons' fear of the drum demon that the "Twelve Moons" were the most fearsome demons, closest to their progenitor, but didn't those other demons notice that the drum demon couldn't stomach humans as he ate them? That demon was weak, and Yogen wouldn't stand for it. He cut off his head.

It did not kill the demon, who screamed at him with the characters "Lower Six" in one of his eyes, but he shut up quick when Kibutsuji Muzan arrived. Despite warning Yogen that this was not how fights between demons were done and he should kill Yogen for acting without permission, Muzan smilingly decided to allow it, and instructed him to absorb the former Lower Moon Six and assume his role. Muzan did not care for how Yogen's name referenced sunlight, though. He renamed him Sakage on a whim.

Sakage went on to learn very quickly how to please Muzan, and how to climb the ranks. While not immune, he could resist wisteria poison, which Muzan was more than pleased to borrow from him and see how he could try to adopt it into his own cells. Sakage could move between connected shadows, and in spying on the Corp, he picked up on the hand signs the swordsmen used and quickly deciphered them, and openly reported so to the demons that outranked him. With hearing far more advanced that his brother's ever was, he listened to the information shared between crows, piecing apart their language to the best of his understanding.

Lower Moons Three and Two later, he used his spying abilities to identify his next target: Upper Moon Five.

Gyokko was startled by the challenge, and under Muzan's gaze, he could not refuse. Sakage made short work of him, and the other Moons all felt a chill. Akaza's chill was excitement.

Akaza wasted no time in chatting up the new Upper Moon, for Sakage likewise had a stated hatred for weaklings. While Sakage did find it a bit of a bother, especially since he knew he was a long way from ever being able to pose a real challenge to Akaza, he learned that the quickest way to stop Akaza from pestering him was to spar. Akaza loved to chit-chat even while sparring, though, and this became a useful way for Sakage to catch up on a hundred years of gossip about the other Upper Moons.

While it did feel they had somewhat of a friendship, one day they got on the topic of poison. "I hate people who use poison," said Akaza, between punches. "It's as cowardly and low as you can get."

Sakage, who could create a myriad of weapons from his cells as needed and always laced them in poison, was not offended, but disagreed. "I see no problem in being effective."

This gave Akaza pause, and an uncomfortable drop in his stomach. He excused himself, and bothered Sakage not so often after that.

Muzan was typically pleased with Sakage, which made Hantengu tremble that the ambitious demon had it out for him next. When Muzan was in a foul mood after Upper Moon Six's defeat, Sakage was likewise in a bad mood for the annoyance he encountered out there, someone who should had stayed hidden away instead of bearing free his inherently show-offy personality by joining the Demon Slayer Corp, especially since he was sure to have his ears set to the ground now for any new sign of him. He was certain Tengen witnessed him. But, for as much of an insult as it was to the Upper Moons that Gyutaro let him live, Tengen wouldn't be much of a threat anymore.

Still, Sakage knew to keep his cool. He had news to report, and he was certain of his deciphering. When he declared where the swordsmith village was located, Muzan had no doubts, and sent Hantengu alone. "Now why couldn't you find that, after all this time?" Muzan smirked to Nakime. She, not being of any rank, could merely apologize. Sakage took no pleasure or pride in looking better than a peer whom he knew he was stronger than. Muzan's mood could never be sustained for long, though, and he very soon frowned back to him. "You've brought no word of the blue spider lily."

"My apologies."

"Aren't ninja supposed to have knowledge of these things? Weren't you of a high ranking clan? Go back and order them to search."

And, at that moment, a dangerous thought escaped Sakage's inner filter, it leaked though to his mind at the same moment it leaked to Muzan's: But I can't show my face back there.

The way Muzan's face bent with disgust drove more terror into Sakage than when he was still a human and first encountered the demon lord. He felt certain of a swift death, but Muzan let him be. Sakage was still too useful. But, Sakage knew he'd have to crawl back to Muzan's graces by providing something of more use to him. He had to unveil a secret of more value.

Tengen, who remained active despite missing an eye and a hand, was present at an emergency Pillar meeting. Tokito and Kanroji were bandaged up, and they recounted how the swordsmith village was attacked by Upper Moon Four. With two Pillars and a few other reliable Corp members all working together they defeated him well before daybreak, but not before discovering an ancient ability known only as "the mark."

As he was now, Tengen knew he'd never attain this. What bothered him more was how the demons found the village, so hidden that he'd have to put his mind to it to have figured out where it was. He could had resorted to old tricks to figure it out, whether that be silently tracking the smiths after their deliveries or flirting with the Kakushi, but what recourse would a demon have had?

'I heard the cacophony----'

A demon may have had ears that rivaled his own, or were better!

Feeling sure of which demon it may had been, he set to thinking of what he would do next. If the demon moved in shadow, listening for the Corps' secrets, what would be a bigger target than the swordsmith village?

Oyakata-sama!

"Uzui-san, are you alright?" asked Himejima. "You seem quiet today."

"You look pale," added Kanroji.

"I'm jealous I won't get one of those flashy marks," he lief without flaw. "We all know I can't take any demons on like I used to. Maybe I don’t belong here."

"Uzui, what sort of talk is that?" Iguro looked to him with his flamboyant dichromatic eyes wide, and brows knit tight over them. "This isn't like you."

"I've got a different sort of mission to go on, I'll see myself out. You all stay here and keep each other company discussing this."

"Then I'll excuse myself here as well--"

"Not you, you've got no excuse," Uzui forced Tomioka back to a seated position by pressing on his head.

In conducting his own investigation, Tengen set his crow to work investigating from the sky. What the crow learned, tracing a few leaks and scolding the birds involved, was that their mid-air communications may had been what spoiled the secret location. This confirmed Tengen's suspicion about Yogen's hearing. He had a feeling about some other spoiled secrets too, and in following up with Corp members involved in previous mishaps, he concluded that the secret hand signals had been divulged.

(Read the conclusion reblog here.)

#please reblog from the conclusion post thx #tw blood #tw violence #tw cannibalism

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hongism · 3 years

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mists of celeste ➻ 36

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut ➻ Word Count: 17.2k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, chapter specific warnings: talks of torture, psychological torture, mentions injuries/infections, mentions of past abuse ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

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✧✧✧ act five ➻ part three

“I need to talk to Jisung. I… I have some questions about my past.”

“I’ll go with you then,” Yeosang offers without missing a beat, and he steps into your space. “That Spectre can’t be trusted enough to be alone with you. It’s bad enough that he’s being left alone right now.”

“Just yesterday you were talking about how much you hate me,” you scoff, turning away from the door to stare him in the eye. “Now you’re wanting to protect my every movement?” A huff of air passes through the man’s lips. For a moment, he refuses to look at you, and you think he’s going to choose to ignore you rather than respond to the question.

“Having Wooyoung speak to me through you put things in perspective a bit,” he admits. He drags his tongue over the front of his teeth, then shifts to face you without resistance this time. “If there is even the slightest chance that your death could negatively affect Wooyoung, I have to make sure that doesn’t happen. Don’t worry, I still hate you. I can’t stand you one bit, and I wish that I had a damn guarantee that you getting hurt wouldn’t risk Wooyoung’s safety because I could care less about looking after you on top of all this mess. Besides Wooyoung — he asked me to look after you, and my feelings about you are meaningless compared to what he wants.”

You haven’t had much of an opportunity to think about all the ways in which you and Wooyoung could be connected. While there is no guarantee that harm to you would harm him physically too, Yeosang does have a point. Just the chance is enough to be wary about. The same could be true the other way around in turn — anything they do to Wooyoung could potentially hurt you too, but there is no possible way of confirming that at this point in time. All you can do is wonder whether you will be able to see him and the others when you sleep next, should you even be able to sleep because it doesn’t sound tempting at all after what you just had to go through.

Your dragging hesitance must bother Yeosang to some degree because he huffs out another sigh and steps around you to lead the way out the door. You shift to follow him, stepping forward into the corridor only to run face-first into the Elitist’s back in less than a second. One peek around the curve of his shoulder tells you why he’s stopped so suddenly, and it’s none other than Jongho who stands before the two of you in the hall.

“Oh good, perfect timing. We need everyone to the medbay immediately,” Jongho says with a short nod, looking past Yeosang to give you a glance as well.

“Did something happen?” You ask in response.

“Hongjoong woke up, and he asked to see everyone.”

“He woke up? Why? No, no — how is he up?” Yeosang is the one to begin rambling, and he doesn’t stop there. “There were no signs of changes in his condition. I thought Yunho said it could be another several days before he woke up?”

“I don’t know either honestly.” Jongho brings a hand up to drag his fingers through his hair, pushing the locks off his forehead for a moment before they fall flat against his face again. “I came straight away the second Hongjoong gave the order. I don’t even know what the situation is quite yet.”

“Your conversation will have to wait then,” Yeosang murmurs. The two of you exchange a small nod, although you can’t say you’re too upset about having to postpone the conversation with Jisung.

“Conversation?” Yeosang steps around Jongho as the Berserker asks the question, and you are left to regard each other with confusion while Yeosang starts a path down the corridor.

“I was going to talk with Jisung about some things,” you explain, ducking your head to avoid the look Jongho gives you. It’s not one that causes any discomfort — moreso there is too much sympathy in that expression he wears, too much underlying pity that makes the pit in your gut deepen further. “Later. It’s fine, nothing pressing.”

Jongho reaches a hand out and takes hold of your elbow. The touch is delicate, probably one meant to offer some sort of comfort and nothing more, and that’s exactly what it does. Moments later, you are walking after Yeosang with a much lighter feeling swelling in your chest that you can’t pinpoint or explain.

When the three of you reach the medbay at last, Yunho stands outside the doors, hands close to his chest as he wrings them together without cease.

“Why aren’t you inside with Seonghwa?” Jongho asks upon seeing the healer.

“Hongjoong asked — he asked for a minute alone with Seonghwa.” Yunho blinks furiously as he speaks, and the motion of his hasty blinks is nearly dizzying in its frequency. “Under normal circumstances, Seonghwa would be the one to inform Hongjoong of the situation but… but Seonghwa still refused to speak even after seeing Hongjoong awake. He — what the fuck happened to the two of you during the night?”

You know the question is directed at you, but it still catches you unaware nonetheless. You can do nothing but stare back at him with wide eyes as the words process along with Yunho’s shaken-up disposition.

“I’m not sure,” you mutter. Yunho purses his lips, and a small exasperated sigh slips through, enough to show his annoyance with your answer, but Jongho steps in front of you before the healer can say anything. “I recall having a nightmare of my own but Seonghwa wasn’t there with me — I, no, that’s not — I mean he wasn’t—”

“Seonghwa had a nightmare,” Yeosang interjects, saving you from the moment of panic and from further fumbling with your words. “I managed to coax a bit out of him while you and Jongho were talking with Y/N. He had a dream that he was choking which is why he stopped breathing, and because he was so deep in the nightmare, he couldn’t wake up when Y/N tried to get him up the first time. You ended up startling him out of the nightmare and back into consciousness.” It could be a complete lie on Yeosang’s part, but it is logical and adds up in your mind to make some amount of sense. It saves your ass for certain, and that’s all you could ask for given your awkward and helpless fumbling. Yunho, however, doesn’t seem pleased with the response based on the way he shakes his head.

“That doesn’t add up,” he mutters, arms coming to fold over his chest. “Whatever he was dreaming about had to have been more traumatic than that since he had no other symptoms that lined up with other causes of shock. Trauma is the only logical option given what state he was in. Shock… it’s not just a quick jolt, it’s a critical condition brought on by a sudden drop in blood flow through the body. So trauma, heatstroke, blood loss, allergic reactions, infections, poisoning, burns, those sorts of things. His organs were not getting enough blood or oxygen, but just physically I could not see any sort of physical causes proving that. I can run some poison checks, but that truly wouldn’t make any amount of sense.”

“Even if it was something merely traumatic, what makes you think that he would ever want to talk about it with someone who always seems to want to pick him apart for every decision he’s made in life?” Yeosang levels Yunho with a glare so intense that you can almost feel the spike of tension in the air between them. “He was unresponsive with you for a reason no doubt. Maybe you shouldn’t have criticized him so much for decisions that didn’t involve you.”

“He involved me the second he started complaining about the arrangement betwe—”

“That’s enough,” Jongho cuts in, and he lifts a hand to rest atop Yunho’s arm. “Let’s not get heated right now. I can confirm that the emotional aura coming off Seonghwa’s body was something far beyond even a moderate level of trauma. Just being with Hongjoong in there is already helping some, but it will likely take some time for him to recover.”

“This is the worst possible timing,” Yunho sighs. “With tensions already high and everything… right when we need Hongjoong and Seonghwa the most, things like this have to happen?”

“Hongjoong is up now though, so that won’t be as much of an issue any longer.” Yeosang has a valid point with that one. Although without Seonghwa… you don’t want to have to think about how things would be without Seonghwa in all honesty, and it’s hard enough to even conjure up the smallest of thoughts about it. “Has anyone had eyes on Han?” Jongho is the first to deny it.

“I still feel his aura in the spare room we gave him. He didn’t budge at all during the night prior to the incident happening so I don’t think he’s behind that either.” Jongho’s words are enough to bring an unsteady silence to the four of you. There is nothing that can be said really, and you understand that better than anyone. How could you even try to explain the things you saw in your dream? You aren’t sure what you thought you would say to Jisung either; that was moreso a spur-of-the-moment decision made in a panic, and it’s probably for the better that you don’t go see him now.

“I hate this,” Yunho mutters after the silence grows unbearable. “It’s too quiet without the others here.”

“We should enact a plan soon, especially with Hongjoong up,” Yeosang says back. “Seonghwa won’t want to take a break or any recovery time, so things should be business as usual from now on. Can’t we hurry this along a bit? I doubt anyone is going back to bed soon, so talking with Hongjoong now would be best, no? Discussing plans so we can catch up to the transport ship the others are on?”

“Just a moment, yeah.” Yunho dips into the medbay. When the door slides open, you catch a glimpse of what’s inside, for better or worse. Seonghwa resides on one of the beds, the one closest to the door actually, and Hongjoong is as well, body draped over Seonghwa’s like an extension of the man, It’s not anything inappropriate, nor does it seem to be in the way the smaller captain straddles his hips and clings to his lieutenant like his life depends on it.

Looking at them like this — something close, intimate, calm, peaceful almost — you nearly feel as though you shouldn’t be present. It’s a crawling sensation that spreads to your stomach and chest, eyes trailing over the places where one man meets the other, and if not for looking so intently at the scene before you, you would miss the hefty tear tracks over Seonghwa’s cheeks. One of Hongjoong’s hands curls through Seonghwa’s hair as the other wraps tightly around one of the lieutenant’s.

Hongjoong pulls his hand down from the other man’s head, brushing over the tear-stricken skin of his cheek. He is clearly looking down at the man but Seonghwa doesn’t look back. Instead, he keeps his eyes shut tight with a few tears spilling out the corners. And in the back of your mind, you barely process how much you hate seeing Seonghwa in such a state, broken and crying without relent, and you hate how you seem to be just fine in comparison to him. The two of you were in the same place, suffering the same fate of being put through nightmares, and yet you came out of it because Wooyoung saved you. Did Seonghwa have anyone there to save him?

It is pointless to think of that now, but it’s all that is on your mind as you watch Hongjoong’s lips move with haste, muttering words that must be meant to comfort under his breath. You are too far away to hear it all clearly, although a few words slip in here and there.

“You’re okay… here… we’re here… together, okay? It wasn’t real… trust… I’m here.”

Yunho clears his throat when Hongjoong still doesn’t pull his attention away from Seonghwa, but even that announcement doesn’t cause the captain to budge even a little bit. Instead, he continues his hushed whispers for a few more moments then lifts the hand that is still tangled with Seonghwa’s in a pausing motion.

“We’ll talk more about it later, yeah?” He murmurs a bit louder as he pulls back to glance over in Yunho’s direction. His gaze slips past the healer’s should to find you in an instant, and you duck your chin in a panic, eyes finding the floor. It’s the feeling of being caught doing something you shouldn’t or watching something you shouldn’t be watching, and seeing Hongjoong atop Seonghwa in such a way is the cause of that. Perhaps he expects you to be jealous and scowl at him, and perhaps that is exactly what you are supposed to feel, but frankly… it doesn’t make you envious in the slightest. You moreso feel content at the sight of them holding each other so closely, like Seonghwa is finally at peace with Hongjoong in his grasp and awake. Hongjoong is finally up, can finally comfort him, and Seonghwa can finally rest easier. Why would you ever want to take that away from him?

The sight of them so closely linked, however, brings up a fleeting memory from your foray in the Dreamscape.

“To think that at the time, my worst nightmare was merely existing.”

“And now?”

“Not being able to save Hongjoong from himself.”

Albeit briefly, you wonder if that might be what Seonghwa saw once the two of you were separated. Even moreso than that though, the more pressing worry on your mind is just how deep Hongjoong’s demons run for Seonghwa to be so concerned that it has become his worst nightmare. You don’t have any more time to think about it as Hongjoong slips off of Seonghwa’s body and props himself on the edge of the bed. Seonghwa moves to sit up as well only to have Hongjoong’s hand slap down on his chest and shove him back to the bed with little effort. They don’t exchange any words, but they don’t need to either with the way one corner of Hongjoong’s lips quirks up in a half-smile as he blinks down at his lieutenant. Perhaps Vladimir had a point in the backhanded comment he made in the arena — when you see the way Hongjoong gazes at Seonghwa, it’s like nothing you’ve ever seen or experienced before, like Seonghwa could do no wrong in the captain’s eyes, and like he’s the most precious creature in existence. Hongjoong slips his hand down to the inside of Seonghwa’s thigh, resting his fingers against the fabric of his pants just above the knee. It’s nothing… lewd or suggestive, nor does Seonghwa seem to take it as such, moreso a touch of comfort and nothing more.

“Well, are you all going to get in here or not?” Hongjoong leans to look past Yunho’s shoulder, regarding the rest of you with a stare that is enough to cause you to step inside. Yeosang does the same and comes in behind you, but Jongho doesn’t budge even an inch. Instead, he stays in the corridor with arms crossed over his chest and eyes darting down the hall every so often like he’s expecting Jisung to come bursting out at any second. Hongjoong waits but you have a growing suspicion that he’s not waiting for Jongho to come in necessarily. “I asked for the whole crew, Yunho. Where are the others?”

Does he not… did no one tell him of the situation?

Yunho inhales sharply but doesn’t manage to do anything more than that, teeth sinking into his lower lip. Yeosang, however, doesn’t let any silence drape over the room in the aftermath of Hongjoong’s question. He takes the initiative and steps forward with an expression so flat and even that you nearly believe nothing is wrong in the slightest.

“During the mission at the arena, Mingi, San, and Wooyoung were all taken captive and are currently missing in action. Vladimir was used as an instrument to get the ball rolling, but someone else is behind the incident. The three are aboard a transport vessel that is on its way to Dorado, where Mingi will be sent to a recreational facility to reprogram him back into the Brute of Kebos. San and Wooyoung were not the initial targets, so their fates and what will happen to them are currently unknown. We — we have someone aboard who is acting as a mole for us and gaining information from Vladimir, Han Jisung. He’s also eavesdropped on several meetings to get information about the transport vessel and the plans.

“Oh, I know that part,” Hongjoong hisses through gritted teeth. A flash of panic crosses Yeosang’s gaze for a split second, and the two of you seem to instinctively share in that panic by looking towards each other.

“H-How?” Yunho stammers.

“Why do you think I’m even up in the first place? A certain Han Jisung came in here and woke me up.” Seonghwa sits up without hesitation and latches a hand around Hongjoong’s shoulder. The captain doesn’t even have time to react before both Yeosang and Yunho are suddenly stepping closer to the bed and into his personal space as well. Your first instinct, on the other hand, is to twist at the waist and look towards where Jongho stands in the hallway.

“Did you sense anything? I thought you said he was in his room this whole time.”

“I… No, I truly didn’t sense anything. It must have been during the commotion in Seonghwa’s room. That—” the Berserker cuts himself short there, tongue darting out to wet his lips before he finishes the thought “—that was the only time I didn’t think to check for his heat signature. By the time I was certain the crisis was averted, Jisung must have gotten back to his room.”

Hongjoong shrugs Seonghwa’s touch off as best he can before pushes the man back to the bed with another gentle touch.

“Don’t worry. He didn’t lay a finger on me.” Even though the words are clearly directed at Seonghwa, they hold weight over Yeosang and Yunho as well, bringing both men a few steps back from the bed. “Han Jisung is the one you should worry about.”

And as much as you despise it and wish your brain did not catapult in that direction, you cannot stop the twinge of panic that surges through your veins. It must be strong enough to pique Seonghwa’s interest because however hard you try to conceal the emotion on your face, you cannot keep the Siren from sending a worried glance your way. You don’t wish to care for Jisung still, you wish you could just bury that part of yourself and focus on something else instead — something like Hyunwoo, who deserves more than what you gave him, but your mind clings to Jisung like a parasite. You aren’t sure it will ever let up.

“I left him with several pretty threats that were enough to deter him from doing anything foolish. But he in turn informed me of the situation from his perspective. I merely wanted to hear from you all to make certain he was telling the truth. So thank you, Yeosang, for sharing the information better than this Jisung character did. Although, he did tell me what they intend to do with Wooyoung and San. Wooyoung is set to be sold to the House of Lilies in the Upper Echelon of the capital, Lynder.”

“What the hell is the House of Lilies?” The name itself leaves little to the imagination, but you can’t exactly blame Yeosang for needing the verbal confirmation. This time it isn’t Hongjoong who answers, though, and for what seems to be the first time since waking up, Seonghwa opens his mouth to speak.

“It’s… a whorehouse for the top class of Lynder, typically only used by the military and head councilmen of the city.”

“It’s a fucking what?”

If they’re putting Wooyoung in a place like that, then you don’t want to imagine where they would put San.

“San. Wh-what about San? Do they plan to do the same to him or—”

“No, they have different plans for him,” Hongjoong interjects, cutting your thought into a silent breath of relief. “He’s slated to be put through regression therapy and built into the perfect assassin. After that, he’ll go into the military in the Upper Echelon of the capital. He and Mingi will be put in the same facility for their treatments, but Wooyoung’s deal is supposedly more immediate.”

“Regression therapy? That’s the worse possible treatment San could ever receive!” You don’t really need to hear the panic in Yunho’s tone right now; it only makes the gravity of the situation weigh heavier on your shoulders. If you could sink through the floor and disappear from existence entirely, that would be preferred, but alas, no matter how much you wish for it, you’re stuck in place. “That could undo every ounce of progress he’s made over the years! All that — everything, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong’s tongue flicks out for a second, stabbing the corner of his lips harshly before retreating back into his mouth. He presses his lips into a thin line after that and refuses to respond to Yunho’s words.

Regression therapy. You’d heard of it during your stint with the military, a thing that was merely used as a threat for rowdy and unruly recruits who refused to do as asked. Only a threat because of how awfully traumatic it could be and how inhumane the public thought such a treatment to be. But the point was not to be humane then.

“They’d… use regression therapy to undo all that progress for a reason,” you murmur. The heat of five stares hits your body, and it’s almost overwhelming for a moment but you push forward to finish the thought. “Breaking him down into the husk he used to be is only part of the process. Once he’s put in the military, they’ll just wipe him of it either way, but to seem like they’re doing it consensually, they have to get him to go in there by choice. That’s how things worked on Eros. They threatened to bring back memories from before the wipe if you stepped too far out of line. They’ll break him, turn him into what he used to be, make him as deprived and desperate for even an ounce of freedom, then offer to take it all away.”

You don’t realize how hard you are gripping the inside of your right elbow until the pressure stings, but the moment you release your arm, that temporary grip on reality slips away and you fall into a vague flashback.

“Things will be okay, Y/N, I promise. It’s gonna be okay.”

Hyunwoo is the one to speak to you. Your attempts to reach out and grab him are futile as you quickly find that you are strapped to a cool metal chair that practically burns your skin. Hyunwoo reaches down, lips twisting into a soft pained smile, and he takes one of your hands in his own.

“It’ll only hurt a little bit. We won’t take much, just enough for them not to be able to track it back to you. If you don’t know then they won’t be able to pin the blame on you, and you’ll be safe. So we’ll only take what we need to, okay?”

“I-I don’t know who ‘they’ is.”

“You won’t need to know after this. Jisung is prepping the serum now.”

“I — Hyunwoo, I didn’t even get to say goodbye!”

“I’m sorry. This was the only way I could save you all. Maybe one day you will get to see each other again, and you can tell him the truth. And he can tell you the truth.”

“What fucking truth? You can’t do this now of all times, Hyunwoo! It isn’t the time to be cryptic and mysterious!”

“You’ll understand one day, Y/N. I promise.”

You pull yourself out of the flashback there, mostly because you’re so startled and confused as to why that memory slipped in. You were certain that you shared that conversation with Hyunwoo just before he walked to his death, not strapped to a chair with him saying such startling things.

“You’re right,” Hongjoong mutters, tugging you back to reality so harshly that you flinch. “Once they get on Dorado and conduct Wooyoung’s deal, they’ll separate Mingi and San. Probably place them in separate rooms: San to an isolation chamber, a large one no doubt. Mingi will most likely be placed in a much smaller one that will resemble the underbelly of the arena he grew up in.” Hongjoong pauses his thoughts there and shakes his head. “Han Jisung seems to know far too much about these plans and exactly what is going on. Why isn’t he tied to a chair in the brig right now?” Seonghwa opens his mouth to reply only to have Hongjoong wave his hand and dismiss the question entirely. “That isn’t important right now. What’s important is that we must keep any and all information found from henceforth away from Han Jisung. No plans, no musings, nothing whatsoever. That all stays between us as we cannot trust Jisung no matter what. I would rather keep a gun stuck to the back of that man’s head at all times than risk failure at this. Emergency rescue and recovery mission. We’ll talk further over the details soon. It’s best to get more rest now though.”

“I’d like to run some sleep tests anyways,” Yunho chimes in, and he turns to you before you have a chance to duck out of it. “Both you and Seonghwa. Don’t think I’d let you get out of it. Please just let me run a few tests, if anything only to make sure you’re okay.”

“Fine,” you mutter. Yunho doesn’t wait for you to follow him as he leads the way to another bed further down in the medbay. Sleep is the last thing on your mind right now, but you don’t have much of a choice as the healer sits you down and starts pulling wires and electrodes out. Hongjoong continues to talk to Yeosang a bit more, no doubt to decide on what to do moving forward.

“I’ll be hooking you up to a telemetry machine. It’s just to monitor your heart and see if there are any irregular happenings during the night. I’ll use it mostly to make sure it’s all beating properly and such while you’re asleep, but I’ll also place some sensors on and around your scalp, temples, chest, and legs, along with a small clip on your finger to monitor the oxygen in your blood. I’ll be here the whole night monitoring you both if any issues arise, yeah?”

“Okay.” You don’t make any efforts to hide the slight exasperation in your tone, and Yunho has the decency to at least pick up on that as he connects more of those sensors to your skin.

“I’m… I’m really sorry, you know. It’s — I know I have a lot to be sorry for and this one shitty apology won’t do much, but I am genuinely sorry,” he murmurs quiet enough for just the two of you to hear. “For all the ways in which I have been immature and hurtful. I did not act as a responsible or good doctor shoulder, but also from a deeper standpoint, I didn’t act as a friend should either, so I’m sorry for that as well. I want to do better and fix those mistakes but I don’t know how to right now. With all the stress we are under right now, I don’t want to risk making things worse by any means but... I can promise that I’ll try to do better.”

“I’m not petty like that,” you huff in reply. “Just you admitting that you did wrong and want to do better is enough for me. Just trying is enough. Maybe… try not to be a defensive asshole next time?” You dare to look up at the tall man’s face to gauge his reaction and are pleasantly surprised to be greeted with a smile.

“My goal is to avoid doing that again, yeah,” he laughs. His grin falls within a second, however, and he next brushes a hand over your hair with a small frown painting his thin lips. “You really gave us a scare. Hearing you call us for help only to go in and find you unconscious on the floor? We thought Jisung had gone in there and attacked you both. It was something out of a horror novel.”

You turn away as heat rises on your cheeks, and the only thing you can do to cover your embarrassment is cough awkwardly.

“I-I must have been so stressed and tired that I passed out right after.” That isn’t wholly a lie seeing as that’s what happened to Wooyoung according to Yeosang. Still, that begs a more pressing concern of what exactly happened on Wooyoung’s side of things for him to leave so suddenly. Perhaps the only good thing that could come out of this sleep test Yunho wants so desperately is the possibility of checking on Wooyoung and the others.

“You’re all set up now. You shouldn’t notice a thing unless we run into any issues, but again, I’ll be here to monitor throughout the night, and I’ll write up the scans in the morning.” Yunho pulls back with a smile.

“Thank you,” you mutter, settling back onto the creaky bed without further ado, but you know that sleep won’t come any time soon. So instead, you resort to watching Yunho make his way over to Seonghwa’s bed and repeat the same process he just did with you on the lieutenant. Yeosang dipped out of the medbay at some point apparently because he no longer stands before Hongjoong at the foot of the bed, and Jongho must have gone with him because the doors are now snapped shut. Hongjoong has his fingers curled tight around Seonghwa’s again, and once again that sense of distant longing seems to fall over the captain. He remains silent as he watches Yunho attach pads and wires to Seonghwa’s body. The feeling that next creeps over you isn’t one of jealousy or envy.

Your mind conjures up the image of San sitting at the foot of your bed like Hongjoong does with Seonghwa. San reaching a hand out to take hold of yours as he blinks down at you with concern. San brushing your hair out of your face and murmuring soft encouragements to you. Cat-like eyes and a dimpled grin gleaming above you like a whisper of hope.

It’s a painful reminder of reality: how San isn’t here and can’t be either. It’s a painful reminder that causes the corners of your eyes to sting against your will, emotions welling up so strongly in your chest that you double over to alleviate some of the pain there.

When you dare to look back at the bed, Yunho has walked around the side of the cot to stand before Hongjoong. Hongjoong’s free hand moves up to rest on the dip of Yunho’s hip, falling down to the top of his thigh for a fraction of a second then finding purchase on the mattress once more. Yunho pulls a stool forward and seats himself before the captain.

“I need to do a few more routine checkups on you too, just to make sure you’re okay since you didn’t rest as long as your body wanted. Eyes okay?”

“I can see you just fine if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Any pain in your ears? Ringing? The vibrations from the bomb will have shaken you up quite a bit.”

“No ringing, no pain.”

Yunho lifts a hand and rests it against Hongjoong’s forehead, pushing the blue strands up to lay his hand flat there.

“No fever either, that’s good. How does your throat feel? Your body should have purged the majority of the dust and smoke you inhaled by now, but I’m worried your throat might still be scratched up from it.”

“A little sore but nothing unbearable,” Hongjoong hums. He tilts his head from side to side as Yunho continues to worry over him but other than that, he seems entirely unbothered by the healer’s fretting.

“Ribs hurting at all? And your right hip?”

“Ribs feel okay, hip hurts like a bitch.”

“Yeah because you aren’t supposed to be moving around with a fracture of that degree.”

“I moved less than six feet.”

“You’ll move six feet under if you aren’t careful.”

“Because of the injury or because you’ll put me there for not listening to you?”

“I’m gonna write off that attitude as the concussion talking because I know you aren’t dumb enough to argue with me on this.”

“Head is fine too.”

“Then let me call Jongho back to help you get to your room. You can’t be walking that far on your own and—”

“I need to talk with Seonghwa a bit more first,” Hongjoong interjects, head falling in Seonghwa’s direction. Yunho cuts off with a small ‘o’, and his gaze flits over to where you’re reclining against the pillows of the bed. Hongjoong seems to pick up on that without prompting though. “She can stay in here, it’s fine. I doubt it’ll take longer than a half-hour, if you don’t mind waiting outside that long?”

Yunho pushes back on his stool, slipping away from the bedside. If not for looking so intently at the man, you would have missed the way his hands curl into tight fists against his thighs, but he doesn’t voice whatever is on his mind.

“Right, don’t take too long though; I know you’ve been resting a while but your body still needs to recover before you try to do anything drastic, and knowing you, that’s exactly what you plan to do as soon as you can. Y/N, Seonghwa — you two get some rest soon. I’ll be back to monitor in a bit.”

You don’t wait to watch Yunho leave the room because it doesn’t feel needed, but at the same time, you are trying your best to avoid any eye contact with Seonghwa or Hongjoong as not to intrude on whatever conversation they intend to have. You hear the soft click of the door and its scraping metal as it slides open, then a repeat of the same sound when Yunho steps out. The silence that falls over the room is so thick it could choke you. Hongjoong shifts on the bed again and scoots closer to Seonghwa’s head, a series of creaks following the movements. You crack an eye open to peek over at the pair. Hongjoong doesn’t lie down beside Seonghwa or anything, just sits there with a hand still wrapped around the other’s, and other than that neither move or speak. It’s only after the silence drags on for several minutes that Hongjoong decides he’s had enough and speaks once more.

“Do you want to talk more about it?”

“We should talk about the plan more first. If Jin is truly behind this, then we need something more… just something more.”

“He’s not. It can’t possibly be him behind this because he would have targeted you rather than going after Y/N. I don’t think he has anything to do with this, nor do I think he would stoop to kidnapping to get what he wants.”

“We are down three crewmembers and have an untrustworthy rat aboard,” Seonghwa hisses without missing a beat. “Jin could very well have eyes and ears on us and know how weak we are right now. You might be able to excuse him, but I know for a fact that kidnapping is not the lowest he would stoop to get what he wants. And I will not jeopardize your goals by being captured by him.”

Hongjoong extends his free hand to cup Seonghwa’s cheek, brushing over the smooth expanse of skin there with the pad of his thumb.

“I don’t believe that would ever happen. He would sooner have to kill me than capture you.”

“I’m… yeah, sorry, I’m simply worried. We’re headed to Dorado after all. Lynder of all places on that godforsaken planet too.”

“Why are you worried, hm? We shouldn’t be going anywhere near the Lower Echelon.” Seonghwa responds with a sharp shake of his head.

“Mother moved up to the Upper Echelon, remember? Three years back?”

“Are you calling me forgetful then?”

“You’ve always been forgetful, and you know it. You wouldn’t need me around if you could remember things.” That comment earns Seonghwa a smack to the shoulder, but you hear the huff of a laugh fall from Hongjoong’s lips before the lieutenant continues speaking. “The risking of seeing Mother is so high.”

“Are you… still afraid of her?” The question is hesitant in the same way that one would walk around a wild boar, like Hongjoong is afraid to set Seonghwa off in some way with the small question. “Hwa, you’re trembling. Is it too cold in here? I can get you an extra blanket if you—”

“No, no, shush, I’m not cold. I’m n-not afraid of her, I… I don’t want to be afraid of her, but in all those fucking nightmares, all I could see was red. I wanted blood, I wanted to kill, I wanted my hands around her throat so I could strangle her. And in all those dreams, that little voice won.” Seonghwa pauses and lifts a hand to touch Hongjoong’s cheek now, reflecting the other man’s actions from earlier. “I fear seeing the crew fall apart and not being able to save you from yourself more than anything else. Yet in those dreams, it was me who unmade each of them and ruined you. I’m… afraid of going to Dorado and not being able to hold back. I’m scared of killing Mother in a fit of rage and letting the Lieutenant of Death take over. I’m so afraid of hurting anyone on the crew, and I’m so fearful that I’ll bring ruin to you. I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive myself if that happens.”

Hongjoong’s hand comes down hard on Seonghwa's chin, gripping the skin and bone between lithe fingers, and he forces the man to look him in the eye.

“I won't let that happen. There is no way in hell I would ever let that happen. Even if I have to pry you off your own mother, I will make absolutely sure that that voice doesn't win, that those people who make up those rumors and disdain you so much don't win. I won't let you do anything you regret, Seonghwa.”

“Ha, as though you can promise such a thing,” Seonghwa mutters through a bitter laugh.

“I know. I can't promise much of anything, but I can give you my word and hope. That's enough for now. If all I have to offer you is one more day of hope, then I will continue to give you that for all eternity.”

The shorter man leans over the space between their bodies and presses his lips to Seonghwa's forehead, parting the hair that lies flat there to touch his skin.

“Don’t you ever regret letting me join the crew?”

“When it comes to you, I don’t think the word regret exists.”

It’s spoken with such a raw conviction that you feel your own throat closing up around itself. As your gaze falls over Seonghwa, you can clearly see the way the words affect him, from the way his lips part in wonder as he stares up at the man above him like he hung every star in his universe in the sky. Words fail him, but that doesn’t bother Hongjoong one bit as the captain tries to leave him with one more soft-spoken comment.

“Get some rest.”

He moves to get up and pull away from the bed, but Seonghwa's grip on his hand pulls him right back.

“Please don't go. I... I have both of you here with me for once. Please don't deprive me of this right now. Not when I've gone this long without you.”

“Whatever you wish, Hwa.” Hongjoong doesn’t fight back as Seonghwa tugs him down to his side, resting his head against his lieutenant’s chest once their bodies are pressed close. You don’t know if they’ve fallen asleep — the lights are still on in the medbay so it would be hard to fall asleep anyways — but you rest in the quiet with clouded and foggy thoughts. Twisting to the side, you turn to face the wall rather than look at that vulnerable scene any longer than you have to. You wish that could be the end of it, that the dismal conversations ended there with the two of them going to sleep, but Seonghwa’s tone rising up again in the silence disrupts that hope too.

“How much longer do we have to keep doing this? I get more and more tired with each day that passes.” Hongjoong hums a bit, and his next words come out rather slurred.

“I’m tired too. We’ll rest soon.”

“Aren’t we too young to be feeling this old?” There’s some humor to those words, but what Seonghwa says next eradicates that levity in an instant. “Jongho offered to take it away for me. Jongho, our youngest. He shouldn’t even have to think about taking our burdens.”

“That’s not the world we live in,” Hongjoong sighs. “That’s not a luxury we can afford. There is no normalcy. We don’t have and never will have any sort of normal family.”

“Family? Is that what this is now? The one you talked of wanting to find?”

“Yes… of course, this crew is our family without a doubt. One day when this is all said and done, we can settle down somewhere.”

“But?”

“But can we ever really be happy and content with settling down? I’ve been flying around space since I was born and as long as I can remember. Suddenly not doing that would be odd, wouldn’t it?”

Seonghwa laughs a clear and ringing sound, then seems to catch how loud the noise is and quiets himself to a softer chuckle.

“Then you can fly around space for all eternity if that’s what makes you happy.”

The bed creaks under someone’s movement, and you can only assume that it’s Hongjoong simply because he’s the next one to speak.

“Why do you keep doing that?”

“Keep doing what?” Seonghwa echoes softly.

“Every time we have this conversation and every time we talk of the future, you talk about it as though you won’t be there for it. Like you won’t see that future with me.”

“Stop saying foolish things, Hongjoong. We should be sleeping.”

“Seonghwa.” This time, Hongjoong’s tone is different. It’s something you’ve never heard from the man: a fragile sound that is on the verge of breaking and one that holds unspoken warning to it.

“Sleep, Hongjoong.”

“Seonghwa.”

That’s your breaking point. It’s too much for you to handle, the tone of their conversation has taken a drastic turn and you don’t want to hear anything else out of either of them simply out of fear. Even though you aren’t tired, you squeeze your eyes shut and internally beg for Wooyoung to let you in tonight.

…

As it turns out, you get your wish. You come to in Wooyoung’s body with a jolt and a gasp, although that sound goes unnoticed because Wooyoung yet again has full control over his body while you are left to sit back and watch through his eyes. The cell you wake up to is starkly different than the last; it’s much larger and brighter, fluorescent lights hanging on the ceiling, but that isn’t what draws your attention. No, the wall that consists only of thick metal bars and rings with the crackles of electricity garners all your attention first simply because of how loud the noise is but also because Wooyoung’s eyes seem to instinctively flit over the bars before turning further left. They are, thankfully, no longer chained to the floor like dogs and now seem to only have wrist and ankle shackles. It’s a significant step up from their last prison, and when Wooyoung finally pushes himself to his feet, you catch sight of Mingi resting on a small cot.

Wooyoung steps over to the Berserker without hesitation, hand dipping into a small bucket that’s full of icy water, and he pulls a rag from the liquid, wringing it a few times before laying the cloth atop Mingi’s head.

“How are you feeling?” Wooyoung asks. Mingi murmurs something in response, but it’s largely unintelligible, and Wooyoung must not pick up on it either because he strains his neck to get closer to the man. “Hm?”

“A b-bit better.”

“That’s g—”

A sharp rattle interrupts Wooyoung’s train of thought, and he jerks to look over at the shock wall. The door at the center swings open without warning, two men stepping through with someone hanging rather limply between their arms. If your heart could plummet right now, it truly would, because you would recognize that patch of white hair anywhere. The two men — guards from the looks of it — shove San into the cell, not caring to be mindful of the sides of the bars before pushing him against them without warning. San’s shoulder knocks roughly into the edge of the fencing as he comes through, and a bolt of shock sears through his body with surprising haste. The force brings him to his knees. Wooyoung lurches forward, darting out to grab hold of his shoulders and keep him somewhat upright.

“Be fucking careful! Are you paid to be idiots?” He shouts as he pulls San closer to his body. The stockier of the two guards sneers back at him.

“You’re next, slave. Watch yourself.”

Wooyoung responds by hurling a glob of spit at the guard’s feet, eyes narrowed to slits.

“You can take me once I’ve seen to my crewmates.” That comment earns him a sharp smack to the side of his head. San curls his fingers tight around Wooyoung’s side.

“Don’t make a scene about it, I’m fine,” he murmurs under his breath. He is far from fine, that much is obvious, because he can’t keep his body upright and his cheek keeps slumping down against Wooyoung’s shoulder no matter how much he tries to keep it up. The stout guard steps closer, arm poised to deliver another blow to Wooyoung, but he’s caught by his taller friend, who grabs him by the wrist before he can do anything else.

“They all need to make it to Dorado relatively unharmed or prices will down and we’ll get less of the cut from Boss.” That’s enough to pull the man away from Wooyoung, and he retreats back to the outside of the cell with his partner.

“You have ten minutes. Five if you make any other snippy remarks.”

Wooyoung exhales a small sigh of relief when the door slams back shut. He helps tug San to his feet and guides him to the bed beside Mingi’s. You’re grateful that Wooyoung won’t take his gaze off him because it gives you a chance to fully examine his current state.

The bruising on his face has gone down quite a bit, and just from that alone, you would say he almost looks okay. Still, his body reeks of exhaustion, and he clutches the shoulder that knocked into the shock wall even as Wooyoung eases him down to the cot. His dark circles are so deep that they almost seem to hollow his face, and you have an instinct to comb your fingers through his hair if you could because it’s a mess and so unkempt that you can barely see the white patch in the front. Wooyoung keeps pushing him down until San lies flat on the bed, and he doesn’t hesitate to peel San’s shirt up to his midsection. It exposes the awful bruising underneath, a colorful array of blues and purples that are ugly to look at.

“They’re gonna snap your ribs in two if they aren’t careful,” Wooyoung grumbles, tracing over the outline of the bruise with his index finger. “It’s already damaged enough.” San chokes out a laugh that has to hurt.

“That’s only the half of it. They could be doing a lot worse. At the very least, they don’t know shit about torturing people. I’ve been through worse and... and seen a lot worse in the past.” San’s hand darts down to the dip of his hip, where there’s a thin scar just by the bone. You recognize it in an instant — the place where Cara stabbed him back on Echidna and left him nearly dead. “They’ll have to work a lot harder to get anything out of me. They don’t like how quiet I am.”

“That doesn’t mean they really should work harder. You won’t survive that much. Did you manage to get anything out of them this time?”

San shakes his head at first then grips the front of Wooyoung’s shirt and pulls him closer.

“They were fumbling a little when I asked what the plans are. Mean one — shorty — he tried to shut me up but the other started asking questions too. Said he was just as confused and didn’t know what the boss plans to do with the two of us. They know exactly what would happen with Mingi but had way too many doubts when it came to us. They had to have wanted someone else. Maybe Scourge since he was in the arena with Mingi?” Hearing San call Hongjoong by that name sounds so foreign and stilted, but you know it’s just a way to protect as much of their identities as possible. Wooyoung draws his lips together.

“That doesn’t sound right. They would have had a clear path to both Mingi and Captain in the arena. Why wouldn’t they grab him then? When… when they take me, I’ll try to get more out of them. Clean — if you can, please clean Mingi’s wound again. The infection is almost fully fleshed out and his fever will break soon, but without anything to sew it up, he can easily get a worse infection if we aren’t careful.”

“Should it be gone within the next two days?”

“That’s up to his body and how it reacts to the rest of this process. Why?”

“I heard them say that we’ll be landing on Dorado in three days,” San mutters. He glances over at Mingi’s reclining body, teeth sinking into his lower lip. “If he’s well enough within two, then maybe we can work out a breakout plan.” Wooyoung glances between the Spectre and Mingi without reacting for a few moments then gives a small nod.

“We’ll talk about it more later. I’ll try to get more information in the meantime.” Wooyoung moves to step away from the bed, but San keeps him in place, fingers curling around the hem of Wooyoung’s shirt.

“Just — please at least cooperate a little bit. You don’t have to tell them shit, but don’t put yourself in danger simply out of pride.”

“I won’t.”

That is what Wooyoung says, at least, but his next action is surely one out of either sheer stupidity or an obscene amount of pride. He steps over to the shock wall and raises a clenched fist to the metal. Without a drop of hesitation and without flinching in the slightest, he raps his knuckles against the metal as though it’s nothing. You would think it’s nothing too if not for the waves of electricity that cascade through his body and in turn, yours. If it were you, you would pull back thanks to the shock, but Wooyoung doesn’t and only wraps his hand around the bars.

“You gonna come get me or not?”

“Fucking brat,” the shorter guard mutters, but he does exactly what Wooyoung wants and approaches the fencing to let him out.

“Try harder on the fences,” Wooyoung remarks, daring to drag his tongue over the front of his bottom row of teeth — a show of smugness that drives the guard mad.

“It’s not meant to incapacitate you, simply to keep little brats like you in check.”

“That was meant to keep me in check? Come on, that little shock didn’t even make me flinch in the slightest.” That comment isn’t what gets Wooyoung smacked upside the head; rather, it’s the huff of laughter that falls from his lips right after that causes the first guard to elbow him in the back of the head.

“Get walking, fucker.”

“When you gonna let me see the big boss?” Wooyoung grumbles as the pair sandwiches him between their bodies.

“He’s not around to have any meetings, especially not with the like of you. Busy with work of his own right now. But maybe one day you’ll mess up enough to get a meeting with the lieutenant thought.”

“What? This disordered bunch of scoundrels has a lieutenant?” Yet again that draws the ire of the stockier guard, and the man slams the butt of his gun into Wooyoung’s stomach. The impact is enough to cause Wooyoung to hunch over, bound hands grabbing the other guard’s thigh for support. The force careens both into the wall on accident, but Wooyoung doesn’t stop there. He fumbles around until his hand slips into the man’s pocket. Cool plastic greets him, something flat and rectangular, and Wooyoung latches onto both that and something else that feels vaguely like metal before pulling his hand out the pocket.

“Stay up, you rat,” the taller hisses. When he knocks his shoulder into Wooyoung’s, Wooyoung lets his hand fall near his own pocket, pushing both items he just lifted into the fabric. You can’t be sure that he knows what he’s just taken or that he has any sort of plan for if he gets caught with the stolen items. He doesn’t let anything slip through his expression though and simply rights himself when the shorter of the pair nudges him forward, continuing to follow them through the narrow corridor. The longer you walk, the more the interior and layout of the ship become familiar to you — from the dark grey walls to the solid doors with no peepholes. Your growing suspicions come to a grinding halt of realization when Wooyoung is shoved into a dark room that has one yellow-tinted light hanging from the ceiling. It sits directly above a reclining chair, and that’s a sight you would recognize anywhere. From the straps on the side down to the flat metal headrest — they must be aboard a military ship, or at least a former one given the pirate crew running it currently. But that chair and this room resemble the one you had your memories wiped in with an uncanny certainty.

Wooyoung doesn’t have a chance to resist before the two guards are shoving him further in and pushing him down onto the chair. Rough leather straps wrap tight around his torso and legs, then two more for each ankle and wrist once the first ones are secured. That, however, is all the men do for the time being. It seems to shock Wooyoung as much as it shocks you because he shifts to watch them as they walk over to the side of the room and lean up against the wall.

“Aren’t you going to do anything else?”

“Be patient.”

Wooyoung squints. His wrists twist a bit in the restraints, testing the tautness of the material, and when it doesn’t give any budge, he jerks harder against them. Two clear and mocking laughs resound in response. Someone comes up on Wooyoung’s left, one of the guards moving without warning to lean over Wooyoung’s body.

“We’ll do a few tester questions just to see how willing you are to talk, how about that? So… who do you work for?”

“Go fuck yourself, how about that?”

“Oh come on, you’re a slave, aren’t you? Why be loyal to a cruel master? Can’t you answer one simple question?” The guard reaches down to toy with the collar around Wooyoung’s neck. In an instant, every muscle in his body seizes up, and Wooyoung goes so far as to stop breathing entirely with the barely brush of contact. The pirate doesn’t stop there, though, and he slips a finger under the metal collar to touch the skin underneath. Pressure invades your head, like someone is grabbing your skull between their hands and squeezing with an obscene amount of force. Wooyoung thrashes and tries to jerk away from the contact, but the guard just loops his finger under the metal and maintains that same level of contact. Your head — or Wooyoung’s rather — begins to tingle and throb, ears ringing loudly with white noise as something else creeps up on you.

Please!

If you had any ounce of control over Wooyoung’s body, you would jerk your head to find the source of the sound, but as it continues, you realize that it’s not real. Not something that is truly resonating around you in the room right now. The voice is too young, too child-like, just a wailing noise that repeats over and over again without cease. A constant prayer of ‘please’ that fades into the background when the guard above Wooyoung speaks again.

“Now who do you work for?”

Please.

“Why the fuck do you want to know?” Wooyoung grits out. “I have nothing to gain from speaking to you about anything.”

Please, please, please.

Finally, the hand slips away, and Wooyoung gasps for breath like he’s never had air in his lungs before. His head lolls to the side almost the same way a ragdoll’s would as a sharp slap echoes. Pain sears over your skin, resonating through Wooyoung’s body to burn you too.

“This is why you’re going to the whorehouse. They can shut you up permanently with other things.”

“That kind of threat won’t work on me,” Wooyoung manages to murmur. His eyes roll back in his head as he slumps back into the metal headrest, chest still heaving to bring in air. “I’m not gonna tell you anything. If your boss w-wants info so badly… he can come take it himself. What’s the point of this anyway? Bring me to a room and ask me pointless questions? You already said you aren’t allowed to hurt the ‘goods’ too badly. And if I’m slated to go to a whorehouse — messing any physical features up would lower your cut dramatically. But the boss probably doesn’t pay you to be smart, huh?”

Red flashes through your vision then a fist careens into Wooyoung’s nose so hard that you’re certain it’s cracked in two. Warmth trickles down his nostrils and trickles into his mouth, leaving the taste of blood on the back of your tongue. The second man in the room pulls forward. He grabs his partner by the arm and tugs him away from Wooyoung as best he can before taking up the same position over Wooyoung’s reclining form.

“Listen here, slave, I really don’t want to be cruel to you, but there are ways to make you talk, ways that won’t… damage the goods as you say and will instead mess up that pretty little head of yours, so let’s just cooperate while you can, yeah?”

A sneer tears through Wooyoung’s lips, but he doesn’t fight back any longer, letting his head drop back to the headrest without complaint.

“You know who I work for already so I don’t need to tell you shit.”

The shorter of the two guards takes another step towards the chair.

“That may be the case, yes, but we aren’t after your captain. We need information on someone else… someone who was seen with you in the streets outside the arena. Someone you seemed to be close to based on the way you were protecting her, and someone who looked an awful lot like the Ghost of Eros.”

You can feel the way Wooyoung’s eyes widen. The same shock that courses through his veins rushes through your own as well. His tongue darts out to moisten his lower lip, dragging over the dry and cracking skin until it stings. He tries his best to hide that shock, but it’s too late, and the guards have already seen the flashes of recognition across Wooyoung’s features.

“So you know Miss Y/N then?”

“Yeah, we’re closer than you might think…” Wooyoung mutters, glancing off to the side and avoiding their prodding stares as best he can.

“Where is she?”

“Hell if I know.” Wooyoung tries his best to shrug with the words, but the restraints around his arms and torso keep him firmly planted to the cold metal chair. “In case you don’t remember, you kinda kidnapped me while I was unconscious and couldn’t see shit. Amazing that you managed to grab my sorry ass yet missed your precious little Ghost entirely, huh?”

That pulls the second guard forward, and he steps into Wooyoung’s space with a sneer of his own that is so vicious it causes Wooyoung to flinch away.

“We weren’t the dipshits in charge of collecting the packages. The ones who were hit a snag.”

Wooyoung manages to roll his eyes even as the guard presses closer.

“There’s nothing I can do to help you then. Your people crushed my earpiece so I don’t even have a way to contact her.” A finger comes down to tap against Wooyoung’s temple. It’s almost gentle in the way it brushes over his skin, but each tap comes harder than the last and you aren’t too foolish to ignore the threat in the touches.

“You will cooperate though, and you will answer our questions. Otherwise, we’ll have no choice but to crack that pretty little head open and take what we need instead. Unless you’d like to arrive at the whorehouse as a husk? That would make your job easier wouldn’t it?” A cruel grin twists over the man’s lips, one that you can’t bear to look at but you don’t have much of a choice because Wooyoung decides to stare him down with equal ferocity. “Now, when did Miss Y/N join your crew?”

“Who knows?” Wooyoung shrugs within his constraints. “I’ve never been good at keeping track of time.”

“Then what did she do before joining the crew?”

“Never shared any details about her life before meeting us.”

The pirate lifts his hand, and you’re almost certain that he is going to hit Wooyoung again but instead, he presses one index finger back to Wooyoung’s temple.

“You know… the other one was a lot more intense about these questions. Thrashing, angry, fuming at every mention of her name, so upset that we would even dare to ask about the little ghost. Why is that? Are they close?”

Wooyoung arches a brow. It takes a moment for you to realize that this man is talking about San of all people, but when you do, a wave of guilt hits you square in the chest. The thought of San being strapped to a chair like this and probed for answers about you and your past — having to experience it through Wooyoung and knowing that this is all because they captured Wooyoung and San in your place… it’s brutal enough as it is. More than that, it brings you back to that conversation you shared with San in the aftermath of your shared torture — the one where you sat opposite each other on his bed and admitted how afraid both of you were. How you were afraid to ever see San in that position again, and yet somehow… somehow not seeing it is worse. Somehow knowing that he is being put through this sort of hell and you are powerless to do anything to stop it is far worse than lying across from him on a sandy floor in an old warehouse with a crazed Berserker over you.

“Am I supposed to know the intimate details of relationships now? Why does your boss even need to know something of that nature?”

“Quit asking fucking questions.” It’s the more violent of the two guards who says that, and he steps forward to slam his elbow into Wooyoung’s stomach. “Do you wanna know what we did with your friend? Put him on this very chair and told him all the pretty ways we could fuck up that head of his if he didn’t cooperate. People like him… they have a lot of baggage. They carry weights on their shoulders that last a lifetime, and if you know how to manipulate it, then you can get whatever you want from them. And you—”

The man pushes a hand up the expanse of Wooyoung’s chest until he reaches the band of metal around his neck. Two fingers slip under the collar. Wooyoung presses his lips together so tight that they tremble under the force, yet that’s still not enough to keep a whimper from slipping out. It’s a mirror image of the Wooyoung you met upon waking up in the medbay for the first time, a mirror image of the terrified boy who plunged an anesthesia shot into your neck, the one you were certain was weak and fragile. You hadn’t thought of Wooyoung like that since back then, never imagined him to be weak after Yeosang mentioned how much he’s gone through and after witnessing his drive to protect the people around him. But now?

Now it’s just Wooyoung. There is no one in his immediate vicinity to protect, nor is there anyone here to protect him as you are stuck being a helpless bystander with no power or control over his body.

“You’re just like him, aren’t you? Burden after burden on your shoulders. Pretty little traumas to keep you awake at night. That… tough guy act where you pretend to be better than your crewmates — don’t you know how easy it is to see through that? You know your own worth, and that worth amounts to being nothing more than a filthy slave who will soon sell his body to others to get a bite of food at night. Can’t you see yourself doing that for the rest of your life? Why else would a broken collar stay around your neck?”

Broken?

Wooyoung has grown dreadfully quiet, and that tells you that the pirate hit the nail on the head with too much ease. Yet now that you think about it, the collar around Wooyoung’s neck is most definitely a shock collar, but you have never once seen it glowing with electricity or power in the slightest, which can only mean that Wooyoung truly is walking around with a dead shock collar at all times. That reality is haunting on its own, but that coupled with the continuous and monotonous cries in the background that beg ‘please’ over and over only make matters worse.

“We’re getting nowhere with this one. The last one was much more responsive when it came to these questions. We should just bring him back in and leave this one to rot in the cell with the Berserker.”

“O-Okay… yeah… let’s try that.”

Wooyoung doesn’t make some great escape when they pull the restraints loose, and for the first time since waking up in his body, you gain the sense that he is genuinely tired of fighting back against their advances. He lets his body fall slack in their grasp, allowing himself to be pulled from the chair and dragged by the elbows between their bodies. Albeit faint and dying, you swear up and down that you can still hear that faint child-like voice ringing in your ears.

“You really do suck at torture.” A bit of crimson liquid slips out the corner of Wooyoung’s lips as he speaks, leftover residue that dripped from his nose, and he spits it to the floor without a care in the world.

“The goal isn’t to torture. If we could harm you physically, we certainly would.”

Wooyoung doesn’t speak further than that and again you think it’s because he doesn’t have the energy in his body to do so. He settles for glancing around the ship extensively as the two guards drag him back to the cell. That is somewhat odd to you at first seeing as he’s had plenty of opportunities to look around the ship from the inside of his cell, but realization sinks in when Wooyoung nods his head towards an exit door on the way to the cell.

Oh… are you trying to help me? That becomes increasingly apparent when he scans each wall and corner like his life depends on it, and you do your best to commit every inch of the room to memory. If this is something of a military ship, you should be able to figure out a basic layout with Yeosang’s help if he remembers anything too. Wooyoung hums to himself as they reach the electrified gate to the cell, but he doesn’t do anything other than that until the taller guard shoves him to the floor of the cell. San darts forward, nearly tripping over his feet in his rush to get to Wooyoung’s side.

“God, what did they do to you? I told you to be fucking careful!” He hisses under his breath. Wooyoung quirks one corner of his lips up and flashes a quick wink in San’s direction.

“Hold onto this for the time being,” he mutters back, digging the small rectangular card and piece of metal from earlier out of his pocket. Wooyoung only extends the piece of metal, something small and indiscernible practically, but Wooyoung must find some value in it to pass it to San rather than the card, which is clearly a keycard. San takes the item without complaint but his brows are still tightly knit together in concern. “I need more information from the guards. I almost got ‘em.”

“You’ll get yourself killed.”

“Only a little beat up. Pain… pain is nothing to me, not this kind at least. I’ve felt enough to grow rather used to it after all this time, so don’t worry about me getting hurt. It’s all just my little show so they don’t go harder than I want them to. Just — take the time to care for Mingi’s wound while you can. I’ll be back soon.”

Wooyoung hoists himself up to his feet and presses the keycard between his teeth. He and San maintain eye contact until Wooyoung turns completely around to face the closing door of the cell.

“Can’t even focus long enough to keep track of your belongings, huh? Cheap guards for the big boss?”

There’s a clatter then the slam of the cell door resounds, and both pirates rush in to tackle Wooyoung to the floor. The shorter of the two reaches him first, knocking into Wooyoung so hard and fast that it feels like your brain is rattling against the confines of your skull. San pushes forward as well and intercepts the second guard with his arm.

“Stand down, San, stand down!” Wooyoung shouts, stopping the Spectre at just the last second before he punches the guard in the throat. “It’s okay, just let them take me. It’s okay. They can’t hurt me.”

“We may not be able to, but the Reaper is gonna make you fucking pay for such foolish actions.”

“The Reaper, huh? Is that the infamous big boss?” A hand curls through Wooyoung’s hair. With a sharp tug that nearly pulls the strands right off his scalp, he’s brought up to his knees.

“Yes, it is. You’ve quickly proved that you’re too much of a disobedient brat to be sent to the House of Lilies. Maybe we should send you through some rehabilitation too with your little friends, yeah? We’ll take good care of you until the Reaper comes back to the ship though.”

Wooyoung collects a bit of spit on his tongue then slings it at the guard’s face, a bit of crimson mixing in with the saliva.

“We’re counting on it.”

Right then you feel Wooyoung directly contacting you in his consciousness, a small push and pull on the edges of your mind, and he drops his chin to his chest so quickly that you think he’s passed out on the spot. It’s enough to deter the guards and their focus on him for now, and he cracks an eye open to stare at the floor as they drag him down the hall yet again.

“Y/N…” he whispers under his breath. “Y/N, take that info back to Yeosang. Give him that name too. The Reaper.”

You want more information than that, but Wooyoung’s consciousness knocks hard against yours, and the vision before you fades to black, cutting any hopes of getting more from him drastically short.

All that you’re left with is fogged thoughts and that name shining clearly at the forefront of your mind: The Reaper.

…

Han Jisung.

Never did you think you would see him again, and that still hasn’t sunk into your bones yet. The feeling deep in your gut currently is hard to explain. You aren’t sure you could ever make sense of it, but seeing that man, Han Jisung, a person you relied on so heavily for so long standing over by the observation window on the bridge of The Horizon feels like it should be something of a fever dream. Alas, it’s not, it’s all very real and very tangible, and you don’t realize how long you’ve been glaring holes into the back of Jisung’s head until Yeosang clears his throat from beside you.

The two of you sit near the comms station, and you’ve made a home for yourself sitting atop the desk as Yeosang sits at the chair before it. He has his bound journal set out on the desk, pen in hand as he scribbles over the pages. Jongho is not far away himself: he stands closer to the captain’s seat, and none other than Hongjoong himself sits in that place, back steering the ship as he usually does. Seonghwa is nowhere in sight — still down in the medbay with Yunho for further observation since his condition was much more critical than yours. All you can hear is the faint rumble of the ship’s power systems and air passing through the air filters. The silencing should be deafening, but it gives you more than enough time to process your thoughts while you can.

That blessed silence is interrupted within seconds as Yeosang’s chair scrapes hard against the metal floor and he scoots closer to where you’re perched. You follow his movements, twisting at the waist to lean over the empty space between you and offer some semblance of privacy for the ensuing conversation.

“So, according to what you saw last night, I drew up a basic sketch of what I think the ship’s layout looks like,” Yeosang mutters, exposing the pages of his journal to you. “Two exit doors in the room with the cell. They took Woo to a small room that had a single reclining chair and medical equipment. Potentially a former military ship, although from the sounds of it, it must be a rather old one. Since they’re headed to Dorado, I would assume it’s a Doradian ship that they jacked.” Yeosang pauses to scribble a few more unintelligible words on the paper, writing twisting and curling in a way you’ve never seen before. “We still don’t know why they want you… but San said they’re at least three days out to Dorado. With the speed Hongjoong is flying at, we won’t catch up for another four days though. Most of the flight will be pushing through the celestial barrier between Aurum and Geofflan, but we can’t burn extra fuel without having to tap into emergency reserves.”

“So then what? The exchange is supposed to happen soon after they land so there’s no way we’ll be able to catch up and break them loose before then,” you reason. Yeosang manages a small nod, avoiding the stare you send his way as he continues to scribble in his journal.

“We at least know the main location will be the capital, Lynder. And we know that Wooyoung is slated to go to the House of Lilies — if this Reaper figure doesn’t change his mind, that is — but Mingi and San will be sent to separate rehabilitation facilities.”

“That’s bad for the rest of us then. Once they’re separated, we have a higher risk of failure.”

Yeosang presses his lips into a thin line and hums softly. “But once they’re out of this Reaper’s hands, they won’t be his responsibility anymore. Mingi will, since they plan to transport him back to Kebos once he’s ready, but Woo and San are being sold independently. We should aim to take them back after the deals go through. That way the Reaper can’t cause issues because he will already have his money. A whorehouse won’t mind losing someone unless they pay a great deal for them… I don’t know how Dorado operates in terms of military regulations and such. Or even how important the military is to them. We’ll have to be quick to get San back, won’t we?”

You give a quick shake of your head.

“They plan on putting him through that regression therapy first so we will have time before they try to wipe him.”

“If, and only if he’s strong enough to withstand that torture.”

You ball your fists tight around the leather of your pants.

“He’ll be strong enough.”

“There’s no way of knowing what they’ll do to him once it’s time for that regression therapy, and we won’t be able to do anything for him if he caves early.”

“Then we should prioritize him and get to him first,” you argue, forcing your tone to stay as low as possible. “Either we have faith that he will hold out as long as possible or he’s the first one we rescue.”

“And how confident are you that he can handle that level of torture? I saw many recruits be sent to those wiping chambers in my time as a prince. None of them lasted longer than fourteen hours on the table. Either due to a weak constitution or the sheer level of trauma they were forced to go through. Knowing his past and what traumas they could awaken, how confident can you be that he will last longer than that? I don’t want one slimy fucking mongrel to lay a hand on Woo in that whorehouse, and he will be easiest to recover so we need to prioritize him if that’s the easiest option. If San reaches a point where he wants the serum, then what? We have another Mingi dilemma on our hands?”

That question stops you in your tracks. You hadn’t dared to think that far ahead simply out of fear that it could be a reality. It does take you back to the one and only time you and San spoke about the issue the serum posed though, for better or worse.

“If our positions were switched, would you be okay with it?”

“I can’t pretend to know what that experience was like for you or how deeply it affected you. If I were the one who had used it before, and I was aware of it like you, I know that I would be selfish at the end of the day. I have mentioned it before but I wish to cling to you for as long as I can. And though it’s — though it goes against my morals, I would not want you to take the serum because I can’t bear the thought of you forgetting who I am and how I feel about you. I know that sounds a bit bold, especially given your relations with Seonghwa, but… I would say the same to any member of the crew — save for Yeosang perhaps. You all are special and valuable to me in unique ways, and the thought of any of you losing any memory we share is too much for me.”

“Would you expect the same of me in return?”

“I would only ask that which I would ask any of the crew. To do what is right by your own standards and not by anyone else’s. We’ve all been slaves to other people’s whims and desires for too long. I would never wish to put anyone through that again, and even something as simple as pushing my opinion onto you would be unfair.”

And here you sit now coming to the gross realization that you cannot be okay with the thought of San forgetting who you are. You cannot live in a universe where he loses every ounce of work he’s put in over the years, the relationships he’s built with the crew, the things he has had to survive — you cannot bear the thought of it becoming meaningless and futile in the face of simply forgetting it. Because now, as you struggle on your own with these hazed memories that have no true place in your mind, you know that you could never wish that on anyone. Not knowing your past is a horrid fate, but losing all the pieces you’ve put together is a fate worse than death.

“There’s no way in hell I am ever going to let them give San that serum, even if it’s what he wants.”

Yeosang huffs air through his teeth but doesn’t comment further than that, and you take it as a sign that the conversation is concluded for now. When you lift your head again, movement from near the observation window catches your eye, and none other than Jisung himself stares over at you with eyes wide and searching. Like not a thing has changed in the past few years, and like those broken memories that plagued your dreams were nonexistent altogether.

Whatever comes over you is compelling enough to pull you off the desk. Yeosang follows your movements with his eyes, lips parting to ask what you’re doing, but you stop him by dropping a hand to his shoulder.

“There’s something I can’t wait on anymore,” you murmur. That is all the explanation you give before forcing your feet to move towards Jisung. A soft laugh echoes through the bridge as you draw closer to him, and Jisung greets you with nothing more than that and a rounded smile at first.

“Took you long enough to come speak to me like this. All those years of knowing each other for what?”

“For you to tell me the truth now.”

“Hm?”

“Hyunwoo told me before he went off to die that one day you would tell me the truth. So what is it?”

A frown paints Jisung’s lips.

“What are you talking about? Hyunwoo never said anything of the sort.”

“I distinctly remember it, as well as being strapped to a chair with Hyunwoo over me saying that they would only take a little bit. And I’ve been having odd dreams of memories that I have no recollection of. So just what the fuck happened to me before leaving the military and killing the king? Right now I don’t have anyone alive who can tell me that except for you, Jisung.”

Jisung folds his arms over his chest, eyes turning to narrow slits as he glares forward at you. Then, he slowly extends his right arm and poises to place the back of his hand to your forehead.

“Watch it.” You don’t need to turn to know whose voice that is, and you half-expect to turn and find Jongho at your side in the blink of an eye. However, when you glance back over your shoulder, Jongho is still beside Hongjoong’s chair, and the captain’s hand is placed ever so delicately in front of his chest that it hardly blocks the Berserker from moving. It’s moreso the gesture that keeps Jongho in check, and no matter how unhappy he seems with the order, he follows it without complaint.

“I have no intention of hurting her at all! Come now, would you take me for a fool? You should all know better seeing as the bargain I made in helping you was for her safety.”

“She might have made that bargain with you, but you made no such deal with me,” Hongjoong states without batting an eye. “And I will not allow you to force her to leave my crew, even if you have come to an agreement.”

“She made the agreement knowing full well what it would entail and because it’s what she wanted,” Jisung counters. His arm falls back to his side without touching you in the slightest.

“I didn’t,” you refute immediately. “I am only doing this for the crew, not because I actually want to be near you.” An almost feral noise tears through Jisung’s lips, and you flinch back just to put some distance between your bodies.

“After all the things I’ve done for you, all the sacrifices I’ve made, the risks I took to even make certain that you would make it out of that cell alive—”

Your body reacts before your head can catch up. Next thing you know, you have two fists curled tight around Jisung’s collar and are slamming him up against the observation window with a strength that surprises you as much as it surprises Jisung. Hongjoong must retract his hold on Jongho because suddenly the Berserker is at your side now, hand pressing hard on your shoulder. You knock his grip away without so much as looking at him; there is too much adrenaline running through your body right now, too much heat in your blood and fire in your bones, and nothing is going to stop you from taking out years of bottled-up frustrations on Jisung now.

“You have absolutely no right to dare to say such a thing. You don’t get to talk about sacrifice! The only person who took risks for me was Hyunwoo. The one who died In my place is the only one who gets to talk like that and claim that he’s made sacrifices. I buried you in my past the minute I was forced to dig an empty grave alone. You let me alone on that god-forsaken planet to bury an empty grave without so much as looking back! No matter how hard you try to justify it, there is nothing that will ever convince me that it was the right or fair decision to make! Anything you ever did for me — whether I remember them or not — it all pales in comparison to what Hyunwoo sacrificed.”

“Only people who die for you can sacrifice things? What of the people I killed for you? The innocent people I killed to keep your reputation untarnished? How much blood is on your hands, Y/N? You look at me like I am a monster but I am what you made me! Whether you like it or not, the truth of the matter is that Hyunwoo agreed to my terms. Hyunwoo is just as much at fault for what we did to you as I am. And what we did was necessarily because I guarantee if you remembered all the things you did, you would rather kill yourself than keep on living the way you are now.”

Your momentary shock is enough for Jongho to pull you off Jisung. He wedges himself between you and the Spectre, folding his arms over your hips to guide you further away from the man.

“It’s okay, Y/N. Stand down,” he murmurs. “You need to pick your battles, and this is not one for you to fight right now.” Again you feel that pull of warmth coming from him, like someone is trying to pull something from your chest, but it retracts almost instantaneously. Jongho falters. His eyes squeeze shut harshly, face contorting with something that almost looks like pain in your eyes, but that lasts less than a second before he’s recovered again. It’s not enough to stop the onslaught of emotions coursing through your veins.

“And what exactly is it that you and Hyunwoo did to me? Because I sure as hell don’t remember or understand anything! How long do you plan to lie to my face?”

“I can’t tell you,” Jisung says. There is a sudden drop to his tone, one that hits harder than it should. “As selfish as it may be, that is the one secret I will never disclose, and Hyunwoo would be a fool to ever believe that I would tell you what it is. If he wanted it exposed so desperately, then he can do it himself.”

You see red. It all feels like a blur yet simultaneously like the universe is moving in slow motion around you. You are hyperaware of the way you push Jongho out of the way to get back to Jisung, fist clenching so hard that your knuckles go white just before you sock the man in the jaw. The noise that resounds is disgusting and brutal, a sick crack that echoes in your ears like a battle cry.

“You don’t fucking get to talk about Hyunwoo as though he’s alive,” you growl, curling your fingers through Jisung’s hair and yanking his head back hard enough to make his neck pop. “You dipped off-planet without even seeing the execution through, without even waiting for blood to spill, so you have no right.” Jisung’s tongue darts out and wets the corners of his lips. “You have no right1” You repeat as though it will do any good. “You killed innocent people as though it was nothing! Was that all Hyunwoo was to you too? Just another bump in the road on your path to power?”

You swing for his face once more, but this time Jisung reacts before you can hit him. He pushes your hand to the side, expression relatively neutral compared to your own rage-filled one.

“I bet you couldn’t wait to see Hyunwoo die because that would mean the leader was out of the way and you could finally have that power you wanted! People would finally listen to you? Is that what you wanted? How could you do that to us, Jisung? We were a team, a family, you were all I had. How could you kill people in my name? Innocent people, who did nothing wrong killed for saying something trivial about me? How could you let innocent people be taken in my place? Wooyoung and San did nothing wrong! They don’t have that blood on their hands, they don’t carry the weight of that guilt on their shoulders, they aren’t bad people, Han Jisung! How could you? Why would you let that happen? Why would you put them in a place to be hurt and sold in my place? Who gave you the right to make that decision? You’re not some god!”

Jisung doesn’t move a muscle throughout your tirade, his face doesn’t budge nor does his disposition — it’s almost like yelling at a statue in an eerie and unsettling way. Then he speaks again, and this time it is with a haunting flatness to his tone.

“When have you ever known me to be cruel?”

“I-I thought the answer to that was never bu-but now I don’t know if I can trust that.”

Jisung blinks.

You inhale.

Then something hits your stomach so hard that you double over in pain, blind-sighted by the speed at which Jisung moves, and Jongho doesn’t have time to react either. Jisung doesn’t stop there though; no, he returns the favor and grips your hair close to the scalp to yank you back up to be eye level with him.

“I am merely… a cruel person, Y/N. I have always been cruel. And when it comes to protecting people I care about, there are no morals. There are no grey areas. There are no lines that I am not willing to cross. The universe has made me evil by taking everything from me, but I’ll be damned if I don’t get to have at least one thing I care about. And that one thing is you.”

Silence ensues. You don’t dare speak again; you aren’t sure you could even form words if you wanted to. Out the corner of your eye, you see a flash of metal and the barrel of a gun.

“If you so much as move a muscle, I will shoot you down with no hesitation.” You never saw the man move but that cold tone can only belong to Hongjoong. That suspicion is confirmed when Jisung releases his hold on your hair, letting you pull back and stand up straight once more. Hongjoong doesn’t lower his weapon even as Jisung raises his hands in surrender. “You call yourself cruel. Well, I am evil. Cruel, harsh, cold-hearted, and full of nothing but malice. So you can fucking bet that I won’t let you take her against her will. And if you even for a breath of a moment think otherwise, then I will put a bullet between your eyes and send you off to meet your maker.”

Jisung’s nose twitches as he sneers back at the captain.

“That’s not a risk you would ever take.”

“Ha, then you know fairly little about me, Han Jisung. I could sit here for hours and tell stories about the blood I’ve spilled, the blood my lieutenant has spilled, the things we have done as the most notorious and bloodthirsty pirates in the universe, or I could tell you of my own individual accomplishments. But if you truly think that I won’t do everything in my power to stop you from taking her?”

Hongjoong’s arm shifts and the barrel of the gun finds a new home, a new target.

On you.

Between your eyes.

Hongjoong cocks the hammer back. The click seems ten times louder than it is in reality. Jongho pulls closer to you, eyeing Hongjoong with a wary gaze.

“I can be evil if that is what you want me to be,” Hongjoong whispers, arching a brow at Jisung. “Such a thing would be easy for a man like me. But it comes with a price, and it’s one that you should weigh heavily. Take her against her will, and I’ll make sure the only thing you take is a corpse.”

“Good move, Captain,” Jisung replies. “I do so enjoy playing such mind games with someone who is actually of my caliber and on my level like this. Now, the move is mine to make, no?”

“You would treat her life as something as mundane and childish as a game of chess?”

Jisung clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Mind yourself, Captain. All I have to do is give the command, and my dogs will bite.” Hongjoong lets Jisung step around him and make for the edge of the bridge before lowering his pistol and returning it back to its holster.

“Han Jisung.”

Hongjoong’s words stop the man in his tracks, and your eyes find his in the brief moment of hesitation before he turns to look directly at the captain. Hongjoong doesn’t look back, at least not face to face because he merely glances over at Jisung through the reflection of the observation window. It’s an almost haunting sight, one that sends a chill down your spine and makes you stand up a bit straighter as you watch them level each other with glares full of contempt and malice.

“Hungry dogs are never loyal. They’ll eat with anybody who has food. And yours are ravenous.”

“The same could be said for yours, Scourge. Many wonder how much bending that Berserker can take before he breaks. Others say that the slave will turn tail and run the moment the doors of the whorehouse open. My money, on the other hand, is on the Spectre.”

If either man hears the audible gasp of panic that slips between your lips, they opt not to comment on it. Jisung’s lips twist a bit, curving into an ugly smile that makes you sick to your stomach.

“You’d be nothing more than a fool to believe that any of my dogs are not fed well under my care.”

“Is that what happened during your mutiny? Which dog were you, Kim Hongjoong? From the stories I’ve heard, you were starved to the bone.”

Hongjoong shows an admirable sense of restraint in that moment; he barely lets any emotion slip through his features or stance even though you are certain that he is just as shocked as you are.

“The weakest links are always the first to go. The ones with the most to lose, and thus… the Spectre will break first. Because whether you acknowledge it or not, I have something he is desperate to see again.” Jisung shifts to face you. His eyes glint under the fluorescent lights of the bridge. “What happens when you throw a hungry dog a bone?” It’s nothing more than a rhetorical question, one meant to scare you, and that it does because your heart clenches painfully in your chest and squeezes around itself until you can barely stand up straight. “He swallows it whole.”

You watch Jisung leave without daring to speak one more word to him. Hongjoong doesn’t move away from the observation window quite yet, and even as you look over his reflection in the window, you cannot for the life of you gauge what emotions are running through his body.

“Would you truly have shot me?” You ask before you can stop yourself. The adrenaline of having a gun pointed at your head with such little care for your life is not something foreign but to have Hongjoong be the person to do so… you want to give him the benefit of the doubt, but his tone was far too resolute for that. But then, he shakes his head in denial.

“Never. I made a promise to keep you safe, and I made similar promises to the rest of the crew that no matter what, I would always do whatever is in my power to keep you all safe. To keep our crew safe. I am not about to let Han Jisung take that from my crew.” Hongjoong folds his hands behind his back. His boots scrape against the floor as he spins on his heel and heads back to the captain’s seat.

“What… what did Jisung mean by his ‘dogs’ if he works under Vladimir?” Jongho is the one to pose the question, and it brings Yeosang away from the comms station to listen in on the conversation better. Hongjoong tilts his head from side to side, letting a quiet hum ring through the room before speaking again.

“Did you truly believe that when Jisung told you that? I thought I taught you all to think more critically than that. After all, who in the universe could want you badly enough to kidnap and work with deadly pirates?” Hongjoong looks you dead in the eye as he asks the question. You scoff to deflect the panic it sends through your system.

“With a bounty like mine, it’s enough for anyone to resort to violence of some sort.”

“Word gets around quickly, and people hear things fast in our little world. Pirates are good at transmitting information swiftly. Which means that everyone already knows you are now employed by the Black Scourge’s crew. So I’ll ask again: who could possibly want you badly enough to cross me of all people?”

There is only one answer to that question, and that answer just walked off the bridge not too long ago. You can’t bring yourself to admit it with your words, although you don’t need to because Hongjoong simply continues speaking without missing a beat.

“Jisung made no mistakes. There were no missteps. When we were in the arena, there was never any intention of kidnapping you. There was no hesitation on his part, he knew what he was doing, he knew how to play into your hands. He made a deal with Vladimir — allow his own crew to get into the arena so that he could take two of my crew, then he would kidnap Mingi for Vladimir as payment. Because Jisung knew there was an easier way to get you since he knew what kind of person you are from time in the military together. He knew that if he took your teammates, you would not hesitate to sacrifice yourself for their safety. And thus, he made his offer: an exchange of you for your crewmate’s recovery. In reality, he was the one who took them intentionally in the first place.”

A smile twists at the man’s lips, one that is almost unsettling and disturbing, and you find yourself shifting your weight from foot to foot as you look down at him.

“I played right into his hands then,” you murmur, glancing away to grant yourself some semblance of peace.

“That may be the case, yes… however, once something is mine, I don’t particularly like letting go of it. If there’s one thing I have in common with such a person, it’s that. I am undeniably selfish, Y/N. And now that you’re here with me, I don’t intend to let anyone take you from my hands. If he wants you so desperately, then he will have to go through hell to get you, and giving people hell is my specialty.”

“Is that the same reason you pointed a gun at my head?”

“Every man has his price. I find threats to be quite effective in securing bargains and deals. Before I placed that gun to your head, he didn’t imagine I could be so cruel. And now… I’ve only confirmed every suspicion that has been eating at my mind since I woke up.”

“And those suspicions would be what?” You dare to ask, leveling the man seated before you with a stare that he regards out the corner of his eye.

“Han Jisung is nothing but a hungry dog, and I intend to make him bite.”

✧✧✧ a/n: haha? 17.2k WHO?! gotta admit this is my fave chapter i’ve ever written the ending hits im v proud of her ! what did i say i said she would be a long one but even i didn’t expect this i cannot lie well as i said i am dropping and yeeting (to sleep) but i’ll be here to watch my chaos unfold a bit first ;3 as ALWAYS let me know what you think, give me the juicy deets, the theories, the screaming, the ‘caly how could you’, and all that jazz it’s SO good to be posting a mists chapter yall have no idea how happy it makes me to do this again fogijdfiogaj, she’s heavily unedited tho so im sorry in advance for grammatical issues

taglist: @faeriewoobin @sugarrimajins @atinyinwonderland @sparklychangbin @jeong-uwu @jeonartemis @anothershorthuman @xxbluestrifexx @haotheheckk @noonawriter @lostscenarios @nlost21 @mirror-juliet @okokokok123-45 @purple-aeon @theoinkypiglet @toothlessshiber @atinyarmyx1 @simpforhyunjin @hwangwoosan @vampire-jimin @softyubi @drumboydowoon @chatsgotmytongue @just-a-starfruit @babydolljo @scintillating-souls @khjssss @felixity @rawrrainn @hewwo-from-the-other-side @icekdy @fuckjoong

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pomrania · 4 years

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D&D Spells for TMA Entities

Since I'm currently on a The Magnus Archives kick, I thought I might as well look through the sourceboks, and go over which spells would fit with which Powers. Might also work as inspiration for flavouring in unrelated D&D games.

Spells marked with a (x) are from Xanathar; everything else is from the PHB. This isn't complete; more spells will be added as I write up description for each of the Entities associated with them.

For simplicity's sake, all the "fire" spells that are only associated with Desolation: Aganazzar's Scorcher (x) / Burning Hands / Create Bonfire (x) / Fireball / Fire Bolt / Fire Shield / Fire Storm / Flame Blade / Immolation (x) / Produce Flame / Scorching Ray / Searing Smite / Wall of Fire

Animate Objects Stranger: It shouldn't be moving, yet it is.

Antimagic Field End: Even magic itself shall eventually die.

Arcane Gate Spiral: Doors appear wherever you want them to.

Arms of Hadar Dark: You carry the night within you, and the night is hungry. Web: Spider legs sprout from your form and thrash about, sucking the life out of those they touch.

Banishment Dark: You send someone to commune with your god for a little while, somewhere that light never existed; the place may be "harmless", but they don't know that. Lonely: Spend some time, completely alone. Spiral: A door opens on your target, and they wander the endless halls. Vast: Enjoy the endless falling, for a moment.

Blindness/Deafness Dark: It's a gift, really. End: Temporary death of the senses. Lonely: When you can't see or can't hear, you are cut off from others; as you always were. Web: You seal shut the target's eyes or ears with fine silken threads.

Call Lightning Vast: The sky's power is your own.

Calm Emotions End: There's no point in feeling, when death will take us all eventually. Lonely: You're distant from everything, including what you might feel. Web: You can still feel the terror or anger or joy; but it's distant, and something prevents it from determining your actions.

Charm Person / Charm Monster (x) Spiral: You've always been their good friend, even if you just met. Web: They will do what you want, because they like you.

Clairvoyance Beholding: Your eyes aren't limited to what you have in your head.

Comprehend Languages Beholding: Nothing shall be a barrier to your understanding.

Compulsion Web: You tug the strings to drag them around.

Control Flames (x) Dark: Extinguishing and dimming only. Desolation: It only takes a spark; and you'll make sure that that spark heads to where it can cause the most devastation.

Cordon of Arrows Stranger: Imagine the looks on their faces when an arrow starts shooting itself!

Create Food and Water Corruption: Even as you chew and swallow them, the summoned insects won't stop moving. Flesh: You won't like where it comes from, but it DOES technically create something that can be eaten for nutrients. (Optional: requires material components of a blade and a fleshy body, which can include the caster.)

Crown of Madness Slaughter: Sometimes you need to encourage them a bit before they start killing. Web: So many people already want to cause harm, it only takes a tiny nudge to direct that desire.

Cure Wounds Corruption: Cancerous growths seal shut any injuries you may have. Flesh: It hurts, a lot, but it will cure your injuries. Up to you to decide if it's worth it. Stranger: Wood and plastic meld to your form and fix any breaks; after enough of these, you'll look more like patchwork than a person. Web: Your wounds are stitched closed by phantom spiders; they leave behind them a silken embroidery where your scars would have formed.

Darkvision Beholding: Night is no protection against your gaze. Buried: Deep underground, away from the sky and the sun, you can see perfectly. Dark: "Needing light" is for the weak.

Death Ward End: Whenever this spell triggers, somebody else dies, instead of you, and you are aware of it.

Detect Evil and Good / Detect Magic Beholding: It doesn't matter if it's hidden; you know.

Detect Poison and Disease Beholding: If you spare the effort to look, nobody can secretly poison you. Corruption: Like calls to like, and you can feel others that have been touched by your patron.

Detect Thoughts Beholding: Even within your own mind, you're still being watched.

Disguise Self Spiral: If you absolutely need to, you can look normal. Stranger: Even if they've seen you before, you can still be unfamiliar.

Disintegrate End: You leave nothing behind.

Dispel Magic End: Against death itself, mere "magic" cannot stand.

Dominate Beast / Dominate Monster / Dominate Person Web: Sometimes you need a more direct control.

Dragon's Breath (x) Flesh: The potential is there within each body, and you can release it.

Earthbind (x) Buried: Flight shall be no escape.

Eldritch Blast Slaughter: Distance can't stop the killing.

Enemies Abound (x) Lonely: No matter how many people are with you, nobody is truly on your side. Spiral: You can't trust your senses; it's best to assume that everyone is a danger. Stranger: Everyone seems unfamiliar, and you know they mean to hurt you. Web: Maybe they don't want to hurt you, but they're being controlled, they're dangerous to you.

Enhance Ability Corruption: There's so much strength to be had, if you let the bug take over your weak form. Flesh: The body will eventually fall back into its normal state, but for now, it is at peak performance. (Optional: only for Constitution, Strength, or Dexterity.) Stranger: If you can use someone's skin, you can tap into their power. (Optional: requires material component of a piece of skin from a creature with a high score in the desired ability.)

Etherealness Lonely: Nobody can touch you and nobody can see or hear you.

Expeditious Retreat Hunt: The name is misleading; you don't retreat, you CHASE.

Eyebite Beholding: Being seen by you is dangerous. End: You hold the power of death within you, and can bestow aspects of it with but a glance.

False Life Corruption: You're part of something greater than yourself, and it protects you from harm. End: You know death well; you can place yourself a little bit farther away from it. Flesh: Anything will have to get past your vestigial organs to deal actual harm. Stranger: So much of your body is made of things that look like you but aren't you.

Feign Death End: If you pretend to have already been taken, maybe death won't take you. Lonely: They left you behind because they thought you were dead.

Find the Path Beholding: The way to go is obvious.

Find Traps Beholding: Your eyes are drawn to what you need to know about, to avoid.

Fly Vast: There's nothing more delightful than finally being free of the need to set your feet somewhere.

Fog Cloud Corruption: Spores and tiny insects answer the call, and form a thick cloud. Dark: It's not true darkness, but it will do. Lonely: There might be nobody else around. Vast: Who knows how far it is beyond, when you're enveloped in cloud?

Foresight Beholding: You can't see the future; but you can see all the factors affecting what's around you, and that's a close approximation.

Freedom of Movement Hunt: You will not slow your chase. Slaughter: Nothing can stand in the way of violence. Vast: You will not be held down.

Friends Web: People just need a little encouragement to do what you want them to, at times.

Geas Web: Your will shall be done, or there will be consequences.

Gentle Repose Buried: The earth protects what is entrusted to its care. Flesh: Keep the meat from going bad.

Goodberry Corruption: Insects and fungi are your friends, and provide so much nutrition. Flesh: It's not a berry; you can still eat it, but it's not a berry.

Gust (x) Lonely: Give yourself some personal space. Vast: You are intimately acquainted with both wind and distance.

Heroism Slaughter: Don't let injury or fear hold you back from hurting others.

Hold Monster / Hold Person Vast: Vertigo prevents you from moving. Web: You know you can move; but for some reason, you choose not to.

Identify Beholding: Knowledge just comes to you.

Illusory Dragon (x) Dark: Shadows take an intimidating form. (Optional: the breath weapon can only be necrotic.)

Inflict Wounds Corruption: Skin rots at your touch. End: Tissue death. Desolation: Liquefied fat. Flesh: You control the blood and muscles and bones in their body, and can damage them as you will. (Optional: caster can choose to deal bludgeoning, piercing, or slashing damage, instead of necrotic.) Slaughter: No weapon, no problem. Web: You start to drain them dry.

Insect Plague Corruption: Share the love with everyone.

Investiture of Stone (x) Buried: The earth's embrace stays with you, even when you get up.

Investiture of Wind (x) Vast: Carry the sky with you.

Invisibility Lonely: If nobody knows you are there, then you're basically alone.

Knock Spiral: It was never locked.

Legend Lore Beholding: If it's important, you will know it.

Levitate Vast: Height is what you tell it to be. Web: Invisible strings hold you up.

Locate Animals or Plants / Locate Object Beholding: You have eyes everywhere, and you can tap into them just enough to find what you seek and not be overwhelmed.

Locate Creature Beholding: Nobody can hide from the eyes that see all. Hunt: Without a direction, there's no hunt.

Maddening Darkness (x) Dark: This is everything you desire for the world. End: You create a small area that displays what awaits people when they die.

Mage Hand Corruption: Insects swarm at your willing, to manipulate what you direct. Spiral: Why should you have to touch something in order to move it?

Mass Suggestion Web: Spin your influence even further.

Maximilian's Earthen Grasp (x) Buried: Share the embrace of the earth; either they'll learn to love it, or they'll die, win/win situation.

Mending Spiral: Apparently it wasn't broken, after all.... Stranger: Parts of the object come to life and knit themselves back together.

Meteor Swarm Desolation: Such utter destruction of everything in its path, it's glorious.

Mind Spike (x) Beholding: Once you've seen someone, there is no hiding from you.

Mirage Arcane Spiral: "Reality" is but a plaything, and "stability" is only an illusion; even the ground under your feet isn't how it seems.

Mislead Spiral: Even your apparent presence is a lie.

Misty Step Dark: You dissolve into shadows, or your form melts in the light, then you appear someone more suited to your tastes. Lonely: You don't have to stay with them for one second longer than you wish.

Mordenkainen's Private Sanctum Dark: "Being seen" is antithetical to your nature. Stranger: No prying eyes allowed.

Nondetection Dark: Your truth stays hidden. Stranger: They can't see you coming in advance.

Nystul's Magic Aura Spiral: One more lie to tell.

Passwall Spiral: Walls are, at best, only a suggestion.

Phantasmal Force / Phantasmal Killer Spiral: It's all in your mind, of course; but it will still hurt you.

Power Word Kill End: Death is unavoidable.

Power Word Pain (x) Desolation: Their agony is delightful to you. Hunt: You haven't torn into your prey yet, but you describe how your teeth will rend their flesh, and their imagination cripples them.

Protection from Poison Corruption: It will not harm you; it loves you.

Scrying Beholding: You cast your sight outwards, to view that which you seek.

See Invisibility Beholding: You can see what would be concealed from all else. Hunt: Prey can try and hide from you; it won't work.

Seeming Spiral: Appearance was only ever an illusion to begin with.

Shadow of Moil (x) Dark: The embrace of the dark is a home to you, and a weapon against those who would hurt you.

Silence Dark: This is the natural state of the world. End: All sound dies.

Silent Image Spiral: You can see it, but it isn't real, and was never real.

Skywrite (x) Vast: The expanse is beautiful, and also informative.

Slow Spiral: You are ripped from the natural flow of time, cast into a world that moves too fast. Vast: Hard to move when you feel like every step will send you falling over the edge.

Spare the Dying End: It wasn't your time. Yet. Flesh: It's important to keep the meat fresh until you need it.

Staggering Smite Slaughter: They don't know how to react to the sheer force of your violence.

Stinking Cloud Corruption: You corrupt the very air that others breathe.

Stoneskin Buried: The earth's embrace surrounds you and protects you. Desolation: Wax is difficult to meaningfully damage. (Optional: caster only.) Flesh: Your meat is thick. Stranger: Flesh becomes as resilient as plastic.

Suggestion Web: It's the only sensible course of action.

Thunder Step (x) Vast: The sky sends you on your way, striking out at those who would hold you back.

Toll the Dead (x) End: Once death already has a grip on someone, it gets harder to resist. Slaughter: The pipes mark your doom.

Tongues Beholding: You are the common language.

True Seeing Beholding: There are eyes that cannot be fooled by anything, and you have access to them.

Unseen Servant Dark: The darkness caters to your whims. (Optional: can't be cast in bright light.) Stranger: Around you, objects do actually pick themselves up.

Web Dark: Shadows take physical form, and bar the way. (Optional: the webs dissipate if they take radiant damage.) Web: Duh.

Zone of Truth Beholding: They can try to hide their stories, but they can't lie to you.

#fandom: magnus archives #gaming #original content #not a reblog

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ask-crimson-weaver · 3 years

Text

Dangerous Waters

Melly still wasn’t sure what exactly had happened. Well, perhaps some part of her did, but with the scattered state of her thoughts, it was nigh impossible for her to think back over and string things together in any meaningful order.

She remembered showing up to Fort Tilden with the Cobwebs, and she had sensed Oliver as they approached, along with four other sources of danger. They had moved in, and a fight had started, with her facing off against Oliver. But at some point… her memory lost focus. That crawling, writhing sensation had wormed its way back into her mind-- hadn’t they undone that spell?-- and her coordination had slipped. At the time, she had had enough sense to try and retreat, but with her steps unbalanced, he had caught up quickly, catching her and dragging her down into the dark of… wherever they were.

She could tell that she was in a small room now, dank and cold air filling the underground space. At this point, the name wasn’t important anymore, seeing as her mind’s focus was drawn to other things. Every dark corner had the potential to hide danger, and every crack and chip in the concrete walls was just another space for some twisted, unfathomable thing to stretch outwards from. The paranoia from before had been straining, though manageable, but this time she felt like it was completely overwhelming her. On top of that, her spider-sense kept going off at unknown things as she had been dragged past them, and now its scream of warning was focused on the figure of green energy and metal that had a clawed arm clamped around her.

“You still think you can get out of this?” Oliver said, a smirk on his face as he watched Melly kick at the air with her still-free legs. “It’s admirable, if not pointless. I mean… all that work, all that searching and fighting… and look where you are now. At my complete mercy. And my associate’s, I suppose. I’m looking forward to watching you as she… feeds you to her Patron or whatever. In any case, it will be one less little Spider that I have to deal with.”

Melly only really took in about half of what he had said, the induced fear and confusion driving most of her thoughts. She could feel it drawing out her spider instincts, which urged her to escape and hide, and for once, she was inclined to do just that exact thing, though the former would have to be done before the latter of the two. She stared back at Oliver with glowing red eyes-- her mask had come off early on, back when she had still been near the others-- and she began to grunt and hiss in her frantic, paranoia-fueled attempt to break free. Where she felt her own strength make headway against Oliver’s arms, more green-tinted metal crept up to mend and reinforce it.

“I suppose it’s sad, in a way,” Oliver continued. “You and your ‘friends’ always talked about all of the great things you had done with your Shard… and even with that, here you are, writhing like a child with a tantrum. Honestly, I could just-- oops!”

The claw of Oliver’s arm suddenly opened, and gravity jerked Melly downwards, causing her to smack into the floor. Not a moment later, though, she had scrambled up onto her hands and knees, making a break for the nearest wall in an attempt to scale it. She’d only made it a handhold or two upwards when Oliver’s tentacle darted out again, clamping down on her leg and pulling her back over. There was a loud crack as two fist-sized chunks of the wall were pulled along after her, dropping off of where they had stuck to her hands.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Oliver said, sarcastic and unapologetic. “I just get butterfingers sometimes, that’s all.”

He’d pulled Melly off the ground again at this point, though this time she hung upside-down by the leg Oliver had grabbed. He lifted her higher, so that her face was just about level with his.

“Now, where were we?�� Oliver said. “Ah! I was just about to further emphasize the true depths of your--”

He found himself cut off as Melly’s hand swung up, launching a spray of webbing directly at Oliver’s face that soon solidified from its glowing state into an angry red color. Oliver stumbled back, growling as his eyes flashed green with a surge of rage. The arm holding Melly snapped to one side, releasing her and sending her flying through the air. The far wall cracked as she collided with it, knocking her breath out of her as she dropped to the ground-- it hadn’t been enough to hurt her significantly, with her energy welling up to help her take the blow, but it still hurt.

“You think that was funny, Spider?” Oliver hissed at her, bolts of metal from his assimilated mass curving up to cut the webbing away. “You think that you’re still able to--”

At that moment, Melly could feel a different arm wrap around her and yank her away off the ground. Even in her state of mind, this tendril that held her in the air was definitely not one that belonged to Oliver. It was far more slimy… with that distinctive energy of the Writhing One spiking all around her. She managed to catch a glimpse of Oliver’s associate: it was the exact same woman she saw in her mind.

“Juice Man, remember what we agreed on? I’d like our dear Weaver here to stay alive for the time being,” Odyssia sighed as her other tentacles undulated in the air, “I know she’s a Spider and all and she could probably take a lot more punishment than your average Joe, but I’d like to keep her just functional enough so I can properly study her.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I wasn’t intending to kill her before you had your chance to do your research, if that was your concern.”

He re-oriented himself, lifting himself off the ground with his tentacles.

“I suppose there will be more time to gloat later-- do what you want,” he added, waving one of his upper arms dismissively. “I wouldn’t dream of interrupting another Octavius’ studies without good reason.”

“Right,” she replied, before turning to face Melly with a fascinated smile, “While I may have learned a lot from information that I’ve kindly been given access to… there is nothing like being there to study something up close and personal.”

With that, she swiftly took Melly away with her into a new room somewhere deep in the bunker. From what Melly could barely make out, this room looked like a makeshift laboratory that didn’t look out of place in a horror movie. Strange organs and other loose body parts were compartmentalized in various containers. Tables covered in glassware and arcane books, drawers filled with various equipment, several aquarium tanks filled with unfamiliar sea life… coupled with the darkness, the debris that speckled the floor, and the cold, musty air, this place hardly looked sterile in any way.

Odyssia brought her over to a stolen hospital gurney and laid her down onto it, using her tendrils to hold her down as her human hands began to strap her down with the restraints.

“You know, you’re pretty lucky as far as my test subjects go,” Odyssia rattled off to her. “Between you and me, most people who get this treatment from me personally are looking at a new, monstrous form in their future. But, you… I’m having a feeling that you’re definitely not a lobbyist who tries to shut down environmental protections for their down lines… or some fuckwit politician who spews misinformation to spark irrational fear or hatred in people… or some idiot who doesn’t ‘believe’ in science and would much rather trust in some pseudoscientific homemade ‘remedies’.”

Odyssia snorted at the thought.

“You know, Weaver, we never really spoke to each other in person, but I know you are brilliant in your own right,” she continued as she tightened the restraints, “It’s a real shame, though. Your Shard is an incredible source of power. And such power rightfully belongs in the hands of the Writhing One. Unlike Juice Man, this isn’t personal for me.”

Melly had kept up her kicking and fighting all down the hallway, and as Odyssia tightened the restraints of the gurney, she kept straining against them with as much force as she could muster. This room was full of danger-- spider-sense easily told her that-- but as the hallucinations made the dark corners deeper and the creatures and scattered parts more monstrous, a swarm of paranoid thoughts started to close in on her.

She’s going to hurt you. She’s going to make you writhe and bleed like all the others. She wants to take what is yours, and what is you.

Somewhere, deep in Melly’s mind, her coherent self managed to reach through, and she renewed her effort to fight the spell’s effects and push back against the mental flood of the Writhing One’s influence. Her brow furrowed, and her glowing eyes started to flicker to and from an even stronger crimson hue as she made her effort.

“Get… it… out…” she managed to mutter, voice strained through both panic and effort.

Odyssia adjusted her glasses, examining the glow of her eyes with increased interest.

“Well, if I did that you’d fight back. Besides, seeing you manage to power through this from sheer force of willpower is something I’m far more invested in. If this is what one Shard is capable of… I wonder what an entire Prism could accomplish,” Odyssia mused, her demeanor going still to aid in her observations. “Not many people can just power through my spells like you’re doing right now. Not only does that require an insane amount of mental resilience but the magical prowess to accomplish this is just as an extraordinary feat.”

Odyssia, of course, already knew where such mental prowess and willpower had come from-- at least, it was easy to assume from the memories she had gleaned from Melly. Her soul torn out, fighting for control of a body that wasn’t hers. Both mind and soul shattered by a creature of dreams, pulled back together by both Shard and friends. Her fights against Brevi’s control, her mother’s attempt to change her memories again, even against the toxic shards that had leaked from Itzi’s blade, poisoning her all those months ago. She had fought hard to keep herself her, and she would certainly defend it with all of her strength.

Melly squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the twisting room around her as she pushed harder and harder to bring herself back, each push feeling like she was dragging her mind through thick ink. A few flickers of red light raced upwards along her neck, fading just as quickly as they had appeared.

“Get… out,” she repeated, voice a bit stronger. “Get. Out. Of. My. Head.”

Once again, as Odyssia allowed herself to dive deeper into her pursuit of knowledge, that one memory of Melly’s mother kept nagging at her. She furrowed her brow in frustration, this time having her tentacles come in to hold Melly down further.

“I can’t! I-I won’t! This is my breakthrough! This is for the Writhing One,” Odyssia hissed at her. “Don’t make me make this have to hurt.”

“You’ll... hurt me. Either way,” Melly mumbled out. “Change my head. I can’t… I won’t… let her. You. Anyone. Break me again.”

Odyssia grimaced slightly as she stared down at her.

Go on. Why aren’t you choking her or something? She’s not going down without a fight, Odyssia was starting to wrestle with herself. Prove her wrong. You’re smarter than her. Don’t let her win.

Unconsciously, a tentacle began to entertain the idea of wrapping around Melly’s neck. Just as it was about to constrict her, Odyssia realized what was happening and quickly pulled it back from her neck. A sinking feeling in her stomach began to take hold as the internal debate within her mind set in.

Why did I do that? I’m not supposed to kill her!

“... T-This is my last warning, Weaver. You need to understand that I’m being far nicer than I could be. I could be breaking you right fucking now but guess what? I’m holding back on you! Want to know what breaking you could look like? I could’ve turned you a monster, make you feel what it’s like to be at the bottom of the Mariana Trench, or take you apart and dissect you but no, I’m giving you the chance to make this easy. Don’t throw it away,”

Melly was quiet for a moment. Realistically, there wasn’t much she could do in her current condition to fight back against anything worse than what she was dealing with now… but to stop fighting would be to spit in the face of all her prior triumphs of self. Her thoughts were still jumbled, but if there was a way to get things to where they could talk.

Melly’s head turned towards Odyssia slightly, eyes opening to look directly at her.

“...all of that… is that really what you want to do?”

Odyssia froze, for the briefest of moments. She turned away from Melly, running her hand over her face.

This is what you want to do.

But why was she still fighting herself on this? She forcefully pounded her fist onto the gurney, cursing underneath her breath.

“Of course it’s what I want to fucking do… Why would I continue to do this if I didn’t?” Odyssia mutters although her tone suggested that she was beginning to struggle.

“Want...” Melly said, pausing for a moment as she tried to put a solid thought together. “We want… things. You want things from me. I want to stay me. There’s want… but there’s need too. All of the hurting… is that what you need to do?”

“You… Y-you’re just saying that to get out of this,” Odyssia replies as she shuts her eyes, still refusing to look at her, “Why would my needs matter to you?”

“Because if you need it… and you can choose it… you will. Would’ve.” Melly said. “I can’t make you do anything. Can’t make you…” Melly trailed off for a moment, shutting her eyes for a moment as she had to pull her focus back in. “But… I can fight. Or I can talk. And you… do you need… want to fight? Or do you want to talk? Which will get… what you need?”

“Alright, alright, stop right there. I… I cannot continue this if you're going to talk to me like that. I am barely getting by with following this conversation,” Odyssia groaned as she runs her hands in her messy hair. She turned to face Melly, making direct eye contact with her before continuing, much more quietly, “Tell you what: if I… lessen… the spell’s effects to at least let you speak coherently, you’re going to stay right there and not move. Then I’ll let you talk. If you try to pull the wool over my eyes, I will get mean. Got it?”

Well, though Melly certainly couldn’t make any guarantees that she wouldn’t eventually try to escape… for now, it was the only break she was probably gonna get, and her own mental resistance would only get her so far before exhaustion won out.

“...I understand.” she said.

Odyssia rubbed her forehead, already feeling a headache coming on from the tension in her body. Slowly releasing a deep breath, she closed her eyes to focus on something.

As she did so, Melly began to feel that Eldritch presence dwindled… not enough to release her from paranoia or the sickness she had felt, it was just enough for her to at least think a bit more clearly. Melly let out the breath she’d been unconsciously holding as the strain on her mind lessened, and took a moment to recollect herself-- man, it was good to be able to think mostly clearly again. The observing Odyssia would be able to see the red glow in her eyes recede, and though it was still present it no longer burned with as much intensity as it had been.

“You wanted to talk? Then talk,” Odyssia said coldly, although there was a slight hint of wanting to know what Melly was going to tell her.

“Look…” Melly began, “this whole thing with the Shards… What exactly is your end goal for all this? And you mentioned the Prism too… if you’ve been in my mind, you know that I’ve already done the rounds with someone who wanted to do the exact same thing you mentioned. And you know what happened to him when he tried it.”

Odyssia would indeed know who Melly was talking about-- Alexander Hobbs, aka the Beholder. She knew he had tried to control the Shards in a bid to access their combined energy… and she knew that it was what had ultimately killed him, the energy he sought burning him away to nothing.

“The Shards aren’t for me to use. I told you, this is for the Writhing One. I know those Shards are clearly not meant for a mere mortal to use. That’s why I’m giving it to my Patron. They don’t abide to human limitations,” Odyssia said, “I devote myself to the glorious Writhing One. Without it, I’d go back to being some repressed, pathetic shrinking violet who can’t fucking stand up for herself or the causes she cares about. So to show my gratitude, I must give back.”

Melly was taken a bit aback by some of what Odyssia had said-- it seemed that there was some baggage behind what course she had chosen to take. Even with it catching her notice, though, she wasn’t sure how Odyssia would react to having it be brought up here and now.

“How do you know if it can use them?” Melly asked. “With all due respect to the power and influence they do have in this world-- which, as you’re aware, I’m currently the subject of-- how do you know that they’ll be able to harness the energy of the Shards. Energy Weaver said they couldn’t alter or control it. The Being said it was out of their jurisdiction. The Palpitors-- they were willing to kill us when we encountered them. Wouldn’t it have been easier for them to just kill a wielder, take their Shard so that one of their Nobles would have access to an unlimited amount of energy? Why else would they have not done that, if not because they couldn’t claim it? Look, what I’m saying is that there’s things about the Shards and how they work that neither of us know. Would you take the risk of sending a Shard to your Patron without knowing what effect it might have? How would they react if what you gave it harmed them?”

“...To act like I know everything regarding my Patron’s full capabilities is to indulge in pointless hubris,” she scoffed, “And either way, you grossly misunderstand how Patrons operate. Patrons—unless some astronomically universal level apocalyptic circumstances occur—never leave their realm of magic. If they did, there wouldn’t be a need for them to bestow an incredibly tiny fraction of their power to mortals like me to do their bidding, right? If they want something, they’ll have people like me to accomplish what they need us to do. This is something they’ve been interested in for a while now. And who am I to object to the Writhing One’s wishes? While I can’t pretend to know how exactly they will deal with whatever a Shard brings… what I can tell you is that they’re approaching this with curiosity and they know the risk; after all, they know what I know.”

“And what you know is what I know-- I’m presuming that’s why you went rooting around in my mind in the first place,” Melly countered. She thought for a moment, deciding that pushing that point further wouldn’t do any good. “Okay… new question. If they never leave their realm of magic, how exactly are they planning on using my Shard? Are you intending to magically mail me to where they are so they can get at it or something?”

Odyssia chuckled at that, “That’s a very crass way of putting it but, essentially, you’re right. I am going to send the Shard directly to them.”

“‘The Shard’,” Melly repeated. “The way you say that has a very conspicuous lack of me included in it.”

“What? You want me to send you in there as well? I highly doubt that you’d be interested in being in the grand presence of the Writhing One. Honestly, I thought the way I planned was more humane, not subjecting you to such unspeakable terrors,” Odyssia laughed.

“And your plan is… to kill me?” Melly asked. “Or try and remove it yourself? Because I have experience with that second option, and I’ve gotta say… hard pass.”

“It’s worth a try,” Odyssia sighed, coming down from her brief amusement, “And if I can’t remove it without killing you, well… I suppose that doesn’t leave many options for me, unfortunately..”

“Well, even if you do get it out without killing me... I’m still gonna get a one-on-one with the Writhing One,” Melly said. “The whole soul thing, remember? You pull out the Shard, and my soul comes with it. The whole point of sparing me is kind of moot there-- doubly so, considering that Ollie would have no problem killing me without the Shard there to do its thing. And obviously, you don’t seem inclined to kill me if you can help it… which I appreciate, even given my currently unfavorable circumstances. Other than that…”

Melly did think of a third option, but even thinking about it made her blood run cold. One of the Writhing One’s things was manipulating minds, right? If so… what was stopping them from just brainwashing her, or something similar, to try and control the Shard through her?

In a nervous gulp, she swallowed her words, glancing away from Odyssia as she hastily tried to think of any alternative thing to propose-- the more time an option gave her, the better.

“... Were you going to say something there?” Odyssia asked, “And before you do, I’d like to at least thank you for being appreciative. At least you’re more engaging to speak to than any of the previous people who once were strapped in here just like you. I generally hear the same boring, mundane things from people who end up here… In a strange way, I’m almost glad that I gave you the chance to talk,”

Gee, I wonder why everyone else was less engaging, Melly thought to herself, not thinking further on that. Better to keep those mental images at bay.

“Have to appreciate the little victories, I suppose,” she said, words both sarcastic and sincere. “Punching and the like isn’t always the best way to solve things in the hero biz-- sometimes trying to talk through things first can go a long way. Never hurts to try, I suppose.”

Melly went quiet, debating whether to bring up what she had meant to say. Odyssia had clearly heard her odd pause, and she wasn’t fully sure whether or not she would be able to tell if she was lying or not.

“And… yeah, guess I thought I had something to say,” she said. “Wasn’t anything good, though.”

“... Yes,” Odyssia muttered.

… Why did she sound so much like Amari just now? Nononono, I can’t let myself think like that. I can’t let myself see her in the Weaver or I’ll really be in shit, Odyssia thought to herself, now actually beginning to feel worried, Goddamnit, Odyssia, stop this right now. You can’t afford to do this.

“... And what makes you think that?’ Odyssia said, trying to avoid thinking further on her realization.

“Because it’s something I’ve had people try to do to me before, in one way or another,” Melly said. “And I doubt I’d be able to do much about it if it’s what you or your Patron decide to do to me, hence my aversion to bring it up.”

“...Let me take a wild guess,” Odyssia began, if a bit hesitant herself, “Are you trying to appeal to my humanity in some way? As if you knew anything about me? I mean, you’re welcome to try it. I will at least humor you.”

“Wasn’t really expecting it to be an appeal-- in the regard of me getting out of this, at least,” Melly said. “You don’t seem like the type to be easily convinced to change your mind when you commit to something-- Ollie was the same way. The point being-- seeing as I’d rather not go through something involving that again, I’m refraining from bringing it up as an option at all.”

Melly wasn’t sure how many of her non-Shard memories Odyssia had gleaned, or if she had come to the conclusion of what she was meaning by her words-- it was entirely possible that she’d be able to put the pieces together if she had all of them. For now, though, she sat tight and hoped that that would satisfy her.

“... Fair enough,” Odyssia replied, although something about the way she said this made her tone waver a bit. “I have been described as ‘ride or die’, I suppose. But make no mistake—and don’t tell Juice about this—I’ve come to understand that aside from tenacious tendencies… we don’t really have much in common. Consider this food for thought.”

“Juice?” Melly said, amused by the apparent nickname. “And… yeah, I think I’ve noticed that— and that’s coming from someone that knew him before all of this Shard business.”

“Long story,” Odyssia replied cheekily, “In the nicest way possible… did he always have a stick up his ass? Was he born with it? Because I’ve worked with many people and I have to be honest, he’s not the most fun person to be around.”

“Well…” Melly said, thinking of where to start. “He was always a bit stuck-up, but he knew his tech stuff— was in classes with someone I know. I think he’d been doing the Ock stuff behind the scenes for a while… not that I ever picked up on it. Kept that hidden up until I had already handed the Green Shard over for him to claim. Was originally hoping that he’d be a part of our team, but, well… you’ve seen where he’s ended up in that regard. In hindsight… it was pretty dumb of me to hand it over to anyone, whether or not I trust them. I was new to the hero stuff, and definitely more naive than I am now with a few more years under my belt. Sure, I may wield a Shard, but after that, I don’t think I’m qualified to be the one that decides who stuff like that gets handed out to.”

“Hmm. Sounds like someone I know,” Odyssia commented to herself before replying to Melly. “I suppose I could relate to you hoping someone you care about would join you.. but that’s besides the point. Probably wasn’t anything like what you went through anyhow, considering that the one I’m talking about is… a much different person from him, let’s say.”

“That’s fair,” Melly said. “Even with the similarities… there’s plenty of differences more often than not, especially between dimensions. I guess the whole mess— the Shards getting involved and all— sort of make ours a bit of a unique case, at any rate.”

Melly paused, thinking something over.

“You know… how did you and Oliver end up coming across one another anyway?”

Odyssia chuckled at that. “It is in my best interest not to be a snitch. I might be more amicable towards you than most people that find themselves on this gurney, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll spill everything about myself or my whereabouts. Nice try, though.”

“Eh, it was worth a shot,” Melly said, shrugging. “Guess you’ve got to be an Ock to get in on all the secret Ock meetings… or however else you two ended up meeting.”

“Well, I’m sure you can come up with your own conclusions, considering that you somehow managed to start working with Spider-Glass,” she sighed as a tentacle of her stretches out to reach a clipboard and a pen on her desk.

“I suppose I can, yes,” Melly replied-- like Odyssia, it was probably in her or the other Spiders’ best interest not to go into detail on how that came about. Her eyes followed Odyssia’s tentacle as it reached over to the desk. Despite all of the pleasant conversation, she had to remind herself that she was on borrowed time. The Spiders would probably come after her eventually, but without a solid sense of how long it had been since was brought down here, she couldn’t be sure how much longer it would be before the others returned. The longer it took, the more time there would be for Odyssia to start trying things.

Odyssia, while not wanting to press further on how the two met, there was something on her mind in regards to her own spider. She took the clipboard and pen and began writing her observations on Melly down as she continues to speak.

“Speaking of… what are your thoughts on her, exactly?” she sincerely asked with no trace of joking around or cheekiness to her tone.

“What?” Melly said, admittedly caught a bit off-guard by the question. “She’s, uh… nice? Good teammate, good… all-around person?” She wasn’t exactly sure what Odyssia was trying to get at with that question, but knew it was better not to give specifics away freely.

Odyssia considered what Melly said for a moment. There was a gleam in her eye and a satisfied smile crossed her face as a subtle sense of pride exuded from her.

“Yes, she always was… I don’t expect anything less from her…” she muttered to herself, “You’re not alone in that assessment, Weaver. Many will agree with you on that front.”

“As I’ve seen-- and met,” Melly said. The way Odyssia had said that… she knew a bit about Amari and Odyssia’s history. Whatever connection they had outside of the hero stuff, in some regard she could still say that it was a good one.

“Yes… I suppose that’s one thing that me and old Juice Man can’t really relate to each other on,” Odyssia sighed.

Before either of them could say anything else, the tell-tale sound of metal stomping on concrete echoed down the corridor that Odyssia had brought Melly down. Feeling him approaching, Melly went still, keeping her head facing away from the door-- hopefully, she could avoid having Oliver know that she was more coherent than before. A moment later, Oliver entered the room, looking rather annoyed. His eyes scanned the room for a moment before locking on Odyssia.

Speak of the Devil, Odyssia thought to herself as she looked back at him.

“So… What is it this time, Oliver?” she asked, putting the clipboard and pen down on the gurney’s surface.

“Your… pet keeps bothering me,” he said with contempt. “I’m trying to review the notes on the Shards that you took from the Weaver, but I can’t focus with that thing constantly trying to pester me!”

Odyssia grimaced a bit, shifting her weight as she stepped closer to him. Upon doing so, she noticed Adorabilis, now clinging onto his leg with her tentacles.

“I see,” she said, nodding tightly, “Let me get her off you.”

Oliver let out a huff in an expression of ‘finally’, holding out his leg and shaking it impatiently.

“Hold still, Juice Man,” she sighed, “You don’t need to shake her around like that.”

Odyssia gently coaxed Adorabilis with her tentacles, using them to remove her off of Oliver’s leg. Oliver could feel the sensation of suction cups being pulled off of him as she was taken away into Odyssia’s arms.

“Alright, alright, you’re free now,” Odyssia said to Oliver as she heads over to one of the tanks. She opens it up to gently place the flapjack octopus inside.

“It’s appreciated,” Oliver said, reaching up to straighten the collar of his shirt with a punchy tug. “While I’m here… I might as well ask. How has your research gone, thus far? Anything… interesting?”

“Sure thing,” she replies casually as she shuts the tank’s lid tight, “I suppose, but this was more me wanting a closer look at her and her Shard’s energy.”

“You ‘suppose’?” Oliver said, raising an eyebrow. “And have you been able to glean anything from that as of yet?”

“I will have to make some minor adjustments on my method of offering the Shard to the Writhing One but otherwise, I’m sure you already know enough extensive information from that mind retrieval that I did,” Odyssia replied coolly.

“Indeed,” Oliver said, sounding mildly disappointed. “Speaking of which-- perhaps I should get back to reviewing that information. Perhaps she knows more about the pesky inhibiting devices that she’s used in our past few encounters. Quite fortunate that she had some spares on her this time around-- they usually burn out and damage themselves before I have the chance to inspect them more closely.”

“Sounds good to me,” Odyssia replied. “I will keep an eye on our guest here and make said adjustments to the plan.”

“And as I said before, I am quite looking forward to seeing the results,” Oliver said. Without another word, he turned, moving quickly out of the room back the way he had come.

As soon as he was gone, Odyssia groaned a little.

“Man, if I didn’t know better, I would’ve believed he was an energy vampire or something,” she muttered underneath her breath.

“Of the metaphorical sort, I’m assuming,” Melly said once she was sure Oliver was out of earshot. “I’ve met some actual energy vampires, and they tend to be a bit more direct with their energy-taking intentions.”

“Of course,” Odyssia chuckled, “A strange little man, he is.”

She picked up her clipboard and continues writing things down.

“... Now listen,” she muttered, recalling something, “I hate to admit it but I prefer you like this over when you could barely speak a coherent sentence. I… know that we really couldn’t be all that friendly after what I did to your mind and what I’m planning on doing. But even so, I feel like I should at least let you know this: Spider-Glass is… someone who is this very smart, very capable young lady. I know full well she’s going to show up eventually. Should she inevitably come to set you free just at the nick of time, promise me one thing: keep her safe. Her survival is… important to me.”

Melly stayed silent for a moment, taking in Odyssia’s words. It felt a bit strange, hearing that from someone with the intent to harm her… but she could tell that the Ock’s words were genuine.

“Us Spiders… we protect each other,” Melly said. “If she needs my help, if she ends up in danger… I’ll do what I can to make sure she’s safe at the end of things.”

There was a slight flicker of red in Melly’s eyes as she spoke-- a spark of determination and resolution, one could say. It was only there for a moment, though, before fading back to their usual crimson hue.

Odyssia smiled at that. Whether it was due to Melly’s promise, the brief glimmer of red, or a mixture of both, it was hard to say.

Both knew it was only a matter of time until Spider-Glass would return. Until then, Odyssia resolved herself to scribbling down what she had learned from her talk from Melly that she had neglected to inform Oliver about. And Melly, biding her time until the others returned, resigned herself to wait.

#At the Shores of Madness #spidersona #marvelsona #marvel oc #spiderverse #into the spiderverse #spidersonas #marvel au #spider-man au #doc ock #marvel fanfiction #marvel character #spidersona oc #injury cw #cw injury #Melly | Crimson Weaver #Odyssia Octavius #Oliver Octavius

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goparkseonghwa · 4 years

Text

A Devil’s Covenant [ Prologue ]

Genre: Angst, Romance, Horror, Smut (in future parts)

Pairing(s): Seonghwa x Reader (mostly) x Wooyoung (briefly) + ATEEZ

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Making a deal with the devil to bring back a loved one has its consequences. Are you ready to pay the price for your sins?

Warning(s): Themes of Horror, Strong Language and Violence, Character Death (these will be throughout the storyline so read with caution).

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⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

"For the love all things holy, Seonghwa," You laugh down the line, the sleeve of your sweater covering your gaping mouth slightly, "This isn't the type of talk you should be indulging in with your best friend." You flush at the recollection of his previous statement, becoming hot and bothered easily at his low voice alone but his choice of wordage easily made you weak in the knees.

"Ah, but you love my sensual talk," He breathes down his end of the line, joking none the less, but still how he says it sends a faint tremble down your back. You secretly love it when he speaks to you in that manner, but you'd never admit that to his face - or rather to anyone in your inner circle. Hell, you could barely admit that to yourself the first time his words took a different toll on your heart. "And besides, who else would I use to practice my pickup lines on?"

Continue using me, please. You tap your finger against your lower lip as if you were in deep thought, letting a playful hum reverberate through your vocal cords in light spirit, lips turning up in the corners in the slightest motion. "Mmmmm, I know, you could use your suave moves on Yunho. He'd really have a fond appreciation for you after that." You stretch your arm behind your head, tousling your hair slightly as you run your fingers through the mess that was long overdue of a wash.

"You mean he'd probably have a fond appreciation for my chopped off penis sitting in a jar if I pulled that shit on him." He chuckles, and you can't help but gently roll your eyes at his sentence, knowing for a fact that the younger would actually find his elder's practice sessions enjoyable, being able to pick up on some tricks himself all while acquiring some form of blackmail to dangle over Hwa's head in the future.

"He loves your penis too much to ever bring any harm to it." You smile, crinkling your nose in endearment when you hear a scoff echo throughout the speaker, knowing his own cheeks were becoming flushed from embarrassment at your erotic, sinful thoughts.

"I highly doubt you on that one," He starts, voice becoming a bit muffled as the rustling of bags and other voices that echo throughout your speaker, indicating that he was at the market picking up groceries for a dinner he was hosting tonight at his and Yunho's shared apartment. Yunho had gotten in contact with Jongho, who seemed to be as much of a recluse nowadays as the spider, and convinced him to take a break from working on his novel to indulge in friendly conversation and delicious food. Seonghwa's stepbrother, Mingi, was in town for the week on business and Hwa wanted to reunite the five of you before Mingi jetted off to the next country for who knew how long, and before Jongho sealed himself off from the world again. ". . . thank you. . . alright, I think I have everything for tonight."

"Eh, you never know what could be going through Yunho's mind, so you shouldn't be too surprised if he has thought about it once or twice." Standing up from your bed, your knees slightly popping from being in the same, stiff position for so long, you maneuver your way into your bathroom to assess the damage that needed to be tended to before dinner. Cringing upon the sight of your greasy hair, and stained sweater from countless fridge raids, you turn on the sink faucet to begin your much needed 'spa treatment'. "Anyways, so what is Chef Seonghwa preparing for our taste buds this evening?" You inquire, picking up a washcloth to dampen.

"Ah, little one, it's a surprise," He playfully taunts, the tone in his voice making you huff out in annoyance. Surprises were nice and all but you would like to know what type of food you get to daydream about until it's finally sitting on a plate in front of you.

"Let me guess, you've decided to treat us to a frozen pizza?" You shift the phone from your hand so that it is now pressed between your shoulder and ear, allowing you to utilize both hands as you prepare your skin care routine.

"Damn, I can't believe you figured it out. You and the others get to indulge on a frozen entrée while I prepare myself a lovely steak dinner." He states, amusement easily interwoven within his words. His drawl that was as smooth as velvet was dangerous in itself, but when paired with any form of teasing or amusement it was a catastrophe just waiting to happen. The sultry undertone just waiting to pull anyone into a delicious, sinful paradise where temptations were acted on rather than ignored. A heaven within hell, the angel's fall from grace at the mere prospect of being entangled, consumed with another being that was corrupted beyond a point of redemption. But, those sickly sweet, lust driven whispers would be worth the fall if it meant you could spend eternity with him.

Knowing that he is merely pulling your leg, you decide to play along, "Mmmm absolutely delicious. My mouth is already watering at the mere thought of a burnt piece of bread with a pathetic excuse of toppings decorated on top." Sarcasm drips from every syllable that is enunciated with your tongue, a genuine, but snarky, way of conveying the lightness of the conversation. A smile graces your plush lips as wipe your face with the cloth, the water alone already making your skin feel better, more refreshed than it had been minutes ago.

A beautiful, deep laugh reverberates through the line and you could literally feel your heart rate slightly spike as the sound danced around within your ears. Something so pure, so sweet coming from the lips of a man whose heart was as big as the moon and whose soul was as golden as the sun made you feel as though heaven had answered your prayers, blessing you with a magnificent human who deserved nothing less than the stars. Park Seonghwa had easily found a way to leave pieces of himself within everything you did or saw, intertwining his existence with yours. A colorful pattern so bright it managed to dynamically shift your view on the world from one of black and white to one of vibrant, explosive pastels and neons. He was the artist and his words were the paintbrush as he transformed your life into a living, breathing masterpiece. He meant more to you than anyone could ever imagine, and being so fortunate to hear his laugh, to be around him when he was happy, to see him at his highest while also being there for the lowest was, and is, something you hold close to you. You would never trade anything in the world for those moments you are able to spend with him, the memories too precious to take for granted.

"But on a serious note, the meal I have planned tonight will be to your liking, so you have nothing to worry about," He reassures you which does improve your mood. Not that you weren't in a good mood prior to his statement, you were placed in a tranquil atmosphere the second you saw his name appear on your phone screen, but by him confirming that the meal tonight would be up to the high standards he always set made your spirits heighten further than the clouds.

"You better not give me food poisoning, Park," You grumble, scrubbing your face with the cleanser, "Or else you and I will be having a very strong, very colorful discussion tomorrow."

He gasps on the other end, "I'm hurt, Y/N, truly. You've punctured my heart." He feigns mock hurt, and you can only imagine the cute pout that is present on his plump lips, the crease between his sharp eyebrows and one of his hands placed on his chest, directly over the organ that you wish would belong to you.

"Let me grab my sewing kit so I can stitch that tragic wound of yours," You smile, grabbing the washcloth to dampen once more so you could remove the soap from your face and move on to the next step in your routine, "So, have you heard from Mingi? Is he in town yet?"

"Yeah, his plane landed about a half hour ago, so him and Yunho should be heading back to the apartment as we speak," He trails off, voice becoming muffled, distant from the phone as he must have gotten distracted by something or someone in the marketplace, "Hey, you like roses right–" He's cut short by the sound of a loud bang, startling you to the point of your phone nearly slipping from your shoulder.

"Holy shit! What the hell was that?" You shriek down the line just as another bang can be heard off in the distance, screams following quickly after. Worry starts to flood your veins as you drop the towel onto the counter, fingers now gripping tightly to the phone as you press it harder against your ear, "Seonghwa, what was that? Is everything okay?" There's rustling on his end, shuffling that sounds as if something has dropped or has been thrown down. When you hear short, sharp breaths through the receiver that's when your anxiety spikes dramatically. Something is wrong, something is terribly, horrifically wrong. The screaming intensifies as it draws closer to the phone, panicked voices forming incoherent sentences are jumbled together as well, frightening you even further. "Seonghwa, answer me! What happened?" A faint whimper, a grunt of pain and one final, sharp intake of breath is made before a soft, long exhale is emitted. Your heart sinks. "S-Seonghwa?"

"Someone call an ambulance!"

"Check for a pulse!"

"Oh my gosh! He's dead!"

At that, the phone drops from your now shaking hand, landing on the floor with a smack. Your mouth slackens, head becoming dizzy as your vision begins to produce black splotches in the corners of your eyes. A pounding sensation is heavily felt within your skull as the bathroom begins to spin. You lose your footing, stumbling backwards away from the vanity as your lunch from earlier begins to churn violently in your stomach. No, no, no, no, no. This isn't happening. They can't be talking about Hwa, it has to be someone else. But hearing his name faintly come through the speaker by an unknown voice confirms your worst nightmare.

You’re numb, face the palest white possible as all of the blood seems to evaporate from under your skin, from your veins, your heart stuttering in your chest. It rapidly presses against your ribcage and you feel as though it’s about to combust from the pain that is pulsing through it, searing it so deeply that being physically stabbed in the chest would be like a measly paper cut – and you’d much rather be impaled a hundred times over than feeling what you are currently feeling.

Your eyes connect with your reflection for a brief second, in the next they roll into the back of your head, your weak frame toppling over, falling right next to your phones now cracked screen.

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

No Hero

[Evil!Joan AU]

Word count: 3479

TW: Blood, minor gore

———————

Ever since reincarnation, Kitty has been afraid. Afraid of the change, afraid of touch, afraid of men. But it has gotten easier when she had Jane at her side. Jane, who had supported her and soothed her and comforted her for so long. Jane made things okay.

But now she’s gone. Kidnapped. Locked away in the ruins of the theater.

Jane had been Kitty’s hero. And now she was going to be hers.

However, as she touched her belly and felt sticky warmth blooming across it, those plans were looking bleak.

“You—” Kitty sputtered, blood splattering from her lips. She held desperately to the entrails pushing against the wound’s opening. “You took my guts out.”

The creature perched on one of the several stalagmites growing through the auditorium hummed. The half light made the blood on the wicked claws glisten.

“I’ve always wondered what you were like on the inside,” It said.

Kitty coughed and crumbled to her knees, hugging tightly at her stomach. She could feel her intestines trying to push their way out of her. They squelched against her arms.

“How sad.” Joan mused. She produced a copper wristband with three tiger’s eye orbs pressed into the metal and threw it down to Kitty. “Put that on if you want to live.”

Kitty glared at her. “Like I would trust you.”

Joan shrugged. “Then bleed out and die. Like I care.”

Kitty gritted her teeth, then snatched the bracelet up. When it’s clasped around her wrist, she gasped at the strange, ticklish sensation of her organs slithering back into place like resurrected eels. The wounds close and knit themselves back together, only leaving behind three pale white scars that stretch across the expanse of her stomach. She looked at it in shock.

“Now,” Joan said, climbing onto the stage. “Do you want tea?”

—

There was a knife wedged in between a loaf of bread on the bar table. Standing in what used to be the break room, Kitty eyed it as Joan rummaged through a cabinet. She kept looking from the blade, to the monster, and then back to the blade until she finally gathered the courage to grab it and aim the tip at Joan’s neck.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Joan hummed as she heard the knife clatter to the floor. Her tail flicked back and forth, hearing Kitty gag helplessly. “I’m just trying to get you some tea! How rude.” She emerged from the cabinet and smiled at the girl foaming at the mouth, viper fangs sunk deep into her throat. “You should know that I wouldn’t let my guard down that easily.”

Henry released Kitty and she keeled over, seizing violently. He gave her a look of disgust then slithered over to Joan, up her tail and waist, and settled around her shoulders.

“Silly girl.” Henry said.

“Indeed.” Joan agreed.

Joan began to prepare the tea as Kitty continued to spasm and froth until her enchanted bracelet eventually saved her from death for a second time. She hobbled to her feet, using the bar table for support, and scowled at the two monstrosities watching her patiently.

“Don’t give me that look,” Joan rolled her eyes. “You were the one who decided to try and attack me.”

She turned back from the counter with three ebony cups of tea in her hands. She sat them down at the table and took a seat at one of the stools. Kitty joined her after a moment and she gave her a believable friendly smile.

“Drink,” She gestured for the cup. “It’s not poisoned, I promise.” She brought her own cup to her lips.

“Who's that one for?” Kitty nodded towards the third cup.

“Who do you think?” Henry said. He slithered down from Joan’s neck and flicked his tongue at the tea inside his glass, not at all phased by how hot it was.

“You thought it was for Jane?” Joan guessed.

“Where is she?” Kitty demanded.

“None of your concern.” Joan answered smoothly. “Just know she’s safe and happy.”

“How could anyone be happy with you?” Kitty growled.

For a moment, Joan's eyes became very cold. She narrowed them at Kitty, flashing her sharp teeth for a moment, then took a deep breath and calmed down. Her talons remained clenched around her cup, however.

“Believe it or not, I’m great company.” She said. “Not everyone is miserable when they’re not with you.”

Kitty glared at her. Joan merely flicked her tail and took another sip of her tea.

“I’ve noticed something,” Joan said conversationally. “You and I, we aren’t that different. Young, smart, had things stolen away against our will, always seeking approval touch starved- to name a few. You want to change things. You want to make things better, back then and right now, but not just for you. For people who went through the same thing you did. You want to save them. And you could do it, you know, if you had the chance.”

“I’m nothing like you.” Kitty hissed. “I’m not a monster.”

“Not a monster,” Henry suddenly cut in. “A god.”

A shiver ran down Kitty’s spine. She leaned back in her stool, suddenly feeling even more unsafe—if that was even possible.

“Yes,” Joan smiled at her scaly companion and he smiled back—a genuine smile, Kitty realized. It was truly friendly and not malicious at all when pointed at the ex-music director. “A god.” She turned back to Kitty, resting her talons flat on the table. “And you could be one too, you know.”

Kitty opened her mouth and then shut it firmly, actually considering such a thing. Her. A god. It made her dizzy from all the possibilities shoving their way into her head. Joan noticed this and chuckled.

“It would be amazing, wouldn’t it?”

“It...it would.” Kitty admitted. She quickly shook her head, however. “This is a trick. You’re trying to get me to turn against my family or use me as your slave or kill me horribly!”

“Howard, I am ten times stronger than you’ll ever be.” Joan said. “I could do any of that anytime I wanted to without a problem. But have I?”

That was very true, Kitty really uncomfortably.

“You—you cut open my stomach!” She tried to protest.

“You came barging into my palace with a sword aimed at my head!” Joan reprimanded, her tail lashing and shoulder quills rising. “I was startled!” She settled, although it was obvious she was thoroughly amused. “Where did you get that sword anyway? I thought they would have been banned from your household. What with the way Boleyn died and all.”

Kitty sulked in her stool for a moment, trying to figure out a way to get out of this. Joan waits patiently for her, entertaining herself by conjuring up a cloud of gemstones that swirl above her palms like a shimmering whirlpool made of minerals. She smiled softly at them, watching the emeralds and rubies and sapphires and amethyst whorl around together.

“Why are you even offering me anything?” Kitty finally asked. “Why share your power with me when you could just simply kill me right now?”

“Because I don’t just want power,” Joan said exasperatedly. “I also want to have real friends that actually care about me. I want my happily ever after.”

“Then why me?”

Joan looked up from her gemstone tornado to raise an eyebrow at Kitty. A tiny grin quirked on her lips.

“I find you quite infuriating, yes. I am very jealous of you.” She admitted. “But it wasn’t always that way. Back in our first life, I thought you were a wonderful queen, despite the circumstances. And in the beginning, I believed we could be friends. But then you got in my way of Jane...” She plucked a pink diamond out of the galaxy and sent it spinning on its own axis in the air. “Well. I became a little envious.”

Kitty was surprised to feel guilt welling up inside of her. Had she been the reason Joan became what she was now? Was it all her fault?

“But that won’t matter if you accept my offer,” Joan went on. “We can be friends! We can share Jane and she’ll love us equally! More than she ever has before!”

Jane.

The entire reason why Kitty was there flashed back in her mind. She shook her head as if she were trying to jar loose the parts of her that were actually considering taking the offer.

“No. It’s not real.” She grit.

“Of course it’s real.” Joan said. “Here. Let me show you.”

She waved a talon and, suddenly, Kitty’s copper bracelet began to tremble. Hot pink spikes erupt from the skin on her arm, traveling up and growing across her shoulders and head and spine and legs until half of her skin is eaten away by scales and feathers and fur. A furry tail slithered out from her waist, flicking lazily off of the side of the stool. She even felt wings sprout from her back and flap wildly in the air. She was absolutely dazzled by her new appearance and scrambled out of her seat to marvel at herself in a mirror Joan conjured up.

“Oh my god,” She whispered in amazement. “You really did it!”

“Well, of course!” Joan grinned at her. Even Henry was giving her one of his rare real smiles, although it didn’t sit well with her.

“This is incredible,” Kitty said, turning her pink talons over to examine each claw.

“Although, pink is a little bright for a god.” Joan teased. “You’ll get magic, too. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? You could bring back the men who wronged you and exact revenge on them!”

She would like that. She really, really would. She just wondered what her claws could do to THEIR throats...

And yet...

“So?” Joan said. “What do you say?”

Kitty looked up at herself in the mirror again, gazing at the body that held all the power and greatness she’s ever wanted, then turned to Joan and said, “No.”

Joan’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Oh, that’s not the right answer.”

She flicked her tail and Kitty’s body modifications were stripped from her abruptly. It felt as though her skin was being grated off and someone was pulling out each individual spike and horn and wing and tail with burning hot pliers. She staggered, struggling to catch her breath through the sudden barrage of pain.

“That leads to bad, bad things, Howard.” Joan said. She flexed her talons on the table, as though she was already preparing to have them cut Kitty up into dozens of tiny pieces. Henry set his tail over one of them comfortingly, and then leered at Kitty.

“I don’t want to hurt people.” Kitty said.

“Did I ever say you would?” Joan growled. Her floating milky way of gemstones suddenly spun together out of control, whirling into a kaleidoscope of flashing colors. It was speeding with Joan’s growing rage. “I am not a monster. And I wasn’t planning on making you one, either. I just want FRIENDS, Howard! I have everything but that, and I just want to share a fraction of what I have now with them!” Her shoulder spikes bristle upwards like an agitated porcupine. “Even with you. Annoyingly.”

Kitty narrowed her eyes at Joan. She absentmindedly felt the copper bracelet still clasped around her wrist and considered taking it off, but decided against it when she realized that Joan could attack her at any moment and kill her without it on.

Joan got up and began pacing around the room, lashing her tail and she went back and forth, back and forth. She stops for just a moment, extending a talon for Henry to climb back around her neck, and then continues her anxious walking.

“I don’t know why I expect you to understand.” She finally seethed, casting a dark look at Kitty. “You have everything. A family, a mother, fame, fortune, people who actually give a shit about you.”

“You’re evil, Joan.” Kitty said. “That’s why you don’t get any of that stuff.”

That was the wrong thing to say to a livid monstrous god, but at least Kitty had been right about the bracelet decision, because Joan suddenly lunged at her, knocked her against the wall with her powerful tail, and ripped out her heart.

Kitty’s vision becomes black and grey, aside from her shuddering heart and the crimson blood that drips from it. Everything around her blurs together, but she can still see Joan’s horrified expression and Henry’s sinister smirk.

And then her heart is shoved back into the gouge in her chest. She can feel the arteries and veins slither back into place, binding the organ to its position. The skin mends magically, as it had done the first two times, but a messy starburst-shaped scar is still left behind.

Joan stumbles backwards, staring at her bloody talons. There is genuine fear and guilt in her eyes- it was clear she never had any plans of actually killing people during her reign. And lashing out like that scared her.

She cleans her stained claws frantically while Henry licks her ear gently and soothes her. Kitty struggled to get up as this went on, but suddenly froze when she heard a noise outside in the dim hallway. In came a beautiful woman swathed in jewelry and studded with monstrous body parts.

She was wearing a luscious silver silk dress that seemed to glow iridescent thanks to the number of jewels she was loaded with. Moon-like earrings dangle from her feathery, pointy ears and a silver wire bracelet with three ebony orbs is clasped around her right wrist. Pearl and topaz and opal necklaces dangle from around her neck, but there was one in particular with a beautiful sapphire pendant on a sterling lace. Elegant white horns were wound with strings of emerald; veils of ice blue diamond wreathed angel-like wings. She even had a tail band on her long, majestic tail, which was silver and designed to look like talons clutching every inch of her tail with sapphire-tipped claws.

It was Jane, Kitty realized. Even under all those jewels, it was still her mother. She was about to run to her, but Joan beat her to it.

“Mama!”

Jane’s wings and arms open and close around Joan, holding her in a way that sent zigzags of envy throughout Kitty. She wondered if this was what Joan always felt, and how she dealt with it for so long because it honestly was terrible.

“There’s my beloved little disaster,” Jane cooed lovingly, placing a kiss on Joan’s forehead. Another lightning bolt of jealousy ripped through Kitty’s insides.

“Jane,” She called out. “What’s wrong with you?”

Jane looked over at her with a hard gaze she’s only seen been used on Joan. It startled her and stumbled back, as if she had been punched in the stomach by her stare.

“Nothing is wrong with me, Howard.” Jane said, flicking her tail. She wrapped one wing around Joan protectively, who leaned giddily into her side. “I think you’re the messed up one here.”

Kitty is stunned at the cruelty she’s being hit with. She took another step back. Her eyes were starting to fill with tears.

“What did you do to her?!” She growled, glaring at Joan. “Turn her back!”

“I didn’t do anything.” Joan hissed. “Mum has opened up a lot more ever since she left. She realized that there’s other people in this world than you. I just helped her realize that, and she doesn’t need you anymore.”

“That’s right.” Jane nodded, sending the jewels decorating her horns into a symphony of jingles and jangles.

“Mum— She’s not your mum! She’s mine!” Kitty cried, almost whined.

“God, you are so selfish.” Joan spat. She nuzzled closer to Jane, who held her protectively like she used to with Kitty. “Jane loves ME. I am HER DAUGHTER.” She sent Kitty a dark glower. “Not you.”

Kitty can only open and close her mouth rapidly like a shocked fish that had just been reeled out of the water. Joan wrinkled her nose at her and then turned her full attention back to Jane, who has begun to stroke her short, tangled hair lovingly.

“I need to brush this mane of yours,” Jane mused. “It is a mess! I can’t have my precious baby looking like a mess, can I?”

“No, mama,” Joan said.

“That’s right.” Jane nodded with a dreamy smile. “You are the most perfect princess, my sweet girl.”

“STOP!” Kitty cried. Her hands are clamped over her head. A single unbidden tear has escaped from her eyes. “Stop it, please! Stop!”

Jane scowled at her. It makes all the tears come free.

“Stop yapping,” Jane barked. “And stop crying! I will never be your mother and you will never be my daughter. Get that through your head.” She huffed. “I’d rather die than have someone like you as a child.”

Wait-

Kitty has heard that before.

She drew in a shocked breath when she realized that Joan had Jane enchanted to see Kitty like she had seen her, because she knew those words were the ones Jane had said the day before Joan lost herself to the darkness.

At the time, she wasn’t phased by it at all, pleasantly oblivious to how cruel and degrading it was, but now that it was directed towards her...

It hurt. It hurt so badly. Like someone was reaching in and ripping apart all the love she held for the silver queen, but those claws belonged to the woman herself. It was Jane maiming her without a care in the world.

Joan noticed Kitty’s revelation and her lips pressed together in a grim line.

“So. Now you know.” She said.

“You got tired of being pushed aside...” Kitty whispered. “You got tired of not being loved...” She clenched her fists against the floor she had crumbled onto. “I can’t...I can’t even imagine what that must be like. I’m so sorry.”

Joan wrinkled her nose. “Don’t apologize. It’s meaningless now.” There are tears in her eyes and they run down her cheeks despite her efforts to ward them off. Jane gently wiped them away and she leaned into the woman’s caring touch.

Kitty wonders how long it’s been since Joan was touched with such concern.

“You don’t get to apologize.” Joan seethed. “You had your chance to be nice. To be a friend.” She slid away from Jane and approached Jane slowly.

“So now you’re going to kill me?” Kitty asked, pressing herself against the wall.

Joan frowned and she suddenly looked very tired and miserable.

“I told you, Howard. I’m not a monster.”

Then, she waved her talon and the bracelet around Kitty’s wrist began to vibrate and grow alarmingly hot.

“I hate your guts.” She said in a drained, tight voice. “You took everything from me. You got everything that I should have had. And I SHOULD kill you for it. I should rip your head off or eviscerate you or impale you with my rocks or burn you alive and dance upon your ashes.”

Her shoulders hunched and she rubbed her eyes.

“But I don’t WANT to do any of that. I want you to be punished, but not like that... I don’t want to be like...” She folded her arms to hug herself tightly.

“You don’t have to,” Kitty said, and she realized her voice was higher, more shrill. She was shrinking, too. She watched in horror as her hands became awkward, fused shapes.

“What are you doing to me?!” She cried.

Joan tipped her head at her with a sad smile.

“Punishing you.”

She watched silently for the rest of the transformation until Kitty was covered by the puddle of fabric her clothes had created when she shrunk out of them. She lifted the shirt and smiled weakly at the scarlet kitten lying on the floor in front of her. She picked it up by the scruff and looked into its dark hazel eyes, then at the copper and tiger's eye collar now locked around its neck.

“Now your name fits a lot more.” She said wryly in an attempt to joke, but even with a cat brain, Kitty knew she lost all the energy she had earlier. Now she just looked...sad. Really sad.

Joan walked to the back door of the theater and dumped the cat into the alleyway. She nudged it with her foot.

“Go home.” She said. “And don’t come back.” An anguished look settles in her eyes. “I can’t promise I’ll be as merciful next time.”

Then, she slammed the door shut, locked it, and left Kitty to fend for herself on the streets of London.

With her heightened feline hearing, she can hear Joan sobbing inside the theater.

#evil!joan au #six the musical #six the musical au #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six fanfic #katherine howard #jane seymour #joan on the keys #tw: blood #tw: gore #no hero

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